From street tabloids to the first newspaper of the Republic of China

In August 1915, the heat was unbearable.

Lin Wangzheng was awakened by the sound of scissors cutting paper.

Before me was a cramped hotel room, sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the window, carrying with it the distinctive salty and damp smell of the alleyway.

The room was furnished in a retro style, with two uncomfortable wooden beds and chairs, and a table piled with all sorts of things.

Scissors, glue, a stack of tattered old newspapers, and a pile of blank templates, with the words "Strange News" printed on the masthead.

A middle-aged man in his forties was hunched over a table, his back bent like a crescent moon. He cut out a column from the "New Games" newspaper with scissors, applied some glue, and carefully pasted it onto the template of the "Strange News" newspaper, as if he were doing a precise assembly.

While Lin Wangzheng was puzzled, he also finished processing the domineering memory in his mind at this moment.

Damn, he's traveled back to the fourth year of the Republic of China!

During the disaster relief efforts of the year before last (2013), the original owner's father published an article opposing Yuan Shikai and was secretly executed by the Beiyang government. Unable to bear the blow, the mother swallowed opium paste that very night and followed him in death.

The sixteen-year-old boy fled Beiping and headed south to seek refuge with his father's close friend, the "national journalist" standing before him.

Shen Zishi, the owner and editor-in-chief of the Strange Newspaper.

Because the original owner was single-mindedly focused on revenge, he went out to cover the news in the sweltering heat, returned home with a belly full of cold water, and then died suddenly and silently.

He died "accidentally" while investigating an illegal brick kiln, and when he opened his eyes again, he found himself in this ghostly place, possessing the body of the original owner who shared the same name.

I'm currently in a small alleyway hotel on Dongxinqiao Street, within the French Concession of Shanghai. I'm staying in a room that costs five silver dollars a month. If I die and stink, no one will even know.

"..."

Lin Wangzheng felt a little regretful; he hadn't yet clicked to send the manuscript he had written in his previous life.

What he still doesn't understand is, now that he's been given a second chance at life and has traveled back to the Republic of China era, what should he do next?

"You're awake? I almost thought you were dead."

"Come help out whenever you have free time, finish today's page layout, otherwise we'll starve. Don't even think about your big news."

Shen Zishi, who had become overweight, didn't turn his head. He was puffing on his pipe as he worked and called out to customers.

Lin Wangzheng got out of bed, walked to the table, and drank some cold tea, which made him feel much better.

The layout of the "Strange News" newspaper, which was used as a reference, was already mostly pasted on.

[Serialized "The Soul of Jade Pear"]

[Exclusive Series: The Ten Cruelest Tortures in Brothel Operations]

Possessed by a fox spirit, Wang's daughter-in-law runs naked.

[Fortune teller predicts: A major disaster is imminent next year; those born in the Year of the Sheep should be cautious]

[Traditional Chinese medicine doctor specializes in treating venereal diseases; the medicine is effective and the treatment is confidential and reliable.]

Upon seeing this content, Lin Wangzheng's lips twitched; it was truly a "strange story"!

But upon further reflection, the reason becomes understandable—

Following the disaster reported in the year of Gui Chou, the press was in a state of depression. Last year, the Yuan faction promulgated the "Newspaper Regulations," which were even harsher than the Qing Dynasty's "Great Qing Newspaper Law." Then, at the end of the year, they issued the "Publication Law," and this year they supplemented it with the "Revised Newspaper Regulations." In short, each regulation was more severe than the last.

The surviving newspapers either covered entertainment, gossip, or scandalous topics.

Newspapers like the "Strange News" were known as "street tabloids" in the Shanghai press. They mostly hid in the concessions, plagiarizing other newspapers and magazines, and their content was all "cut and paste," specializing in all sorts of sensational news and vulgar articles.

Forget about reporters conducting on-site interviews, because there isn't even a fixed distribution point. They can publish newspapers in hotel rooms and run away whenever the police come, thus circumventing censorship. To put it bluntly, it's all about making a living through speculation.

Lin Wangzheng found it difficult to comment and couldn't help but speak up:

"Uncle, your newspaper was published in the 23rd year of the Guangxu Emperor's reign, it was a respectable publication. Now you're publishing this kind of rubbish and ruining your reputation, you're just giving in without even putting up a fight?"

The "Strange News" was founded in the late Qing Dynasty. It began with commentary, followed by news, and ended with poems. Its content mostly aligned with progressive trends, covering various fields and highlighting the characteristics of being "strange, novel, and relevant." Later, like many newspapers, it disappeared without a trace, and that's how it ended up like this.

Shen Zishi's hand trembled slightly, and he immediately destroyed a newspaper post, retorting somewhat angrily:

"What's the situation? What was the environment like before, and what is it like now?"

He slammed his pipe on the table and counted on his fingers:

"My newspaper isn't exactly respectable, but it prints 500 copies a day, and they all sell out. Why? Because it's cheap! Because it's sensational!"

"Two coins per copy, five hundred copies would be a thousand coins, which is equivalent to ten silver dollars. After deducting rent and printing costs, how much would we have left?"

"I know you're ambitious, but if we don't run this newspaper, what will we eat and drink? Who cares what it publishes, as long as we make money!"

Lin Wangzheng remained unmoved:

"Uncle, five hundred copies are not enough to sell... I've been following you for so long, and you're always the one carrying the newspapers out to sell them, and then carrying most of them back at night. It takes many days to sell one issue. Don't treat me like a child."

Sweat beaded on Shen Zishi's forehead, and his expression changed slightly.

Lin Wangzheng continued to stab him in the back:

"Your current 'Strange Newspaper' is so bad that even warlords don't want you. You're just relying on climbing the social ladder to extort money. Sooner or later, you'll be caught off guard and sink."

The profit model of street tabloids mainly relies on subsidies from certain warlords and politicians, as well as the profits from cheap products, or extorting money from businesses and celebrities. If they encounter any tough guys, they end up in jail.

Shen Zishi's sore spot was touched, and his face turned pale and then red. He spoke in a muffled voice:

"You think the pay is too low and don't want to work for me anymore?"

"Yes, I do think the money is too little, but I don't want to leave. After all, you're my uncle!"

Lin Wangzheng readily admitted this, pulled up a stool, sat down, and held up a sample copy of the "Strange News" newspaper:

"The market is full of these tabloids, with almost identical content and formats, so it's inevitable that none of them can compete with the others. If we want to make money, we need to find a different approach."

"What kind of approach?"

"Reform the Strange Newspaper."

"What?"

Shen Zishi doubted that he had heard correctly.

Lin Wangzheng held up one finger and said seriously:

"First, stop publishing erotic news and romance novels; instead, publish stories about everyday life."

He pointed out the window; the Huangpu River was to the east of the alley, and there were many docks along the river.

Looking out the window, one can vaguely see the dark mass of people on the dock.

Have you ever reported on the lives of dockworkers?

"What kind of news is this?"

"This is the best kind of news. It has a natural audience and is closely related to ordinary people. Big newspapers like the Shen Bao don't care, but small newspapers like ours must. If you give voice to the people, they will naturally support you."

Shen Zishi seemed to be deep in thought.

Lin Wangzheng extended his second finger:

"Secondly, we will not publish articles promoting feudal superstition or accept quack medicines; instead, we will publish useful information to attract people's purchasing desires."

"What's the use?"

"For example, how to prevent infectious diseases, where children can go to school, where there are cheap houses to rent, what kind of jobs to look for in Songhu... These are things that ordinary people need, but no one writes them down for them."

"That's fine."

Shen Zishi's eyes lit up as he looked at his nephew with surprise, sensing that something was amiss.

If you have such great ideas, why didn't you say so sooner?

Ignoring the scrutinizing gaze, Lin Wangzheng extended his third finger:

"Third, if you really want to expose the dark side, don't entertain the plight of prostitutes, but write about why prostitutes exist. That's what makes a responsible editorial."

Then, he extended his fourth finger:

"Most importantly, we need to reform the writing style and layout, replacing classical Chinese with vernacular Chinese and using punctuation marks so that literate people can understand it. This is called the unity of form and content."

"Important news should include editor's notes to inform readers of the newspaper's attitude and stance, thereby attracting its own readership. Ideally, a dedicated section should be created to publish reader letters and editorial replies, allowing readers to build a personal relationship with the newspaper."

After he finished speaking at length, the room fell silent.

Lin Wangzheng turned and stared at Shen Zishi, silently feeling the pressure.

Shen Zishi stared at the draft in silence, as if recalling the past, before finally speaking again after a long while:

"Wang Zheng, I can't refute what you said, and I know what you're trying to do. But have you considered how many people this change will offend?"

He stood up and pointed out the window:

"What if the dock owners are unhappy and cause trouble? What if the concession police are unhappy and shut down the newspaper office?"

Lin Wangzheng said nonchalantly:

"The French Concession is not Beijing. Foreigners at least have some sense of the rule of law. As long as you don't spread rumors or curse people, they won't shut down newspapers arbitrarily."

"Besides, we're writing about dockworkers, not Yuan Shikai's faction, so what's the big deal?"

Shen Zishi clapped his hands and questioned:

"If you publish the newspaper in vernacular Chinese, won't those old gentlemen curse us to death?"

Lin Wangzheng spread his hands, looking quite relaxed:

"Let them criticize. After they've finished criticizing, ordinary people still have to watch it because they can understand the vernacular."

"Go your own way and let others talk. If you can't stand it, just curse them back."

Shen Zishi had many concerns and continued to ask:

"And those reader letters of yours, turning the newspaper into a vegetable market! Anyone can come up and yell a few words!"

Lin Wangzheng laughed out loud:

"But the current 'Strange News' isn't even a proper market; it's like toilet paper—I'd find it too disgusting. You'd have to use paste to seal the wound later. Newspapers are meant to be read; if you don't let people speak out, why should they buy your paper?"

The sound of a ship's horn could be heard outside the window, and a sultry breeze blew in through the window, making the newspaper clippings on the table rustle.

His series of words made Shen Zishi laugh in exasperation:

"You little brat, you've got more guts than your dad."

He walked to the corner, took out a wooden plaque with the four characters "Iron Shoulders and Ruthless Hands" engraved on it from his belongings, slammed it on the table, and wiped the dust off with his sleeve.

"These are the maxims of Yang Jisheng, a Ming Dynasty remonstrating official. I had them specially engraved when I was your age. Later, as the world became more and more dangerous, I suppressed that enthusiasm. In recent years, I have restarted the newspaper for the sake of making a living. It is indeed different from before."

"Changes are fine, but you'll be the lead writer. If anything goes wrong, you'll take responsibility."

Lin Wangzheng nodded without hesitation:

"Okay, I'll go to the dock tomorrow and show you how it looks."

Then, naturally, I reached out my hand.

Shen Zishi was taken aback:

"what?"

Lin Wangzheng spoke with righteous indignation:

"How can we conduct interviews without funding for overseas trips?"

Shen Zishi reluctantly pulled out his money pouch:

How much do you want?

Lin Wangzheng grinned:

"Of course, the more the better."