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

At the same time.

Lin Wangzheng arrived at Edward Road from Taikoo Wharf and walked towards the racecourse.

Before coming here, he went to see Old Shang and established a network among the dockworkers for five silver dollars.

Whether it's worth it or not cannot be measured in monetary terms.

Now, he needs to go find Uncle Sun and use money to curry favor.

Opposing Yuan Shikai in the French Concession didn't guarantee absolute safety; one always had to have a backup plan. This was true of the hand-cranked printing press in the past, it's true of befriending workers and beggars now, and it's certain there will be other groups in the future. If used wisely, there are many things one can accomplish.

Since it is positioned as a newspaper for the people and a newspaper that speaks for the people, it must rely on the people in terms of its power. Otherwise, it is like water without a source or a tree without roots, and anyone can step on it and make a big mess.

He didn't change his clothes or smear soot on his face today; he was just wearing a clean long gown, looking very refined. When the women on the street saw him, they all turned around and pointed at him.

When the beggars on the street saw him, some lowered their heads, some turned away, and some begged for money; none of them recognized him.

Because the changes were so drastic, how could anyone other than Uncle Sun dare to connect this young student with his former "roommate" with whom he had lived and eaten?

It's good that no one bothers us; it makes it easier to discuss things.

Lin Wangzheng found the alleyway in the shantytown with ease and walked to the very end.

Uncle Sun sat at the entrance of his single shed, still fiddling with two iron walnuts in his hands, staring at the ground, occasionally frowning in thought.

The little flea was still as thin as a matchstick, just like a few days ago. Its hair was matted, and its body was filthy. It squatted down and drew circles on the ground with its finger.

It's not about drawing pictures or writing words; it's about "enclosing" ants' territory. For a child who has lost both parents and fallen into poverty, this is the only way to pass the time.

"Uncle Sun!"

"A slight tingling sensation!"

Lin Wangzheng called out twice.

The child looked up at the familiar yet unfamiliar uninvited guest, a hint of doubt flashing in his lifeless eyes.

This older brother looks so familiar...

Lin Wangzheng knew he had changed a lot, so he quickly walked over to the little tiaoxiao, squatted down, and reached out to rub its head:

"It's me. Don't you recognize me?"

Xiao Tiao's eyes suddenly lit up, and she finally recognized who it was. Then she rushed towards Lin Wangzheng and grabbed his arm with all her might, like a drowning person clinging to a piece of driftwood.

Uncle Sun paused for a moment as he watched this, then continued playing with the walnuts.

Lin Wangzheng knew that during this period of exile, the child had probably only met one kind person, which was why he relied on him so much.

He didn't mention being worried about getting his clothes dirty; he picked up the little freckled baby and stood up.

"Alright, alright, I said I'd come often, I wasn't lying, was I?"

Little Jump nodded, but still refused to speak.

Lin Wangzheng took out a paper package from his pocket, put the little frizzy cat down, and handed it to him:

"Chicken leg, eat it while it's hot, I want to chat with Uncle Sun."

Xiao Tiao took the oil paper package, squatted down next to Lin Wangzheng's legs, and tore it open in a few quick movements. Inside were two large chicken legs. Without caring about manners, she ate one in each hand, her mouth dripping with oil.

Lin Wangzheng chuckled, shook his head, and bowed to Uncle Sun:

"Uncle Sun, thank you for your help earlier. The article has been published; I wonder if you've seen it?"

Uncle Sun stood up, put the iron walnut into his sleeve, took out a pack of cigarettes, lit two, and handed one to Lin Wangzheng.

"My family has practiced martial arts for three generations, and I attended a private school for a few years; otherwise, I wouldn't even be able to understand martial arts manuals. I can generally understand the articles in the 'Strange News Daily,' which I saw yesterday."

Lin Wangzheng took the cigarette, took a drag, and exhaled. The smoke swirled in the light, and he felt a strange sense of comfort.

"I started this newspaper so that even ordinary people like you, who only know a few words, could understand it. The fact that you said you can generally understand it is the best encouragement for me... So, what do you think of the writing?"

Uncle Sun glanced at him, his face showing appreciation:

"It's made this old beggar think a lot. It's truly rare to see someone go to such lengths for an article. To tell you the truth, I've been in this business for almost half my life, and I've met countless reporters, both personally and through others, but they all just ask a couple of questions and leave. None of them are like you."

Lin Wangzheng, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, waved his hand:

"You flatter me."

Uncle Sun exhaled a puff of smoke, disagreeing:

"It's not an exaggeration... Other reporters stand outside the tent, holding their noses as they write articles to get by; you actually crouch down to see for yourself, burying yourself in the mud."

"The fact that your writings can make an old beggar like me think is already quite remarkable."

Lin Wangzheng didn't seem particularly pleased; he had simply done what he was supposed to do. He then asked:

"Uncle Sun, what was the reaction of your elders to my article? What was their attitude?"

Uncle Sun moved a wooden chair and gestured for him to sit down.

After Lin Wangzheng sat down, he took out his cigarettes and offered one to Uncle Sun.

"The leaders of my faction met yesterday. They all know about your article, and their attitudes are divided."

Uncle Sun tucked the cigarette behind his ear and held up two thick fingers: "There are two camps. One says you wrote well, and many people are grateful to you. The Beggars' Sect is the lowest of the low; no one speaks up for us like you do. The other says you've ruined business, exposing the Beggars' Sect's rules and shady dealings. Who will be willing to pay you in the future?"

Lin Wangzheng had expected this, so he nodded without saying anything.

Uncle Sun paused for a moment, then continued:

"But don't worry, the older generation has already spoken out, they might come looking for trouble for you. A lowly beggar is not like the Green Gang that runs rampant everywhere, they don't have the ability to provoke intellectuals, especially intellectuals who speak up for them."

"Besides, you didn't call out names, you didn't write down addresses, and you didn't write down your names, so you have no right to cause trouble."

With these words, Lin Wangzheng felt relieved. After a moment of silence, he took out a cloth bag from his pocket and handed it to Uncle Sun.

Uncle Sun didn't stand on ceremony. He took it, weighed it in his hand, and was immediately stunned. Then he hurriedly opened it.

Twenty gleaming silver dollars shone brightly in the sunlight.

Uncle Sun looked up at Lin Wangzheng, his expression quite surprised:

"This... they've given us so much before we've even started begging?"

There was no way around it; they gave way too much.

Lin Wangzheng didn't mind and said sincerely:

"This is not charity. My abilities are limited. I can't be a philanthropist and make life easier for all the beggars in Shanghai. I can only help those around me."

"You helped me with the investigation, and my report made money, so it's only right that I pay you some compensation. Don't worry about it too much."

Uncle Sun felt like he was holding a hot potato, still somewhat at a loss.

Lin Wangzheng then requested:

"I still hope Uncle Sun won't hand over this money. Keep it to improve the lives of your gang, and if I have the opportunity in the future, I'll try to help everyone find stable jobs."

Uncle Sun looked down at the silver dollar, lost in thought.

Since his family's security escort agency went bankrupt, he had nowhere else to go and had been making a living by "collecting fees" for almost half his life. He had never seen anyone give him so much money all at once.

Even the most generous philanthropists who come to the horse races might drop a silver dollar or two when they pass by, but when has anyone ever given so much money at once?

"To be honest, I also have my own reasons for wanting this money..."

Lin Wangzheng looked at Uncle Sun and told him the truth: "You know my newspaper. Besides speaking out for the people, I also fight with the literary beggars that Yuan Xiangcheng keeps, risking my life. I want to establish contact with you because I think you are well-informed and live a good life in the concession. At critical moments, I hope you can help me and find out some information."

"But I promise I will never do anything immoral, nor will I put your lives in danger."

Uncle Sun looked up at him.

Lin Wangzheng's eyes were quite sincere, without any evasion or pretense.

Uncle Sun put the silver dollar into his pocket and nodded:

"Okay, I'll take the money. Spend it as you say."

He glanced at the little flea gnawing on a chicken leg and laughed:

"First, we need to nourish the child and take care of him."

Lin Wangzheng also smiled, stood up, and cupped his hands in greeting:

"With Uncle Sun's words, I can rest assured."

Uncle Sun also stood up, as if remembering something, and pointed at the little flea, saying:

"This kid is a boy."

Lin Wangzheng paused for a moment, then looked down and examined it carefully.

The little flea's hair was so long that it covered half its face, making it impossible to tell if it was male or female. It was also thin and small, and remained silent.

He had always thought it was a girl and was worried that she would be bullied in the wolf's den.

"Really?"

Lin Wangzheng didn't believe it.

After a moment's thought, he launched a sneak attack—not a real sneak attack, just to scare him.

Sure enough, the little flea clinging to his leg immediately grabbed the chicken leg and covered his crotch, letting out a rare "Ah!" and turning his face bright red.

It's really a boy!

"Hahaha!"

Lin Wangzheng laughed.

The little flea was a little embarrassed and annoyed, and dared not look at people.

Uncle Sun looked at all this, smiled and shook his head.

Lin Wangzheng squatted down to be at eye level with the little flea and said:

"I'll come to see you again when I have time. You can stay with Uncle Sun and have him teach you martial arts when you have free time."

Having experienced such a tragedy, the child is both withdrawn and sensible. Little Flea knows he can't go with them, but he believes Lin Wangzheng will come back. He nods to show he knows, but there are tears welling up in his eyes.

Lin Wangzheng sighed, stood up, and bid farewell to Uncle Sun:

"Uncle Sun, I'm leaving now. If anything happens, you can come find me. With your abilities, finding me shouldn't be difficult."

Uncle Sun extended his hand to lead the way:

"I'll see you off."

......

After a long while, Lin Wangzheng returned to Dongxinqiao Street.

As soon as I opened the door to the hotel room, I heard the clattering sound of an abacus.

Shen Zishi was hunched over the table doing accounts, his fingers flying across the keyboard; in later generations, he would be considered a keyboard warrior.

The table was piled with ledgers, coins, and receipts, so messy it looked like it had been robbed.

Despite Shen Zishi's usual carefree attitude, he is more serious than anyone else when it comes to accounting. When Lin Wangzheng returned, he didn't even look up.

"Ahem!"

Lin Wangzheng coughed twice on purpose to see if he would react.

The result was no response.

Lin Wangzheng sat down next to Shen Zishi again, picked up the teapot and poured water into the spout, but there was still no reaction.

He was at his wit's end and asked:

"How much do you earn?"

Shen Zishi then raised his head:

"Hey! When did you get back!"

Lin Wangzheng slapped the table:

"I asked you how much you've earned to make you work so hard, neglecting sleep and meals!"

Shen Zishi grinned, his eyes almost squinting into slits:

"Come on, let me calculate it for you."

Lin Wangzheng nodded, holding the teapot as he listened.

Shen Zishi cleared his throat, picked up a piece of paper, and began to read:

"Yesterday, August 26th, we printed 5,000 copies, and they all sold out. The newsstand sent someone over to urge us, so I printed another 3,000 copies. We don't know how they sold yet; we'll have to wait until tonight to find out."

He put down the draft paper and placed his hands on his hips:

"If they all sell out, that's eight thousand copies! Our newspapers can't leave the concessions, but their circulation within the concessions is quite substantial!"

As he spoke, he picked up the abacus again and pretended to fiddle with it:

"We charge two coins per serving, which adds up to 16,000 coins, or 160 silver dollars."

"The larger the pages of a newspaper like the Shen Bao, the more paper and ink it needs, plus the costs of the newspaper office and printing workers. The more it circulates, the easier it is to lose money, and it mainly relies on government funding to survive. Our tabloids are different. They have smaller pages, less paper, and lower costs. The newspaper office is also a dormitory. As long as it sells, it's a net profit."

Lin Wangzheng only had a vague understanding of this, so he leaned back in his chair and listened quietly as he explained the situation.

Shen Zishi put down the abacus and rubbed his hands together:

"But you can't calculate it like that. The purchase price I gave the vendors was one and a half cents per copy. They sold it for two cents, so they could make a profit of five cents per copy. Our own cost was eight cents per copy because the page size was only half that of the Shen Bao newspaper, the content was less, and it was printed on one side only, so the profit per copy was seven cents."

Lin Wangzheng picked up the conversation:

"So I made fifty-six silver dollars, a 35% profit. After deducting my expenses, how much is left?"

Shen Zishi sensed something was wrong; his smile vanished, and his brows furrowed into a deep frown.

"If that's the case, it's not much..."

Lin Wangzheng took another sip of tea and comforted him:

"Uncle, don't be too greedy in business. The profit margin for newspapers is already meager; we're lucky we're not losing money. Think about it yourself, a 35% profit margin is already far higher than our competitors."

Shen Zishi felt like he'd been doused with cold water, and sat down, sighing deeply.

"I just feel that it's really not worth it for you to work so hard to earn so little money."

"Why isn't it worth it?"

Lin Wangzheng put down the teapot and pondered, "Think about it yourself. At the beginning of the month, we were struggling to sell even 500 copies, but now we've gone straight to 8,000. In less than a month, that's a sixteen-fold increase. Which newspaper can match that momentum? Once the circulation rises further, we'll outlive Yuan Xiangcheng, and then we won't have to worry about revenue!"

"When the time comes, we'll open a newspaper office right on Wangping Street, brand it 'Shanghai's No. 1 Newspaper,' and even start a literary supplement to compete with the big newspapers!"

They started making empty promises.

Regardless of how dry the cookie was, Shen Zishi could eat it. He quickly composed himself and said with a smile:

"That's true."

Lin Wangzheng ignored him and started reading the newspaper for inspiration.

He hasn't recovered from those days in the beggar's den, so he doesn't plan to do any more undercover work for now. He needs to choose a more relaxed topic and keep things progressing steadily.

Actually, the inspiration had come a while ago; he had heard it a few days ago, but he was busy at the time and had been keeping it in mind.

Seeing his nephew so serious, Shen Zishi went behind him and massaged his shoulders with a smile:

"Wang Zheng, you young people are more open-minded. If it weren't for your articles, our newspaper would still be used as toilet paper..."

How can mere flattery suffice?

Lin Wangzheng winced as his hand was pinched, then slapped it away.

"Just say what you have to say, don't be so creepy."

Shen Zishi chuckled and lit a cigarette for Lin Wangzheng:

"I just wanted to ask, do you have any new ideas?"

"have."

Lin Wangzheng pointed to the latest edition of the Shenbao newspaper, which contained news about the “Preparatory Committee for the Establishment of the Republic”: “Didn’t this damned committee set up on the 23rd? Under the guise of studying the form of government, they are trying to create momentum for Yuan Shikai to become emperor. I have to criticize them, and I’ll make Yang Chengzan, who is in charge, my target.”

Shen Zishi leaned closer to take a look and nodded:

"If you've decided to do it, then do it. It's come to this point, it wouldn't be right for me to pour cold water on it."

Lin Wangzheng nodded and picked up another newspaper from the table.

Strictly speaking, it was a fragment of a page, an article cut out from the monthly magazine "Greater China".

How strange are those who question the so-called form of government!

The author is Liang Yinbing.

"And this article, I'll critique it too."

Lin Wangzheng flicked the torn pages.

Shen Zishi's eyes widened:

"I've read this article; it's against Yang Chengzan and Goodnow. Why are you criticizing him? Besides, who is Liang Yinbing? If you criticize him, won't it cause an uproar?"

Lin Wangzheng held up one finger and waved it:

"Uncle, you're wrong. In my opinion, Liang Yinbing is right to oppose the imperial system, but his article is actually weak and powerless, leaving plenty of room for Yang Chengzan and others to argue. What I want is to shut up all the babbling babblers and dare not make a sound anymore."

"What do you mean?"

Shen Zishi was puzzled.

Lin Wangzheng patiently explained:

"As the leader of the royalist faction, Liang Yinbing advocated constitutional monarchy during the Hundred Days' Reform. He wrote numerous articles debating with the revolutionaries. He rejected co-governance on the grounds of internal strife, and his tendencies were not far removed from those of people like Yang Chengzan. When Yuan Shikai first became president, he supported Yuan Shikai and even joined the government as Minister of Justice."

"I'm not settling old scores, I'm just clarifying his position. Think about his article yourself. While opposing the imperial system, what is he actually seeking? He has a completely indifferent attitude towards co-governance; he's only focused on achieving so-called 'constitutionalism.' He opposes Yuan Shikai because Yuan Shikai's proposed constitutional monarchy is not the English-style constitutional monarchy he desires, but rather a Xia-style imperial dictatorship. On the surface, he's arguing about the imperial system, but in reality, he's arguing about 'who will be the emperor' and 'who will restrain the emperor.'"

"Tell me, is there any future in arguing like this?"

Shen Zishi's brows furrowed even more:

"You mean he opposed Yuan Shikai's attempt to become emperor, but he didn't oppose the constitutional monarchy itself; rather, he opposed Yuan Shikai as a person, not the imperial system itself."

Lin Wangzheng gave a thumbs up and picked up the tattered page:

"Look at this sentence: 'The issue of the form of government should not be the focus of political discourse.' What does it mean? It simply means that what form of government you have is not important; what matters is how you govern, just as if a well-governed imperial system could represent the interests of the people."

"This is a 'good-natured emperor' fantasy! It gives the Yuan faction plenty of room for sophistry!"

Shen Zishi couldn't refute it, but he still had concerns:

"You're right, but won't doing this just turn them into a bunch of tangled balls?"

"so......"

Lin Wangzheng spread out his manuscript paper and began grinding ink: "My criticism of Liang Yinbing cannot be the same as my criticism of Xue Dake and Yang Chengzan. It should be called 'admonishment,' using the method of persuasion to express our newspaper's viewpoint. After all, he opposes Yuan Shikai's imperial system, and we cannot push him into the enemy's trenches."

Shen Zishi thought for a moment and said:

"That makes sense. Write it down first, and I'll take a look."

Lin Wangzheng dipped his brush in ink and held it in mid-air:

"Then what are you standing there for? Go out and have some fun. See if you can gather any information about the six members of the Preparatory Committee for the Establishment of Peace. Try to find out their life stories, their beliefs, what they did, what they said, and what they wrote."

"Why are you investigating them?"

"It will come in handy during future liquidation."

"Alright..."

Shen Zishi looked at his nephew, whose eyes were cold, and felt a chill run down his spine. He took out his pipe, put it in his mouth, and pushed open the door to go downstairs.

The room fell silent.

Lin Wangzheng sat at the table, facing a blank sheet of paper, his pen hovering above the paper, not writing for a long time.

The beginning is always the hardest, and the hardest part is coming up with a title.

The Preparatory Committee for the Establishment of Peace and Order (CQA) is a good name, meaning to prepare for the establishment of peace and order.

But whose stability is their stability?

Is it the stability of Yuan Shikai, the stability of the warlords, or the stability of the common people?

In March of this year, Yang Chengzan wrote "On Constitutional Monarchy as a Means of Saving the Nation," arguing that "only a constitutional monarchy can save the Xia Dynasty." His reasoning was that co-governance led to political instability, warlordism, and widespread suffering—the same logic as Goodnow.

Does co-governance lead to political instability? Is it caused by the co-governance system itself, or by those who are unwilling to accept co-governance?

Was the warlord era caused by shared governance, or by the warlords' unwillingness to relinquish military power?

Is the widespread suffering due to co-governance, or is it due to the ruthless capitalists, landlords, and compradors who prey on people?

They shifted the blame to Gongzhi and then prescribed a remedy called "Junxian," which can probably only cure Yuan Xiangcheng's mental illness.

Lin Wangzheng shook his head and finally wrote a line on the manuscript paper:

What is the Preparatory Committee for the Establishment of Peace and Order?