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

evening.

The light in the alley had already dimmed, while on Dongxinqiao Street not far away, the dim streetlights lit up one by one.

The aroma emanating from the wonton stand wafted into everyone's nostrils on the gentle breeze.

Cheng Ziqing hummed a cheerful tune, holding a bag of silver dollars in his hand, and gradually disappeared into the alley.

"well......"

Shen Zishi stood at the inn's entrance, watching the troublemaker he had brought back leave, and let out a long sigh. Then, like a deflated balloon, he slumped against the doorframe.

It's more than just being terrified!

Lin Wangzheng stood behind him, his expression now normal, arms crossed, staring at him expressionlessly.

stupid!

Shen Zishi felt the gaze on his back and knew without turning around that Lin Wangzheng was stabbing him with his eyes. He swallowed hard, turned around, and forced a smile that looked more like a grimace.

"Wang Zheng, well... let me explain..."

Lin Wangzheng remained silent, his gaze sharp and intense.

Shen Zishi felt a chill run down his spine and quickly began to explain:

"Here's what happened... I went to see Manager Zhou at Huafuli today, and he introduced me to this guy, saying he's a field agent for Zhonghua Book Company. When I heard that, I thought, 'That's a big company, they've got money. Last time with Wang Mengzou, they got a printing press for free. If they can get another good deal this time and secure this investment, you won't need to go to Shenbao anymore!' So I..."

"So you brought this 'field agent' back to arrest us?"

Lin Wangzheng's voice was calm, tinged with a hint of helplessness: "He is indeed a field officer, but from the police station..."

Shen Zishi shrank back, smiling obsequiously:

"It was my fault. I was blinded by greed and misjudged the situation. I apologize to you."

Lin Wangzheng was very easygoing and wouldn't hold a grudge over this. He sighed, walked to Shen Zishi's side, put his arm around his shoulder, and offered a half-comforting, half-warning gesture:

"Uncle, we're not spies after all, and you had no experience with this before. You didn't know you were being watched, and you didn't understand all these intricacies... You can't hide forever, and you'll be caught sooner or later."

"Today's incident should serve as a wake-up call; someone's watching us! This time it was the police, but who knows who it might be next time? We'd better be careful!"

Shen Zishi nodded, but his expression remained grim.

"One hundred silver dollars in cash, plus a one hundred dollar IOU. I've worked for nothing for the past six months."

"It's good that no one is hurt. You still have some conscience, you didn't let me get exposed."

Lin Wangzheng shook his head, not caring about these things.

What's that saying? Money can be earned back, but if you lose your life, you lose everything.

With his skills, where can't he make money? At worst, he could be a plagiarist, earning a living through dishonest means...

Shen Zishi looked at him, his eyes slightly red:

"You're not angry with me?"

Lin Wangzheng smiled and released his grip:

"What's so strange about it? Just consider it a lesson learned, it's not like we actually went into a den of thieves."

Shen Zishi felt much better:

"I'm glad you're not feeling bad."

The two went into the house together and went upstairs back to their room.

Shen Zishi locked the door from the inside, moved the table by the window, took out a cloth bag, opened it, and found a dozen silver dollars and some loose change inside.

He counted it and found he had about twenty yuan, which was all the money he had left.

The newspaper did make some money, but it only lasted a month, so it wasn't much. Some of the money had to be invested in the printing company to make it easier for the next printing.

So this money will be their living expenses from now on.

Shen Zishi criticized with a worried expression:

"This detective is really asking for an exorbitant amount; he's shameless!"

Lin Wangzheng lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling:

"Come on, these days, a detective like him is actually quite lenient. He only charged you two hundred and didn't force you to take out a loan at exorbitant interest rates; that's already very forgiving. In fact, we should be thanking him!"

"What will we do then?"

"Let's find a reliable hotel first. We can't just stay here all the time. We need to change hotels as soon as there are any problems."

"Okay, I'll go and inquire about it tomorrow."

Shen Zishi put away the cloth bag, rubbed his face hard, his heart still bleeding.

That damned Cheng Ziqing!

Lin Wangzheng lit a cigarette, temporarily forgetting his troubles, and after thinking for a moment, said:

"Let's go apply there later and get me a legitimate identity."

Shen Zishi was taken aback: "Just today?"

Lin Wangzheng nodded and turned to look at him:

"Go early, and you can earn money sooner. If you work hard at the Shen Bao newspaper, you can earn back the money you lost today in a month."

Shen Zishi was at a loss; he wanted to say something, but he was too ashamed to do so.

He thought for a moment, and then suddenly remembered something:

"By the way, I went to Huafuli today and greeted Mr. Wang, the owner of Yadong Library. He told me something and asked if you would like to participate."

"What?"

"There's an old journalist named Chen Qingtong. He's going to start a 'Youth Magazine,' which will be launched on the 15th of this month. He's planning to hold a ceremony at the Yatung Library and said he'd like to invite the two of us to go together."

"..."

Lin Wangzheng remained silent for a while.

How could Chen Qingtong not know that he was the primary initiator of the New Culture Movement?

Of course, it was still 1915, and even the "Youth Magazine" had not yet been founded, so Chen Qingtong naturally did not yet have the famous name of "Commander-in-Chief" that he would later become.

Inviting him to the launch ceremony of "Youth Magazine" was probably intended to get him to contribute articles to the magazine in the future.

Well, it's an honor. But for him now, the main task is not ideological enlightenment, but exposing the dark secrets and dedicating himself to the anti-Yuan cause.

It would be a good option to go there and write articles after Yuan Xiangcheng passes away next year and the situation becomes less tense.

"What are you thinking?" Shen Zishi asked cautiously.

Lin Wangzheng's brows relaxed, and he said:

"I'm currently juggling work for the Strange News and the Shen Bao newspaper, and I might not have time for the Youth Magazine."

Shen Zishi thought he was going to refuse and was about to nod.

Lin Wangzheng added:

"It's good to meet new friends. Maybe they can be of help in the future. After Yuan Xiangcheng dies, I'll have time to do these things."

Shen Zishi was startled by the statement "after Yuan Xiangcheng died". Then he thought that his nephew often made such wild remarks. What if he was right one day?

"Okay, let's go together on the 15th."

Lin Wangzheng nodded, took a long robe from the cabinet, put it on, and straightened his collar:

"Uncle, let's go."

"Where to?"

"Let's go find Shi Jiaxiu first and ask him to treat us to a meal. We've lost so much money today, we have to make up for it."

Shen Zishi paused for a moment, then smiled:

"Yes, give him a good beating!"

......

Half an hour later, it was completely dark.

In early September, the evenings in Shanghai were still hot and dry.

The first floor of the office building was already dark. On the second floor, apart from the light still on in the general manager's office, there was hardly anyone in the other rooms. It wasn't until after dinner time that the night shift staff started to come to work.

This is determined by the special nature of the newspaper industry; in order to ensure timely publication in the early morning, employees have to work irregular hours.

Fortunately, large newspapers like Shenbao can operate in two shifts.

Inside the general manager's office, the fan was whirring.

Shi Jiaxiu and Chen Huasheng were sitting at the desk, playing cards.

Playing cards, as a form of entertainment from the West, were introduced to China along with commerce in the mid-to-late 20th century.

The newspaper "Shenbao" even published a special article titled "Poker Explanation" two years ago, which specifically introduced how to play poker, demonstrating its popularity.

The two were playing "Sand Crab," also known as "Stud Poker." Each player was dealt five cards, the first two face up and one face down, and the last three all face up. Players would bet, raise, or fold based on their cards, and finally reveal their hands to compare their rankings. It was one of the most popular games at the time and was particularly loved by the literati.

"King of Hearts, Spade, Diamond... Good hand, it's your turn."

"Club 9, Club 10, Square Mud... I'll add five cents."

"..."

The two of them smoked, drank tea, and gambled a little money, living a very comfortable life.

The reason they didn't go back at this time was because of their usual routine—

The newspaper office had a telecommunications room with dedicated telegraph operators working 24-hour shifts to monitor international news agency reports, ensuring they didn't miss any major international news. When things were calm, the two would get together to play cards. This served two purposes: firstly, to keep watch and write reports promptly if any issues arose; and secondly, as a form of relaxation.

The two played cards for a while, and Shi Jiaxiu lost badly. He threw the cards on the table and picked up a teacup to cool down.

Chen Huasheng leaned back in his chair, weighed the five silver dollars he had earned, and joked with a smile:

"I've got my food money sorted for the next few days."

Shi Jiaxiu snorted and ignored him.

They have absolutely no understanding of social etiquette!

Chen Huasheng, seemingly unconcerned, propped his elbows on the table and asked:

"Shen Zishi came to see you last time, and the article has been published now, so why haven't you heard anything yet? Did you say anything or not?"

Shi Jiaxiu was somewhat dissatisfied:

"Don't you know Shen Zishi's temper? I almost got beaten up. Tell me, did I tell him or not?"

"Then why is there still no news?"

"Who knows? We can't just rob them, can we?"

"It's not impossible..."

Chen Huasheng is utterly shameless.

Shi Jiaxiu glanced at him and pointed in the direction of the French Concession:

"If you really want to poach them, then come with me and visit them three times."

Chen Huasheng was taken aback: "Three visits to the thatched cottage?"

Shi Jiaxiu nodded, deliberately provoking him:

"You want to train a successor, but you're not even willing to come to the door. You have no sincerity at all. If it were me, I wouldn't come either."

"You? I wouldn't even look at you!"

"you!"

Shi Jiaxiu choked for a moment, just about to start arguing.

"Bang!"

The office door was kicked open.

The two of them turned their heads at the same time.

There were two people standing at the door.

The man in front was Shen Zishi, with a pipe in his mouth, hands on his hips, and a "I'm back again" expression on his face, looking down on everyone.

Following behind was a young man who looked very "young". He was wearing a slightly worn blue long gown, had a tall and straight figure, a handsome face, and his hair was parted in a three-seven style. He had a heroic air about him and his whole demeanor was exceptionally sharp.

The historian was about to launch into a tirade when he saw the young man and froze.

Chen Huasheng was also stunned.

The two looked at each other and understood each other's meaning.

This young man has the air of someone I know.

Like a person, a dead person.

Two years ago, Shi Jiaxiu met Lin Wangzheng. At that time, Lin Wangzheng looked like a skeleton, unlike his current appearance.

Chen Huasheng, on the other hand, was meeting Lin Wangzheng for the first time and felt that he was pleasing to the eye.

"Weren't you clamoring to poach people? I've brought him here. Whether you can poach him or not is up to you."

Shen Zishi led Lin Wangzheng in, took off the pipe he was smoking, and tapped the ashes off the wall.

Lin Wangzheng stepped forward, bowed slightly, and cupped his hands in greeting to Shi Jiaxiu and Chen Huasheng:

"Mr. Shi, Mr. Chen, I am Lin Wangzheng, and I have long admired your names."

Shi Jiaxiu stood up, walked around the desk, pushed Shen Zishi aside, and walked up to Lin Wangzheng, looking him up and down.

After a short while, he took a deep breath and praised:

"A truly handsome man! He really is a handsome man!"

Chen Huasheng also came over and reached out to shake Lin Wangzheng's hand:

"It looks like it, it really does."

"Who does he look like?"

Shen Zishi, feeling neglected, asked the question knowingly.

Chen Huasheng didn't answer, but gently patted Lin Wangzheng's shoulder, nodding as he said:

"Good, good... I really enjoyed reading your articles. I've been wanting to meet you for a long time, and I'm so glad to finally meet you today. It's a dream come true."

Lin Wangzheng smiled and shook his head:

"You flatter me, gentlemen."

Shi Jiaxiu turned to look at Chen Huasheng and urged him:

"Old Chen, you said you wouldn't accept compliments!"

Chen Huasheng blurted out:

"That's no exaggeration. You're one of the very few people I truly admire... A remarkable young man has arrived in Shanghai!"

Shen Zishi stood to the side, listening to the two praising Lin Wangzheng, feeling both smug and impatient. Unable to bear it any longer, he stepped forward, blocking Lin Wangzheng's path, hands on his hips, glaring at Shi Jiaxiu:

"Alright, alright, we've brought the person to you. We've run into some trouble and haven't eaten yet. Now it's up to you whether you're sincere or not."

Shi Jiaxiu frowned and asked, "What happened?"

Shen Zishi waved his hand, his face full of displeasure:

"Don't even mention it. I got ripped off by the police, so I'm broke now. I'm just waiting to get a meal from you guys."

Shi Jiaxiu understood immediately and waved his hand:

"I get it! Let's go to Minleyuan, it's on me!"

Just as everyone was about to leave, he seemed to remember something, opened the cabinet, took out two bottles of Moutai liquor, and tossed them in his hand.

Lin Wangzheng's eyes lit up, and he quickly stepped forward to take the wine:

"This is a fine wine, it gained worldwide fame at the Panama-Pacific International Exposition, ranking alongside French Cognac and English Scotch whisky!"

Shi Jiaxiu patted him on the shoulder:

"Take any leftovers home; I have plenty more for the future."

......

Late at night, at the entrance of Minleyuan Park.

Chen Huasheng, supporting Shi Jiaxiu, and Lin Wangzheng, supporting Shen Zishi, each carrying a half-full bottle of Moutai, swayed as they walked out.

There were very few pedestrians on the street, and the streetlights cast long shadows of the four people.

A slightly cool breeze blew, and all four of them shivered, feeling a bit like lying down by the roadside to sleep.

This Anhui cuisine restaurant serves authentic dishes and is very famous in the Shanghai and Songjiang newspaper and literary circles. Many journalists love to eat here, and it is also known as the "second canteen".

Lin Wangzheng thoroughly enjoyed the meal, hiccuping repeatedly. The extortion he'd been subjected to during the day was completely forgotten.

Shi Jiaxiu, with a thick tongue, waved his hand with considerable pride:

"Nephew...don't worry, everything said at the table is the truth. I only care about you!"

Then, with blurry eyes, he looked at the unconscious Shen Zishi and said:

"It's up to you whether you come or not, just come! The terms have already been discussed. Old Chen said that as long as you come, he'll be your assistant. We won't interfere with your freedom!"

Lin Wangzheng was both amused and exasperated.

We not only enjoyed the meal at the table, but also discussed the possibility of a part-time job at the Shen Bao newspaper.

Shi Jiaxiu only cared whether he came or not, not whether he worked for several newspapers at the same time, he only wanted him to serve Shenbao.

The terms offered were very generous, with a base salary of fifty silver dollars per month, directly equivalent to that of a "special correspondent." Reporting expenses would be approved as long as they were reasonable, and fees for editorials, political commentaries, etc., would be calculated on a buy-out basis per article, or starting at two dollars per thousand words. After two years of service, employees would be given a share of the profits.

Such generous compensation is much more lucrative than simply selling newspapers. If I work hard, I can earn back the money I lost today in just half a month.

Lin Wangzheng had no reason to refuse and nodded in agreement:

"Then it's a deal. Uncle Chen can just be my assistant. He's a senior, how could I dare to?"

"What's there to be afraid of? You write better than him!"

Shen Zishi, who seemed to be dizzy, mumbled something in a daze.

Chen Huasheng coughed, wishing he could kick Shen Zishi over:

"That's enough, it's time to go back."

Before parting, Shi Jiaxiu, swaying from side to side, said:

"Come to the newspaper office when you have time, and I'll get you a press pass. It's an internal press pass for our newspaper. Not everyone will accept it outside, but most people will do you a favor."

"Okay! I'll come as soon as I wake up!"

Lin Wangzheng quickly agreed.

This is good news for him.

Currently, the news industry is still in its infancy, and news regulations are mainly used for control rather than a mature news system. Items like press cards are not officially issued or managed, but press cards from major newspapers are still useful and can make many things easier.

Shi Jiaxiu nodded in satisfaction, patted Lin Wangzheng on the shoulder, and then, supported by Chen Huasheng, staggered away.

Lin Wangzheng watched the two figures disappear, then looked at Shen Zishi leaning on his shoulder.

"Uncle, stop pretending."

Shen Zishi did not react.

"I know you're not drunk."

Shen Zishi still did not react.

Lin Wangzheng sighed, helped Shen Zishi walk a few steps to the side of the road, and waved to flag down a rickshaw.

"Ring ring—"

The rickshaw arrived ringing its bell, its dim headlights barely illuminating the road beneath its feet.

The rickshaw puller was in his forties, as thin as a bamboo pole. He wore a tattered blue prison uniform, with a sweat towel draped around his neck, soaked through and emitting a sour smell. His thin straw sandals were worn down to the point of collapse, revealing several toes with blackened nails and dirt under them.

He was pulling the cart with great effort, his body leaning forward, almost parallel to the ground. The muscles in his legs were taut, like thin, taut rods, and the veins bulged out from under his skin like earthworms, winding down his calves, looking somewhat frightening.

His breathing was heavy, each exhale sounding like a bellows being pulled, with a "whoosh whoosh" sound coming from his chest, suggesting some cardiopulmonary problems.

"Sir, where are you going?"

The rickshaw driver, sweating profusely, stopped the rickshaw and forced a smile as he asked.

"French Concession, Dongxinqiao Street"

Lin Wangzheng helped Shen Zishi into the car, and then got in himself.

The rickshaw driver started pulling the rickshaw and jogged forward, his heavy footsteps making a "pat-pat" sound on the stone pavement, like an ancient rhythm.

Streetlights swept overhead one by one, their dim yellow light casting long and short shadows on his back.

Lin Wangzheng watched the driver's retreating figure, his mind filled with a myriad of thoughts.

This person's back is a deformed hunchback, not from birth, but from pulling a cart.

His neck was thick, with bulging veins, as if it might burst at any moment.

The rickshaw trade was introduced to China in the 1970s, so it's not exactly a novel profession. If this person is an experienced rickshaw driver, the roads he's traveled could stretch from south to north, but he's never been to many cities.

If beggars can collapse and rot at any moment, then these ubiquitous rickshaw pullers, in their relentless running, will squeeze out their last bit of value, and on a sunny afternoon, suddenly die, falling heavily into a ditch.

The lives of people at the bottom of society tend to be similar.

Just then, Shen Zishi, who was leaning on Lin Wangzheng's shoulder, suddenly moved.

Stop pretending.

Lin Wangzheng said in a low voice.

Shen Zishi opened one eye, looked around, and then closed it again:

"I wasn't pretending. I just didn't want to see Shi Jiaxiu's smug face."

Lin Wangzheng smiled helplessly:

"Regardless, the police have come knocking, so our *Strange News* newspaper should be shut down. We need to eat and drink during this time; what will we do if we don't go to the *Shen Bao*?"

Shen Zishi had nothing to say, he could only grunt twice to express his dissatisfaction, and then asked:

"What are you going to write when you submit the application?"

Lin Wangzheng did not answer immediately.

He looked at the back of the person pulling the cart ahead, at the short shirt soaked with sweat, at the back bent by the weight of life.

If you focus on ordinary people, you'll never lack material.

The rickshaw stopped in front of a small inn on Dongxinqiao Street.

The driver put down the handlebars, turned around, wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, and said, panting heavily:

"Sir, we've arrived, one cent."

Lin Wangzheng took out the money from his pocket, counted it, and handed it over.

The driver took the money, noticed an extra 10 cents, and immediately bowed.

"Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir!"

They are clearly workers, yet they still have to say thank you to the people they work for.

This reminded Lin Wangzheng of some service industries where workers are exhausted from their labor, yet they are expected to thank customers, thus reversing the dignity of labor.

The more value you create, the more you become a cheap commodity...

His throat tightened, and he quickly helped Shen Zishi out of the car. Standing at the entrance of the inn, he watched the driver pull up the cart, turn around, and run away.

"Uncle."

Lin Wangzheng shouted.

Shen Zishi struggled to open his eyes.

Lin Wangzheng stretched out his hand and pointed to the now empty alley:

"Just write about them."

Shen Zishi looked in the direction he was pointing, but there was nothing in the alley.

"it is good."