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

On August 6th, the first issue of the revamped "Strange News" was published.

Under Lin Wangzheng's influence, Shen Zishi's long-dormant gambling spirit began to boil. He went all in on credit at the printing shop, printing five hundred copies and handing them over to the newsstand.

As he carried the newspaper to the newsstand, his heart was bleeding. If he couldn't sell these 500 copies, he and his son would have to become beggars for the rest of the month!

Lin Wangzheng waited in the hotel, looking at the notebook spread out in front of him, but he wasn't really sure what to expect.

If things go wrong this time, it's easy to brush off Shen Zishi, but the real problem is that we'll be letting Lao Shang down.

There was no news in the morning, and still no news by noon.

In the afternoon, Shen Zishi stumbled back, covered in sweat, the hem of his long gown flapping wildly.

As soon as he entered the door, he shouted loudly:

"Sold out! Sold out!"

"What?"

"Five hundred copies, all sold out! In just one morning! I saw it with my own eyes, a huge crowd gathered in front of the newsstand!"

"That's good......"

Lin Wangzheng slumped back in his chair, letting out a sigh of relief.

Shen Zishi started counting on his fingers, laughing as he spoke:

"The newsstand owner said that at this rate, we'll have to print more."

"Print another 500 copies tomorrow... no! 1,000 copies! Let's go all in again!"

......

The next day, the weather was fine and sunny.

On the side of the road in the French Concession, several rickshaw pullers squatted together, passing around the latest issue of the "Strange News".

The literate rickshaw driver read aloud the reports about the dockworkers, his words stammering and slurring each one. When he got to the part about the dockworkers' lives, his eyes reddened and his voice changed.

"My brother works as a porter at the dock. He broke his leg last year, and the foreman gave him two silver dollars and that was it. Now he's still limping and can't do any work."

Another driver said:

"The brothers on the dock live a life similar to ours. I wonder when the Strange News will write about us."

This immediately drew a crowd of supporters:

"Yes, the articles in this Strange News are different from those in major newspapers like the Shen Bao and the Shi Bao. It's really rare that we can understand them."

"I remember this tabloid used to publish erotic articles, how come it's changed so much all of a sudden?"

"There must be a mastermind behind this! I suspect it's this 'rumor'!"

......

Inside a teahouse on the street.

People wearing long gowns, melon-shaped hats, and walking sticks sat in twos and threes, drinking tea and chatting, flipping through newspapers in their hands.

One of them flipped through the "Strange News" newspaper a few times, then slammed it on the table:

"The whole thing is written in plain language, it's vulgar! What kind of rubbish is this! Can this even be called an article?"

Another old man adjusted his reading glasses and chuckled:

"But there's some truth to that. Would Shi Jiaxiu dare have his subordinates write that line, 'Dockworkers aren't livestock, they're human beings'?"

Other tea drinkers also chimed in:

"Yes, these days the big newspapers are all writing bland, innocuous stuff; there's more gossip than news. Who dares to write something like, 'What talk of co-governance, what talk of monarchy, we can't even get enough to eat?' Who dares to write about the lives of dockworkers?"

Someone sneered:

"What's the point of daring to write this? It's just taking advantage of their small size to create a sensational statement to attract attention. Do those dockworkers and laborers even understand what they're saying?"

"Those uncouth, uncouth country bumpkins, dare to claim them as the backbone of Shanghai? Bah!"

A young person who was drinking tea with their elders said:

"Can't understand? If you can't understand it, why is someone reading it to them? I saw it with my own eyes; someone on the dock was reading from a newspaper, and a whole crowd was listening!"

......

Taikoo Wharf.

During their lunch break, the workers gathered together to listen to the young Chen brothers read the newspaper.

The eldest brother squatted in the middle of the crowd and cleared his throat:

"Old Li is forty-three years old this year. He's been working at the dock for over ten years, and his back is so sore he can't straighten up anymore, but he still has to carry twenty tons of cargo every day..."

The dockworkers listened quietly, and no one disturbed the atmosphere. As the text was read aloud, some workers began to wipe away tears.

Because it depicts their own lives.

"The dockworkers are illiterate, but their lives deserve to be written down."

When the older brother from the Chen family finished reading, he put down the newspaper and noticed that many of his coworkers were in low spirits, smoking cigarettes by themselves.

Old Shang squatted in the corner, huddled up in a ball, clutching a cornbread bun in his hand, and spoke in a hoarse voice:

"What good would it do to write it down, whether it's true or false?"

No one answered him.

The wind blows from the Huangpu River, ships in the distance sound their horns, foremen shout orders—everything is the same as yesterday, and the same as tomorrow.

At the other end of the dock, someone was unhappy.

The foreman sat in his office, a copy of the "Strange News" newspaper spread out in front of him, his face ashen.

"What is this garbage! Who let them write it? Who gave them permission?"

The underling next to him shrank back, not daring to utter a sound.

The foreman slammed his fist on the table and threw the newspaper on the ground.

"Go find the police station and tell them to shut down this newspaper!"

"Spreading rumors! Defamation! Incitement! These charges are enough to land them in court!"

My younger brother went there quickly.

About half an hour later, he returned dejectedly, his face even more unpleasant than when he left.

"What did they say?" the foreman asked.

The younger brother stammered:

"The French say... they say this article is not slanderous, nor is it fabricated or inciteful, because the newspaper did not name names..."

"What?!"

"The detective said it depicts the life of a worker, and also said... and that if we felt our reputation had been damaged, we could file a lawsuit at the Joint Trial Chamber."

"Sue my ass! Sue a tabloid? What good would it do even if I won? Pay me two dollars? I've spent more than that on litigators!"

The contractor was so angry he almost fainted. He grabbed the purple clay teapot on the table, wanting to smash it, but then he thought about the price and couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Is there any more?"

"have."

"explain!"

My brother added insult to injury:

"The French also said that this newspaper was about humanitarianism, and that France upholds human rights..."

With a loud crash, the teapot in the contractor's hand shattered, and he shouted angrily:

"Human rights! What gave the French the right to build their concession and talk to us about human rights?!"

"These tabloids will only cause trouble sooner or later if they continue like this. Let's see what they do then!"

......

Two days later.

The previous print run of one thousand copies has sold out.

The newsstand owner sent someone to urge him to print more copies, and Shen Zishi printed another 500 copies, which also sold out.

Several newsstands approached us, saying the newspaper's content was selling well and they wanted to pre-order the next issue, repeatedly requesting that more be printed next time to avoid running out of stock.

In the hotel room, Shen Zishi was hunched over the table doing accounts, the abacus rattling loudly.

"A total of two thousand portions, at two coins per portion, that's four thousand coins..."

"In total, that's forty silver dollars. After deducting costs, rent, and the cost of tobacco and alcohol, the net profit is..."

He stretched out his fingers and did some calculations, then grinned from ear to ear.

Lin Wangzheng ignored him and instead flipped through the newspaper, fully utilizing his initiative to find inspiration for the next issue.

Now that the dockside report has been a success, every subsequent issue must be handled with care, lest we ruin our reputation.

New topics must be original and not repetitive.

He flipped through the newspapers he had read over the past few days, including the Shenbao, Xinwenbao, Shenzhou Daily, and Asia Daily, reading them one by one and word by word.

To be honest, as an idealist, he was very disappointed with the current state of the press in Xia Kingdom, and could not see the proper standards of journalism.

Or rather, those with journalistic integrity were all used as live targets and died from acute iron poisoning.

Suddenly, his hand stopped.

Two days ago, he saw an article in the Asia Daily titled "Co-governance and Monarchy," written by a foreigner named Goodnow.

Reading through it from beginning to end, Goodnow's core argument is:

Co-governance is not suitable at present; a monarchy should be adopted.

The article is written in a very academic style, citing numerous sources and comparing the national systems of various European, American, and Latin American countries. It points out that the success of co-governance requires extremely high conditions; otherwise, it is prone to instability due to changes in leadership.

In contrast, monarchy offers certainty in the succession of power, avoids internal chaos, and is more conducive to social stability and gradual reform.

This is a classic methodology of comparative politics, but it boils down to the same thing over and over again—

The Xia Kingdom needs an emperor.

An American came to Xia Kingdom to discuss "whether or not there should be an emperor"?

"Oh!"

Lin Wangzheng handed the newspaper to Shen Zishi, who was in high spirits.

Shen Zishi didn't want to look at it at first, but he couldn't resist the repeated orders, so he had no choice but to pick up the newspaper on the table, scan it, and could hardly believe his eyes.

He took off his glasses, carefully wiped the lenses, and upon seeing that it was the *Asia Daily*, his face turned deathly pale.

"You mean?"

Lin Wangzheng nodded:

"The Asia Daily is the official newspaper of Yuan Shikai's faction. Why would you publish this article advocating for the imperial system?"

Shen Zishi realized the seriousness of the situation and stood up, pacing back and forth in the room:

"What are we going to do? If Yuan Shikai really declares himself emperor, we won't even be able to publish our local tabloids..."

"Criticize him."

"What?!"

"I said criticize him, and this will cause a major news story!"

Lin Wangzheng smiled and raised his voice.

Shen Zishi was so frightened that he became incoherent:

"You, you're insane! What's the difference between criticizing this article and criticizing Yuan Shikai?"

"I didn't criticize Yuan Xiangcheng, I criticized Goodnow."

"Is there a difference between Goodnow being a staff member of Yuan Shikai's faction and that?"

"Yes, criticizing articles is academic discussion, while criticizing people is a political statement. Goodnow is an American. He wrote an article saying that Xia Kingdom is not suitable for co-governance, and I wrote an article saying that he does not understand the national conditions of Xia Kingdom. This is called academic debate."

Lin Wangzheng was pedantic and pedantic.

Shen Zishi looked as if he had just chewed a bitter melon, his face showing discomfort:

"You know the Military and Political Law Enforcement Bureau, right? That 'graveyard of journalists' in Beiping,' they specialize in catching people like you!"

Lin Wangzheng lowered his head, his voice calm:

"I know, my father died inside."

Shen Zishi was speechless for a moment, not knowing how to offer advice.

He knew that the boy's obsession had never dissipated; on the contrary, it had only grown stronger.

Just like coal burning fiercely beneath the soil.

"Our advantage is that we can hide in the gutter and run away at any time."

"We can do what major newspapers dare not do; we can criticize articles that major newspapers dare not criticize."

"If we don't make good use of this, we can only watch Yuan Xiangcheng rise to power and never be able to turn our lives around."

Lin Wangzheng stood up and looked at Shen Zishi:

"My father had a good friend in Beiping who said, 'Running a newspaper is not afraid of offending people; even if you have a knife to your throat, you must speak out.' Running a newspaper is inherently about putting your head on the line."

"We can't be completely free from partisanship, self-interest, selling out, or blind faith, but would you dare to publish an editorial criticizing foreigners?"

Shen Zishi looked conflicted, glancing at the wooden plaque standing on the table and then at Lin Wangzheng.

After a long silence, he suddenly smiled, a smile tinged with helplessness:

"Fine, I'm the one making the money anyway. If anyone's going to be executed, it'll be you. At worst, I'll just flee overseas!"

Lin Wangzheng also smiled:

"Uncle, go and collect information about Goodnow's experiences in Xia Kingdom. What did he do, whose money did he take, who did he associate with, and whose interests did he represent? It's best to know everything. I'll write an article to refute it."

Shen Zishi pushed open the door and went out, his footsteps echoing on the stairs, growing fainter and fainter.

Lin Wangzheng sat back down at the table, spread out the manuscript paper, dipped his pen in ink, thought for a moment, and wrote down a title:

[A Critique of "Co-governance and Monarchy" - Mr. Goodnow, You're Wrong]