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

evening.

A line of orange hung on the horizon, and the street signs creaked and groaned.

The lights in the Times office windows came on; some were rushing to finish their articles, some were working on typesetting, and some were waiting for telegrams. Those who weren't busy packed up their things to go home.

On the third floor, in the general manager's office, the lights were still on.

Di Pingzi sat at his desk, holding a warm cup of Da Hong Pao tea, with today's Shen Bao newspaper spread out in front of him.

He watched it from morning till night, countless times.

At first, I was reading the article about the rickshaw driver; now, I'm looking at the faces behind the newspaper.

The name Shi Jiaxiu, though neither heavy nor light, weighed on his heart like a mountain.

"Slurp!"

Di Pingzi took a sip of tea and found it bitter.

Across from him, a young man in his twenties sat upright, also reading a copy of the Shen Bao newspaper.

Ge Gongzhen.

He is twenty-five years old this year, from Dongtai, Jiangsu Province. He has a thin face, wears round-framed glasses, and has a quiet, scholarly air about him. Because he lost his father at a young age and his family fell into poverty, he worked exceptionally hard in his studies and eventually got into Nantong Normal School.

After graduation, he worked as a teacher in his hometown, teaching Chinese and history. Two years ago, through an introduction, he joined the Times, starting as a proofreader and working his way up to editor.

Because of his almost religious devotion to journalism, believing that "newspapers are public instruments of society and journalists are servants of truth," he was extremely serious and meticulous in his work, which earned him the deep appreciation of Di Pingzi.

Currently, he is in charge of producing the "Commentary 3" column for the Times, with Bao Tianxiao, who is in charge of the "Commentary 2" column, and Chen Huasheng, who works across departments and is in charge of the "Commentary 1" column.

Unlike Di Pingzi, he read the investigative reports in the *Shenbao* newspaper by examining the article's structure—

How to start by addressing the topic, how to develop the content in the middle, how to incorporate data, how to place quotations, and how to conclude each paragraph.

These are all things worth learning. Such a long investigative report cannot be written in a typical short commentary; it requires a seasoned writing style.

"This article was not written by those people from the Shenbao newspaper, including Brother Huasheng."

Ge Gongzhen put down the newspaper and said with great certainty.

Di Pingzi's teacup hovered in mid-air as he deliberately asked:

"How did you figure that out?"

"Writing style doesn't lie. Just like Liang Yinbing's New Folk Style, if you pay even a little attention to him, even if he changes his pen name eight hundred times, people who know him will still recognize him."

Ge Gongzhen spoke calmly and slowly: "Brother Huasheng's writing style is known for its brevity, conciseness, and sternness. Anyone who has read a newspaper even slightly knows this. Although we journalists all take him as a benchmark, asking him to write such a long article... he can't write with this kind of fluent, conversational style. Because he has written too many short commentaries, he can't grasp the long articles with such precision, logical rigor, and at the same time, without losing the literary appeal."

Di Pingzi did not refute, but instead asked:

"So who do you think it looks like?"

After thinking for a moment, Ge Gongzhen blurted out:

"The person behind the Strange News!"

This isn't exactly a case of having a keen eye, after all, in the entire Songhu region right now, Lin Wangzheng is the only one with such a writing style and approach.

Hearing his generals so certain, Di Pingzi's face darkened instantly. He slammed his teacup on the table, splashing tea that wet the newspaper and gradually spread into a small water stain.

"That's him!"

His expression grew increasingly grim, and he said through gritted teeth, "I sent someone to invite Shen Zishi a few days ago, and guess what he said? He said, 'I don't want to hear about shareholding or acquisitions anymore. I'll think about it later.' Then he turned around and sided with Shi Jiaxiu. What does that mean? It's just an excuse! It's disrespecting me!"

Ge Gongzhen wasn't really interested in the grudges of the older generation; he just quietly watched the drama unfold.

Di Pingzi continued to squeeze out through his teeth:

"That son of a bitch Shi Jiaxiu, he's good for nothing, but when it comes to crooked ways, no one can beat him... He even goes after tabloid reporters, what makes him so capable of finding such talent!"

Ge Gongzhen picked up the thermos, added some hot water to his teacup, and comforted him:

"Lord Di, please don't be hasty. Let's get down to business. What are your thoughts on the content of this article?"

Di Pingzi took the teacup, took a sip, and felt much better as the hot tea went down his throat. Leaning back in his chair, he said:

"Professional, extremely professional. No one at the Times can match this level of investigative skill."

Ge Gongzhen nodded and gave his opinion:

"And then there's the descriptive style. Although it doesn't deliberately try to evoke emotion, when it presents the driver's words verbatim, the reader's emotions are immediately stirred. And those folk songs, the timing of their insertion is simply brilliant, giving the article a foothold, making it not just abstract discussion, but facts rooted in the ground."

His voice carried an irrepressible admiration.

When the gap is too large, jealousy is no longer aroused.

Even though Di Pingzi disliked historians, he couldn't find fault with this article. He asked:

"Do you think we should repost this article?"

That's a pointless question.

The main issue was that the reprinted articles from the "Shenbao" newspaper made him feel ashamed, and he wanted to seek psychological comfort from someone.

Ge Gongzhen understood the boss's meaning perfectly well, and said:

"Our Times is known for its commentary, but this report is different; it's the truth. Facts don't need commentary, because they are the sharpest weapon in themselves. There's nothing shameful about us reprinting it."

Di Pingzi thought for a moment, then deliberately didn't answer immediately.

Ge Gongzhen then offered words of comfort:

"Moreover, we can do our own thing."

"What's wrong?"

Di Pingzi asked eagerly.

Ge Gongzhen explained his thoughts in detail:

"First, this article provides the most powerful real-world argument. With the people's livelihood in such dire straits, where do those who talk about 'constitutional monarchy' put their faces? Our commentary can follow this line of reasoning, comparing the suffering of the rickshaw pullers with the empty talk of the Preparatory Committee for the Establishment of Peace, and let the readers see for themselves who is telling the truth and who is just spouting empty rhetoric."

Di Pingzi's eyes lit up.

Ge Gongzhen continued:

"Secondly, this article proves that there are stories among the underprivileged. Dockworkers, beggars, rickshaw pullers—these people aren't devoid of news; they're just lacking journalists to uncover them. If we can find capable journalists, we can also create investigative columns like this. We don't necessarily need to use this Mingjing writer as a template, but the direction is correct."

Di Pingzi nodded sincerely.

Ge Gongzhen tapped the newspaper on the table with his finger, giving his most crucial observation:

"Third, the shortcoming of this article is the lack of horizontal comparison. He only wrote about rickshaw pullers and did not compare them with other industries to fill this gap. For example, how is the hardship of rickshaw pullers different from that of dockworkers? How is it different from that of textile workers? Only by comparing them side by side can readers see it more clearly."

"It would be even better if we could use photos or portraits to illustrate this. A picture of a rickshaw puller bent over pulling his rickshaw, or a tattered mat in a shantytown—a picture is worth a thousand words. We don't have that capability yet, but we can work towards that goal."

Di Pingzi fell into thought, tapped his fingers lightly twice on the table, and then said:

"Your suggestions are very valid. But we can't rush it. Investigative columns are fine, but we can't do them just for the sake of doing them. If journalists don't have the drive to put in the hard work, the resulting articles will be a mess, and publishing them will only make us a laughing stock."

Ge Gongzhen neither agreed nor disagreed.

Di Pingzi stood up, walked to the window, his back to Ge Gongzhen, and suddenly said:

"No, we can't let it go like this."

Ge Gongzhen was stunned:

"What do you mean...?"

Di Pingzi was somewhat unconvinced and said:

"Reprinting is one thing, but we still need to poach talent. Just because Shi Jiaxiu poached people doesn't mean I can't. Who says one person can't work for three newspapers? Chen Huasheng is a prime example. Am I not willing to offer Shen Bao a certain price?"

Ge Gongzhen's lips twitched.

So you're still up to your old tricks!

.......

After a while.

One by one, the lights went out, and the streets quieted down from the daytime hustle and bustle, leaving only the dim yellow light of the streetlights illuminating the empty cobblestone path.

The lights in the newspaper office were also on.

Wang Hanxi closed his office door and was about to go home when Yan Duhe called him back as he passed the chief editor's office.

"What are you doing?"

"I need to talk to you about something. Let's go to your office."

The two returned to the general manager's office together.

Yan Duhe sat down at the table, placed the Shen Bao newspaper on it, and pointed to the article:

Have you seen it?

Wang Hanxi, somewhat puzzled, nodded:

"He definitely read it. Shi Jiaxiu fought a brilliant battle. This article is enough to make his Shenbao newspaper profit for half a year. But he fought a brilliant battle, not because he was good at fighting brilliant battles, but because he had a mastermind helping him behind the scenes."

"That's what I want to talk to you about."

Yan Duhe clenched his fists and looked at him: "Who do you think this Mingjing is?"

Wang Hanxi did not hesitate:

"The people from the Strange Newspaper."

"Yes, I think so too. It's such a coincidence that so many good articles happen to have such similar styles?"

"We underestimated Shi Jiaxiu; he acted very quickly."

"yes!"

Yan Duhe sighed.

I miscalculated a bit; I should have tried harder back then.

Wang Hanxi's mood wasn't that complicated, and he smiled:

"I reckon Di Pingzi is smashing things."

Upon hearing this, Yan Duhe also laughed out loud. After laughing for a while, he asked:

"Such a good article, aren't you going to repost it?"

Wang Hanxi frowned, did not answer immediately, and fell into deep thought.

He had actually thought about this, but the rickshaw driver's investigative report was ultimately different in nature from the previous articles criticizing Yuan Shikai's faction.

The previous articles criticizing Yuan Shikai's faction did not involve economic critique. But this article criticizes the economy from beginning to end.

It's a good idea, but for newspapers with their own audience, it's a difficult choice.

"As you know, most of the readers of the newspaper are people in the business community. These people are afraid of chaos. If you are too radical, they won't buy it. If you are not radical, you seem spineless. It's hard to find the right balance."

Wang Hanxi slowly revealed the crux of the matter: "The most crucial point is that rickshaw pullers involve far too many people, and it's destined that many will not accept this. I guarantee you, it won't be long before both the Chinese-controlled areas and the concessions are putting pressure on Shi Jiaxiu, believe it or not?"

Yan Duhe did not refute, but replied:

"That's true, but if you don't seize this opportunity, you'll only be following in the footsteps of the Shenbao newspaper, and who knows how far you'll fall behind in the future."

Wang Hanxi smiled mysteriously and said:

"Not reposting this article does not mean you can't pay attention to rickshaw drivers."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's look at it from other angles... For example, if drivers are obstructing traffic and causing problems, that's a municipal issue. If rickshaw rentals are too high and drivers can't make a living, that's an industry issue. If injured drivers go unattended, that's the responsibility of charities."

"That makes sense. This approach addresses current social issues while avoiding direct political radicalism!"

Yan Duhe expressed his agreement.

After understanding what Wang Hanxi wanted to do, he took out a small notebook, pointed to the folk songs copied inside, and said:

"There's one more thing. Do you think it's possible to write a novel about rickshaw pullers?"

"novel?"

"Yes! The folk song that Mingjing quoted would be the best dialogue in a novel! What does Happy Forest emphasize? It's elegant without being profound, simple without being vulgar, relaxed without being frivolous, and sharp without being acerbic. The subject of the rickshaw puller fits this perfectly. It's deep enough, but not abstruse; it's simple enough, but not vulgar; it's weighty enough, but it can be written in a light way."

"....."

This was the first time Wang Hanxi had thought of this angle. He asked, "This is a good idea. If written well, it could probably have more impact than a simple social survey. But in Shanghai today, who can write a novel like this?"

Yan Duhe helplessly spread his hands:

"So I can only treat this as inspiration, and keep paying attention to it slowly. There's no use rushing it."

"Speaking of which, Shi Jiaxiu really got a huge advantage. Are you still planning to just stand by and watch?"

Wang Hanxi leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his stomach, and smiled.

"There's no point in forcing things that can't be forced. Like you said before, nobody can predict the future. Who knows, maybe one day he'll come knocking on your door?"

......

Meanwhile, in the International Settlement, at Hua Fu Li.

It was a bit noisy in the courtyard of the Yadong Library.

"Where did you two go?!"

"I'm asking you a question!"

Chen Qingtong roared at the two boys who had just returned.

As a result, the two boys walked towards their small room without looking back, not even giving their father a glance.

Chen Qingtong was furious and grabbed his eldest son's hand, but was suddenly shaken off. The cold look in his eyes made him freeze for a moment.

Then, with a "bang," the door to the room was slammed shut.

Chen Qingtong stood at the door, his hand raised, unsure whether to lower it or knock. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then swallowed the words back, his face a mixture of emotions.

Wang Mengzou came out of the kitchen carrying a plate of peanuts. Seeing this scene, he sighed heavily.

"Look at you, the child is so young, why are you always criticizing them?"

Chen Qingtong pursed his lips, slowly walked to the small table in the courtyard, sat down, picked up the tea and took a sip. It was a little too hot for his mouth, but he didn't put it down.

Wang Mengzou placed the peanuts on the table and patted it:

"Don't pretend nothing's wrong at times like this. If you try to talk to them, it will just sound like you're scolding them. The children are so young, they're at an age where they're disobedient. Do you think they'll listen if you scold them? You won't be satisfied if they run away, and you'll start scolding them again next time. What's the point of arguing with the children?"

Chen Qingtong sighed, did not refute, and held his teacup, watching the tea leaves rise and fall in the water by the dim light of the electric lamp.

Wang Mengzou shook his head, his tone softening:

"I know it hasn't been easy for you. You've been away from home for so many years, separated from your children for so long, and now you want to take care of them. But they're all grown up now, they don't accept your control anymore, and they even hold a grudge against you. You need to change your approach and fulfill your responsibilities as a father. Take it slow, and don't put on that bad temper of yours."

Chen Qingtong put down his teacup and said:

"Take it slow, they can't wait. There was a Japanese man named Fukuzawa Yukichi who said that children should be educated with animalistic instincts before the age of ten, and with humanistic instincts after the age of ten. These two children's education is lacking, and they need to be given some animalistic instincts to cultivate strong bodies and tenacious wills."

Wang Mengzou immediately rebuked him:

"Nonsense! You're treating them like puppies! They're not close to you to begin with, and you're still disciplining them like this. How can the children stand it! Do you feel better knowing they call you by your full name every day?"

Chen Qingtong remained unmoved and retorted:

"You're just being sentimental, just like my wife... Do you know that the ethical concept of 'survival of the fittest' is popular from Western Europe to the East? The reason why those great powers are powerful is precisely because they have retained their animalistic nature. Having only this is certainly not enough, but not having it is definitely not acceptable."

Wang Mengzou clapped his hands and advised:

"Don't you still believe in populism? How come you only bring up this bestialism when talking to your own son? They're not qualified to talk about democracy!"

Chen Qingtong snorted coldly and pointed towards the door:

"When will these two brats ever be willing to talk to me? Every time I try to say a few words, they give me the cold shoulder and slam the door shut louder than thunder."

Wang Mengzou stopped trying to persuade him, picked up a peanut from the table, threw one into his mouth, chewed it, and swallowed it.

What a bad temper!

It's one thing to be stubborn when making revolution, but to be just as stubborn at home.

And yet he expects his child to call him "Dad"? He won't even let the child stay at home, and he doesn't even have enough living expenses each month. It's just wishful thinking.

Ah!

The courtyard was quiet for a short while.

Wang Mengzou's gaze fell on the Shen Bao newspaper on the table, and he asked:

"Have you read today's *Shenbao* newspaper? There's an investigative report in it. What do you think of it?"

Chen Qingtong didn't even raise his head:

"I read it; that investigative report on the rickshaw drivers was very well written."

Tell me what's good about it.

"Replacing empty rhetoric with factual investigation—this is what I advocate as 'practical rather than empty rhetoric.' Which journalist today possesses this spirit?"

"Too."

Wang Mengzou then took two more cups and poured a small cup of rice wine for each of them.

Chen Qingtong took a sip of wine, popped a peanut into his mouth, and continued:

"Those rickshaw pullers complained about their bad luck... but it wasn't just the rickshaw pullers who said that."

"Why do they think this way? Because the slave morality of the old society makes them feel that this is fate, it cannot be changed, and they should just accept it. The decadent Confucian teachings of 'being content with one's lot,' 'accepting one's fate,' and 'everyone accepting their destiny' are constantly reinforcing these ideas."

He paused, then pointed to the newspaper and said:

"Without independent thought, one can only become a slave, never standing up. Therefore, the ideological transformation I'm talking about is absolutely urgent!"

Wang Mengzou rubbed his hands together, showing no intention of refuting.

To be honest, he still doesn't quite understand how his friend plans to do this.

Based on just one "Youth Magazine"? That's a bit too optimistic...

While eating peanuts, Chen Qingtong asked again:

"But speaking of this article, doesn't it seem familiar? Like that young man Lin's style?"

Wang Mengzou finally smiled:

"You noticed?"

"What do you mean by that? You knew all along?"

"Isn't that obvious? Looking at the entire Shanghai press, who else has this ability besides him? Plus, Shen Zishi came by a few days ago and told me that he's been in trouble lately. The Strange News will have to shut down for a while, but the people won't stop. And then this article came out. I'm not stupid."

Why didn't you say so sooner?

Chen Qingtong also laughed.

Wang Mengzou pointed at him:

"I wasn't thinking of giving you a surprise on the 15th. This young man is definitely the kind of young man you've been looking for."

Chen Qingtong first lowered his head, then looked up at the sky.

It's windy today, and the clouds are moving very fast.

The bright moon hung in the sky, shining like a giant lamp.

He suddenly spoke, his voice soft but firm:

"If the ideological problems are not resolved, even if one Yuan Xiangcheng leaves, there will be another Yuan Xiangcheng."

As soon as he finished speaking, he turned to look at Wang Mengzou:

"What I need are young people in Xia Kingdom who are like this young brother Lin, who dare to stand up and criticize current affairs, dare to take to the streets and do practical things, and dare to pursue their ideals. Instead of being numb and silent, or just following the crowd."

"Ten years! Let me run this magazine for ten years, and the whole nation's thinking will change!"