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

At midnight, the hustle and bustle of Wangping Street finally subsided.

The mess outside the Asia Daily newspaper building indicates that a devastating explosion occurred there not long ago.

Several rats scurried out of the ditch and chattered as they rummaged through the ruins.

The lights were still on on the second floor of the Shenbao building.

Shi Jiaxiu sat at his desk, leaning back in his chair, staring blankly at the chandelier on the ceiling, lost in thought.

Chen Huasheng sat on the sofa, silently sipping his tea, feeling somewhat irritated.

Shen Zishi huddled next to Chen Huasheng, his head slowly drooping downwards, a sharp snore escaping his throat.

On the coffee table in front of him was a food box containing some home-style dishes, specially ordered from a restaurant, just waiting for him to come back and eat.

"What time is it?"

Shi Jiaxiu looked at the hanging bell and asked a question he already knew the answer to.

Chen Huasheng glanced at his watch and replied:

"It's past midnight."

"yes......"

Shi Jiaxiu muttered, "The typesetting is about to start, why isn't he back yet?"

Such a big thing happened on Wangping Street. Since reporters were sent out to cover the news, their goal must be to report it as soon as possible and pursue the timeliness of the news in order to gain an advantage in business competition.

Lin Wangzheng has not returned yet.

"Let's wait and see; this matter is probably not that simple."

Chen Huasheng lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and felt much better.

Shi Jiaxiu stopped nagging, stood up, stretched, went to the window, opened it, and leaned on the windowsill to look outside.

The streetlights illuminated the entire street in a dim light, and the newspaper office sign swayed slightly in the wind, making a creaking sound.

He felt the coolness and suddenly asked:

"Old Chen, do you think Wang Zheng can figure this out?"

"You don't trust him?"

"No, the main problem is that he used to handle civilian affairs, and now I'm worried he won't be able to handle these kinds of emergencies."

"If he can't figure it out, no one else can either. Trust the young man."

Chen Huasheng answered without hesitation.

Shi Jiaxiu nodded, about to say "Great minds think alike", but immediately stopped himself.

A figure turned from the alleyway entrance, walking at a moderate pace, but with an awkward posture. The left leg was hesitant to exert force, and the entire weight was on the right leg.

This person's build is exactly like Lin Wangzheng's!

Shi Jiaxiu frowned and stared intently at his figure.

Not long after, Lin Wangzheng walked to the entrance of the newspaper office, looked up and nodded at him, indicating that the matter was settled.

Shi Jiaxiu could clearly see that Lin Wangzheng's long robe was covered in dust, his hair was messy, and there was a dust mark on his face, which he couldn't tell whether he had rubbed or smeared on it.

But those eyes were brighter than light bulbs!

"Wang Zheng is back!"

Shi Jiaxiu shouted.

Chen Huasheng immediately stubbed out his cigarette and opened the office door.

Shen Zishi also woke up, rubbed his eyes, but didn't see any familiar figures. He asked anxiously:

"Where? Where?"

"It's here!"

Lin Wangzheng walked into the room with a smile, trying his best to act as if nothing was wrong.

But after being hit hard on the thigh, the physiological reaction was uncontrollable, and the strange gait was still noticeable.

Shi Jiaxiu hurriedly stepped forward and helped Lin Wangzheng to his seat. He then poured a cup of cool tea and placed it in front of Lin Wangzheng.

Lin Wangzheng didn't stand on ceremony and gulped it down, immediately feeling much better.

Shen Zishi, carrying a lunchbox, came to the table and asked:

"What happened to your leg?"

Lin Wangzheng looked up and smiled:

"It's nothing, I was running too fast and tripped."

Without saying a word, Shen Zishi put down the lunchbox, squatted down, and pulled up his pants.

Lin Wangzheng couldn't stop him.

When the pants were pulled up, the men were horrified to see a bluish-purple welt on the thigh. It stretched from below the groin all the way to above the knee, long and wide, swollen high, with the surrounding skin a dark reddish hue, like a centipede coiled on the leg.

Shen Zishi's face darkened instantly, and he rolled up his sleeves to ask:

"Who did this?!"

Lin Wangzheng pulled down his pants and smiled:

"It's really nothing, no bones are broken, it'll be fine in a couple of days."

"I'm asking you who did it!"

Shen Zishi's voice suddenly rose in pitch, loud enough to be heard throughout the entire floor.

His old friend entrusted his child to him. He, as the uncle, had no other skills, but he couldn't just stand by and do nothing while his child was being beaten.

Lin Wangzheng understood Shen Zishi's look and helped him up:

"Uncle, the guy who hit me just lost a brother and was in a bad mood. I went up to him and asked him all sorts of questions, so I deserved to get hit. He didn't cripple me, and he even told me a lot of things!"

Shen Zishi hesitated for a long time, and finally managed to squeeze out only one sentence:

"You're always thinking of others!"

Shi Jiaxiu also took a box of ointment from the medicine box on the bookshelf and handed it to Lin Wangzheng:

"You've suffered. Here, rub this on, this medicine works."

Lin Wangzheng took the ointment, but didn't apply it immediately. He said:

"Uncle Shi, I've figured it out."

Shi Jiaxiu sat opposite Lin Wangzheng, gesturing for him to speak.

Chen Huasheng pulled Shen Zishi down to sit and waited quietly.

Lin Wangzheng took out his notebook, quickly summarized the interview content, and began to speak:

"The explosion occurred at around 7:20 PM. There were three people involved: two providing cover and one throwing the bomb. The person providing cover was killed instantly, and the person throwing the bomb was seriously injured and is currently being held in the basement of Renji Hospital. The third person escaped, and we don't know where he went. His name, place of origin, and specific organization are unverifiable, but he is almost certainly a member of the revolutionaries. This is because after the explosion, the person who escaped left behind a handful of leaflets with content that only revolutionaries would write. Based on this behavior, I dare to make this judgment."

"The newspaper office had received warning letters before it even opened, and there were also posters and anonymous letters. Xue Dake reported the incident to the police station, and the Public Works Department sent three police officers to guard the entrance, two Chinese and one British. But the bombing still happened, resulting in four deaths and thirteen injuries. Among the dead were the bomber's accomplice, a Chinese police officer on duty at the entrance, and two printers, a father and son. Apart from the police officers, all the injured were workers."

There was a few seconds of silence in the office.

Chen Huasheng offered him a cigarette and asked:

"How is Xue Dake?"

"He should have been on the second floor at the time, and I saw that he was fine."

Lin Wangzheng pursed his lips and shook his head, somewhat disdainfully: "But he was truly pathetic, he definitely wet his pants. I wanted to interview him, but he recognized me first, refused to answer, and even tried to argue with me. In the end, it was always the same: 'No comment.'"

The crowd gave a cold laugh.

That's just how spineless a literary beggar is.

Shi Jiaxiu stroked the stubble on his chin and suggested:

"In that case, let's finish the article as soon as possible and get it ready for tomorrow morning's news!"

Lin Wangzheng immediately nodded, patted himself down, and said:

"I don't know where I lost my pencil, can I borrow one?"

Chen Huasheng slapped his thigh and stood up, saying:

"Wait, I happen to have a pen."

After saying that, he hurriedly left and returned to the main writing room.

Not long after, he returned with a Parker fountain pen, its surface entirely black, and handed it to Lin Wangzheng:

"It's yours."

These days, fountain pens are very expensive, and giving a fountain pen as a gift is one of the highest forms of etiquette among intellectuals.

However, Lin Wangzheng didn't refuse. He took the pen, thanked him, and then exclaimed:

"Now we have the pen, but what about the ink and paper?"

Shi Jiaxiu was both amused and exasperated. He opened the drawer, took out ink and manuscript paper, and spread them out in front of Lin Wangzheng.

Lin Wangzheng was about to pick up the ink and begin writing when Shen Zishi stopped him:

"Wait a minute! Eat your food first! You can write after you finish eating!"

......

after eating.

Time passed second by second.

Shi Jiaxiu, Chen Huasheng, and Shen Zishi sat on the sofa, playing cards in silence, sticking a note on the face of whoever lost.

Surprisingly, Chen Huasheng suffered the most crushing defeat this time. His face was covered in white paper strips, making him look utterly comical.

In a corner unseen by anyone, Shi Jiaxiu and Shen Zishi were secretly playing cards...

Lin Wangzheng, with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, worked with lightning speed thanks to the new fountain pen.

The manuscript sheets were filled one by one and neatly stacked together.

As the daily release time drew closer, the three players were starting to get impatient. However, none of them uttered a word of urgency.

"alright!"

As dawn broke, Lin Wangzheng put down his pen, leaned back in his chair, and called out, his eyes weary.

The three people playing cards immediately dropped their cards and came to the table.

Lin Wangzheng pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to Shi Jiaxiu:

"Take a look at this version first."

The group huddled together, looking at the contents of the document.

A Shocking Revelation: Reports on the Bombing of the Asia Daily

[Special Correspondent: Ming Jing]

At approximately 7:20 PM on September 11th, a loud explosion occurred on Wangping Street in the International Settlement. The Shanghai branch of the *Asia Daily*, which had only been open for two days, was attacked by a bomb. As of press time, at least four people were dead and more than ten injured. Among the dead were one police officer on duty, two printing workers, and one accomplice of the bomber. Just one street away was the *Shen Bao* newspaper office, and a few steps away was the *Shi Bao* newspaper office; this was the first time such a large cluster of newspaper offices had been ravaged by such violence. Our reporter rushed to the scene immediately, interviewed high-ranking police officers, nearby residents, witnesses, and the injured, and recorded what was seen and heard as follows.

Chen Huasheng glanced at the length of the document and asked:

"Isn't writing a long post about this kind of thing a bit cumbersome?"

Shi Jiaxiu did not agree, and glanced at him:

"Content is the most important thing. The more detailed the content, the more it reflects our attention to detail, and that's what professionalism is. Otherwise, if we just publish a simple event report like other newspapers, what's the point of going through all that interviews?"

Chen Huasheng had no objection and looked down.

[I. Rumors had already been circulating during the preparation period.]

News of the upcoming Asia Newspaper had already spread by the end of August. It was said to be a newspaper "supporting the change of the national system," with its address chosen in the Wangping Street area of ​​the International Settlement. It advertised recruitment ads everywhere, clearly intending to cheer on the petitioning activities in Beiping.

[Before the newspaper even opened, warning letters arrived. According to nearby residents, in the days leading up to its opening, posters were plastered and anonymous letters were dropped at the newspaper's entrance. Some were signed "Citizen of Xia State," some "Enemy of Imperial System," and some simply "Anti-Yuan Righteous Man." The wording varied, but the meaning was largely the same: "Dare to advocate for the imperial system, and you will be punished by heaven." In other words, the newspaper was not allowed to open. One letter was quite blunt: "If you dare to publish, don't blame us for being ruthless."]

The staff at the newspaper office didn't take it seriously and continued with renovations, furniture moving, and printing equipment testing as usual. General Manager Xue Dake took the threatening letters to the police station to report the case and requested protection from high-ranking officials from the Municipal Council. The concession authorities agreed, and from the day of opening, they stationed three police officers at the entrance—two Chinese and one British detective.

The local residents were uneasy, both curious and afraid. A grocery store owner living opposite the newspaper office told the reporter, "People were talking about it those days, saying that this newspaper was opened at the wrong time. So many people in Shanghai opposed the imperial system, and you insisted on opening a newspaper to speak for the imperial system, weren't you just asking for trouble?" He also revealed to the reporter that a warning sign had been posted at the entrance of his shop, specifically reminding nearby merchants that "they are not responsible for any accidental injuries." He felt a pang of unease and hesitated whether to lay low for a while, but before he could make up his mind, trouble struck.

Shen Zishi clicked his tongue twice and commented:

"This is so engaging, it's like reading a traditional storybook; it's really original!"

Chen Huasheng also agreed:

"The interviews were detailed, starting with the causes and leading to the consequences. This reporting style should be promoted because it requires journalists to be dedicated enough to obtain so much information."

Shi Jiaxiu chuckled:

"Otherwise, how can I show that I have a keen eye for talent!"

II. A sudden loud noise

According to witnesses, it was already dark. The crowds on Wangping Street were thinning, but police officers from the local police station were still patrolling near the newspaper office. Just then, a man carrying a briefcase emerged from a nearby alleyway, and, with two companions following behind, walked straight towards the newspaper office's front door. The British detective became suspicious and immediately ordered him to stop. Before he finished speaking, the man suddenly swung his briefcase and smashed it into the newspaper office.

[Immediately following was an explosion. Not a minor bang, but the kind of sound that blew doors and windows off and ripped pieces of the roof off. The first floor of the newspaper office was filled with printing workers at the time. After the explosion, thick smoke billowed, and splinters of wood, glass, and bricks flew everywhere. Only after the smoke cleared slightly could people see four people lying near the entrance.]

[A middle-aged police officer died on the spot. He was guarding the newspaper office's door, and he lost his life guarding it. Two workers also died. One was in his fifties, and the other in his early twenties. Their deaths were too gruesome to describe here, lest the reporter grieve their families. But it must be mentioned that the two were father and son. The bomber's accomplice, who was providing cover ahead, lay lifeless in a pool of blood, his body charred black, his abdomen blown apart, and his face unrecognizable.]

The bomber himself was also seriously injured—his arms and ribs were mangled and bloody, and he lay motionless in front of the newspaper office. He was later taken to the hospital for treatment. According to sources, his condition is stable, but his specific identity is unknown; he is suspected to be a revolutionary. The police have assigned officers to guard him, awaiting his recovery for interrogation. Whether he will be extradited to Chinese-controlled areas is currently undecided.

The last person providing cover, seeing the chaos, dropped a leaflet and fled in the confusion, disappearing without a trace. The police are intensifying their search, and it is unknown whether they have been arrested. The leaflets contained slogans such as "Down with Yuan Shikai," "Oppose the imperial system, restore our shared rule, blood for blood," etc. Therefore, this action was clearly not a simple act of personal venting or revenge, but an organized, premeditated action with a clear political agenda.

In addition, thirteen workers were injured, but fortunately their injuries were not serious. As for the newspaper's editor-in-chief, Xue Dake? He was lucky. The bomb didn't hit the second floor, and he narrowly escaped death, but he was so frightened that he turned pale and couldn't speak for a long time. When reporters stopped him at the scene for an interview, he was shaking like a leaf, and kept repeating the same sentence: "No comment."

As for why such a tragedy occurred, the answer is not hard to guess. From the day it was conceived, the *Asia Daily* was not merely a "newspaper"; it was a flag, a flag that revived the imperial system. Some people would not allow this flag to be planted on Shanghai's soil, so they used their own methods—dropping a bomb inside the newspaper's office. Whether this action was right or wrong, and whether it was worthwhile, is something readers should consider.

The incident was described in its entirety, along with commentary.

Shi Jiaxiu and Chen Huasheng both glanced at Lin Wangzheng, somewhat puzzled.

From a journalistic perspective, such urgent investigative reports should not include a final paragraph, as this could be seen as misleading public opinion.

Because the last paragraph clearly stated his position—even if it seemed impartial, like a dialogue with the readers, everyone present knew that, judging from the act of bombing the Asia newspaper alone, regardless of the consequences, this attitude actually leaned towards the revolutionaries.

Such language should not appear in professional news reports.

But since Lin Wangzheng wrote it, there must be a reason, so let's continue reading.

II. Reactions from Surrounding Residents

News of the bombing of the Asia Daily newspaper caused an uproar in the Wangping Street area.

An old tailor living across from the newspaper office told a reporter, "I've lived most of my life, and this is the first time I've seen people killed so close by. In this day and age, people risk their lives to run a newspaper; it's truly absurd." A grocery store owner moved a stool to the doorway, fanning himself with a palm-leaf fan as he told the reporter, "I told you long ago! This newspaper won't last long." When asked why, he replied, "Do they really think the revolutionaries have no backbone? They can't show their faces in public, they're dead!" A woman nearby sighed and said, "That's true, but those killed were tragic." The grocery store owner raised his voice, "Tragic? What's so tragic? Why didn't they think about the consequences when they started the newspaper? They received so many warning letters, and they didn't take them seriously. Now people are dead, who's to blame? Blame this unrepentant newspaper!"

The landlord of the *Asia Daily* newspaper has also taken action. According to sources, the landlord has publicly stated, "This property can no longer be rented." The details of the lease termination and compensation are still under discussion. Several shop owners in the vicinity have also gathered to discuss a joint petition to the Shanghai Municipal Council, requesting the newspaper's relocation. A restaurant owner told a reporter, "We run small businesses; we can't afford this. If it gets bombed today and again tomorrow, who would dare open a shop here? Let them run their newspaper; don't drag us ordinary people down with them."

The reporter interviewed over a dozen nearby residents and business owners, and their opinions were almost unanimous: they sympathized with the deceased but disapproved of the newspaper; they opposed violence, but even more so, they opposed imperialism. Not a single person said the bombing of the newspaper office was justified, nor did anyone say it shouldn't have been. Everyone said the same thing: "This newspaper office is hated; it should be moved."

In the eyes of the three, this part was a valuable supplement to the event, a perfect finishing touch.

Since the Asia Daily is unwilling to speak out, we can only record the public's opinions. In principle, it is not wrong not to comment directly, but publishing opinions is actually a form of indirect evaluation.

As for why I'm giving a review, it's actually quite easy to guess.

Writers, after all, bring their own stances to the articles. As everyone here knows, Lin Wangzheng was not only a staunch anti-imperialist, but also had a blood feud with Yuan Shikai's faction.

For journalists, "objectivity and impartiality" are ultimately unattainable principles. No matter what class of journalist one is, it is impossible to achieve pure, detached objectivity, nor is it necessary to bind oneself with abstract "objectivity."

Journalists are the voice of the people.

In the current public opinion environment, either the anti-imperialist faction or the imperialist faction will guide public opinion; there is no middle ground. This position cannot be lost lightly, which explains why it was written that way before.

This level of sophistication and method is quite subtle, acceptable to the *Shenbao* newspaper, and leaves no room for criticism.

[Part Four: Further Discussion on Those Killed in the Bombing]

According to sources, the seriously injured men taken to the hospital—the British detective and the Chinese police officer—are in stable condition and not in life-threatening danger. What truly troubles the reporter is the fate of the two deceased printing workers, the innocent father and son.

When the woman arrived at the scene, the body was already covered with a white sheet. She threw herself on the corpse and wept hysterically, her voice piercingly high, audible throughout the entire street. These people had nothing to do with the imperial system; they were simply working there, earning a living. They didn't know any of the members of the Preparatory Committee for the Establishment of Peace, hadn't read Goodnow's *Co-governance and Monarchy*, and certainly couldn't possibly be responsible for Xue Dake's editorial. Their only "crime" was working for this newspaper.

Ultimately, the reason this father and son died was because they had no other choice. For a laborer with no other skills, finding a job to earn a living in this world was already difficult enough. They shouldn't have died, but they did, and their deaths were so tragic.

According to surviving printing workers at the newspaper office, management was aware of the danger before the explosion, but they never spoke a word about it to the workers. The workers went to work every day in fear, worried that the person who sent the threatening letter would be ruthless, yet also afraid to lose their jobs. As one worker put it, "If we don't work, we'll starve to death. Either way, we're going to die, so we just have to grit our teeth and keep going."

A young worker who witnessed his coworker die before his eyes showed the reporter his bloodied and mangled hand, and said angrily, something that left the reporter speechless: "I've worked at other newspapers, and I've never encountered anything like this. This one is terrible; someone died just two days after opening. I've figured it out; no matter how much money they offer, I won't work for this kind of newspaper!" He added, "My hand is injured like this; it costs money to heal, and if I don't heal, I can't work. If I can't work, I don't have money, and if I don't have money, I can't heal. Sir, what do you tell me we should do?"

How can a reporter answer this question? We can only do our best to provide each injured worker with some compensation for their reporting.

No wonder Lin Wangzheng chose to comment through wordplay; ultimately, it's because he adheres to his professional principles...

The historian shook the manuscript paper, pointed to this passage, and said:

"This section is a true example of 'Lin-style journalism'!"