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

Noon, in the French Concession.

No. 21, Jiyi Lane, Chongshan Road, is a one-story brick and wood building.

Chen Qingtong, who returned from Japan in June, was sitting in the courtyard reading the newspaper.

He was wearing a gray long gown, the cuffs of which were worn and faded, but it was very clean.

The house here is quiet and suitable for writing. He asked someone to find it for him, but the monthly rent is a bit expensive.

He is currently preparing a magazine, and he has already decided on the name: "Youth Magazine," which will be published by Qunyi Publishing House.

The first article is currently being written.

The literary world is plagued by deep-seated problems, with Confucianism and Mencius' teachings resurfacing against the tide, and the Three Cardinal Guides and Five Constant Virtues repeatedly devouring people; military men vie for power, busy with internal strife and devouring others, leaving the revolutionary spirit stained with blood.

He wanted to use this magazine to awaken the still-sleeping youth and tell them: This country is sick, seriously sick.

The most urgent task at present is to reform the national character, and the fiery youth are his guides.

This was something he had planned since 1904, and now he was taking advantage of the opportunity presented by Yuan Shikai's party's attempt to restore the monarchy to realize his ideals.

The newspaper he was holding was a copy of "Strange News" brought to him by his friend Wang Mengzou from Yadong Library, and its contents deeply moved him.

He had read "Co-governance and Monarchy" before, and although there was a great deal of discussion about it outside, he didn't pay much attention to it. Firstly, because his magazine hadn't been launched yet and he didn't have a suitable platform; secondly, he didn't think such articles were worth wasting ink on, and would only bring him trouble.

Because in his article "Patriotism and Self-Awareness" published in the magazine "Jia Yin" last year, he essentially announced that he would no longer argue about whether it was "co-governance" or "monarchy," but would instead explore a completely new path.

As long as the people lack the power to establish a nation, politicians like Yuan Shikai's faction will forever remain in power and will always try to restore the monarchy.

His current focus is on how to promote ideological enlightenment; criticizing current affairs is neither his main purpose nor something he wants to do.

But now, not only are people criticizing "Co-governance and the Monarchy," but the angles of their criticism are surprisingly similar to his!

Especially this section in the third paragraph:

[Have they ever genuinely engaged in education or enlightened the people? What they fear is the enlightenment of the people! Because once the people understand reason, they won't tolerate their misbehavior. The teacher, on the other hand, says that because they are chaotic, it proves the people's low intelligence, therefore co-governance is impossible. Isn't this putting cause and effect backwards? It's like saying someone is tied up and therefore deserves to starve because they can't eat. Public intelligence is both a result and a prerequisite of co-governance. If the people aren't allowed to experience participating in national affairs, if they aren't allowed to learn through practice, where will public intelligence come from?]

[If you're always locked in the dark, you'll always be afraid of the light. The people of America weren't born knowing how to vote; they learned through the long process of independence, constitution-making, and self-governance. The people of France also learned what co-governance meant through repeated revolutions, upheavals, and even bloodshed. To expect a nation oppressed by imperial rule to suddenly possess the wisdom of a mature, co-governed citizenry is too demanding and too impatient. This isn't teaching someone to walk; it's like breaking their legs and stuffing them back into the womb because they're too slow. Such an intention is despicable.]

It really hit the nail on the head, and it was very similar to his own beliefs.

At this moment, Wang Mengzou brought out tea and asked:

"So, have you finished watching?"

"I've finished reading it, Meng Zou. This article is quite impressive."

Chen Qingtong was lavish in his praise.

Wang Mengzou chuckled, handed him a cup of tea, and pulled up a stool to sit down.

"I brought this newspaper because I was thinking about what you said to me before. I guessed then that you would like this article."

Chen Qingtong asked with intense gaze:

"Meng Zou, this article is excellent in terms of logic, materials, writing style, and viewpoints, but do you know what its most impressive aspect is?"

Wang Mengzou expressed his willingness to hear the details.

"It's about attitude!"

Chen Qingtong slapped his thigh hard:

"Look at those who criticize Yuan Shikai, they either cry with heartache, curse through gritted teeth, or cite classical texts to advise him."

"In the end, it all boils down to 'You can't be the emperor because you're the president.' What do you call that? That's a servant trying to reason with his master."

"But this article is different. It's not trying to reason with Yuan Xiangcheng; it's telling Goodnow that the future of Xia Kingdom should be decided by the people of Xia Kingdom. That's the real tough nut to crack!"

Wang Mengzou saw right through his friend's thoughts:

"It seems you don't just agree!"

Chen Qingtong nodded:

"The magazine I want to run is to let young people know that they are not slaves, they are human beings, they have the right to think, the right to speak, and the right to decide their own destiny."

"And this article is exactly the kind of article I want to see in 'Youth Magazine.' It's not pretentious, it's not deliberately mysterious, it's not written on one's knees, nor is it written while lying down to criticize; it's a straightforward and honest outcry."

"Not only do I wholeheartedly agree, but I also want to find this author and invite him to join my magazine."

Wang Mengzou was stunned for a moment:

Do you know who he is?

Chen Qingtong stopped talking; he was too excited to know anything.

Wang Mengzou smiled and explained:

"This newspaper is called 'Strange News,' and the person who runs it is Shen Zishi, a veteran journalist. The author of this article should be related to him."

Chen Qingtong patted his friend on the shoulder and said sincerely:

"If my magazine could have such a talented writer join it, it would surely sweep away all the fallen leaves!"

The sycamore trees rustled in the gentle breeze, and sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

Wang Mengzou nodded solemnly:

"Okay, I'll go find out."

......

night.

A hotel room on Dongxinqiao Street.

Shen Zishi brought back crab roe soup dumplings and Shaoxing chicken porridge for Lin Wangzheng as dinner. Knowing that Lin Wangzheng liked pickled vegetables, he also bought some fermented bean curd and pickled mustard greens to accompany the meal.

Lin Wangzheng was naturally satisfied with this. He lowered his head and asked while eating:

"How many copies did you sell today?"

"Three thousand servings! And they're all sold out!"

Shen Zishi's tone was excited, completely undisguised, and his laughter was somewhat unrestrained:

"Some newsstands even sent people to urge me to print more copies, saying that they would run out of stock if I didn't print more. So I ordered another thousand copies, and they were all sold out by evening."

Lin Wangzheng had expected this result, so he wasn't that excited, but he was still in a good mood.

After all, the market recognition of his articles proved that his efforts were not in vain.

"Do you know how many people have come to ask about us today?"

"Five newspapers sent people to us, saying they wanted to reprint this article. Some students even came directly to the newsstand, saying they wanted to meet you."

Shen Zishi walked back and forth in the room, his slippers making a "pat-pat" sound on the wooden floor, like cheerful drumbeats.

Lin Wangzheng paused in his chopsticks, looked up and asked:

"You didn't say it was me, did you?"

"No, no, I said the commentator couldn't reveal their name."

Shen Zishi quickly offered an explanation.

Lin Wangzheng breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his head to continue eating.

After Shen Zishi finished calculating the accounts, he calmed down and looked at his somewhat unfamiliar nephew.

Two years ago, when this young man fled to Shanghai, he looked just like a starving ghost in a picture book, with no color in his face and covered in black ash.

He neither spoke, nor cried, nor laughed; he was like a walking corpse, utterly numb.

He didn't know what his nephew had gone through, but he could imagine that a sixteen-year-old boy had watched his father being arrested and executed by secret agents, and his mother had swallowed opium and died in front of him. In order to survive, he had fled from Beiping with the last of his belongings. One can only imagine what he had experienced and seen.

If it were anyone else, it would have collapsed long ago.

But Lin Wangzheng did not collapse; now he is determined to ignite that fire.

"Uncle, when you reprint tomorrow, add a sentence at the end: 'Last night while proofreading, I overheard Old Li, the wonton stall owner, arguing with Old Wang, the rickshaw driver.' Old Wang said, 'If the President were to become Emperor, would our rickshaw fee be reduced?' Old Li replied, 'Don't dream about it. Back in the Qing Dynasty, a bowl of wontons only cost two copper coins.'"

As Lin Wangzheng was eating, he suddenly said something.

Shen Zishi was somewhat puzzled:

"What does it mean?"

Lin Wangzheng didn't even look up:

"Add it at the end of the article so that ordinary people know that this article is relevant to them. Our target market is the people. The purpose of writing this kind of article is not to please anyone, but to tell ordinary people things they don't understand."

"If the common people are unable to debate with the court writers, then we will debate for them. It's that simple."

Shen Zishi pondered for a moment, then suddenly smiled:

"You've got some skills, kid."

He glanced at the wooden plaque on the table that read "Iron Shoulders and Ruthless Hands," picked it up, wiped off the dust, and hung it above Lin Wangzheng's bedside.

"Following you always reminds me of the time I followed your father... You deserve this plaque."

Lin Wangzheng glanced at it and said indifferently:

"Don't be so impressed, this is just the beginning."

Shen Zishi lit his pipe and took a deep drag:

"I know, I know..."

The smoke rose and dispersed in the light of the oil lamp, carrying a faint fragrance.

In this unassuming little hotel room, the two await even greater challenges ahead.