Chapter 15

Front Street.

At the fifth watch, the sky was just beginning to brighten faintly.

Monks from a temple outside the city rang wooden fish to announce the dawn.

The crisp sound of copper bells from a cattle cart collecting night incense echoed through the street.

“Weather... clear and bright,”

accompanied by the watchman’s punctual announcement.

The three siblings of the Yang family had risen early as well.

Today marked the second day off since Yang Manyang arrived in the Song Dynasty.

There was still no time to sleep in.

They got up to wash, using a toothbrush dipped in thick soapberry juice to brush their teeth, and neatly combed their hair into buns.

They ate their morning meal.

Youngest sister Yang Panniang had specially prepared a pot of semi-thick soup with frozen cabbage slices.

Hesitating slightly, she said, “Big sister, are you sure you can manage on your own?”

After all, in her understanding, her eldest sister was not very adept at socializing.

Going out alone—what if something happened?

Yang Manyang sat on a worn embroidered stool, chewing the tasteless frozen cabbage with large bites.

She spoke nonchalantly, “It’s fine. Every new thing has a first time. Once you do it, you’ll find it’s not so difficult. Just like when I said I wanted to write a novel before—trying is the only way to succeed.”

Though not naturally lively or outgoing, Yang Manyang was not timid or fearful by nature.

Since arriving in the Song, she had always remembered a phrase she heard in modern times:

The world is like a grand, makeshift troupe; everyone is somewhat unskilled, but if you work hard, you’ll find many seemingly difficult things become achievable without you even realizing it.

In these past few days, she had refined the beginning of her novel, "The Overbearing Prince’s Heart Is Mine." Though it contained only twenty thousand characters, it was truly novel and exciting. Those who read it would surely want more. Not only did youngest sister Yang Panniang think of it day and night, pestering her for the next part, but even Yang Shilin, initially skeptical—especially about the aphrodisiac elements—looked forward to the continuation after reading it.

So, she was confident.

After eating a few mouthfuls, she reached out to pinch her sister Yang Panniang’s thin cheeks.

Calmly, she said, “Take good care of the house. We will definitely have lamb and scallion pancakes to eat!”

Her words made the other two in the room smile involuntarily.

Second brother Yang Shilin asked with concern, “Big sister, what are your plans today? I heard the owner of the small newspaper will be going to the Panlou South Street press house for accounts today. But do you really think you can meet him? Without a recommendation or invitation, those nobles probably won’t see you.”

After these days, Yang Shilin had come to acknowledge his elder sister’s talent for writing novels. Though the content was somewhat strange and fantastic, it was indeed captivating.

But even the best wine fears a deep alley; he worried she might not be able to sell her novel.

They had recently bought charcoal and oil, and now their family savings were down to only one hundred seventy-one wen.

The rent was due the day after tomorrow.

After paying rent, there would be only twenty-one wen left.

Unable to hide his worry, he said, “Big sister, why don’t I go with you?”

“What would you do out there? You’d freeze! We don’t have any extra sheepskin coats at home!”

Yang Manyang waved her hand dismissively.

Yesterday when Yang Shilin returned, the hanging sheepskin coat accidentally fell into the basin of water at home and was still wet.

They only had two sheepskin coats in total, left by their parents.

Younger sister Yang Panniang didn’t work or go out much and didn’t even have a sheepskin coat.

If second brother went with her and caught a cold, that would be trouble.

Yang Manyang’s expression grew serious as she set down her chopsticks.

“Don’t worry. Just stay home and wait for me. If there’s a way, I’ll take it; if there isn’t, I’ll make one. Anyway, today I will do my best to go to the Panlou South Street, to promote my ideas and novel. If the small newspaper doesn’t work out, I’ll try the news office or other press houses. I’ll work hard to get my novel serialized. That’s my plan.”

Looking at Yang Manyang’s slender, graceful face,

Yang Shilin nodded silently.

After a pause, he carefully said,

“I know, big sister, what you’re doing has never been done before. It will certainly be difficult at first. You might be rejected or laughed at. But if... if it doesn’t work out in the end, it’s okay—you can come back, and we siblings will figure out another way.”

“Yes, big sister, we don’t have to eat lamb and scallion pancakes necessarily. Things are fine as they are now,”

second sister Yang Panniang chimed in with her big, skull-like eyes wide open.

“I understand,”

Yang Manyang nodded heavily.

Within her, a fire seemed to be lit.

Her siblings’ understanding moved and inspired her.

Yes, no matter what,

this time she would succeed!

She gently patted Yang Panniang’s small head and smiled,

“Don’t worry, your big sister is strong. I’ve prepared everything! Nothing can defeat me.”

Seeing her sister’s confidence,

Yang Shilin smiled with relief and said loudly,

“I know, big sister—you’ve always been the pillar of our family!”

...

Dressed in a somewhat worn sheepskin coat,

beneath it a dark blue round-collar skirt adapted from their mother’s old clothes, the collar and cuffs faded white from many washes,

Yang Manyang set off.

Since today was for business, it was inappropriate to wear the uniform of the Indigo Tower.

She followed the alley out to the street corner.

Standing by the roadside, she rubbed her hands and stomped her feet to keep warm.

Occasionally, she touched the manuscript tucked inside her coat to keep it from falling.

The press house of the Cao family’s small newspaper was located on Panlou South Street, a bustling tile-roofed district famed for the Sang and Xinmen tile markets, close to the Indigo Tower on Imperial Street.

Since it was not a workday, she might be out all day. Walking there would be impractical—if her shoes got soaked, there was nowhere to change, making the day unbearable and possibly leading to illness.

The best option was to hire a private cattle cart straight to Panlou South Street—fast and direct—but it cost thirty wen. Given Yang Manyang’s current poverty, not even willing to spend a single wen recklessly, she would never choose that.

She opted for the public cattle cart, which required waiting for the driver to pick up enough passengers, but was much cheaper—only three wen, a tenth of the private cart.

The snowy street scene of Bianjing was beautiful.

Usually in a rush to work, Yang Manyang seldom had time to admire it.

Now, sitting in the carriage, she had the leisure to observe.

Bianjing was commercially prosperous, with shops lining both sides of the street. The closer to the city center, the more people and cattle carts appeared, even carriages drawn by fine horses. Pedestrians dressed more elegantly and warmly.

For merchants, the day was already well underway.

Markets were open. In front of the gourd soup shop, vendors called out to customers, the unique aromas of stuffed lungs and fried liver wafting through the air.

Various restaurants on both sides had lit their lamps and begun business.

The entire city of Bianjing was waking.

On such a clear morning, the breakfast stalls were busiest. Most merchants rose early, often unable to eat at home, so they bought a steaming bowl of soup with pancakes, paired with soft crispy qiongyes, and while enjoying their meal, nearby newspaper vendors would come by with practiced smiles, politely offering the latest small newspapers.

The common people of the Song Dynasty welcomed progress—almost everyone with a bit of spare money bought a small newspaper.

Eating qiongyes and reading fresh gossip from the small papers, they chatted animatedly with passersby.

Such moments were delightful.

The scent inside the public cattle cart was unpleasant—a strange mixture of cow dung and grease—hard to say if it was fragrant or foul.

After a shaky journey of over half an hour, the cart stopped at Panlou South Street.

The Song’s commercial prosperity gave rise to multiple distinctive shopping streets: Sweetwater Alley, Imperial Street, Heavenly Street, State Bridge, and Rainbow Bridge—all famous thoroughfares.

Yet Panlou South Street remained one of Bianjing’s most bustling streets, known for its unique commercial atmosphere, featuring hawk shops, pearl stores, silk shops, herbal medicine stalls, gold banks, the Xu family’s gourd soup shop, and the famed Panlou Hotel.

Below the street was a market square. To the south lay the largest Sang tile market and over fifty theaters and entertainment venues.

It was the most prosperous area north of Imperial Street.

Antiques, calligraphy, daily goods, and countless specialty delicacies and snacks from north and south could be found here.

From the Palace City’s Xuande Gate heading east, passing Panlou Street, the southeastern corner tower, then east to the crossroads, one would reach the Soil Market.

The air was filled with sweet fragrances.

Pastry shops, fruit stalls, teahouses, and wine houses were everywhere. Besides various candied fruits, they offered a wide variety of pastries and sweets.

Yang Manyang got off on the southern side of Panlou South Street.

Along the way, an array of pastries, both familiar and obscure, dazzled her: lion candies, frost bees, Zezhou syrup, flower cakes, steamed sugar, wheat cakes, bean cakes, sticky rice cakes, chestnut cakes, broken sesame crisps, peach honey crisps, mooncakes, chrysanthemum cakes, glutinous rice balls, rice dumplings, snowflake crisps, Double Ninth cakes, ancient honeyed pastries, clear sugar balls, fragrant candied fruits, honey-fried carved pastries, and the famous butter abalone snail.

Each was neatly displayed, dazzling and splendid, causing Yang Manyang’s mouth to water as she walked.

As the saying goes, snow itself isn’t cold, but melting snow is.

Yesterday’s snowfall had been cleared away along the street edges, leaving only playful snowmen and horses.

After less than fifteen minutes walking along Panlou South Street,

she arrived at the press house district, composed of various small newspaper offices.

Though still early, the area was already bustling with people rushing about. Nearly every well-known press house in Bianjing had an office here, primarily for gathering news.

Small newspapers were the Song’s new media, naturally bearing traits of modern media: content is king.

After all, today’s newspapers attracted readers mainly through diverse news.

Unlike the official government gazette, which published at intervals of weeks or months, small newspapers were highly timely, able to report “orders not yet executed, appointments not yet settled, immediately and widely broadcast.”

Often, before the court’s edicts had been officially withdrawn, the small newspapers had already spread them.

This meant their news was very current—many matters discussed in court would appear in the newspapers before the meeting ended.

This demonstrated the power and timeliness of small newspapers.

To maintain this timeliness and boost sales, various small newspapers employed numerous part-time paparazzi and informants, known as “wind listeners” and “report gatherers,” who regularly staked out locations to collect news.

These informants had diverse skills.

There were palace insiders who gathered gossip about the emperor and his consorts; provincial spies who inquired about official appointments, promotions, and corruptions; and judicial spies who investigated murder cases in prisons.

One must not underestimate the boldness of these small papers.

They dared to report almost anything.

In the fourth year of the Daguan era, they fabricated a sensational news story, impersonating Emperor Huizong’s voice to issue a scathing edict against Prime Minister Cai Jing, accusing him of blindness, deafness, cunning, flattery, and cruelty.

They even claimed that Cai Jing and his faction had been completely arrested.

As the saying goes, “a lie spreads with one mouth, but takes many legs to refute.”

Cai Jing found it helpless and tried repeatedly to refute the claims publicly, all to no avail.

Eventually, only Emperor Huizong himself came forward to clarify the truth.

This showed that small newspapers excelled in publishing and gathering news,

even mastering the art of “manufacturing news” themselves.

In Bianjing,

there were more than a dozen privately run small newspapers, such as Zhang’s Small Newspaper, Imperial Street Small Newspaper, Rainbow Bridge News, all bearing the words “small newspaper” or “news.”

Yet the most famous remained “The Small Newspaper” and “The News.”

After years of operation, these two had influence covering all of Bianjing, read not only by officials but by court prime ministers and even the emperor and consorts in the palace during leisure, extending their influence to surrounding cities.

Moreover, businesspeople bought large quantities monthly, sending them to Jiangnan and other regions.

Thanks to this expanding circulation, these small newspapers earned substantial profits and continued growing.

The office of “The Small Newspaper” was located in the prime center of Panlou South Street,

a grand two-story building lavishly decorated, with a fine nanmu wood plaque above the entrance, ornately gilded with dragons and phoenixes, bearing two large characters:

“Small Newspaper.”

Inside, well-dressed informants hurried in and out carrying stacks of newspapers, while a few scholars in long gowns, the writers, strolled about in small groups, stroking their short beards, giving the place a modern office-like atmosphere.

Gazing at this ancient yet splendid two-story building,

Yang Manyang squeezed the manuscript wrapped in oil paper against her chest,

silently encouraging herself.

Taking a deep breath, she strode inside.