Chapter 9

Yang Manniang was like an entrepreneur, earnestly trying to persuade a venture capital firm to invest in her. She was warm and approachable, diligently painting a picture of the direction she was striving for and the blueprint for success:

“It’s roughly like this. If you support me, within a month at most, once I’ve successfully earned some money, I can’t promise everything, but at least we won’t have to endure the cold every day or worry about running out of firewood at home. We’ll be able to eat lamb scallion pancakes at least once every ten days.”

Yang Manniang put down her bowl, confidently assuring them. Though she believed in herself, she wasn’t entirely sure whether her novel would resonate in the Northern Song Dynasty. Therefore, she dared not make overly grand promises all at once.

Even so, this was enough to make her younger sister Yang Pan’niang’s eyes light up.

“That’s great! Big sister, I’ll definitely support you wholeheartedly. You just write quickly; I’ll take care of all the household chores from now on!”

For Yang Pan’niang, doing chores was nothing new—she often helped out at home, sweeping and cooking without complaint. Doing extra work now so that her sister could earn money to buy lamb scallion pancakes was something she was more than happy to do. After all, it had been nearly half a year since they’d last eaten meat, especially the delicious lamb scallion pancakes, which cost six wen each; she longed for them even in her dreams.

Her second brother, Yang Shilin, was comparatively more reserved. Though he didn’t want to discourage their sister, he pressed his lips together and voiced his concerns:

“But big sister, neither the ‘Xiaobao’ nor the ‘Li Family Xiaobao’ currently have serialized novels like the one you mentioned. What if you write it and no one wants to publish it?”

“Don’t worry. I have a way to get the ‘Xiaobao’ to accept my novel, but I’ll need your help.”

“What kind of help?”

“When you go out to sell newspapers, keep an eye out and try to find out when the chief managers or owners of the ‘Xiaobao’ and ‘Li Family Xiaobao’ are at the newspaper offices. As long as I get a chance to meet them, I promise I can sell my serialized novel.”

Yang Manniang wasn’t boasting without reason. When modern people think of the Song Dynasty, they often recall the “Weak Song,” the later Southern Song period when the Jin armies invaded, or the tales of Yue Fei and Qin Hui. But the economic strength of the Northern Song’s civilian sector was formidable and cannot be overlooked.

Historian Chen Yinke once remarked, “The culture of the Chinese nation, after thousands of years of evolution, reached its zenith during the Zhao Song era.”

During the Northern Song, China’s economic power was almost world-leading and represented a historical peak, with urbanization rates reaching as high as 22%, unmatched by any other country at the time.

This unprecedented prosperity gave rise to numerous small newspapers. Furthermore, woodblock printing technology, having developed through the Tang Dynasty, had rapidly advanced to a mature stage.

The Song government placed great emphasis on education. Besides the Imperial Academy and six major academies, there were many private academies and village schools. Education required a great deal of textbooks, which in turn required mass printing.

Therefore, the government consistently encouraged private printing of educational materials like the Four Books and Five Classics. Printing and selling books was a profitable business, greatly stimulating merchants’ enthusiasm for printing. Skilled craftsmen gradually perfected their techniques, reducing the cost of woodblock printing, which allowed ordinary people to benefit as well.

Books were therefore inexpensive. Coupled with the high enthusiasm of the common folk, the absence of political pressure, and government support, the cultural environment of the Song Dynasty was relaxed and free. Intellectuals from various social strata expressed their views freely, and ordinary people often gathered for spirited discussions. This fostered a unique street culture in the Song era, which provided a broad audience for the dissemination of various small newspapers.

In the taverns and teahouses of Bianjing City, one could often see small newspaper vendors. For example, at the Fan Tower where Yang Manniang lived, customers frequently sent idle men to buy petty newspapers.

Where there is demand, supply naturally follows.

Bianjing’s local population, combined with stationed troops and transient residents, numbered nearly two million. Besides the official government gazettes, there were at least sixteen or seventeen small newspapers, including the “Xiaobao,” “Li Family Xiaobao,” “News,” “Xiang Family Xiaobao,” and “Zhuque Gate Xiaobao,” among others.

Their content was diverse and dazzling.

However, compared to official gazettes, these small papers were less rigorous. Much of their content consisted of gossip or outright fabrication. One notorious incident occurred in the fourth year of Emperor Huizong’s Daguan reign, when a small paper published a forged edict in the emperor’s tone condemning the prime minister Cai Jing and announcing his dismissal. Many common folk believed it. The rumor spread widely, even reaching the palace, forcing Huizong to publicly refute and clarify the matter.

This illustrates the boldness of these small papers and their popularity and influence in Bianjing.

Still, despite their novelty, these papers were insufficient for Yang Manniang, a modern woman bombarded by vast amounts of information. She had lived through the eras of print, television, the internet, and the later overwhelming surge of mobile short videos.

She knew exactly what a real newspaper should be and understood how to truly make a newspaper profitable.

She had already devised a strategy to use as a stepping stone to persuade the owner of the “Xiaobao” to publish her serialized novel.

That strategy was advertising.

“Advertising? Like promoting a shop in the newspaper?” asked Yang Shilin, quick-witted and catching on swiftly.

After a moment, he spoke somewhat wistfully, “Such a good idea—we should run with it ourselves.”

Though he had no business experience, his time on the streets gave him insight into the value of Yang Manniang’s idea. After all, even the finest wine needs a good tavern.

Bianjing’s commerce was thriving, with countless small shops, but not all had the confidence of established businesses to avoid having to attract customers. Many small, obscure shops were located in inconvenient spots, lacked reputation, and had few patrons.

To gain fame and attract customers, they were willing to spend silver on newspaper advertisements.

Yang Shilin could already imagine merchants clutching silver coins, seeking his help with advertising.

“Heh, not every kind of money can be earned that easily. To make money this way, there’s a threshold—you need to have a small newspaper. With our family’s situation, it’s impossible for us to make money this way because we simply cannot afford to run a paper,” Yang Manniang patiently explained.

She knew it was a good idea. If she had come from a better background or had some family wealth, she would have been willing to start her own paper. But now, she was penniless and couldn’t even afford enough food, let alone capital.

So, it was utterly impossible—without capital, they didn’t even qualify to earn money this way.

Yang Shilin was still somewhat reluctant. His eyes darted as he said, “Then why don’t we just sell the idea outright? We could get cash immediately.”

But since their family was so poor, Yang Shilin was hesitant to trade such a promising idea just for the chance to publish a serialized novel. He felt safer with tangible money in hand.

“Selling the idea would be great, but think about it—who in Bianjing would buy it? Ordinary people? No. Only the owners of the dozen or so small newspapers and news outlets. How would we sell it to them? People of that status wouldn’t even want to meet with us small commoners. At best, we might get to see a lower-level manager. Without enough money to grease palms, these managers would most likely brush us off, keep the idea for themselves, and use it to gain rewards. This idea isn’t food or a good to be exchanged; once taken, there’s no proof it belongs to us. They could just claim it was their own and refuse to pay us. What legal recourse would a small commoner like us have? None.”

It was like seeing a shining piece of unclaimed gold by the roadside—who wouldn’t want to pick it up?

Yang Manniang never overestimated human nature. The hierarchical relationships of this era were rife with scheming and treachery, little different from a modern office.

A clever idea like hers—how could a greedy manager resist appropriating it?

She wouldn’t gamble on uncertain ventures or pin her hopes on the goodwill of others.

What the common folk fought over tooth and nail was mere crumbs to those higher in the social food chain. Only those at the top cared about their image and reputation enough not to sully themselves for a trivial gain. They would be willing to negotiate over such an idea and obtain some tangible benefit.

Seeing her siblings’ somewhat crestfallen expressions, Yang Manniang set down her chopsticks and spoke calmly:

“Of course, I’m describing a possibility. We might meet someone honest, but this idea is our key to turning things around. We cannot rely on the goodwill of others.”

Yang Shilin nodded silently. Now that he was calmer, he understood he had been thinking too simply. They were just poor commoners. Only major merchants with strong backing could afford to run small newspapers. Their status was unequal, leaving them no bargaining power. Even those lower-level managers were people they dared not offend.

“I’ll listen to you, big sister.”

“Good. We don’t have much capital, so we must plan carefully. While you’re delivering newspapers these next few days, gather information about the various newspaper offices. Then we can use this idea as a foot in the door to persuade them to publish my serialized novel.”

Yang Manniang didn’t mind sharing the idea for free. In business, you have to give to receive.

No one can gain something for nothing.

She currently had nothing of value to offer.

The newspaper offices had resources, platforms, and readers.

If she wanted to collaborate and use their platform to make money, she had to show sincerity.

As a modern woman, Yang Manniang was never short of imaginative ideas.

As long as this idea got her novel published in the “Xiaobao” and made her name in Bianjing City, she wouldn’t feel she had lost out.