Chapter 660: A Potential Threat

It was in the fourth month that the Chongzhen Emperor became captivated by the Xuanfu Garrison Times. He was somewhat ashamed to admit it, but he felt his sources of information had grown increasingly blocked, and he understood less and less of outside affairs. Whether it was viceroys, provincial governors, generals, or eunuchs, they all reported only what they thought he wanted to hear, which often differed from the actual facts.

The Xuan Garrison Times, with its novel content, was a refreshing change, and it also made the Chongzhen Emperor suddenly realize that from this newspaper, he could learn more, richer, and more genuine details about the outside world.

Moreover, the Chongzhen Emperor also quite enjoyed the Times' miscellaneous commentaries. Although they contained disputes, they were often benign and beneficial to the state, frequently inspiring him. He especially loved reading the commentary articles by "I Love Jin Ping Mei" and watching that writer bicker with "Sun Rising in the East."

Of course, outwardly, he was too embarrassed to tell anyone that he loved reading the commentary articles by "I Love Jin Ping Mei"—after all, that pen name was simply too...

He merely mused to himself that this person's insights were profound and that he possessed great talent, and should be employed in important positions by the imperial court. How could he be left lost among the countryside, writing manuscripts for a newspaper?

He secretly ordered the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the Eastern Depot to investigate in Xuanfu Garrison who "I Love Jin Ping Mei" was, and also that "Sun Rising in the East." Although that person's rhetoric closely rallied around Wang Dou, he might not be impossible to win over.

However, the pen names of the Times were protected. Unless revealed by the writers themselves, it was difficult for outsiders to know their real names. Moreover, the Xuanfu Garrison Intelligence Office was truly formidable. Even if they deliberately turned a blind eye, the Guard and Depot dared not operate too aggressively within Xuanfu Garrison.

Impatiently taking the newspaper from Wang Dehua's hands, the Chongzhen Emperor always felt a sense of novelty. The newspaper in his hands was printed using movable copper type, with evenly distributed ink and a clear, orderly typeface. It was quite exquisite and dignified. Every time he looked at it, it was a feast for the eyes. The imperial court's official gazette could not compare to it at all.

This left a bad taste in the Chongzhen Emperor's mouth. Who, exactly, was the imperial court?

And that typeface—when encountering sentences and paragraphs, it was punctuated with a kind of symbol. He had heard that these were things Wang Dou called punctuation marks. They had already been implemented in the garrison's village schools and were quite convenient.

Like all previous dynasties, the Great Ming's texts rarely used symbols for punctuation. At most, a dot was placed beside the text.

Although this had always supported a great mass of textual scholars—was the sage saying "The people may be made to follow, but not to understand," or "If the people are capable, let them follow; if not, let them understand"? Such questions could be debated for millennia. In truth, the inconvenience was obvious.

This Wang Dou, his whimsical and strange ideas never ceased.

Forcing himself to suppress his complex emotions, the Chongzhen Emperor put on a pair of spectacles made by the Silver Workshop, styled after those from the Xuanfu Garrison Spectacle Factory, and began to read carefully.

The front-page headline was that manifesto signed by Wang Dou: "You insignificant Hu brats, who have stolen our land, led beasts to devour men, and run rampant in evil... Now the border-pacifying soldiers, by Heaven's mandate, launch a punitive expedition, to slay you Hu caitiffs, to expel your mutton stench. Those who submit to me shall dwell in peace in the Central Plains; those who defy me court their own destruction. Upon the arrival of this manifesto, you must open your city gates, surrender, and offer ten thousand fine horses in apology, along with one hundred thousand cattle and sheep. If you do not comply, when the heavenly troops arrive, jade and stone alike shall be burned. Your slaves and population, your wealth, silks, cattle, and horses—I shall take them for myself!"

"...Upon the arrival of this manifesto, you must open your city gates, surrender, and offer ten thousand fine horses in apology, along with one hundred thousand cattle and sheep..."

"...Your slaves and population, your wealth, silks, cattle, and horses—I shall take them for myself!"

The Chongzhen Emperor stopped, staring fixedly at these two lines. Suddenly, a surge of desolation welled up in his heart.

Clutching the newspaper, he walked to the front of the pavilion. The weather today was quite fine, neither cold nor hot, refreshing and pleasant, with green willows reflected in the water. Yet his heart grew increasingly gloomy. Since his ascension, it had been either Tatar caitiffs or roving bandits, never letting him catch his breath.

And when had he ever proclaimed such heroic spirit to them?

He had not achieved it, yet a local warlord had.

"When can I, the Emperor, do the same?"

Looking at the rockery and pond before him, the Chongzhen Emperor murmured, "Since I inherited the great enterprise of my ancestors, I have been anxious day and night, seeking to govern well, yet the state has gone from bad to worse..."

He slowly closed his eyes, and tears streamed down. "Ancestors above, your descendant is unfilial."

"Ah..."

Wang Dehua, seeing this from the side, hastily knelt and wailed loudly, "Your slave is incompetent, unable to share Your Majesty's burdens. Please punish your slave."

All the eunuchs and palace maids inside and outside the pavilion knelt as well, each one weeping loudly, all saying, "Please, Your Majesty, take care of your dragon body."

Wang Chengen was also present at this time. He slowly knelt and knocked his head on the ground with a thud, breaking the skin until blood flowed freely. When he raised his head, his face was already covered in tears. He choked out, "Your Majesty is a sage and enlightened ruler, and will surely restore the Great Ming."

The sound of weeping from within the pavilion spread far and wide. The nearby guards and palace maids all looked at each other in dismay, frightened and uneasy, not knowing what had happened.

Just like in Xuanfu Garrison, a new form of entertainment had now been added to the major teahouses and wineshops of the capital: news-singing.

The storytellers of this time were no simple men. They could use methods popular with the masses to sing an article almost like an opera. Because Xuanfu Garrison was now the focus of attention throughout the Great Ming, after the newspaper was published, it quickly flowed into the capital.

And it rapidly became one of the important financial resources for teahouses to attract customers. Because every time there was a newspaper reading or singing, the number of patrons in their teahouse always increased by a large margin. Thus, they also became customers of the Xuan Garrison Times, actively subscribing and purchasing.

Of course, at present, the Xuan Garrison Times was not distributed outside the garrison, so they all used indirect, roundabout methods.

That is, newspaper hawkers in the capital with financial resources and influence would, after each issue of the Xuan Garrison Times came out, obtain as many copies as possible and deliver them to the capital at the fastest speed. Then, they would wholesale them to the various teahouses and wineshops in the capital. Naturally, the price was no longer one copper coin per copy, but had multiplied several times.

However, the teahouse owners considered it worthwhile. Actually, every time they copied the official gazette at the Office of Transmission, the price was not cheap either, especially for departments and counties outside the capital, which needed over a hundred taels of silver per year for copying fees. Moreover, each issue of the Great Ming's official gazette contained only five thousand to ten thousand words. How could it compare to the Xuan Garrison Times in word count or richness of content?

The content of the official gazette was also strictly controlled. Not to mention gathering and writing one's own news, they did not even have the right to commentary. How could it compare to the Xuan Garrison Times, where certain forbidden things could be openly seen?

Ordinary commoners, moreover, had great difficulty even seeing the official gazette, nor were they qualified to hear it. The crude, unofficial folk tabloids were also irrelevant to them. Therefore, it was understandable that the fresh, standardized Xuan Garrison Times was widely welcomed.

Of course, there were also unhappy people—those officials in the Office of Transmission, who felt their authority had been damaged.

But so what if they were unhappy? Would Wang Dou pay them any heed? He had done even more excessive things; did running a newspaper require an application to the Office of Transmission?

On the contrary, these officials of the Office of Transmission had no choice but to purchase a copy of the newspaper from the hawkers. The workload of copying was simply too great; they might as well buy it.

Inside a teahouse on Qipan Street, it was already packed to capacity. In a corner sat several red-haired barbarians and yellow-skinned foreigners, because this issue of the Xuan Garrison Times had arrived.

The clapper sounded sharply. The storyteller on stage recited with rhythmic cadence. They generally read the newspaper first, then sang it, and would spend several consecutive days maximizing the value of a single newspaper.

After he finished reading the manifesto signed by Wang Dou, the audience below erupted in roaring cheers. Many shouted, "Exhilarating!"

"Truly, such heroic spirit is overwhelming!"

"The Marquis of Yongning is a fine man."

"That's exactly how we should treat the Tatars beyond the frontier."

Of course, there were also some dressed as scholars who curled their lips and said, "Arrogant."

"A loss of our Celestial Dynasty's decorum."

"Does not practice benevolence and righteousness."

"If he is defeated in battle, let us see how Wang Dou has the face to look upon this essay again."

The storyteller possessed ample ability to control the scene. After the crowd's emotions gradually subsided, he read the articles by Provincial Governor Zhu and others, which were full of classical particles. The many illiterate and semi-literate people below listened in a daze, seeming to understand yet not, but because they had paid money, they had to listen carefully.

Only those dressed as scholars, students, and officials nodded their heads in time, greatly praising the pieces, occasionally sipping tea to express their appreciation.

When he read the manifesto by the Garrison Supervisor Eunuch Du Xun, they roared with curses: "Vulgar and unrefined! What kind of writing is this?"

"Indeed, it is truly a disgrace to cultured refinement."

"Eunuchs are all unlearned and incompetent."

"Hmph, the official gazette... the newspaper, is originally a place to promote edification. How can it tolerate such filthy material? I, full of classical learning, why is it that when I send in my manuscripts, they cannot be published in the newspaper? Heaven's way is unjust!"

"Detestable damned eunuch!"

"Vernacular slang is customarily used in the streets and workshops. How can it be allowed in the halls of high culture?"

As the crowd's emotions boiled over—

“Smoked meat, cured meat, and pickled meat are fine, but alas they do not keep long before the flesh spoils. Shunxiang Fort brand meat in porcelain jars from Xuanfu Garrison, however, stores long and long — through summer flies and mosquitoes do not crawl upon it, through the three dog days it does not turn…”

“The Xiaobaiyang Fort honeycomb briquette factory of Xuanfu Garrison produces honeycomb briquettes year-round — easy to light, no toxic fumes, no thick smoke, convenient to use, and can boil sixteen jin more water than ordinary coal…”

“Lacking the skill of Master Lu Ban? No matter. Lacking the joinery and dovetail techniques of the great workshop artisans? No need to worry. Shenjing Fort brand iron nails from Xuanfu Garrison — roof beams and timber frames, an ordinary woman can drive them firm with a single hammer blow…”

It turned out the storyteller was reading aloud the advertisements from the newspaper. The crowd quieted down; to them, signboards in front of every shop were a common sight, but this method of advertising was still novel.

Unlike later ages when people read newspapers or watched television and changed the channel the moment an ad appeared, everyone in the hall listened with keen interest, discussing animatedly among themselves, inquiring of one another, all quite intrigued by the goods being advertised, each person paying close attention.

As each type of news was read in turn, the listeners below grew increasingly animated, and when the commentary-page articles were read, the hall instantly erupted in clamor.

Among those present, some favored the “Sunrise in the East” commentary, some favored the “Adoring the Golden Lotus” commentary, or favored other writers, arguing with one another till spittle flew.

Some even exchanged whispers: How many editions of the Jin Ping Mei have you collected? I have the earliest, a Wanli-era woodblock print.

Footsteps sounded as a middle-aged man descended the stairs, his face bearing considerable pride, hands clasped behind his back, followed by a retinue of hangers-on and attendants. Those nearby all fawned and greeted him eagerly.

“Master Dong…”

“Oh, the hour is still early — is Master Dong returning to his residence already?”

“Master Dong, take care on your way…”

Even the scholars who had just moments ago disdained Wang Dou and Du Xun now all put on respectful smiles at the sight of this proud middle-aged man, hastily cupping their hands and bowing.

This man was none other than Dong Tingxian, trusted confidant and private retainer of the Senior Grand Secretary Zhou Yanru.

Zhou Yanru was himself a man fond of wealth and goods, but mindful of his unsullied reputation, he could not personally reach for them, so he gave Dong Tingxian free rein to peddle influence and take bribes. Whoever sought the post of Regional Commander or Provincial Governor had first to pass bribes through Dong Tingxian before obtaining it, and his name was exceedingly well known in the capital.

Faced with the crowd’s warm greetings, Dong Tingxian merely nodded faintly, looking as though he could hardly be bothered, but the moment he returned to the imperially bestowed Senior Grand Secretary’s mansion, his expression instantly changed, becoming exactly like the fawning looks those people had just shown him.

In the rear courtyard, Zhou Yanru set down the current issue of the Xuanzhen Times and, watching him enter, sighed: “The more I consider it, the more I feel that Wang Dou’s running of this newspaper is no simple matter.”

He said: “This is indeed a sharp weapon of state and war.”

Deep in his heart, a faint worry stirred — as the influence of the Xuanzhen Times expanded, it seemed it might challenge the deeply entrenched discursive authority that men of letters had held for a thousand years.

Even more, in the future, if Wang Dou wished to blacken a man’s name, it would be an easy thing. (To be continued.)