Chapter 104: First Volume, Chapter 104: Book Bureau Business

First Volume, Chapter 104: Book Bureau Business

Lin Quqi's expression turned complex, and he couldn't help but smile bitterly: "Young Master Qin may not know, but among the Confucian Scholars who came to Beijing to petition, I am the lowest in status—neither from a scholarly family nor with any relative holding office. Otherwise, I would not care so much about passing the imperial examinations."

Seeing Lin Quqi suddenly burst into self-pity for no reason, Qin Feng was puzzled: "What exactly are you trying to say?"

Lin Quqi's eyes flickered with shame; after hesitating for a long while, he finally gathered the courage: "I have no power or influence. Is Young Master Qin truly willing to associate with me?"

Oh, so that's it.

Qin Feng suddenly understood—he'd been worrying he'd drag Qin Feng down, and this was still before anything had even begun! How ridiculous.

But upon reflection, this cautious attitude was precisely what Qin Feng needed right now.

Qin Feng slipped his hands into his pockets; since his loose robe had no pockets, he simply slid both hands along the slits at the sides of the robe, looking exactly like an uncouth country woman unfit for polite society.

This was the Imperial Palace—the most solemn place in all of Shedynasty—and yet even the surrounding Imperial Guard pretended not to notice Qin Feng's vulgar and disrespectful behavior.

"Brother Lin, don't overthink it. Just give me a straight answer: do you want to work with me?"

Lin Quqi frowned slightly: "Work with you?"

Qin Feng realized he'd spoken carelessly and quickly chuckled awkwardly: "Heh… working with me is the same as working for Shedynasty—it's a roundabout way of saving the nation. What does Shedynasty lack most right now?"

Lin Quqi pondered, speaking cautiously: "The determination to strike back at the enemy?"

"Wrong!" Qin Feng bluntly dismissed him without hesitation. "Whether it's determination, troop recruitment, or provisions and pay—all of it boils down to one word: money."

Lin Quqi rested his chin on his hand and nodded: "That makes sense. Is Young Master Qin asking me to join you in making money?"

Qin Feng immediately gave a thumbs-up, delighted: "Talking with scholars is easy—you get it at once. In the end, war is fought with money. Only when the National Treasury is full can we stand firm against the Di. But now, natural disasters strike frequently across the land, and the Di have blockaded our borders—our defenses are stretched thin. We face external threats and internal crises, and the National Treasury is nearly empty. The most practical way to serve the state is to bring in money."

Lin Quqi nodded vigorously, fully agreeing with Qin Feng's words—but still felt he lacked the ability to help Qin Feng make money, and smiled helplessly: "Young Master Qin…"

Qin Feng waved his hand to cut him off: "No need for 'Young Master.' Too formal. If you like, call me Brother Qin. If not, just call me Xiao Qin."

These days, whoever makes money is the boss. If Lin Quqi could bring Qin Feng profit, Qin Feng wouldn't mind being called Xiao Qin—even Xiao Brother.

Lin Quqi had never met anyone like Qin Feng before; he found him fascinating and no longer hesitated, speaking directly: "I'm deeply honored by Brother Qin's trust, but I've never engaged in business before. I fear…"

Qin Feng was impatient; he cut Lin Quqi off again: "Can you write? Heh… let me rephrase—have you ever run a Book Bureau? Wait… let me rephrase again: I'm opening a Book Bureau, and I appoint you as its General Manager—the Shopkeeper. All you need to do is oversee the quality of the books."

Lin Quqi understood Qin Feng's meaning, but was deeply puzzled: how could someone of Qin Feng's status and position be so interested in opening a Book Bureau?

Besides, while book sales yield decent profit, relying on such a small business to fill the National Treasury is like trying to bail out the ocean with a teacup.

Lin Quqi ultimately felt the Book Bureau business was unreliable.

But seeing Qin Feng's hopeful expression, and recalling Qin Feng's performance in the Imperial Court, Lin Quqi decided to give it a try and bowed deeply: "Since Brother Qin holds me in such high regard, I cannot refuse your kindness."

All that wasted breath wasn't in vain. Qin Feng threw an arm around Lin Quqi's neck, excited: "Don't worry—I'll share every profit with you. As long as I have a bite to eat, you won't be drinking thin gruel."

Lin Quqi had met many easygoing people, but never anyone as recklessly easygoing as Qin Feng. He couldn't help asking: "Brother Qin, we've only just met, and our time in the Imperial Court was far from pleasant. Why entrust me with such a heavy responsibility? Aren't you afraid you've misjudged me?"

Qin Feng shrugged, utterly unconcerned: "I always trust those I employ. If I doubt someone, I don't hire them. As long as you don't betray me, I'll never let you down. Let's treat each other with sincerity—we've got a long road ahead. What do you say?"

Qin Feng was always all talk and no heart—he spoke of bonds and loyalty, but calculated every profit.

Lin Quqi was a famous Confucian Scholar from Jiangnan. Just his reputation alone would ease half the work of expanding the Book Bureau's sales channels—he was effectively investing his name as equity.

Don't underestimate the Book Bureau—it's a big business!

Knowledge payment and copyright income have always been among the most profitable industries.

Qin Feng kept one hand in the slit of his robe and the other around Lin Quqi's neck, ignoring whether Lin Quqi minded, and enthusiastically analyzed the future of this business.

"Comrade, I'm not lying. If we run this Book Bureau well, we'll truly contribute to the nation's cause. I won't directly hand over cash—but I'll pay taxes. Others pay one-tenth of their profit. What if I pay two-tenths? Or even three-tenths?"

Lin Quqi's mouth opened wider and wider; he stared at Qin Feng as if seeing a ghost. Someone who voluntarily gave money to the state? He felt immense relief—this trip to Beijing was surely one of the wisest decisions of his life; he'd truly broadened his horizons.

As they neared the Palace Gate, just at this critical deadline, a sweet voice called out to Qin Feng.

"You're Young Master Qin, right?"

Turning to look, they saw a palace maid standing to the right of the Palace Gate—about fifteen or sixteen years old, passably pretty but extremely haughty. A mere palace maid, yet she refused to even look at Qin Feng properly.

Qin Feng glanced at the maid and ignored her, continuing his conversation with Lin Quqi.

The maid, utterly ignored, flew into a rage, stepped forward two paces, and snapped sharply: "Qin Feng, you're as rude as the rumors say!"

"Stop right there! A noble person wants to see you. If you dare delay, I guarantee you'll leave the Palace through Aifeng's Back Door!"

This threat carried heavy weight—who left through Aifeng's Back Door? Only the dead.

Qin Feng finally stopped and slowly sized up the maid, sneering: "There are many nobles in Gong Zhong. Which one wants to see me?"

The maid sniffed disdainfully: "You'll find out when you see her. Don't waste my time—come with me now."