Chapter 177

First Volume, Chapter 177: Artistic Processing

Meanwhile, Lin Quqi had already run to the Training Ground.

Seeing Qin Feng lying in the simple Cool Pavilion, pretentiously called a supervisor but actually snoring loudly, he flew into a rage, snatched up his Folding Fan, and struck Qin Feng's shoulder, growling: "I should never have agreed to board your pirate ship if I'd known you'd be this lazy!"

Lin Quqi's legs were nearly broken from running—he was a Confucian Scholar, yet he kept doing dirty, exhausting work; it was simply outrageous.

What kind of partner was this? He was even worse than a hired laborer.

Qin Feng rolled over half-asleep, saw Lin Quqi furious, and quickly bowed: "Last night my father dragged me to Early Court—I was utterly exhausted. Please go handle the family banquet for me again."

Lin Quqi gnashed his teeth in fury, yet had no way to deal with Qin Feng, so he sat down beside him, picked up the Teapot, took a few sips, and sighed helplessly:

"Nearly every noble and official in Jingdu showed up—even the Ministry of Revenue sent a token representative. More than half of them came for you, and yet here you are, hiding away in peace."

Hiding away in peace? Qin Feng hated that phrase. He immediately sat upright, pointed at the bustling crowd in the distance, and spoke with rare seriousness:

"See that? This will be the headquarters of our Qin Family Group—encompassing arms manufacturing, commerce, and culture all in one."

Speaking of which, Qin Feng pointed to the planned open land nearby, his face filled with longing: "That's where the Book Bureau will be built."

Hearing Qin Feng's grand vision, Lin Quqi felt a complex mix of emotions—unsure whether to marvel at Qin Feng's boldness or fear his ambition.

Though Lin Quqi didn't want to dampen Qin Feng's spirits, he couldn't ignore the practical problems: "Building a Book Bureau is easy; the problem is selling books. If you only sell the Four Books and Five Classics, sales will be tiny and profit margins negligible. If you want other books, most are controlled by the Ministry of Rites and cannot be sold freely. In my view, this Book Bureau business is doomed…"

Not only did Lin Quqi doubt it, but even Liu Hongyan, the Qin Family's most shrewd business mind, showed no interest when she learned of Qin Feng's Book Bureau plan—she thought it was pure loss-leader marketing.

Just look at Shen Qingci's Qingya Pavilion: it sells books, writing brushes, inkstones, and calligraphy—but its monthly profit is nearly negligible.

"You're wrong—I'm not selling ordinary books…"

Qin Feng grinned like a fox.

His mind was filled not only with various video-based educational content, but also with countless novels to pass the boring hours.

From the Four Great Classical Novels, down to Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio and Zi Bu Yu, all the way to a myriad of online novels.

With such a barren entertainment landscape in this era, why not enrich people's spiritual world while making money?

Qin Feng immediately called Qin Xiaofu, ordered him to return to the mansion, fetch the manuscript from his room, and hand Lin Quqi one copy—thoroughly plagiarized and artistically processed to comply with Shedynasty law and local customs—of the opening chapter of "a certain ancient romantic novel."

Not much—just three thousand characters, casually scribbled by Qin Feng when he was bored out of his mind.

Seeing Qin Feng's crooked, messy handwriting, Lin Quqi grimaced—but once he read the content, he was instantly hooked. He didn't look up until one incense stick time had passed, then exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting repeatedly as he stared at Qin Feng.

"This… did you write this?"

Of course… no!

The author was a top-selling novelist who had held the number-one spot on sales charts for years; this single novel propelled him into the top three of the Forbes Writers Ranking.

But knowing this era had no copyright protection, Qin Feng nodded without a shred of guilt: "If not me, then who? You?"

Lin Quqi sucked in a sharp breath.

He'd read many "novels" before, but their pacing was painfully slow. This one, under a thousand characters in, had already gripped his attention—and the next two thousand were utterly captivating!

Even though the plot hadn't even been properly set up, Lin Quqi was already desperate to know what happened next.

Though the prose was crude and the diction rough, the story's brilliance more than made up for it.

Lin Quqi clutched the manuscript to his chest like a priceless treasure—he had a feeling that once this book hit the market, it would sell like wildfire.

But… this handwriting was absolutely terrible. Almost unbearable to look at.

Lin Quqi's expression grew complex again as he sighed: "Brother Qin, you really need to practice your calligraphy. Even a child who's spent two years in a Private School could write better than this scribble."

Qin Feng thought: I've done everything already—why should I do yours?

Practice calligraphy? Impossible. Not in this lifetime.

Qin Feng grinned, face completely calm: "I'll give you the manuscript—just rewrite it yourself. With your brilliant calligraphy, this book can't fail."

Qin Feng had seen Lin Quqi's handwriting—he was a renowned Confucian Scholar from Jiangnan; Qin Feng could never write like that in a hundred lifetimes.

When Qin Feng's plot met Lin Quqi's calligraphy, the book could be priced sky-high.

Moreover, Lin Quqi's handwriting itself would serve as an anti-counterfeit mark.

Learning Qin Feng's plan, Lin Quqi's eyes gleamed—Confucian Scholars prized reputation above all. If this book were published, his name would spread from north to south of the empire.

Lin Quqi was ecstatic, his eyes brimming with awe and gratitude.

Qin Feng comfortably sank back into the Tengyi Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair, wearing a sly, triumphant smirk: "Your name 'Quqi' will appear on the cover. As for today's family banquet…"

Before Qin Feng finished, Lin Quqi leapt to his feet, pounding his chest in assurance: "Don't worry—I'll handle it for you!"

Saying that, Lin Quqi dashed off with the manuscript, then turned back after two steps and shouted: "When will you finish the rest of the plot?"

Three years? Five years? Who knows!

Online novels run for millions of characters—even after cutting out plotlines incompatible with Shedynasty customs, there's still over a million left.

And with Qin Feng's merchant mindset, he'd never sell the whole thing at once—he'd split one book into ten, making it a series…tsk tsk tsk, impossible not to make money.

Qin Feng waved at Lin Quqi: "We'll see if I have the time."

Hearing this, Lin Quqi immediately understood: to get Qin Feng to write faster, he'd have to manage his daily distractions. Without hesitation, he strode off decisively.

Finally rid of Lin Quqi—he could finally sleep peacefully.

But the moment Qin Feng closed his eyes, his ear was yanked hard—he startled awake, thinking it was Old Qin or Xie Yun'er, and shot upright—only to find Liu Hongyan standing beside him.

False alarm.

Qin Feng exhaled in relief, clutching his ear, smiling ingratiatingly: "Second Sister, what brings you here?"

Liu Hongyan had been swamped managing today's family banquet, and here Qin Feng was, playing the absentee boss!

Furious, Liu Hongyan gripped Qin Feng's ear with one hand and reached with the other to pinch his thigh.

Qin Feng rolled off the Tengyi Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair in panic, screaming desperately: "Second Sister, spare me!"

Liu Hongyan didn't care—she pinched hard.

In an instant, the entire Training Ground echoed with Qin Feng's blood-curdling scream.

It wasn't faked!

Women pinching hurt already, and on the inner thigh, it was worse than the Ten Great Tortures of the Qing Dynasty!