Wen Siniang shook her head. “That won’t work. I also have distinguished customers. I only got twenty copies total.”

The child became anxious. “Why didn’t you take more?”

“There weren’t any left. I was getting my second batch, and they wouldn’t let me take too many. They said they needed to save some for those getting their first batch.”

The child spun around anxiously. Looking around, the children who had gotten official gazettes had already run off. Seeing that Wen Siniang was about to leave too, he quickly grabbed her and asked, “Are your distinguished customers in a hurry?”

“Not particularly. They’re all regular customers, students from the Imperial Academy.”

“Then let me have your newspapers. I’ll split the money with you.” The child took out that string of coins. “Look, eighteen copies for one string of coins. I’ll give you half.”

Wen Siniang hesitated. “But the Imperial Academy customers are all regulars…”

“How many copies do they need? I’ll help you buy them back. We’ll refund them half the money.”

Wen Siniang said, “Twelve copies. We still need to buy back ten more and refund ten coins.”

Neither of them needed to count on their fingers to know they’d make a profit on this transaction. Their eyes met, and they immediately decided to cooperate. The two of them sprinted toward the tavern.

Xie Kun and the others had been waiting. The two children arrived panting and carefully counted out eighteen official gazettes to hand over.

After confirming everything was correct, the two bowed and left. As soon as they exited the tavern, they headed straight for the food stalls and teahouses at the end of the street. After making a round, they finally managed to buy back ten newspapers at two coins each. They smoothed them out, verified there were no problems, then immediately rushed to the Imperial Academy.

They delivered two brand-new official gazettes to the students who had pre-ordered them, then went to find the remaining ten people, explaining that today’s gazette had been extremely popular, so they couldn’t get enough new copies. These were previously read gazettes, which they could sell to them for one coin less.

The Imperial Academy students heard that today’s gazette was so popular and immediately opened them to read, casually asking, “How much did you pay to buy back the gazettes? People don’t usually want to sell them, right?”

Even gazettes that had already been read were rarely sold by most people.

Most people would store gazettes away—not only could they read them repeatedly themselves, but they could also use them to teach literacy to children at home.

These discussed national policies—no less valuable than the Academic Ocean, which only came out once every ten days.

The two children said, “We bought them back for two coins each.”

They also knew gazettes were hard to buy back. Unlike Market News, which also sold for two coins but was bought back by weight—one copy of Market News wasn’t worth much.

But official gazettes and Academic Ocean were different. They couldn’t be bought back cheaply—either at the same price or higher. They were very difficult to acquire. Today they were lucky to find a few scholars who weren’t so wealthy, who were willing to sell after reading them.

The student looked up briefly from the newspaper, gave them two coins and said, “How can I let you lose a coin? Take it.”

Wen Siniang was about to push it back when the student exclaimed and ran off. “Brother Zhang, Brother Zhang, look quickly! The recruitment examination rules have changed—you have to pass the state examination first…”

Wen Siniang closed her mouth, put away the money, and exchanged a glance with her companion. The two of them found a nearby tree to sit under, then counted and divided the money.

Dividing money at the Imperial Academy was safest—they didn’t have to worry about being seen and robbed. So the two children divided the money right there under the tree.

After dividing the money, they happily rushed back to the bookstore to return the cost of the newspapers they’d collected that day.

When Wen Siniang paid, she felt something wasn’t quite right but couldn’t figure out what.

The child behind her, counting out coins for fifty newspapers, also felt something was off, but similarly didn’t know what. He had clearly come to collect newspapers twice—why did he only need to pay for one batch?

Although the second time he hadn’t gotten any newspapers, he had indeed sold newspapers twice.

As soon as they left the bookstore’s main entrance, the city’s timekeeping bell rang. The two jumped in alarm, instantly forgetting that slight doubt, and took off running toward the school.

The two arrived at the school panting. The teacher was just walking into the classroom with a textbook. Seeing them rush in, she glanced at them, then they immediately stopped at the doorway, their chests heaving, eyes full of trepidation as they looked at her.

She swept a glance over the bags on their bodies, her face serious. “Quickly go sit down. We’re about to start class.”

The two breathed a sigh of relief and immediately went to their respective seats.

The school’s class schedule was divided into Type A and Type B. Type A classes started at chen hour and finished at shen hour, with a half-hour break at noon.

Type B classes started at mid-si hour and ended at you hour, also with a half-hour break in between.

Those who chose Type B classes were basically orphans and children from impoverished families facing great survival pressure. They needed to help support their families, and now many economic activities took place in the morning.

Initially, Zhao Hanzhang hadn’t divided the class schedule—it was Zhao Cheng who strongly recommended it.

Zhao Cheng was the Chancellor of Studies, and all official and private schools throughout the realm were under his jurisdiction. He received letters from teachers saying many students were skipping class.

Moreover, this problem wasn’t limited to Luoyang schools—schools in other places had the same issue, and quite a few students were truant.

As a teacher, Zhao Cheng was initially furious, thinking that if these children didn’t want to study, they shouldn’t be forced.

Rotten wood cannot be carved—forcibly carving it would injure both teacher and wood.

But after walking around the Imperial Academy twice, listening to the students’ recitations, he gradually calmed down. As his anger dissipated, Zhao Cheng thought: how could there be children in this world who didn’t love learning?

If they were pampered children of wealth, one could say they were lazy from not worrying about food and clothing, unwilling to expend effort. But the students in the school were mostly from poor backgrounds.

Reading might be their only path to crossing class boundaries.

Zhao Cheng didn’t ask those teachers for reasons. Instead, he found time to personally stake out the school entrance, quietly following those truant students.

Then he learned that not all students could simply take their textbooks, sit in a classroom, have the school provide one lunch meal, and peacefully study.

Because they might have crying younger siblings at home, seriously injured or disabled parents, or sick family members.

Besides studying, they also needed to care for family members. Other families’ children finished harvesting wheat and planting beans during agricultural breaks, but their families might not be able to do so for various reasons, so they could only go out before dawn to sow seeds, harvest, pull weeds…

Then rush back to school to study.

Their parents and family members would complain that they shouldn’t be studying, wanting them to come home to work. Within one family, it was enough to select the smartest one to send to school.

That they could sit in classrooms was already the result of long efforts by neighborhood heads, village elders, and teachers. If not for fear of offending the General and being punished by the court, they would have brought them home long ago.

Though it pained him, Zhao Cheng had to consider reality, so he proposed that Zhao Hanzhang change the class schedule. Besides Types A and B, there were also evening classes.

Evening classes lasted only one hour, from you hour each day until dark, mainly teaching adults who didn’t attend school but wanted to learn literacy.

Education had always been an important standard for measuring political achievement. What kind of education could compare to reading and literacy?

And reading wasn’t just about recognizing characters—one should also know propriety and ritual, understand law and morality. This way one could restrain oneself while opening one’s mind.

She directly included literacy work in the measurement of educational achievement. If officials wanted this portion of political merit, they should work hard at literacy campaigns.

The two children sat in their seats, took out their textbooks, and listened attentively. At the tavern, Xie Kun and the others finally opened the gazettes in their hands.

Yang Yi said, “This article… actually has sentence breaks marked, and it’s so straightforward.”

Lu Wen glanced at the people sitting in the tavern—basically everyone held a gazette. He said, “Clearly the court doesn’t lack paper. Printing gazettes is also very convenient, and they’re cheap. Otherwise we wouldn’t see everyone holding gazettes everywhere we look.”

Lu Wen sighed. “We left the northern lands only two years ago, but when we return, the changes are so great. The devastation of the past, the vitality of the present—not only food, drink, clothing and fashion have changed, but even the people’s lives and social conditions have changed so dramatically…”

Xie Kun and the others all wore complex expressions. Two years ago, who could have imagined that the official gazette, which scholars had to copy character by character for circulation, would now fly everywhere thanks to printing?

You must understand, the official gazette was a very important political resource. Ordinary officials couldn’t even read it—only those with official rank, family background, and connections could view it.

But now, for just two coins, they could buy a gazette in Luoyang and know what the regent General was discussing with court officials, to guess what policies might be implemented next.

No, not just Luoyang. They’d heard that gazettes published in Luoyang were sent to various provinces, where provincial bookstores would reprint and sell them. In other words, throughout the Central Plains and northern lands, in all provinces, as long as people were willing, they could buy gazettes.

Xie Kun looked at the gazette in his hands with mixed feelings. Previously, Central Plains gazettes had secretly flowed to Jiangdong and Jiangnan. He could occasionally obtain one in Jiankang, but it cost a great deal.

Later, when discussions about the Central Plains became too numerous and stirred up people’s hearts, the Prince of Langya strictly prohibited the circulation of heretical books and texts. Central Plains gazettes were included, making it very difficult for Xie Kun to buy them.

But occasionally he could still see them at his elder brother’s place.

He knew Zhao Hanzhang had a new printing technique, different from woodblocks, called movable type. He’d heard the characters were movable and could be freely rearranged, not requiring new woodblocks to be carved for each new book—very cheap and fast.

So he guessed Central Plains gazettes could be supplied to every provincial official, but he hadn’t expected they would also circulate publicly.

His heart was at its most complex when he heard an exclamation beside him: “Zhao Hanzhang… General Zhao mentioned us.”

Xie Kun turned to look. It was a young man from the Jianglingjiang family named Jiang Pu. In Jiangdong and Jiangnan, they didn’t avoid Zhao Hanzhang’s personal name and were accustomed to calling her this, but here, everyone was very respectful toward her, calling her General, and many would respectfully call her Female General.

His outburst of “Zhao Hanzhang” drew many eyes in the tavern.

“She mentioned us, and also the Jiangdong gentry.” Yang Yi murmured, “Treat all equally—meaning if we return, we won’t face discrimination or suppression?”

Lu Wen and Yuan Yang exchanged glances, both showing excitement in their eyes.

They suppressed their agitation, reading the gazette over and over, analyzing word by word what it was trying to express, before finally turning the page.

Xie Kun stared at the new recruitment examination regulations. Below them, Zhao Hanzhang also stated that besides recruiting talent through examinations, if worthy individuals wanted to serve the nation, they could also be recommended through local officials, village elders, and people of reputation.

She would make every effort to meet them, and if suitable, would certainly employ them.

In other words, from now on, although there were still many pathways for recruiting talent, she would primarily select from the recruitment examinations.

Xie Kun quickly scanned the other articles. Some were from the Ministry of Works discussing river management strategies, others from the Ministry of War discussing the garrison system. Clearly, these were memorials to Zhao Hanzhang, slightly modified before publication.

They were various ministries’ officials’ governing philosophies.

He also noticed a small line of text at the bottom of the gazette’s front page, reminding people that heavy rain would likely arrive on the thirteenth of the fifth month, and those going out should remember to wear hats or bring umbrellas.

The thirteenth of the fifth month?

Wasn’t that tomorrow?

Xie Kun closed the gazette and asked, “The state examination is in August. Do you want to register?”

Lu Wen was silent for a moment, then gritted his teeth. “Let’s try.”

Yang Yi gripped the gazette tightly, lowered his eyes in thought for a while, then said, “Didn’t we submit a request to meet General Zhao? Let’s wait until tomorrow after we’ve met her.”

Yuan Yang said, “Your family and hers are related by marriage, so naturally you needn’t worry. But we…”

Yang Yi smiled. “Is General Zhao someone who practices nepotism? If you go tomorrow and speak your mind freely, if you have talent, would she not employ you?”

At these words, everyone looked forward to tomorrow’s meeting. Jiang Pu hesitated. “Brother Yang, with so many of us going together, would that be inappropriate?”

Yang Yi also hesitated briefly, but quickly shook his head. “Since the reply said for all of us to come, clearly she wants to meet us too. There’s nothing inappropriate about that.”

Xie Kun closed the gazette. “Let’s return and rest. Prepare well today so we can meet her tomorrow.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, stood up, settled the bill, and left.

They had just stepped out of the tavern when the previously bright sunny sky suddenly darkened. They looked up to see a thick dark cloud blocking the sun. Before they could express surprise, pearl-like raindrops came pelting down, like broken pearl curtains scattering across the ground.

Yang Yi and the others stood stunned. Xie Kun pulled them back into the shop, preventing them from getting soaked by the sudden shower.

Customers who had already left the tavern also quickly covered their gazettes and ran back in. Reaching the tavern lobby, they irritably cursed, “How does the Imperial Observatory calculate these things? They said heavy rain on the thirteenth—how did they miscalculate again? Simply eating for free…”

“Shh, speak quietly. The Imperial Observatory is now under Master Guo the Divine Calculator’s supervision as Junior Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices. If he hears you cursing him, watch out—he might send bean soldiers to your house tonight to settle accounts.”

The customer’s face flushed red. Though he closed his mouth, his expression clearly showed dissatisfaction.

Xie Kun and the others stood with mouths agape, quickly asking them, “Brothers, is this Master Guo the Divine Calculator you speak of Guo Pu from Hedong Commandery?”

“Who else but him? In all the world today, besides Master Fu, only he, Guo Jingchun, can be called a divine calculator.”

The group of noble sons couldn’t help but say in unison, “So he escaped here.”

Wang Dun forcing Guo Pu to divine for the Prince of Langya wasn’t a secret among the great families—at least not among these major clans.

And Xie Kun not only knew Guo Pu had divined for the Prince of Langya, but also knew he had divined for Wang Dun.

Precisely because of this, the relationship between the Prince of Langya and Wang Dun grew increasingly strained, their mutual suspicion intensifying. One could say that Wang Dun’s refusal to obey orders and insistence on not returning to Jiankang during the last New Year was at least half due to Guo Pu.