“Can a strategist not ascend the throne?”
Chapter 291: The Art of Printing
People who are overly cautious, like Wang Yun, who realize that Qiao Yan’s actions are unusual, definitely can’t be lumped into the category of those who refuse to change.
After all, even if you put Qiao Yan in Wang Yun’s spot, facing something as revolutionary as this, she might not keep her cool either.
What truly fears this wave are those who haven’t even noticed the signs of such new things.
But given the current situation, whether they see it or not, Qiao Yan has to lay it all out on the table now.
Maybe after her power shifts from being a vassal to becoming the ruler, her authority will increase, but those who oppose her suggestions won’t suddenly keep quiet just because she went from Grand Marshal to Son of Heaven.
On the contrary, with external survival factors and threats from enemies eliminated, they’d think they could negotiate with her even more easily.
And what about now?
Under indiscriminate attacks as disaster looms, if they want to maintain their peaceful, happy lives while relying on her military skills to quell the threats from Gongsun Zan in Youzhou and Yuan Shao in Ji Province, they’ll just have to grit their teeth and accept the rules she lays down.
Besides, what she’s currently doing with this new technology is just a means to combat drought and locust plagues.
“Dezu,” Qiao Yan suddenly said, “Have Xun Wenruo and Chen Changwen come see me, and tell them that I have an important announcement to make at the next court meeting. Give them some heads-up.”
Setting aside how blunt this might be, she still had to follow proper etiquette.
Wang Yun already demonstrated how to handle things—conflicts arising from the emergence of printing technology wouldn’t be at the forefront of current issues. So, why not be bolder?
The silence of the past two years has built up more than just an opportunity to accept a larger populace through others’ disaster relief; this crisis is her best chance to stand out among the heroes of the realm.
At the same time, it’s a way for her to leave a lasting impression on the people.
From invincible in battle to…
Pleading for the people!
Spring is here, and the sky brightens much earlier than it did in winter.
However, before this court meeting in Chang’an begins, the sky remains dim.
Today’s situation seems a bit different.
As the ministers participating in the meeting arrived, they noticed a few lamps still lit outside the Purple Hall, with several tables set up underneath.
To their surprise, there were a few craftsmen in the usually exclusive palace, working diligently under the dim light of candles and natural light.
Wang Yun, who had just visited the Grand Marshal’s residence a few days prior, felt a twinge of unease.
Noticing his expression, Yang Zan quietly asked, “Do you know what’s going on?”
Wang Yun didn’t respond; instead, he walked toward the craftsmen.
When he saw them carving something on a pear wood plank, his suspicions were confirmed.
Qiao Yan’s words from that day flashed through his mind.
She mentioned reproducing identical newspapers like minting coins, and now she was showing all the officials in the Chang’an court how this could work!
But how daring of her?
A tangle of thoughts swirled in Wang Yun’s mind.
He had thought Qiao Yan would just inform those asking about the situation to prevent any dissent from spreading outside the Grand Marshal’s residence.
He never imagined she would make it public!
Yet, as the noise of conversations and the sounds of chiseling filled the air, Wang Yun suddenly realized that this openness might not be a bad thing for Qiao Yan.
His earlier visit could have simply been the beginning after the March edition of the Leping Monthly Report was published.
Qiao Yan couldn’t be sure if anyone in Chang’an would notice the uniqueness of her actions like Wang Yun did, but due to her position as Grand Marshal, they might not dare to approach her for confirmation, leaving only dissatisfaction in their hearts.
This discontent is too dangerous.
Because no one can guarantee that this sentiment wouldn’t erupt at an inopportune moment, ruining her plans.
Given such risks, it’s better to lay the crisis on the table; at least she would know where she stands.
No, wait!
From Wang Yun’s perspective, when she made this move, she must have already concluded whether it was she or they who would be in trouble.
With that thought, Wang Yun’s gaze instinctively followed the splintering wood shavings to the planks.
On these planks, the craftsmen were skillfully etching several lines of text in relief.
It’s hard to tell how long these craftsmen had been working on this, but their technique was exceptional as they carved the reversed characters, showcasing a beautiful aesthetic.
With the surrounding light, Wang Yun had no trouble reading the words on the wood.
“Oh, it’s Lu Poetry; this looks awfully familiar,” Wang Yun said, glancing towards the approaching head of the Painting Academy, Zhao Qi.
What somewhat reassured Wang Yun was that Zhao Qi’s expression clearly reflected curiosity about this new thing, indicating he had no prior knowledge of it.
Though students from the painting academy had some ties to the past two years’ Leping Monthly Report, it seemed Zhao Qi and Qiao Yan weren’t exactly peas in a pod.
Zhao Qi squinted and examined the wood plank closely for a moment.
Unlike Wang Yun’s complex feelings, Zhao Qi, who was older, preferred to keep things uncomplicated. The combination of Lu Poetry and carving immediately reminded him of the Xiping Stone Classics, commissioned by Emperor Ling of Han and engraved by Cai Yong.
Back then, the Xiping Stone Classics consisted of forty-six stone tablets and took eight years to complete. The craftsmen here clearly couldn’t replicate all of Lu Poetry at once; the one before him had only the poem “Gantang” carved on it.
Compared to writing speed, sculpting naturally had its disadvantages, but for just thirty-six characters of poetry plus explanations, it didn’t take too long from start to finish.
By the time Zhao Qi started watching the wooden board, not much time had passed before the craftsman finished the final character “speak.”
Almost simultaneously, the other craftsmen also paused.
They quickly grabbed the brushes handed to them and cleaned off their boards before passing them to the next stage.
These boards weren’t large; they would only form a sheet size once fixed in a frame.
Next, someone applied ink to the raised characters until the ink was evenly distributed, then they placed a sheet of white paper on top, carefully pressing it down before brushing the ink from the board onto the paper.
The reversed text from the sculpted board now appeared in its correct form on the paper.
In just the time it takes to burn an incense stick, long strips of Lu Poetry were already strung up outside the Purple Hall, swaying in the spring breeze of Chang’an, displaying a gorgeous sight of ink on paper.
As the sunlight broke through the clouds in the east, it illuminated each sheet, making the strokes as clear as day.
Once the flipped inscriptions turned into normal text, it further showcased its striking resemblance to the Xiping Stone Classics.
Cai Yong’s handwriting.
Once etched into the Xiping Stone Classics as classic Confucian texts of the Han Dynasty.
But what everyone cared about most wasn’t who wrote these characters or what it was about.
What was more concerning was that this whole process of inking, pressing paper, and printing was done at a breathtaking speed, and not a single ink splotch was to be seen as they were hung out to dry – it was a sight to behold.
Until a voice interrupted their fascination with this process.
“The ‘Gantang’ must not be cut nor thinned, summoned by the ancestral gods… Ye Shu, you must have a reason for having this poem carved, right?”
Everyone looked towards the sound, seeing Liu Yu and Qiao Yan had appeared here at some point.
Liu Yu’s gaze fell upon the bamboo paper, revealing a hint of admiration.
This unique method of transferring text to paper was something even he, well-read and knowledgeable, had never witnessed.
To be honest, when he received the latest edition of the Leping Monthly Report, he felt the same confusion as Wang Yun.
But now that he was the Emperor, it didn’t seem fitting to worry about something this trivial.
“Curiosity led them to summon Qiao Yan for questioning, especially as she was busy preparing for the locust and drought disasters.”
But to his surprise, just a few days prior, Qiao Yan had sought him out first and asked for permission to use this morning’s court session as a showcase.
What unfolded before them was a seemingly simple yet previously unconsidered “writing” method.
Even though Qiao Yan had briefly introduced the concept to Liu Yu earlier, witnessing it in action was still an eye-opening experience, especially at that moment when ink marks appeared on a blank sheet of paper, sparking a flood of ideas on practical applications in his mind.
If Liu Yu were to speak, the first thought that popped into his head was that book, “Handy Emergency Formulas.”
Apart from guiding the extermination of locusts and preventing plagues, that medical text was the most suited for wide distribution.
However, he quickly realized that while the latest version of “Handy Emergency Formulas” had become simpler and clearer through a collaboration between Chiyang Medical Academy and the Academy of Painting, it still wasn’t really comprehensible for the general public—it was better to keep it within the hands of the local officials.
Unless, of course, they printed a batch of literacy books first.
Wait… literacy books?
Liu Yu’s train of thought stumbled for a moment, and he suddenly understood why Qiao Yan was so adamant about clarifying this matter here.
After this demonstration of printing technology, even though it was clear that there was nothing particularly complex about it, it didn’t affect anyone from diverting their thoughts away from today’s court meeting.
Luckily, there wasn’t much pressing business on the agenda today; delays posed no significant issue.
The assembly soon heard Qiao Yan respond: “In ancient times, King Wu of Zhou summoned his relatives, such as Duke Shao, who was awarded land in Yan. However, instead of going to his fief, he stayed in Haojing to assist King Wu, who granted him Fufeng as his fief.”
“When Duke Shao governed Fufeng, he would patrol the countryside, clearly adjudicating cases under the pear trees, managing affairs so that the people were content, which led to their cherished and tender care for the pear trees he once resided under, resulting in this folk song to eternally remember his grace.”
This is the origin of the poem ‘The sweet pear trees should not be cut or harmed, as they were tended by Duke Shao.’
Liu Yu, having studied the Book of Songs, certainly knew the story behind it.
But Qiao Yan clearly had a purpose in telling it.
The land where Duke Shao Ji Shi was originally awarded was the current Youzhou, and Haojing, where he later assisted King Wu with state affairs, is close to modern-day Chang’an. This was undoubtedly somewhat akin to Liu Yu’s own career.
Though Liu Yu was a ruler and Duke Shao a minister, the comparison wasn’t quite fair, there was one commonality.
Qiao Yan continued, “Bestowing kindness upon the people, allowing them to live and work in peace; although the folk songs don’t mention specifically what Duke Shao did, every line expresses genuine sentiment, making future generations feel touched. His fair adjudication and clear governance are things Your Majesty has already achieved in these two years, so why not take another step forward?”
“If everyone knew how to combat locusts, and amidst this change in natural circumstances, even the common folk might avoid calamity, then the rulers of Chang’an and the people could be as one. That way, the events we recited today regarding Duke Shao would become praises for all, especially for Your Majesty tomorrow.”
Liu Yu shook his head, chuckling, “Can one live in this world solely for reputation?”
Qiao Yan replied, “The relationship of cause and effect isn’t that simple. Just like how people interpret the Book of Songs, whether it’s the Lu poetry or Zhu Xi’s ‘Commentary on the Songs,’ would anyone think of Duke Shao as someone seeking fame? Probably not, they would merely perceive the images of leadership that resonate with the people’s lives within every line.”
“If it was so in the Western Zhou, wouldn’t it be similar in the Han Dynasty?”
Perhaps they too would wish to see such scenes.
At such a time, even with the Han Ling Emperor’s son Liu Bian at the helm in the eastern court, he certainly wouldn’t be regarded as the place for loyalty in the hearts of the people but would prefer the Chang’an court.
All they had to do was work just a little harder for the sake of the public amid the drought and locust disasters.
Her words barely faded before Qiao Yan continued, “Using this poem as an example, there’s another reason.”
“In past years, Emperor Xiaoling inscribed the Xiping Stone Classics in Luoyang, utilizing the seven Confucian classics as the orthodox text for the Han dynasty, carving them in stone to settle the Imperial Academy. Sadly, since the chaos instigated by Dong Zhuo, the Imperial Academy has fallen into disrepair, and most of the Xiping Stone Classics were destroyed, with the remainder left in Luoyang, making it difficult to transport to Chang’an. Yet, correcting the collections of various classic texts remains a crucial concern for the dynasty.”
“However, from my perspective, there’s no need for the stone classics to represent our efforts anymore. In tumultuous times, there’s no spare eight years to carve stone texts.”
Qiao Yan sighed lightly, seemingly lamenting the loss of the stone classics, but then swiftly became resolute: “Instead, why not establish a proper name for the court, selecting the best from various classic texts and recorded works, adopting the method of print to circulate them to ensure that scholars can forever etch their names on the printed templates, where a single template can yield thousands of printed sheets with no risk of being discarded? I wonder how Your Majesty and the others feel about this?”
Recording and printing the collections and works of various classics!
Her words sparked a far greater emotional upheaval than her earlier suggestion of publicly announcing the extermination of locusts and combating drought.
While it seemed to be about allowing the scholar class to share their benefits with the illiterate common folk, upon further contemplation, it was anything but!
Back when the Xiping Stone Classics were established before the Imperial Academy, the number of vehicles coming daily for viewing and copying easily reached thousands, even to the point of blocking surrounding roads.
Would this really give everyone in Luoyang the chance to read and write?
Clearly not.
Even though the Imperial Academy was located in the southern part of the city and the public could access it freely, that wasn’t it either!
Just like how later on, Song Lian was required to seek guidance from the village elders after transcribing books before being able to read through them.
Simple literacy alone wasn’t enough.
As an official text set by the government, the significance of these classics lay greater in maintaining the unity of literacy and politics and aimed to correct misinterpretations of classical teachings.
Thus, those who had learned differing versions from various families now had to realign their understanding to unify with the Xiping Stone Classics.
So they had no choice but to come!
It was so back then, and why couldn’t it be so now too?
Every school of thought had its interpretations of the classics; ministers and their families in the court were always striving to promote theirs as orthodox to gain wider recognition, resulting in various written interpretations and creations.
Printing one copy or a thousand wouldn’t lead to a breakthrough in class divisions; it would only…
Allow them to culturally dominate the status of the scholars from Hebei.
Upon realizing the vision that Qiao Yan was sketching out, the attendees gradually recognized that if this could be done through negotiation, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing?
Even Wang Yun, who was previously swayed by Qiao Yan’s two reasons, felt he shouldn’t have come seeking to hold her accountable. If they were to follow Qiao Yan’s words, it made sense why Yang Xiu would support her.
However, all of this hinged on ensuring that the printed editions still remained under control and weren’t distributed haphazardly to every household, even with explanations, becoming tools for enlightening the masses.
For someone in Qiao Yan’s position, she surely wouldn’t undertake such an action, right?
Wang Yun suppressed his worries and saw Qiao Yan bow respectfully to Liu Yu: “I ask Your Majesty to grant me the authority to print the Leping Monthly Report regularly until the disasters are resolved, and to solicit classic texts from various families, to set a proper record.”
Liu Yu scanned the faces of those present, noticing the hesitation but no one made any clear objections, he replied: “Let’s first approve the monthly report matter; we can discuss the specifics later. We need to come up with a clearer set of regulations.”
Otherwise, especially regarding Ye City, the differing academic doctrines among them would lead to disputes about whose version to officially recognize.
That wouldn’t be joyous but troubling.
Qiao Yan maintained her composure but felt a glimmer of joy upon hearing Liu Yu’s words.
As long as she could legitimately obtain the authority to print, her goal would be achieved!
That was enough!
The latest Leping Monthly Report edition seemed to have already been in preparation before Qiao Yan even sought Liu Yu’s permission, so soon after the court’s decision was made, everyone saw a substantial new batch of March editions in the bookstores of Chang’an.
But that’s not all…
“Are you saying that for every bottle of soy sauce bought in Guanzhong, they get one of these newspapers free?”
Yuan Shao looked at what the scouts had brought back, his expression was absolutely priceless.
Qiao Yan had truly mastered some people’s tendencies.
If they were to go out and buy the newspaper separately, even with the existence of print technology making newspapers significantly cheaper than the previous year, many, especially those who couldn’t read, wouldn’t be inclined to spend extra on it.
But what if they received newspapers free with their purchases of condiments?
To seize this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Qiao Yan could afford such an expense.
But the math didn’t just end there—the soy sauce buyers received a gift, the sellers gained a reputation, and the salt, one of the soy sauce ingredients, was also procured from Qiao Yan. So, really, no one lost!
Only Yuan Shao, who was unaware of the intricacies at play, stared at the detailed newspaper, lost in thought.
This time, he wasn’t in a rush to speak.
He just wanted to know—
What exactly was Qiao Yan brewing in that mysterious gourd of hers?
