Chapter 669 – Alliance at Huangshui (Part Six)
Without wasting any time, she directly visited Cheng Cheng.
Despite Cheng Cheng’s preparation, he was still shocked by Jiang Pengji’s efficiency.
“Uncle Cheng, your nephew has come for a visit and shamelessly requests your help with something.”
Jiang Pengji cut straight to the chase, skipping the complex formalities and greetings, diving right into the main subject after a brief hello.
Cheng Cheng hadn’t seen Jiang Pengji in years, but he had kept an eye on her news and held a very high impression of her.
If it had been someone else asking, he might have frowned secretly, but with Jiang Pengji, he showed great patience and inquired further.
“Speak freely, my dear nephew. If I can help, I won’t decline.”
Having sent his wife and children out early, only he and the visiting Jiang Pengji were left in the hall.
Jiang Pengji moved the heavy black box in front of her, pushing it toward Cheng Cheng and signaling him to open it.
Cheng Cheng was puzzled but complied.
The audience in the live stream thought Jiang Pengji had prepared some kind of secret weapon, eagerly waiting for Cheng Cheng to open the box.
When Cheng Cheng used his slightly slender hands, fingers thickened by calluses, to unlock and open the box, the audience’s excitement turned to disappointment.
What the…? They had thought there was a treasure inside, but it turned out to be a thick stack of paper, slightly off-white in color.
Cheng Cheng was also confused. He looked up at Jiang Pengji, who had a calm smile on her lips, making him furrow his brows.
Upon picking up the stack of paper, Cheng Cheng realized something was off.
“This is not bamboo paper.”
He stated matter-of-factly.
In secret, Jiang Pengji had provided a large quantity of high-quality bamboo paper to trick Cheng Cheng out of his tens of thousands of books.
Cheng Cheng loved books dearly; he had spent countless hours copying texts over the years. He had dealt with bamboo paper for years, so how could he not distinguish the two? Even if their colors were similar, the texture was distinctly different—one touch was all it took to know.
Jiang Pengji replied, “It’s indeed not bamboo paper. This type of paper, Uncle Cheng, you can call it ‘Xuan paper.’”
Cheng Cheng repeated in confusion, “Xuan paper? Did your family’s paper-making workshop just produce this?”
“It’s not exactly newly produced; it has actually been around for several years but hasn’t been publicized until now.”
No wonder… Cheng Cheng nodded as he listened. Feeling inspired, he took some ink and brushed a few words on the “Xuan paper.”
Seeing him write smoothly with strength and style, many viewers became instant fans of his calligraphy.
Jiang Pengji smiled and asked Cheng Cheng, “Uncle Cheng, how do you find the quality of this ‘Xuan paper’?”
Cheng Cheng put down the brush and looked at the characters on the “Xuan paper,” quite pleased as he stroked his beard and chuckled, “It’s resilient yet moist, glossy but not slippery, with strong ink absorption; truly excellent paper. The surface is dense and white, with clean and tidy textures; it is indeed top-notch material.”
Initially, he found the Xuan paper very easy to work with. If he hesitated even slightly while writing, the paper would form a blot.
The characters written were lush and robust, flowing like clouds, making it hard for him to part with the brush.
Not only that, the thickness of the Xuan paper was uniform, with no impurities; when he pressed his fingers against it, it seemed quite foldable.
Cheng Cheng stroked his beard and said, “Does your paper workshop plan to sell this ‘Xuan paper’?”
Jiang Pengji smiled in silence, indicating that Cheng Cheng should unfold the folded paper; there was more to it.
Cheng Cheng was surprised, having just encountered such a case, he was filled with eager anticipation for the following surprise.
The freshly made Xuan paper was quite large—one stack contained a hundred sheets and could be cut as needed.
The previous heavy black box was small, thus the stack of Xuan paper had to be folded into a long strip.
As Cheng Cheng unfolded it, he discovered that it contained several sheets scribbled with ink.
The characters on the pages danced powerfully, subtly exuding a striking confidence.
Cheng Cheng remarked, “Nephew has improved again.”
The handwriting was considerably better than before.
Looking closely at the content on the paper, Cheng Cheng discovered it was a disorganized “article” with no substance, feeling like a jumble of random characters thrown together, completely indecipherable—plain garbage to the audience!
He was puzzled and flipped to the second page; still garbage.
The third page, still garbage.
The fourth page, likewise nonsensical garbage…
Cheng Cheng blinked in confusion; he didn’t understand what Jiang Pengji was trying to show him, was she asking for feedback on her writing?
After flipping through dozens of pages, suddenly a revelation struck Cheng Cheng, and he finally figured out what was off.
He quickly spread the bunch of papers on the table, stacking them where only the first line of characters was exposed. When he looked closely, he found that no matter the size, shape, or thickness of the strokes, they were all identical!
Even the most skilled calligrapher couldn’t write a dozen characters exactly the same without a hint of difference.
“Dear nephew, are these stamped prints?”
Cheng Cheng rapidly pieced together the clues.
Only with stamps could one guarantee perfect uniformity.
Jiang Pengji smiled and said, “The principle is the same, but that thing shouldn’t be called a stamp.”
Even though Cheng Cheng had seen a lot, he was still unclear about Jiang Pengji’s intentions.
He bitterly smiled, playfully pleading, “Nephew, please don’t keep me guessing. Leave this old man with a bit of face.”
Jiang Pengji took out several wooden stamps from a hidden compartment in the box, each engraved with characters that matched the first few characters on those papers.
She said, “Uncle Cheng has already seen the Xuan paper; now take a look at these wooden stamps. What do you think?”
Cheng Cheng took the wooden stamps, discovering they were all the same size and shape, perfectly lined up, satisfying even the most obsessive-compulsive tendencies.
He wasn’t a fool; given Jiang Pengji’s obvious hints, he felt an inkling of understanding.
Right… why hadn’t he thought of this method?
If he used these wooden stamps to arrange the content he wanted and stamped it, wouldn’t that simply produce an article?
As expected, she continued, “A few years ago, when I was immature, I tricked Uncle Cheng out of tens of thousands of books using bamboo paper, making you laboriously copy them. I can’t even imagine how much effort and time it took, and after being reprimanded by my father, I felt deep remorse. After profound reflection, I suddenly thought of this method. If I have carpenters carve out frequently used characters as wooden stamps, whenever I want to print a book, I can just arrange the content with the stamps and produce a copy in no time—wouldn’t that be more convenient and faster than manual copying?”
Cheng Cheng felt his heart race uncontrollably, startled to the point he nearly dropped what he was holding with a crash on the ground.
Jiang Pengji seemed gentle but was actually somewhat aggressive, “Uncle Cheng has collected tens of thousands of books, hoping they would circulate widely, allowing future generations to appreciate the civilization and brilliance of the past. While rare editions are precious, if a disaster strikes and they are destroyed, then no one will know their contents. I recall clearly that this has always been a regret of yours. If every book had a copy per person, even in the face of irrepressible disasters, they could still be passed down through generations. Do you think my words have merit?”
