The group boarded an oxcart to go to town.
A layer of dry straw was laid on the oxcart, and several jars of pickled vegetables were hauled on top.
The old man driving the cart was named Li Laoshi.
A cloth bag was tied under the ox's rump.
The oxcart swayed and moved forward, a little faster than a person jogging.
The old man sat on the front of the cart, holding a braided rope in his hand. Before long, he saw a yellowish-brown lump on the road. Seeing this, he was overjoyed, quickly jumped down, picked up a bamboo basket, and kicked the thing inside with his foot.
Chen Xian was taken aback; was that cow dung?
Along the way, the old man picked up more than a dozen large ones as he walked.
We arrived in town.
The group split up and acted separately.
The eldest brother hesitated and insisted on going to the jewelry shop.
The Su sisters went to the cloth shop.
The second brother and Chen Xian went to the grain store together first.
Chen Xian was somewhat surprised; the price of rice and flour had dropped by one coin compared to before.
Erzhu glanced at the passersby and scanned the vegetable market and food street.
I don't know what he's thinking about.
Later, we went to the bookstore.
There are two or three shops on the street.
Chen Xian spent ten coins to buy a pound of shortbread and handed one to Erzhu.
"Eat."
Erzhu was puzzled. This stuff was too expensive and didn't keep him full at all. He wondered how much grain he could buy with just one pound of it.
Chen Xian waited patiently, watching the bookstores come and go. Some came to buy books, some to sell books, and some carried scrap paper, seemingly to submit manuscripts.
After waiting for about half an hour, Chen Xian saw a rather young scholar and looked quite pleased.
With a smile, he approached the scholar and asked, "Sir, are you here to buy books?"
The scholar was somewhat surprised. Seeing that the other person was dressed in coarse linen clothes with patches, clearly a farmer from the village, he didn't bother to pay any attention to him.
But then a piece of pure white sesame-coated candy was handed to me.
He moved his lips slightly, then calmly accepted it.
"Is there something you need, sir?"
Upon hearing the address "Grandpa," Chen Xian's breathing became heavier.
I'm not angry, I'm not angry, I'll get used to it.
Chen Xian smiled, his face full of a kind smile.
"Here's the thing, I have a friend who has written some storybooks, but he doesn't know which bookseller will offer him a fair price. Could you please give me some advice?"
Especially the gentleman.
The scholar's expression grew increasingly satisfied.
The initial impatience disappeared, replaced by seriousness.
"The old man's friend?"
He must be a farmer.
What kind of vernacular stories can be written?
"The most famous place in town is Qingping Bookstore. They sell the most types of books, and the prices are a bit higher. Of course, they also buy novels of various genres, but not many, and they don't make a profit from novels."
Besides that, there's Dingfeng Study, where the books are inexpensive. However, the variety is relatively limited. His study also collects various vernacular stories, but the quality is generally average, and there aren't many works by outstanding Confucian scholars.
"Yes, there's also Rainforest Bookstore. Its situation is rather unique; it mainly sells various vernacular novels and doesn't sell many serious Confucian classics, so it's not very popular among the mainstream scholars in town. I heard they employ a group of old Confucian scholars who specialize in writing vernacular stories. They sign contracts with the scholars, paying them a certain amount per thousand words, but they need to submit manuscripts on time, with a fixed number of words required each month to receive extra compensation."
The scholar rambled on and on for a long time.
My mouth is a little dry.
Chen Xian then took out another piece of brittle candy from his cloth bag and handed it over.
"Sir, you've said so much, please clear your throat."
Only then did Chen Erzhu understand what his father meant.
I never knew that brittle could be used in this way.
But we just went and asked directly.
Judging from the scholar's eyes and our expressions, he seemed rather impatient. It's hard to imagine that he would say such things to us.
I admire my father more and more.
They assumed their father would go directly to the three study rooms to inquire.
Chen Xian smacked his lips and said casually, "Erzhu, let's go ask around near these three study rooms."
So for the next half hour.
Chen Xian learned about the business operations and reputation of the three bookstores from the people who bought books from them.
Erzhuzi looked confused.
Chen Xian calmly said, "When you arrive in an unfamiliar place, if you only ask one person for directions, you might end up taking a lot of detours. You need to ask several people. Otherwise, you might end up taking a lot of detours."
"Similarly, the people who know the bookstore best, besides the shopkeeper, are the customers who buy books. After all, the only people who know each other best are the competitors."
After consuming more than a dozen pieces of brittle, Chen Xian reached a clear conclusion.
Qingping Bookstore is a large and well-established business with no shortage of sales channels. The storytelling business is just one aspect of his business and he doesn't pay much attention to it.
Dingfeng Bookstore has a rather laid-back approach; besides selling books, selling storybooks is also its main business. They take storybooks if they have them, and don't take them if they don't.
Rainforest Bookstore has a mixed reputation in town. It's not a bookstore that's popular with mainstream readers; it mainly survives by selling storybooks.
Rainforest Bookstore has a strange aura, employing a group of writers to mass-produce stories for the bookstore, which is quite similar to the operation model of online literature websites in later generations.
According to the scholars who bought books from the previous two buyers, although the professions of those old Confucian scholars were despised by orthodox scholars, the jingling copper coins that jingled in their monthly income were real.
The top writers can produce hundreds of articles of up to a thousand words.
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