Chapter 176: Is There That Kind of Book?

The Ming Dynasty actually already had many picture books published, especially in the prosperous Jiangnan Region, with all kinds of books displayed like a dazzling array; these books were very exquisite, with high printing quality, and could even be called artworks.Mr. Wang actually liked picture books too, but he only preferred those exceptionally beautiful ones that could be called art.

But what was this thing that Thirty-Two held in his hand? The printing quality was poor, with no coloring at all—it was entirely black-and-white drawings, and the images utterly lacked elegance; at a glance, it was no masterpiece by a famous artist.

His picture book was like the level of a child’s scribble.

And he was actually selling this?

Mr. Wang was very angry; just moments ago he had said he would buy one to support him, but now he was so angry his moustache seemed to puff up.

However, he didn’t like it, but the villagers beside him loved it.

“This picture book is telling a story.”

“Yes, each page has continuous pictures; I understood it at a glance.”

A craftsman who had listened to dramas in the county town said: “There are three characters beside it; I can guess it says Yang Liulang, right?”

Thirty-Two smiled: “Yes, Yang Liulang.”

The craftsman exclaimed joyfully: “Hahaha, I never imagined I would recognize words one day; I saw this drawing and immediately knew these three characters spelled Yang Liulang. I’ve heard this drama; this is depicting Yang Liulang’s story.”

The villagers were quite pleased: “This book is rare.”

“This book is interesting.”

“Clatter!” A handful of copper coins was thrown onto the counter. The crowd turned and saw that the one who threw out the money was actually the Old Village Chief of Gaojia Village—an old man who had made a fortune selling chocolate, a standard old illiterate who never had anything to do with “books.” Yet now, he spent with extravagance: “I want to buy one copy, haha, I’ll take it back to look at slowly.”

The Old Village Chief set a good example. A group of Old Villagers from Gaojia Village all reached into their pockets.

That little comic book, just like a toy, sold dozens of copies in an instant.

Mr. Wang was stunned; properly serious books weren’t bought by these guys, but they were frantically buying poor-quality picture books?

Thirty-Two walked up to him and patted his shoulder: “Mr. Wang, won’t you take a copy?”

Mr. Wang shook his head like a rattle-drum: “No, no! I only want exquisite picture books; I absolutely don’t want this kind of messily printed black-and-white drawing.”

Thirty-Two laughed: “Mr. Wang, haven’t you realized it yet? Those exquisite picture books have no storyline, but this set of ‘comic book’ in my hand has a plot—it’s been telling a story all along.”

Mr. Wang exclaimed: “!”

Thirty-Two continued: “For common citizens, image quality isn’t as important as how thrilling the story is.”

Mr. Wang suddenly understood something: “Eh, eh? This might… be a way for people who haven’t studied to learn something too.”

Noticing his insight, Thirty-Two said no more. He chuckled as he circled past Mr. Wang and declared loudly: “Everyone, don’t rush. This is only the first volume. We’ll print the second and third volumes in a few days… When the whole set is printed, it’ll be a complete story of ‘Yang Family Generals.’ Patient ones can wait to buy it all later, while those eager can chase each new release. This is called .”

The Village Chief of Gaojia Village yelled: “Release faster! Speed it up!”

Gao Sanwa clutched his mother’s arm and shook it vigorously: “Mother, I want a set, I want the whole collection…”

Gao San Niang replied: “Buy, buy, buy! I’ve stitched several sets of cotton armor for the village; our family isn’t short on money. Buy, buy, just buy it.”

Gao Sanwa cried out happily: “Mother, you’re so great!”

Seeing Gao Sanwa got what he wanted, Young Master Bai quickly turned to Madam Bai and said: “Mother, your child wants that too…”

“Slap!” Madam Bai gave him a hard pinch: “How many times have you read the text version of ‘Yang Family Generals’? And you still want to look at this kind of worn-out picture?”

Young Master Bai covered his face: “Gao Sanwa has one…”

Madam Bai glanced sidelong: “Gao Sanwa also often eats bamboo shoots stir-fried with meat; do you want to try that too?”

Young Master Bai pointed at his face reddened from the hard pinch: “I’ll offset it with this against his bamboo shoots stir-fried with meat, but for the ‘Yang Family Generals’ picture album, your child has nothing else to trade.”

Madam Bai thought carefully and suddenly broke out in a sweat; oh no, she said to herself silently, I secretly mocked Gao San Niang’s rough teaching ways for frequently giving the child bamboo shoots stir-fried with meat, yet I’m doing the same thing to my child, aah, I need to compensate him: “Buy! Buy! Your mother will get it for you.”

Young Master Bai exclaimed joyfully: “Wow, mother loves me so much.”

At that moment, one person in the crowd crept over softly to Thirty-Two and whispered: “Third Manager, is there a kind of book you could print?”

Thirty-Two was very surprised. Turning, he saw it was Ground Rabbit—this fellow had improved since joining the militia: his income had risen, the clothes on his body turned into neat cotton clothes, his ancestral rusty sword was polished bright, and he’d paid a labor offender to help make a scabbard during break time. Now he looked quite respectable.

Except, the way he asked was strange; such a sneaky approach felt wrong.

Thirty-Two instantly realized something and whispered back: “What kind do you want?”

Ground Rabbit replied: “That kind… you know.”

Thirty-Two snickered, his voice revealing a tone only men would understand: “I get it, spring… that… art, right?”

Ground Rabbit exclaimed: “Pfft! What nonsense are you spouting? Mr. Rabbit here is shameless like that? I absolutely don’t want that worn-out picture book.”

Thirty-Two flushed red immediately: “Oh, not that? Then say it clearly! What exactly do you want?”

Ground Rabbit whispered: “Do you have sword mastery manuals?”

Thirty-Two retorted grumpily: “Are those two things so disgraceful? You have to come whispering secretly to me, making me misunderstand your meaning.”

Ground Rabbit countered: “I know secret manuals aren’t sold openly; otherwise, how could they be secrets? They must be sold discreetly, so I asked discreetly.”

There was no point reasoning with this frivolous rabbit; Thirty-Two shook his head: “No, no, absolutely impossible.”

Ground Rabbit sighed heavily: “Ah, no? Your printing house doesn’t even have this; it’ll go bust sooner or later.”

Thirty-Two snapped angrily: “Get lost! Get lost right now!”

Ground Rabbit protested: “Hey? Why so angry? Even if the deal’s off, goodwill remains.”

Thirty-Two yelled angrily: “What goodwill with a guy like you? Say one more word, and I’ll call Instructor He to grab you and turn you into braised rabbit head!”

Ground Rabbit was startled stiff; in Gaojia Village, he feared only two people—Saint Lady and Instructor He. He instantly dashed away, vanishing in a flash into the distance.

Thirty-Two shook his head with a mix of tears and laughter: “That guy! What in the world is he thinking in his head all day?”