The Kunlun Library was right next to the Kunlun Bookstore headquarters. Its style was Westernized. Looking at this building alone, without seeing the people coming and going, Ji Shuangyu could have thought he was still in the modern era.

As expected of a library with powerful backing, its collection was very rich, with a complete range of imported books and even overseas academic journals.

However, because these journals were relatively few, they couldn't be checked out casually. Barring special circumstances, one could only copy them by hand. One just had to go to the staff, pay a dozen copper coins for paper, and borrow a brush.

Ji Shuangyu bought some paper and borrowed a writing brush and ink.

Fountain pens, ballpoint pens, and pencils all existed at this time. Because of their convenience and speed, they were already on par with writing brushes. New-style schools still required using writing brushes for homework, but many students had already fallen in love with fountain pens and pencils.

Therefore, it wasn't that Ji Shuangyu was being cheap, but that the library's pencils had all been borrowed...

Fortunately, Ji Shuangyu had also learned calligraphy from his elders since childhood. He started with a soft brush and became accomplished with a hard-tipped pen. He often even did the calligraphy for his own films and posters, so he wasn't intimidated.

For him, the trouble was finding the journal he wanted.

For example, when Ji Shuangyu wanted to find an article about rheostats, he found that the librarian he asked looked completely baffled.

This librarian was a student working part-time. He looked at Ji Shuangyu and asked with a very good attitude if he had remembered the term incorrectly. Perhaps he should go back and ask again? Although his attitude was good, it couldn't hide his suspicion.

There was a saying in Jingcheng that you could tell a person's family background, and even their job, just from their hat. Ji Shuangyu's felt hat was the kind that only common coolies who pulled carts would wear.

Ji Shuangyu, dressed like this, coming to borrow a journal, made people suspect he didn't even qualify as a poor scholar... Could he even afford to go to school? Was he perhaps running an errand to borrow a book for someone else?

"Ask who? I'm looking for a resistor." Ji Shuangyu's mind was full of finding the journal, so he didn't carefully consider the librarian's words. He had a flash of inspiration, "Is the translation different!"

Now Ji Shuangyu was inspired. He looked it up in a foreign language and found that it was indeed a translation issue. The type of resistor he was looking for was called a "Light and Shadow Dimmer" at this time.

Ji Shuangyu felt as if he had found a treasure and quickly found a place to copy it.

The librarian, meanwhile, watched his retreating back with somewhat mixed feelings. He thought the man's spoken language sounded like someone who had studied abroad, and his appearance didn't look like a coolie's either... How could he have fallen to dressing like this?

......

Ji Shuangyu sat down and focused on copying. At some point, two middle-aged men in Western suits passed by and glanced at him for a few moments, exchanging words of approval with each other: "Min... Sir, you see, this Kunlun Library being open to the public is truly a joy for the academic world, and good news for poor scholars."

The other man, who had a long beard, also nodded and said, "Indeed. The management here is also clear, and everything is in good order. Zhou Baoduo has inherited his mother's style. Good, he has not betrayed my trust."

The two were also tired from walking, so they simply sat down nearby.

On a whim, they had come to the Kunlun Library in plain clothes. Seeing the orderly state of affairs, with both students borrowing books and common people reading newspapers, they were very pleased.

As for Ji Shuangyu, his wrist started to ache from all the copying. Only then did he notice two men sitting next to him, not reading, just sitting and looking at the scenery. His skin had long since been thickened, so he immediately struck up a conversation: "Hello, uncle. Have you eaten?"

The long-bearded man was stunned for a moment. "I have."

Ji Shuangyu: "Not in a hurry to leave?"

The long-bearded man: "...Not in a hurry. What is it you need?" At first, he suspected Ji Shuangyu recognized him, but seeing his subsequent attitude, it didn't seem so.

Ji Shuangyu was happy. "Then could I borrow your fountain pen? I'm in a hurry to get back, and copying with a brush is too slow. The pencils are all borrowed out." He had glimpsed the fountain pen tucked in the man's pocket.

His companion wanted to say something, but the long-bearded man raised a hand to stop him and generously took out his own fountain pen to lend to Ji Shuangyu.

Ji Shuangyu unscrewed the cap and saw that it had a gold nib. Knowing it was very valuable at this time, he cupped his hands and said, "I'm endlessly grateful. May you be well. I'll be careful with it."

He quickly resumed copying. Writing with a hard-tipped pen was indeed faster.

The two men then resumed their quiet conversation.

"The convenience of writing with a hard-tipped pen surpasses that of a writing brush. No wonder the students of the world love them more and dislike using writing brushes for their assignments," one of them said.

The long-bearded man also nodded. That was right. Whether in the classroom or in daily life, the fountain pen greatly increased writing speed. Even he himself had a fountain pen, although he still held it in the same way he held a writing brush.

But after nodding, he couldn't help but sigh, "These fountain pens and pencils, they are fast to write with, but they are merely tools. Brush calligraphy, however, can be called an art. My disciple visited the West for study and showed them the ink treasures of Huaxia calligraphers. The Western art world greatly admired them and even wanted to borrow from them for their own creations. This is a unique art of Huaxia! I only fear that in the future, everyone will use fountain pens, neglect their practice, and after a few generations, it will be difficult for great masters of Huaxia calligraphy to emerge."

This long-bearded man was clearly a calligraphy enthusiast. Seeing him become dejected, his companion quickly changed the subject, "But it is precisely because of the appearance of these practical tools that calligraphers today are also exploring how to create more aesthetic value. In a way, this is also a kind of progress. They say that with good handwriting, one's future is also smoother. I was thinking of asking you for a piece of your calligraphy. I've long known you are a contemporary master, with a bold style and magnificent presence."

The long-bearded man laughed heartily, "Yuangu, don't exaggerate so much. The foremost calligraphy masters today are still Tan You'an and Mo Huailin. Especially Tan You'an, who has even managed to combine the styles of steles and rubbings. I can only call myself an enthusiast. I spend most of my efforts on worldly affairs!"

Just as they were talking, the poor student next to them seemed to have finished copying. He returned the fountain pen to them, thanked them repeatedly, packed up his things, and left in a hurry.

"Which school is he from, to be so careless," the long-bearded man muttered in a natural, elderly tone. It turned out he saw that the other person had dropped a piece of paper, which had fluttered to the ground.

He bent down to pick it up. As his eyes swept across the paper, his gaze instantly froze for a moment.

"What is it?" his companion asked, seeing his expression was off. "Did this student copy something extraordinary?"

"What he copied is not extraordinary, but this handwriting..." the long-bearded man said in pleasant surprise, "Interesting! Interesting!"

Most of this poor student's characters were rather cursive, with a few places written a bit more neatly. The wondrous thing was that it seemed to have integrated traditional brush techniques, with a natural character. It even combined the styles of steles and rubbings!

When the people of Huaxia used fountain pens, it was for convenience. Moreover, the fountain pen was not originally created to write Huaxia characters; it was more suited for writing foreign languages. As he had said before, it was just a tool.

But this handwriting had form and discipline. It wasn't just writing; it could be called calligraphy!

Especially the standard script characters, which had the style of both steles and rubbings, without losing the unique austerity of a hard-tipped pen—the debate in the calligraphy world over the superiority of the study of steles (a school that reveres stone inscriptions) versus the study of rubbings (a school that reveres calligraphy on scrolls and silk) had been going on for a long time. In this era, the exploration of integrating steles and rubbings was just beginning. Only a very small number of calligraphers, such as Tan You'an, had achieved some success.

The long-bearded man couldn't help but say, "This student's handwriting may not be comparable to contemporary masters, but it already has the flavor of complementarity between steles and rubbings, and it's written with a fountain pen, giving it a unique character. It's simply in a class of its own."

Only then did the long-bearded man realize that perhaps a fountain pen could be more than just a tool?

The more he looked, the more novel and unique he found it. His curiosity piqued, he couldn't help but look up and say, "Where is that student? Quickly find him. This handwriting is too cursive. Tell him to write a piece seriously. I want to see how he wields the pen!"

But Ji Shuangyu's figure was long gone. He was completely unaware of all this. The rapid development of hard-pen calligraphy was still many years away. But as a transmigrator, he had been accustomed to using a fountain pen to copy ancient steles and rubbings since he started practicing calligraphy, while also retaining the unique character of the hard-tipped pen.

The two of them searched for a while but couldn't find Ji Shuangyu. The companion was fine, but the long-bearded man was an enthusiast. Failing to achieve his goal was like an itch he couldn't scratch, his mind full of unresolved questions. He couldn't help but sigh.

The companion quickly said, "The library's borrowing records might have something."

The two hurriedly went to look through the records, only to find that this person, let alone a school, had only left the surname "Ji". They were utterly dumbfounded. Why was it as if this person deliberately prevented them from finding him?

—Ji Shuangyu had suffered too much from information leaks in the modern era and received too many sales calls. He was used to not leaving his real information.

The long-bearded man let out a long sigh and said regretfully, "I will be heading to Hushang in a few days. I'll have to trouble Yuangu to keep an eye out for me and see if you can find this student."

......

Ji Shuangyu was completely unaware. His mind was on the Changle Theater, only thinking that the stage design he brought was ahead of its time.

Although he had lost a piece of paper that day, fortunately, it didn't have much of an impact. While the memory was still fresh, he rewrote the key points, so he didn't go back to the library to recopy it. Instead, he continued with his work.

Xu Xinyue was stingy, and everyone in the troupe needed to eat. One day without work was one day without food. So he worked every night, hastily completing the stage modifications.

When Ji Shuangyu got to the lighting modifications, he asked Xu Xinyue for money.

Xu Xinyue said, bewildered, "Didn't I already give you fifty dollars?"

Ji Shuangyu: "It's not enough."

Xu Xinyue: "Fifty dollars isn't enough??"

Ji Shuangyu was even more agitated than him: "Is fifty dollars enough???"

Xu Xinyue: "................"

Damn damn damn! Of course, fifty dollars wasn't enough!

When Xu Xinyue proposed the amount and Ji Shuangyu immediately agreed, he himself found it incredible.

But, but, this... how could this happen...

Xu Xinyue's mind was in turmoil.

Ji Shuangyu crossed his arms and persuaded, "Boss, if you don't add more money, and this stage is only half-done, then those fifty dollars will be a complete loss."

Xu Xinyue: "!!!"

He looked at Ji Shuangyu in shock. "You, you..."

So this was your plan all along...!

Only then did he come to his senses. Ji Shuangyu had agreed so readily before because he never intended to stick to the amount.

But by now, a certain amount of sunk cost had already been incurred, so how could Xu Xinyue bear to give up? Moreover, the second sum of money Ji Shuangyu asked for wasn't an exorbitant demand; it was just within his tolerance range. He sat on the ground holding his head for a long while before painfully giving Ji Shuangyu the money...

As Ji Shuangyu was leaving, an eavesdropping stagehand winked and asked him, "Master, is it enough this time?"

Because the stagehand had learned a few tricks, he was now very enthusiastic towards Ji Shuangyu and insisted on calling him Master.

Ji Shuangyu chuckled, "Another day, I'll show you another trick: emptying the client's pockets."

Ji Shuangyu repeatedly tormented Xu Xinyue. While he was heartbroken, Ji Shuangyu even instigated him to sell the backdrop panels, saying it was a way to recoup his costs. Don't assume the backdrops of this era were very rigorous. In some plays, the lyrics might sing of spring while the background was autumn.

So the backdrop for their play could also be sold to others.

Theaters were also divided into different classes. Even if theaters of the same level wouldn't take it, it could still be sold to a lower-tier theater.

Xu Xinyue was tormented to the point of vulnerability. He had originally clamored that audiences liked Western-style scenery. Now, feeling he had been deceived this much, with success or failure hanging on this one attempt, and desperately wanting to recoup his costs, he was actually convinced to sell the backdrops.

......

At this time, some well-informed opera fans already knew that the Changle Theater was going to stage a new version of Temple of the Spiritual Official. There was much private discussion, but most were not optimistic.

—It would have been better if Xu Xinyue had gone to Hushang to learn from others, but these days, not only had he not gone to Hushang, he had even sold off the scenery he originally bought. He also hadn't been diligently visiting experts within the city. What kind of revision could he possibly produce?

How could Xu Xinyue know about those discussions? He was completely focused on the new play and even had to write the playbill himself.

The playbill was a promotional poster. The word "poster" had existed for a long time.

Currently, there were hall posters posted inside the theater, door posters at the theater's entrance, and street posters at the city gates and on the streets, etc. If the promotional effort was particularly large, one could also pay for advertisements in newspapers and magazines.

Following the key points given by the troupe, Xu Xinyue personally wrote the plot summary, which also included an advertising slogan: On the third day of the twelfth lunar month, Changle Theater presents the newly staged ghost and god play Temple of the Spiritual Official. New colors and new arrangements, with astonishing scenes. The Great Spiritual Official of the Capital of Heaven subjugates demons with thunder and fire...

Ji Shuangyu glanced at it. "Boss, that's too conservative!"

Xu Xinyue humbly said, "What do you mean?"

Ji Shuangyu grabbed the brush—Xu Xinyue was using a writing brush—and directly crossed out "astonishing scenes", writing things like "earth-shattering" and "once in a century" instead.

Xu Xinyue looked at Ji Shuangyu in astonishment. Oh, the nerve of this man... how could he boast so much? How was he so good at it?

"No wonder he could cheat money out of me..." Xu Xinyue said dejectedly.

Ji Shuangyu pretended not to hear.

However, the boss was quite satisfied with this playbill. He immediately took the poster slip and instructed someone to go and post it.

He even wanted to watch them post the one at the theater entrance. He stood at the door with his hands in his sleeves, staring intently, very much invested.

Ji Shuangyu also watched along. He planned to go to the box office later to check on ticket sales. This was related to whether he could still eat meat. No one could say they were 100% confident; he just didn't show it in front of the investor.

Just then, the owner of the silk shop on the same street came over. He exchanged a few pleasantries with Xu Xinyue, then looked at his poster slip. Seeing "earth-shattering," he sighed slightly, thinking Xu Xinyue was bragging.

Subjugating demons with thunder and fire? He was probably just going to burn some red phosphorus to create fireworks. How old-fashioned.

"Brother Yugou, your mother's health is what's important. If you find it hard to continue, just come to me. You can always make a comeback and rebuild in the future," the silk shop owner said earnestly.

Yugou was Xu Xinyue's courtesy name, and the silk shop owner wasn't saying this to lend him money. As mentioned before, someone wanted to buy Xu Xinyue's piece of land and had asked the silk shop owner to act as a middleman.

The ones who wanted to buy the land were also peers in the Pear Garden. Several people wanted to pool their money to buy the Changle Theater, renovate it, rename it, and reopen it, imitating the popular stage model from Hushang to create a Western-style stage.

Of course, they would still perform national opera and do Pear Garden business. It was just that a Western wind was blowing on the opera stages now. Some theaters that performed opera had even directly changed their names to XX Stage or XX Theater.

And unlike the stingy Xu Xinyue, they planned to hire highly skilled set designers from Hushang.

The Changle Theater was in a great location. If not for this opportunity, it would be very difficult to acquire the land here.

It was precisely because they were peers that they felt their judgment was accurate and their information was reliable, which was why they were certain the Changle Theater was doomed to close.

Xu Xinyue felt it was very unlucky, but he couldn't say anything harsh. He just said with a dark face and a stiff neck, "Our new play is about to start. Perhaps we'll turn a profit soon."

The silk shop owner chuckled twice, full of pity for a grasshopper in late autumn.

Ji Shuangyu, hiding behind Xu Xinyue from the cold wind, poked out half his face and said optimistically, "Our new play is going to be a sensation this time. You're welcome to buy a ticket to support us."

The silk shop owner saw that he was good-looking and didn't find him annoying. He said with a smile, "Oh? Then I shall wait to hear that sensation."

Xu Xinyue's eyes were about to pop out of his head. After the silk shop owner left, he paced around frantically for a few turns, raised his hands, and roared, "I want money!!!!!"

The ticket seller dozing out of boredom in the box office was startled awake. What's going on, what's going on, who's gone crazy from being poor?

He came out to look. Oh, oh, it's our boss. Then it's fine.

Author's note:

It's like this, Zhou Baoduo is Zhou Siyin. Baoduo is his courtesy name, and Lingdang'er is his nickname, hahahahahaha