I Am Sanctified By Writing Books

After worrying all night, Chu He finally managed to survive until dawn.

After washing up, he immediately went to look for Uncle Forbe.

"Forbe, what's the matter?"

Chu He looked anxious, the danger of last night made him eager to embark on the road of Confucianism cultivation.

Uncle Fu shook his head bitterly: "Young master, you should study at ease. It won't be too late for you to publish a collection of poems when the master is cleared of his injustice."

Chu He immediately understood that his father had been framed as an invigilator for cheating in the exam. In this world where literature is paramount, no bookstore would be willing to publish a collection of poems for the son of a cheater in the exam.

"Is there no bookstore willing to help me publish a collection of poems?"

Chu He was not reconciled, the female ghost last night would never let it go, he must have the power to protect himself as soon as possible.

Uncle Fu sighed, and said: "Actually, there is a bookstore that is willing to help the young master publish books, but that bookstore only sells miscellaneous books, and the people who buy books are all of the same rank."

"Miscellaneous books?" Chu He hurriedly said, "I can also write miscellaneous books!"

In this world, only poems and songs are orthodox, and all other books are miscellaneous books.

Some people read miscellaneous books, and the writers can also get literary blessings, but other Confucianism cultivators look down on people who write miscellaneous books.

But all of this was imminent, Chu He couldn't care less about it.

Moreover, he doesn't agree with these Confucianism cultivators' views. The four great classics of the previous life are also miscellaneous books, but which one is not a classic?

"Master, if Master knows..."

Before Uncle Fu finished speaking, Chu He immediately said: "Uncle Fu, either contact me with that bookstore, or I'll go to Yihonglou right now."

Fu Bo's expression changed one after another, and finally he sighed and agreed.

That morning, Chu He rushed over without stopping.

The owner of the bookstore, Wang Chuyong, is a wretched middle-aged man with a big belly, triangular eyes, and a mustache under his nose.

After several people were seated, Uncle Fu introduced: "Boss Wang, this is my young master. He plans to publish a book in your Donglai Bookstore."

Wang Chuyong laughed and said, "Master Chu is going to publish a book? Do you have a manuscript?"

He had a smile on his face, but he looked down on Chu He in his heart.

This young man who was born in the imperial city, his father was imprisoned, and the first thing he did when he came back was to enter the Yihong Building. He was not even a Confucian scholar, and he also published books like others.

But if you have money, don't make a bastard. As long as the money is in place, the book will be listed tomorrow.

Chu He pointed to his head and said with a smile, "The manuscripts are all here."

"Master Chu is amazing, he deserves to be born in a scholarly family." Wang Chuyong praised repeatedly, but laughed in his heart.

This dandy of feelings thinks of himself as the reincarnation of a literary sage, and really thinks that he can speak well.

Chu He waved his hand and said with a smile, "Boss Wang appreciates the award, let's talk about publishing the book first."

"That's exactly what I mean." Wang Chuyong responded immediately, wasn't this what he was waiting for?

Chu He took a sip of tea, and said calmly: "Let me talk about my request first, the book I wrote must be placed in the most conspicuous position in the bookstore!"

"This..." Wang Chuyong showed hesitation.

"Forbe!"

Chu He beckoned, and Uncle Fu immediately took out a five hundred tael silver note from his sleeve and slapped it on the table.

Wang Chuyong's breathing suddenly became rapid, "This is no problem!"

Chu He nodded in satisfaction, and said, "Boss Wang, how many words does a book usually have, and how much does it sell for?"

"Ordinary books generally have less than 100,000 words. If it is written by an ordinary person, the fee for a thousand words is one penny. For a famous book, the fee is about three pennies." Wang Chuyong replied.

Chu He pondered for a while, and said, "Then my thousand-character fee will be set at five Wen."

"Young Master Chu, isn't this a little expensive? The books written by the great Confucian scholars are only a thousand characters and five essays." Wang Chuyong hesitated.

Chu He waved his hand: "If they like to read it or not, they only have a thousand words and five words."

Seeing that he was so determined, Wang Chuyong stopped dissuading him, since he couldn't sell it anyway, and finally had to send it to a public toilet as toilet paper.

"Young Master Chu, when do you plan to publish the book and how many copies will you print?" Wang Chuyong asked while rubbing his hands.

"In three days, I will send someone a 100,000-word manuscript, so let's print this number first." Chu He held out a finger while speaking.

Wang Chuyong was a little disappointed, but he still smiled and said, "One hundred copies is not a lot. One hundred thousand characters, the cost of a single copy is about one hundred cash. I count eighty cash for Mr. Chu, and the total is eight taels of silver."

"It's not a hundred copies." Chu He shook his head and said, "It's printing ten thousand copies."

"One... 10,000 copies!" Wang Chuyong opened his mouth wide in shock, and his words were a little awkward.

He paid 80 yuan for one book, and he earned 50 yuan in blood. For the 10,000 copies, it would be 500 taels!

Adding the five hundred taels given before, you can earn a thousand taels in blood!

"10,000 copies is only the first batch, and it is estimated that more will be added later. Boss Wang must be mentally prepared."

Chu He beckoned, and Uncle Fu slapped five hundred taels on the table again.

"The five hundred taels is a deposit, and someone will send the manuscript over in three days."

Wang Chuyong nodded again and again: "Okay, no problem. As soon as Young Master Chu's manuscript arrives, I will immediately send people to rush to work overnight, so as not to delay the sale of Young Master Chu's book."

After discussing the publishing matters, Chu He and Uncle Fu left Donglai Bookstore and went home.

After returning home, Chu He immediately got into the study and started writing a book. In three days, there were 100,000 words. Even a writer in the previous life would have to write.

If it is not in a hurry to publish a book to save your life, you will have to write a hundred thousand words for a month.

Watching Chu He get into the study, Uncle Fu could not help but sigh.

One thousand taels is gone, and three hundred taels will be spent three days later, the family has very little money left.

But as long as the young master doesn't go to Yihonglou, then it's easy to talk about anything, even if he sells everything, he still needs to publish a book for the young master.

The maid was studying ink, and Chu He wrote two big characters "Water Margin" on the paper after thinking for a while.

Chu He also has his own ideas in choosing this book.

Most of the people who go to Donglai Bookstore to buy books are of different religions, and their occupations are similar to those of the characters in Water Margin.

Furthermore, Confucianism can cultivate book spirits by gathering literary energy through books. There are 108 generals in Water Margin, and they can always cultivate several book spirits to protect themselves.

Even if there is only one book spirit body guard, it can easily suppress evil spirits like female ghosts.

As for the rebellious spirit in it, if a literati writes a book, can that be called a rebellion?

Perhaps because of the fusion of the souls of the two worlds, Chu He's memory has improved a lot, and the vague memories in the past have gradually become clearer.

Full of ink, he began to write vigorously, and lines of small characters appeared on the paper.

The literary energy gathered, and writing a book not only did not make him feel tired, but became more energetic.

In the following time, apart from eating, Chu He was busy writing, and even skipped sleeping.

Seeing that my life is almost gone, why sleep, when I die in the future, there will be many opportunities to sleep.

When I wrote the nineteenth chapter of Lin Jiaotou and Wang Lun, it happened to be over 100,000 words.

Chu He collapsed on the chair, as if his body had been hollowed out: "Yu Ling, put away all the pen and ink."

The little girl who was yawning suddenly trembled and said in surprise: "Master, have you finished writing?"

"Well, after packing up the pen and ink, give the manuscript to Uncle Fu. Master, I want to go back to my room and have a good sleep."

Chu He stretched, wandered back to the room, and fell asleep.

In the account room, Uncle Fu fiddled with his abacus, his brows getting tighter and tighter.

"Hey! I still need to give three hundred taels to the bookstore, and there are only two hundred and three taels of silver left in the house, which is not enough!"

Just when he was sad, a crisp voice rang in his ears.

"Fu Bo, the young master asked me to give this to you."

The little girl Yuling held the manuscript that Chu He had rushed out in three days, with a crisp voice.

"The young master wrote these within two days?"

Looking at the thick stack of manuscripts, Uncle Fu couldn't help being surprised.

In the past, when the young master wrote a few words, he would shout that his wrist was about to break from exhaustion!

Could it be that the young master has really changed his ways?

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but gritted his teeth.

As long as the young master can walk on the right path, even if he loses the coffin, he must support him!

Forber lifted the bed board and took out a small box, which contained his savings over the years.