Yiwu, the border city of Huyi.
A hundred years ago, Huyi and Great Lin were considered the same sect, but they had yet to establish their own countries.
Therefore, other than clothing, the system and official positions were similar. They were divided into townships, counties, and prefectures, each governed by a county magistrate and an official. There were also inspectors in each place who were in charge of salt, ships, and so on.
There were also inspectors in each place who were in charge of salt, ships, and so on.
Yiwu in Huyi was not much different from Jinjiang in Great Lin. They were both water towns!
Yiwu was known as the City of Fine Jade, which meant that the jade mined here was comparable to the best. Therefore, many merchants came and went every day to trade here. At night, the entire street was decorated with lanterns and streamers, just like Dali Lijiang. The scenery was beautiful, and the doors were open!
It was like this every day!
Song Zhi had been at home writing his book behind closed doors for the past few days.
It had been a long time since he had slept!
After countless times of polishing and finalizing, the book was finally finished early this morning. He checked it several times to make sure that the content was accurate and there were no loopholes. Then, he quickly steamed a bun on the boiler and went out after stuffing his teeth.
When he went out, the dilapidated door creaked.
It made a frightening sound!
He sighed and looked at his roof again. The tiles had almost fallen off. If this went on, he was afraid that there would be a risk of collapse. If there was another heavy rain and snow, he would probably freeze to death here.
"I only hope that this book can catch the eyes of the class leader!" He pinned all his hopes on the book in his hand.
If he succeeded, he would be able to buy two sets of winter clothes for himself, and he would be able to repair the roof of his broken quilt.
But if it failed …
"Sigh!"
Without wasting any more time, he hurried to the Zhao class!
This person called Song Zhi was twenty-five years old this year. He had delicate features and a gentle demeanor. Although he was dressed shabbily in coarse linen clothes, he was still an elegant young man. Moreover, he was a scholar with profound knowledge. He was born in a famous family. Originally, the Song family had been civil officials for generations, but when it came to his generation, the family gradually declined. However, Song Zhi was a good poet and was known as the "Immortal of Poetry" in Yiwu. Every time he published a book of poems, it would be sold out in less than half a day. Therefore, his literary talent also attracted many nobles.
Although Song Zhi did not know how to reject his younger brother's goodwill, he was well aware of his poor status. Therefore, when others approached him, he would show them some respect and never become too close to them.
But five years ago, Song Zhi suddenly stopped writing poems and gradually faded out of the literary world. After his reputation greatly declined, the refined scholars and nobles who befriended him all said that he was a man of limited talent. They began to distance themselves from him and no longer had any contact with him.
Song Zhi should have had a bright future. However, after he stopped writing poems, his status as the Poetry Immortal plummeted. The people of Yiwu stopped buying his old poems. Even Song Zhi's name was gradually forgotten in the past five years.
To this day, no one knew why Song Zhi stopped writing poems.
No one knew why, after Song Zhi stopped writing poems, he turned to writing scripts for the opera troupe and willingly became a storyteller! Originally, in the first two years, he could still use the good books he wrote to earn some money to supplement his family's expenses. But later on, this industry gradually became popular, and many scholars who had "exhausted their talents" began to turn to being storytellers. The things they wrote became more and more vulgar, more and more outrageous. But those vulgar things were
However, those vulgar things attracted the brainless pursuit of countless commoners, causing a foul atmosphere in the opera industry. The commoners did not even care whether the opera was a good thing or not. All of them went to the opera for the popularity of the Hua Dan.
Therefore, a group of good-looking Hua Dan, who did not know how to act, was raised! The class leaders who had dealings with Song Yu in the past also wanted him to change his style and write some tacky books. But although Song Zhi was poor, he was not willing to follow the trend and rush like a flock of ducks. He always insisted on writing good books, books that were meaningful. In the beginning, those class leaders still bought him because of their old friendship.
But when his scripts were published, the sales were extremely poor. Gradually, the opera troupe leaders stopped selling him.
It had been half a year since Song Zhi's last "pot of tea"!
Although he had failed many times, he still didn't want to write vulgar scripts.
These days, he had been writing in seclusion, determined that this would be the last time. If he didn't succeed, he would have to give up and go do business with Er Goudan from the neighboring village.
When he arrived at the Zhao troupe, the troupe leader, Old Tao, poured him a cup of hot tea and gave him some sweet potatoes.
Old Tao was the sworn brother of the former troupe leader of the Zhao Family. After the Zhao Family Troupe passed away, the troupe was given to him. In the beginning, he changed the name of the Zhao Family Troupe to the Tao Family Troupe. However, because business declined after the name change, Old Tao changed the name back to the Zhao Family Troupe!
Song Zhi was as warm as jade, sitting there with a straight posture. He looked at the sweet potatoes beside him and swallowed his saliva. His stomach started growling.
He only had one steamed bun this morning!
It would be weird if he wasn't hungry!
Old Tao saw his eyes, "Eat first, we'll talk when you're full."
"No need!"
"Why are you being so polite? Eat. "
One sweet potato was enough to kill a hero. Song Zhi didn't care about etiquette and face anymore. He picked up the sweet potato and started eating.
He was halfway through …
Old Tao said, "Lil 'Song, it's not that I don't want to help you, but you know that no one wants to watch your plays. I know it's hard for you, but don't make it hard for me!"
"Cough, cough, cough …"
Song Zhi choked hard.
He had no appetite anymore!
He silently put the half sweet potato in his hand to the side.
He said, "Troupe Leader Tao, I'm not here to make it hard for you today. I wrote a new script for you to read." Old Tao didn't have any hope, he didn't even have the desire to read it. He said with a wrinkled face, "You're a genius, and you have a lot of knowledge. I also know that your writing is good, but as you can see, I have an entire troupe to support. I can't let everyone follow you just because of your talent.
"I know, but you don't!"
"I know." "You don't know!" Old Tao stood up and sighed, "There's a lot of competition among the troupes now, and no one likes traditional plays anymore. If you want to earn money, you have to cater to everyone's tastes. Otherwise, where would the money come from? I also want to buy those good books that you write, but your writing is too artistic, it's too real.
It's not suitable here. "
Song Zhi also stood up politely. Old Tao's face was bitter. He walked over and took his hand, gently shaking it a few times. He said sincerely, "Lil 'Song! Why don't you listen to my suggestion? If you still want to continue selling scripts, then let's change our mindset and change the script. Throw away your old stuff and let others like it.
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