great-warnovel Chapter 245 The Power of a Second-Rate Newspaper
Chapter 245 The Power of a Second-Rate Newspaper
Fuzhou, temporary coastal defense command center.
As the morning light began to stream in, Chen Zijun stood by the window for a few moments, then suddenly smiled, folded the telegram in his hand, and tossed it back onto the table.
"Money is like this: if you use it to buy cannons, it makes a quick explosion. If you use it to buy ships, you can only see the results."
He turned around, his tone low, "But if you really want to build credit across provinces, it won't rely on these tangible things anymore. Instead, it will rely on those intangible things, like accounts, but not accounts. The accounts must be clean, = the rules must be established!"
"The problem is that there are always people who use their lofty ideals as a crowbar to try and break into our homes!"
Shen Li brought in a freshly brewed cup of hot tea. After listening to the conversation, he put the tea down and casually spread out the newly arrived newspapers from Shanghai. The scent of ink hadn't even dissipated yet, but the headlines already exuded a sense of tension.
Setting up roadblocks in the southeast to obstruct the northern expedition
Chen Jiajun Demands Price During Crossing
"Is it a transit regulation or a local checkpoint?"
The tabloid at the top even used a particularly enthusiastic subtitle, saying something like, "Warlords use public justice to enrich themselves, while the righteous army marching north is hampered instead."
His tone was just like that of a newly arrived storyteller at the entrance of Wangping Street, afraid that if he didn't strike the gavel lightly, the tea drinkers wouldn't give him a tip.
Shen Li glanced at it, his lips barely curving into a cold smile: "Chang Xi didn't confront things on the table, but started throwing a tantrum on paper first. Those tabloids on Wangping Street must have all gotten the information together last night."
Chen Zijun picked up a sheet, glanced at it, and casually tossed it back: "They're all pretty united in their insults. Looks like the money spent on their education in Guangzhou wasn't wasted."
"Should we shut down the newspaper office first?"
"No rush." Chen Zijun shook his head, his tone very steady. "It's not a bad thing for the tabloids to start criticizing first. The dog barks first, and then people know where to throw the stone. Let Sister Lanzhi set up the teahouse and put out what they need to see. Reporters, after all, love to stand up for justice for the world. If the evidence is presented to them, they can't just throw away their dignity as reporters who are paid for their articles."
As he said this, he tapped his finger on the newspapers, as if he were tapping a string of inexpensive abacus beads.
"Also, send a telegram to Mo Huixin. Since they have written the articles of association as extortion, let the accountants calculate it themselves. Without articles of association, who is really extorting the people's rice bowls and wages?"
Shanghai, Wangping Street.
It was just past 9 AM, and the streets were already getting warm.
The sounds of the printing press rollers, the rickshaw bells, and the newsboys shouting their morning magazines all mingled together, creating a cacophony like a pot of porridge that had just been lifted from its pot.
The front pages displayed in front of several newspaper offices were written in a very assertive manner, as if they wanted to roll up their sleeves to uphold justice for the world. But if someone actually stood down and took a look, they would find that these words were just the same few sets of phrases over and over, like the same poor scholar writing three pledges of allegiance, only changing the headings.
Su Guiying sat on the second floor of a teahouse facing the street, the window half-open, offering a clear view of the front pages below. Today, she was dressed simply in a greyish-blue cheongsam, the buttons fastened neatly, even her hair was neatly styled, looking unassuming, like a refined lady who had come to listen to a storyteller. But instead of tea and snacks, there were three newspapers on the table.
When the newspaper owners came upstairs, their steps were not light. They were all shrewd old hands who had been in Wangping Street for a long time. They would look at people's cuffs first and their desks first when they entered a room. When their eyes swept over the few newspapers, the pretentious smiles on their faces would thin out by half.
Su Guiying offered them seats, but didn't rush to the main topic. She simply gently adjusted the lid of her teacup. The tea made a soft sizzling sound, as if setting the tone for the occasion.
"The bosses have been writing very diligently lately."
She smiled, her voice soft, but her words precise: "Overnight, the Southeast Regulations changed from preventing disturbances to setting up roadblocks and extorting people. The coordination is so perfect, it doesn't seem like a newspaper office, it's like they've been trained. What, have you all forgotten what Director Mo said just now?"
A round-faced boss chuckled dryly, "Director Su is joking. Running a newspaper, you always have to follow the trends. Everyone outside is talking about using the road, so we'll write a couple of lines and make a living off the current events."
"Eating is a matter of course."
Su Guiying nodded, "I never stop people from eating. It's just that you have to know whose pot the food came from. Don't take someone else's leftovers and then claim you're quenching the thirst of the people."
The expressions on their faces changed slightly, but they all remained silent.
After a while, the tall, thin boss by the window swallowed hard and forced a smile, saying, "Director Su, that's too harsh. We make a living with our pens, not by working our lives for anyone."
"That would be best." Su Guiying looked at them, her eyes as calm as the surface of a winter lake.
The teahouse fell silent for a moment, with only the newspaper boy downstairs still calling out, his voice drifting up through the window cracks, making the silence seem even colder.
Su Guiying didn't push her too hard anymore, and instead placed the third draft of the charter in the center of the table.
"I've given you everything. How you write it is up to you. I'll just remind you of one thing: to become a big newspaper on Wangping Street, you don't rely on having the loudest voice, but on knowing what you can criticize and what you can't cover up for others. If you can't even distinguish this, your teahouse will still be open one day, but what you'll have on the table won't be drafts, but arrest warrants."
After saying that, she gently pushed the teacup forward, smiling faintly: "The tea is still hot, please enjoy it. Take your time thinking about the manuscript. After all, these days, the worst thing is not writing slowly, but taking the wrong side and thinking you're on the side of reason."
Southeast Central Bank, Main Branch.
Compared to the bustling Wangping Street, this place was almost monotonously quiet. Behind the tall counter, the clatter of abacuses filled the air, dense yet orderly. Several chamber of commerce accountants sat around a long table, their fronts not filled with press releases, but with rows of mock ledgers. On the cover were eight characters written in ink: Transit Procurement, Sample Ledger.
Mo Huixin stood to the side, her sleeves neatly rolled up. The light from the table fell on her profile, suppressing her gentle demeanor and leaving only a clear-headed expression. She didn't preach any grand principles or shout slogans for anyone; she simply turned the pages of the sample book one by one, letting the accountant look at it himself.
"There are three levels here."
She lightly tapped her fingertip on the ledger page, “Twenty thousand soldiers, fifty thousand soldiers, one hundred thousand soldiers. Based on the existing grain routes, dock loading and unloading, wagon turnover, and cash reserves along the Fujian, Zhejiang, Jiangsu, and Anhui provinces. If there are no special accounts, no quotas, and no requirement for immediate cash settlement, but only a military order to pass through, where would the large-scale purchases rush to first? You all know better than I do.”
An old accountant with a gray beard adjusted his glasses, first using the abacus, then flipping through the price list, his brows furrowing more and more as he calculated.
Another person, who had initially maintained the composure of a seasoned veteran of the Chamber of Commerce, clicked their tongue unconsciously when they reached the third page.
"Rice prices will move first."
The old accountant said in a deep voice, "Within three days, waves will rise in northern Fujian and southern Zhejiang. If the military supplies are used to rob wagons, the prices of cloth, medicine, and kerosene will also skyrocket. Dock wages may not actually increase, but short-term workers will be drained first, and in the end, it is the ordinary people on the streets who will suffer."
Mo Huixin nodded: "That doesn't even include the IOUs. Oh, they might call them military notes or national salvation coupons."
Everyone paused.
She turned to another page, her tone still gentle: "Without a dedicated account guarantee, if goods are delivered before invoices, or invoices are issued before payment is made, the old practices on the trade routes will immediately return. Today it's the quartermaster making promises, tomorrow it's the battalion adjutant issuing IOUs, and the day after tomorrow it's the warehouse owner not getting paid and having to factor the losses into the price of the next batch of goods. On the surface, it seems like the Chen family army is demanding rules from the Northern Expeditionary Army. In reality, the Southeast is shielding the five provinces' trade routes from a hole that will grow huge."
A young accountant couldn't help but say, "But the newspapers outside all say that setting up special accounts, limiting routes, and restricting the amount of goods are Chen's army using this as an opportunity to control the Northern Expeditionary Army..."
To control the Northern Expeditionary Army?
The Chen family army isn't afraid of the battlefield, so why would they need something like this to manipulate them?