A day passed, and the first bookstore owner came to request more stock.
His forehead was sweating, his face flushed red, and he looked thoroughly thrilled.
"Old Lou, give me another five hundred copies of 'The Qinniang Conspiracy'—this book is a hit! And 'The Cry for Justice,' give me two hundred of that too."
Manager Lou ordered someone to arrange the delivery while asking his friend about the situation.
"Have you sold out everything in your shop?"
The bookstore owner’s eyes fixed on the large cart in the inn’s courtyard.
He lifted the canvas covering it; inside were all books.
"Only a dozen or so left. Customers have been coming in and out nonstop."
"Some even asked how old the author is, where she’s from, and tried to buy more of her other stories. Your scriptorium has struck gold this time."
Steward Lou’s shoulders trembled. He turned away, wiping the corners of his eyes with his sleeve.
After all these years, he could finally see hope.
Half an hour after the first owner left, another bookstore owner showed up.
Their shops were all on the busiest streets of Songzhou City.
Once he learned about the remaining stock, the new owner directly took a thousand copies and left.
Three days passed like this. Out of the ten thousand copies brought in, nine thousand had been sold.
Manager Lou stood by the window on the second floor. In the courtyard below, seventeen of the twenty horse-drawn carts were now empty, and the tarps on the remaining three had also been pulled back.
"Damn it, I have to send someone back to get more stock."
A servant beside him said, "The sales pace in the bookshops has clearly slowed down today. Those who wanted to buy probably already have. If we ship more, what if we can't sell it?"
Manager Lou replied, "If we can't sell here, we’ll sell elsewhere. Songzhou City’s demand is filled, but the other county towns are still empty. We won’t have trouble moving them."
No sooner had he spoken than rapid footsteps thudded to a stop outside the room door.
Urgent knocking followed. "Manager, there’s an out-of-town book merchant downstairs who wants to see you."
Those words hit like a thunderbolt over both their heads. They’d just talked about selling elsewhere, and a book merchant had appeared!
Manager Lou ran to open the door, his voice stammering as he demanded, "Where are they?"
The attendant said, "On the first floor. He said he’s heading south to Jiangnan in a few days."
Manager Lou’s knees went weak, nearly sending him stumbling over the threshold.
"Come on, let’s go see."
As he walked down the stairs and reached the landing, he started scanning the ground floor.
"Which one is it?" Several tables were occupied, and he couldn’t tell who the merchant was.
The attendant pointed to a man and a woman drinking tea by the window. "That’s them."
Following the direction of the finger, he saw a man and a woman sitting side by side, both appearing to be in their twenties.
The man wore a bright, moon-white long robe with subtle patterns, and the woman a lotus-patterned mandarin jacket in lotus root purple—clearly fabrics from Jiangnan.
Seeing the attendant leading Manager Lou over, the two tea-drinkers set down their cups.
"Are you both book merchants from Jiangnan?" Manager Lou asked.
The man, wearing an emerald hairpin, nodded slightly.
"My father’s surname is Lin. We moved to Jiangnan years ago and have come back to pay respects at the ancestral graves."
He picked up two books from the table. "We were supposed to leave tomorrow, but we stumbled upon these two excellent works in a bookshop."
Manager Lou raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Could it be the Lin family of Willow Leaf Lane?"
The man replied, "You know of us?"
Suppressing the excitement inside him, Manager Lou sat down across from the two.
"When the Lin family moved out more than a decade ago, it was quite a grand spectacle. I was fortunate enough to witness it in person."
"So, how many copies were you thinking of ordering?"
The woman, who hadn’t spoken until now, said, "A hundred thousand copies of 'The Tale of Qinniang' first, and fifty thousand of 'The Cry for Justice.'"
"Cough, cough, cough." The hot tea he’d just sipped caught in his throat. Manager Lou quickly set down his cup and covered his mouth with his sleeve.
It felt like a hole had been punched in his throat, and a long time passed before the coughing fit subsided.
"Are you sure about a hundred thousand copies?" he asked, eyes wide with disbelief, staring at the woman who had spoken.
"Yes, I’m sure." Those two decisive, unwavering words left Manager Lou unable to calm down for a long time.
