Luosaier and Gelin

"Good morning, Mr. Luosaier." At the greeting, Luosaier Gusitafu went blank for an instant. He recovered quickly, bowed, and returned the courtesy. "Good morning, Miss Xialuote." As he spoke, his gaze slipped quietly over her. She was nothing like the girl of that night, covered in blood, her face pale, as if she had just fled a nightmare. Today Xialuote Suolun had clearly dressed with care. Her reddish-brown hair was braided into an intricate circlet. A pale coat traced the line of her slender waist, and a long skirt that fell to the tops of her shoes spread gently as she bent her knee. There was not much lace at the collar and cuffs, yet it set off the fairness of her skin all the more. Before his transmigration, heavily retouched photographs online had long since made his taste hard to please. Even so, the beauty of the young lady of the Suolun household before him lay not only in her features and figure. There was also a fineness instilled little by little, from childhood, by etiquette and her surroundings. Her dress was crisper and lighter than that of the noblewomen in Luosaier's memory. It was hard not to look twice. Any longer would be rude. I have to keep up my image, and the goodwill I've only just managed to hold on to... He dragged his gaze away with an effort and looked toward his own father and Xialuote's. The two barons had already exchanged greetings and were walking together toward the reception room beside the main hall. By custom, the younger generation ought to follow their fathers in and wait until the elders had finished their pleasantries before offering formal thanks. Luosaier bowed from the waist and raised a hand for Xialuote to go first. She nodded obediently, lifted her skirt, and made to follow. The graceful motion drew another glance from Luosaier, who for days had been surrounded by maids still carrying the air of the countryside. Just then a servant came in from outside to announce that a young gentleman had come to call. He had sent no word ahead, yet he asked by name to see the young master of the Gusitafu residence. Looking for me... Puzzlement flickered across Luosaier's face, but he nodded. "Please show him in." A moment later a young man in a deep-blue coat entered the hall. He was black-haired and blue-eyed, about twenty, and both the cloth and the cufflinks spoke of a comfortable family. Only his manner lacked a nobleman's ease, and he seemed all the more enthusiastic for it. "Luosaier!" No sooner had he spoken than he noticed Xialuote standing to one side. He hastily ducked his head in an awkward bow, though his eyes stole upward. "Forgive me. I didn't know there were other guests today—and such a beautiful, noble young lady." The moment Luosaier saw him, the memories in his mind that had lacked any coherence woke all at once, and he recalled who the man was. He cleared his throat and made the introduction. "This is Miss Xialuote Suolun, daughter of Baron Lawuer Suolun. Miss Xialuote, this is Gelin Lande'er, a friend from my days at the military preparatory school." "Good morning, Mr. Lande'er. Thank you for the compliment." Xialuote smiled and returned the greeting, then looked at Luosaier with open curiosity. "Luosaier, you attended a military preparatory school?" There's a difference between close and distant—she doesn't even address us the same way... Inwardly pleased, knowing that what he had done before had left Xialuote with no small store of goodwill, Luosaier nodded. "I once dreamed of becoming an officer." As for why the dream had come to nothing, one would have to ask the Luosaier who came before... Muttering, he looked at Gelin. "What did you come to see me about?" Gelin glanced at Xialuote, plainly hesitating. She sensed that this was a private matter between the two of them and lifted her skirt to withdraw. From the reception room, however, came the voices of the two barons in conversation. There would clearly be no opening for a junior to join in for some time. She could only stop for the moment at one side of the entrance hall, keeping a proper smile, as if she were merely waiting to be summoned by her elders. Only after the girl had moved away did Gelin Lande'er go on. "About that matter you mentioned before—my father has agreed." Luosaier was taken aback. Seeing it, Gelin hurriedly lowered his voice to remind him. "Xiakelusi District, the printing plant beside Liangchi Church. Didn't you say before that if they were willing to lower the price, His Lordship the Baron would be interested in buying it?" Prompted like this, Luosaier finally dug the matter out of a corner of his memory. It had been a month before his transmigration. Gelin's father had an old, poorly run printing plant and was anxious to find someone to take it over. Knowing that the Gusitafu residence had considerable connections in Bo'ersi District, Gelin Lande'er had raised it once, half sounding him out and half asking for help. The Luosaier of that time had only promised to ask his father. Baron Lai'ang Gusitafu, however, was the sort of old-fashioned noble more at home with traditional returns from land, houses, and the like. He had not the slightest interest in a business that had to be managed and still smelled of ink, and so he refused Luosaier's suggestion. Now was different. Luosaier's mind was already full of knowledge from another world. He had forgotten all manner of details, yet the broad course of how things developed was still clear. He had been in this world for several days since his transmigration, and he could plainly feel that the family's means did not match its polished exterior. At once a new idea came to him. He pressed down his excitement and made his tone sound like nothing more than a casual remark. "Father is still considering it. Can that printing plant still run?" "Of course it can!" Seeing a thread of hope, Gelin nodded at once. "There are just too few orders, and more than half the workers have left. My father had meant to dispose of the machines and the building separately. But if His Lordship the Baron is willing to take it on, the price is entirely open to discussion." Luosaier fell silent. Inwardly, he was calculating at a furious pace. * * * Printing plant... Xialuote, waiting at one side of the entrance hall, heard the words, and her expression shifted slightly. The plan for making money that she had failed to think of through those nights suddenly found a thread. Newspapers. More precisely, the press. This world already had printed matter issued to the public, of course. The Municipal Hall posted notices and bounty proclamations. The great guilds had gazettes circulated within their own ranks. The Church had manuals excerpting the holy canon. Telier, too, had literary journals and scholarly publications whose issues were reckoned in months. But in a provincial city like Suxite, a popular press truly meant for ordinary citizens, merchants, lawyers, coffeehouses, and the lesser and middling nobility hardly existed. News traveled through acquaintances. Prices were learned by asking about. Lost-and-found notices could only be posted outside a church or at the door of the Municipal Hall. Word of theater performances and auctions spread even more slowly. If all of that were gathered in one place and issued once a week, and then, once sales rose, turned into a semiweekly and after that a daily... Official notices, merchants' advertisements, the Church's own publicity... So long as the newspaper was made a necessity, all of it would be gold louis. Of course, an innovation of this kind was bound to lose money at the start in order to build up sales, and what Xialuote lacked most just now was money. Baron Suolun would never, of his own accord, give her starting capital for a commercial notion that sounded less than respectable. If Mr. Gelin is willing to put up the money, I can contribute only the idea and take a share of the returns. He comes from a merchant family. Give him a way to make money, and he is sure to want a part in it. The problem is how I get around Luosaier and speak to him... Xialuote's thoughts turned sharply as she strained to hold on to the gold coins slipping away before her eyes. Just then she heard the talk beyond the door gradually recede. The two of them seemed about to go to Xiakelusi District and look over the printing plant for themselves. No. I have to follow, and find a chance to talk with Gelin... Xialuote hesitated, then looked toward the inner rooms. Even a few decades ago, a noble girl not yet of age going out alone with two young men would have been a scandal among the nobility. Fortunately, social custom was gradually growing more open. In Telier, Beikelande, and places like them, salons and exhibitions where the young went to meet one another had even come into fashion. Exchange among young people had become the mode instead, a badge of their defiance of tradition. Besides, Luosaier had helped Xialuote only a few days ago, and Gelin would be going along as a friend. The problem did not seem so very great. More important, this might be the last chance for her money-making plan to be carried out. She sent a servant in to inform Lawuer. A short while later the reply came: her father consented to her going out, but her personal maid must accompany her the whole way, and she must return to this residence before noon. It seems Father and Uncle Lai'ang are getting on so well that they have no wish at all to break off the talk for a trifle like this... Xialuote let out a breath, and yet felt an unaccountable pang of guilt. * * * Xialuote took Laila in the carriage of the Suolun household. Luosaier and Gelin boarded the carriage of the Gusitafu residence. One ahead and one behind, they drove toward Xiakelusi District. Both Luosaier and Gelin seemed surprised that the beautiful girl had suddenly come with them, but Xialuote had no attention to spare for that. Through the carriage window she watched the carriage ahead, while her mind worked at how to carry out her "newspaper" plan. I have to explain to Gelin how a weekly, or even a daily, would train an audience's habit of reading, and where the profit would come from... I also have to settle how the shares are divided. Offering nothing but the idea may not win me much. If I can persuade Father to put in part of the starting capital... It will be hard to keep Luosaier out of this. For some reason he is interested in that printing plant too. Was the first form of a newspaper in this world meant to be born in that young nobleman's hands... Xialuote looked out at the buildings and passersby sliding steadily backward beyond the window, thinking with an unfocused gaze. She had not even considered whether it would work. On Earth, before the internet spread, the newspaper as a form of the press had been an entirely workable business, and it was not limited by technology at all. It was purely a matter of the idea. This was far simpler than the technical details she had racked her brains over and still could not recall! Before long the carriage stopped at the edge of a street wrapped in noisy clamor. Steadying herself on Laila's hand, Xialuote stepped down, and air mingled with coal smoke, horse dung, and a certain smell of ink immediately filled her nostrils. She frowned by instinct, and saw that ahead of her Luosaier and Gelin stood beside the carriage belonging to the Gusitafu residence, talking in low voices and pointing now and again at a two-story building. The building's sign had faded. The door on the street side stood half open, and at the entrance lay several bundles of paper, still unopened and yet coated with a film of dust, as if the place had been idle for a very long time. This isn't a matter of too few orders. There simply aren't any orders at all, are there? No wonder Gelin's father is in such a hurry to sell... Still, it suits a newspaper whose early printings will not be large, and the neighborhood is full of factories of every kind, so there is no lack of paper or ink... Xialuote looked around, satisfied. She had only just drawn near the two young men speaking in low voices when a chill struck her from behind. A gaze passed through the noisy street, the crowd, and the carriages, and came to rest on her.