Chapter 24: Fated Destiny

Chapter 24: Fated Destiny

Zhang Wenbo had made a good start, and almost all the literati with spare cash in their pockets bought bags. Those who were less fortunate looked on enviously at their peers' enthusiastic haggling and commotion.

A small child, clad in an old cotton robe worn thin by time, clung to a wooden pillar of the stall, his eyes yearning for the hustle and bustle inside.

Xianjin's gaze met the child's.

After a moment of surprise, the child darted away quickly.

"Mr. He, I want two bags!"

"Coming right up!"

A scholar in a hurry urged Xianjin from behind the wooden rack. She acknowledged him, withdrew her gaze, and wrapped up this busy morning before the morning bell of Qingcheng Mountain Courtyard rang.

"Two hundred thirty, two hundred thirty-one, two hundred thirty-two..."

Zhou Ergou was hunched over on the ground, counting the remaining paper bags in the wooden cabinet the hard way. His head bowed, back arched, his robust and broad back resembled a mountain.

"There are still two hundred thirty-two left. We sold two hundred sixty-eight this morning..." Zhou Ergou's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Heavens! That paper has been sitting in the warehouse for nearly two years! All we did was add some bags, write a few signs, and we managed to sell the paper! Hahaha!"

Truly a simple man of muscle, easily pleased and brimming with energy.

Xianjin slumped in her chair, feeling quite alright except for her slightly hoarse throat, sore tonsils, and dry mouth.

She took a hearty sip from her old teacup filled with hot water, which brought her some relief. "...After breakfast, let's go back and pack another fifty bags."

As the hot water soothed her throat, Xianjin sighed contentedly.

Sales work was truly exhausting.

Her mind and mouth never rested, her legs remained rooted to the spot without a chance to sit down, and her face felt stiff from smiling.

Xianjin massaged her jaw, loosening it, and muttered a confirmation. "Brother Dong, there are about three hundred young scholars and fifty-five candidates in Qingcheng Mountain Courtyard, right? Are there really that many?"

She recalled that during the reign of Zhu Yuanzhang, the quota for candidates in a county was only twenty per year...

Dong Guan, also gulping down water, was a forty-year-old man who swore he had never spoken so much in his life.

Nor had he ever heard so many dialects!

Official language mixed with various dialects.

Fengyang Prefecture!

Chuzhou Prefecture!

Luzhou Prefecture!

Even Jiangxi!

One student spoke like a bird chirping.

Tweet tweet, chitter chatter.

When he asked, sure enough, it was Wenzhou Prefecture.

All morning, he had done nothing but say, "Please speak slower" or "Would you repeat that," and nothing else!

Dong Guan swallowed the water. "Qingcheng Mountain Courtyard is one of the larger academies in our Nanzhili region. Our prefecture is renowned for its scholarly atmosphere, and Qiao Shanchang's reputation as a third-place laureate is well-known. Therefore, not only do students from our own prefecture and neighboring ones come here to study, but even students from other provincial administrations are sent to Qingcheng Mountain Courtyard—only to be taken back for exams, significantly increasing their chances of passing."

It was akin to studying in Huanggang and taking the college entrance exam in Tibet.

Xianjin was speechless; educational migration existed in every dynasty.

Dong Guan said, "Therefore, the figure of over four hundred people should be accurate."

Xianjin put down the water, pondered for a moment, and then said thoughtfully, "Then when we return at noon, let's pack another fifty bags! Today, we'll aim for five hundred and strive for six hundred."

Dong Guan clicked his tongue. This...this was too bold!

An academy could have no more than four hundred people at most!

Even if they included the teachers and professors, it would barely reach five hundred and fifty.

Was she expecting everyone to buy a bag?

How could that be possible!

At least three or four out of a hundred people in the academy were exceptionally talented poor students recruited from various places.

These individuals would never spend money on expensive paper.

Dong Guan wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Isn't that too much? If it snows, we won't be able to sell them all, and the paper will become damp from the snow, which isn't good for the paper."

Xianjin nodded resolutely. "This is the amount. Trust me, we can sell them all."

Xianjin's marketing goal this time was not n*1, but 1*n.

In sales, some did big business, focusing on foot traffic, where high volume meant good business; others focused on repeat business, where they didn't necessarily sell to everyone, but those who bought once would surely buy again.

The logic involved customer stickiness.

And creating customer stickiness involved two things: accurately addressing needs and enhancing product-customer interaction.

The girl's expression was calm, yet her tone was unusually firm.

Dong Guan couldn't help but recall the "welcome banquet" from the previous day. At that banquet, this girl proposed selling off inventory to recoup cash, but Li Sanshun firmly disagreed, pointing at Mr. Chen and yelling, "...Our paper is truly valuable! The workers scrape bark in the freezing winter! They soak the bark in sweet and bitter pits! They sun-dry, pierce, grind, press, and scoop the pulp, using their flesh and blood to make the paper! Our paper cannot be sold cheaply! Once it's sold cheaply, it will never regain its value!"

This old man Li was truly too stubborn.

One moment, he was chummy with Mr. Chen, sharing cups and jugs.

The next, he was pointing his finger, cursing him for being wasteful, neither valuing talent nor materials.

The old man thought that Xianjin's "selling inventory, converting to cash" meant selling the stored paper at a low price.

Little did he know that this frail, pale girl downed an entire cup of Peach Blossom Drunkenness in one go, without so much as a change in her expression or a flutter of her heart. She smashed the cup on the ground, pointing at the shards scattered across the floor, and swore a venomous oath: "In this life, if I ever ruin good things for money, may my He Xianjin be like these fragments! May I die without a whole corpse!"

The old man fell silent.

Not only did he fall silent,

he didn't even dare to drink tea anymore.

They all thought the girl was just talking big.

How could clearing inventory quickly possibly be done at the original price?

If you wanted capital to flow back, you had to lower your prices, letting others make a profit, in order to exchange goods for cash.

Why would anyone help you clear out if you didn't cut your prices?

After dealing with this young lady for three years, Zhou Ergou was completely devoted to her.

After the "welcome banquet," Mr. Chen was drunk beyond comprehension, but Xianjin, who had finished an entire cup of Peach Blossom Drunkenness, left the room perfectly sober. She discussed with Zhou Ergou, "I trouble Brother Dog to find six hundred sheets of cowhide paper from the warehouse. We'll work through the night, folding them into the shape of letter bags, sealing the edges with starch paste. Then, please have Little Zheng join me in thoroughly clearing out the warehouse, registering each type and quality of paper, counting the exact number of each kind."

She didn't ask him to do anything.

But inside, he was itching to help, taking the initiative to offer his services.

"Mm... Manager Dong, you're the most experienced paper trader among us middle-aged men. I trouble you to assist me in recognizing the cost price and market price of each type of paper."

What was the market price?

He asked.

Xianjin corrected herself, "It's the selling price."

He understood.

Following closely behind Xianjin, Zhou Ergou, himself, Zhou Ergou's younger brother Zhou Sangou, and the three brothers of the Zheng family worked day and night to clear the inventory.

They sorted the high-quality papers into five tiers, priced at eighty, sixty, fifty, forty, and thirty wen per sheet, respectively. They were named Han Jade White, Gardenia Yellow, Sunset Red, Sea Green, and Moon Blue, and they found a familiar printing workshop to make sixty strips of color, each a palm wide.

While he was diligently organizing, Xianjin, this young girl, took her oddly shaped reed pen, found a piece of hard paper, and wrote densely packed characters that he couldn't understand.

There were "x," "y," and "z"...

Curving and twisting, it was unclear what they were, but they were shaped something like this.

Xianjin calculated all night, using the paper to instruct them how many cheap papers to put in each bag, how many good papers, and how to arrange those sixty color strips.

He couldn't understand, pointing at the "z" on the paper that looked like a worm, asking Xianjin, "What's this?"

Xianjin must have been drowsy, answering casually, "This is an equation."

---------

"It's the Heavenly Element Formula."

As Manager Dong predicted, after dusk, it indeed snowed.

Under the white snow and gray sky, beneath the eaves and red tiles, Qiao Hui stood with his hands behind his back, bending over to look at the newly erected wooden board outside the mountain courtyard gate.

It clearly read:

Collectors of the Han Jade White, Gardenia Yellow, Sunset Red, Sea Green, and Moon Blue color strips will receive one length of Xuan paper.

Collectors of any four color strips will receive four lengths of Xuan paper.

Collectors of any three color strips will receive two lengths of Xuan paper.

Collectors of any two color strips will receive one sheet of Cloud-Flowing Golden Millet paper.

These rules are permanently effective, and we welcome your purchases.

Qiao Hui slowly straightened up.

Chen Ji Paper Shop used the Heavenly Element Formula to calculate, ensuring their own profits.

Tsk, he could almost see the fate of their Bo'er, going bankrupt.