Li Banfeng asked, "Are you really willing to live in the Ninth Room?"
"As long as you don’t ask me to move again, it’s fine."
"Alright, then from now on I’ll call you Ninth Flower."
Red Lotus paused for a moment and said, "I have a name. I don’t need a new one. My name is Red Lotus, and it’s perfectly fine..."
Li Banfeng returned to Liu Fang to sleep.
The following day at noon, Li Banfeng went to the main room, got affectionate with the Phonograph for a while, and asked, "Beloved wife, did you hear any commotion last night?"
HEH.
The wife smiled. "Beloved husband, I did hear some commotion, but it’s nothing important. You don’t need to worry. Just leave these matters for Little Servant to handle."
With his wife’s words, Li Banfeng felt relieved.
His wife knew where those noises came from and also knew there were other occupants in the Portable Residence. She wasn’t in a position to speak out now, but she knew how to deal with it.
Li Banfeng left the Portable Residence just as the workers were taking their lunch break. "Night-blooming Jasmine" was an evening paper, so the afternoon workload was substantial, and the lunch break was very short. Workers usually didn’t take a nap; they ate their meal, smoked a cigarette, read the newspaper, and went about their own business.
The manager brought the roster. They had to print extras today as the workload was heavy, and he asked the workers present to sign their names for a reward at the end of the month. Li Banfeng glanced at the roster and furrowed his brow.
In Black Stone Slope, indeed, quite a few people could read, but not many could write. It wasn’t that they couldn’t write at all; it was just that their writing was too ugly—crooked and twisted, with missing strokes and a host of minor flaws.
There was a new guy named Xiao Fu. He truly couldn’t write and couldn’t even recognize his own name, so he could only do odd jobs like folding and delivering newspapers. After lunch, he followed the example of the veteran workers, picked up a newspaper, and started reading earnestly. But since he was illiterate, he could only look at the pictures. The few illustrations in the newspaper didn’t hold his attention for long, while the others were still engrossed in the front-page news.
"Master Song, what does this part you’re reading mean?"
Master Song, with the newspaper in hand, spoke in a lowered voice, explaining a section to Xiao Fu.
After hearing it, Xiao Fu’s veins bulged. "There’s actually stuff like this in here! This young lady, she’d do that? Is this story true or false?"
Master Song waved his hand. "Who can be certain? Whether it’s true or not, you discern it for yourself."
"Discern? How am I supposed to discern that!" Xiao Fu exclaimed excitedly, standing up. He wanted to ask someone else, but after taking a few steps, he sat back down again. His trousers were too thin.
"Master Song, tell me, what are the three characters of that young lady’s name?"
Master Song laughed. "You rascal, you haven’t even learned your own name. Why do you care about hers?"
"I just want to know where else she appears later..."
Li Banfeng watched Xiao Fu for a long time. Then he heard Chuanzi, who was beside him, say, "When I first came to Black Stone Slope, I also just looked at the pictures. I thought the drawings here were especially good.
"Later, they told me that the words are much better than the drawings. At first, I didn’t believe them. But after they read a section to me, I realized that words truly are more beautiful than drawings; you can find anything in words.
"I kept pestering people to read the newspaper to me. Out of respect for you and Master Wu, they’d read a few sentences to me at first. But when I asked too many times, they got annoyed. Besides, some things aren’t meant to be read aloud.
"So, I got a dictionary and started learning on my own. When I didn’t understand something, I’d ask others. If they were unwilling to explain, I’d offer them a cigarette. Eventually, I could read an entire newspaper by myself."
Li Banfeng stared at Chuanzi and said, "So you learned to read just to understand a newspaper, all by yourself?"
Scratching his head, Chuanzi replied, "If you’re talking about reading, I can do that. But writing, I really can’t handle it. I always make mistakes with the strokes, and it looks ugly."
Yu Wenqi laughed. "When I was young, my handwriting was ugly too. I was self-taught, so there were always some irregularities.
"Later, I met Old Bai. He came from the Ink Shop, and his handwriting was neat, with every stroke precise—truly beautiful.
"I wasn’t satisfied, so I went to the street and bought a copybook. I learned to write characters and studied essays. By associating with Old Bai, I eventually became a man of letters too."
So, it turned out Yu Wenqi and Bai Qiusheng had different backgrounds; Yu Wenqi came from a worker’s family. Li Banfeng looked over the attendance sheet again. Almost all the workers present were in a similar situation.
Li Banfeng walked among the workers during their lunch break. Just as the Peddler had described, about half of the workers knew how to read. During this lunch break, it was very easy to tell apart those who could read from those who couldn’t. Workers who could read would hold newspapers, discussing and critiquing them with each other. In contrast, those who couldn’t read could only listen in on the buzz, not daring to join the conversation or even cough. When work resumed in the afternoon, those who were literate got to pick their tasks first, and whatever was left went to those who were illiterate. They had no recourse if they felt it was unfair, as illiterate workers couldn’t even understand the work orders. Gradually, some within this group would compel themselves to learn to read.
Factories in other places were the same, with literate workers having the advantage, but that didn’t seem to motivate the others to learn to read voluntarily.
Li Banfeng was still pondering when Xiao Fu ran back, drenched in sweat. He was holding an old dictionary he’d bought from a coworker; it was worn and patched up in many places. But he treasured it, carefully tucking the dictionary into his breast pocket. While folding newspapers, he would sneak glances at it from time to time, comparing its characters to those in the newspaper.
As long as he could learn to read, every story in the newspaper was a reward for him. This reward was cheap. After the initial jolt of reading, the interest quickly faded. But it didn’t matter; there would be new rewards tomorrow, and the rewards were different each day. The more newspapers he read, the more rewards he received. His social circle changed. Through exchanges with others, the number of characters he recognized increased, and so did his status. If they gritted their teeth and learned to write, even to compose articles, they would have the opportunity to work in the buildings in the backyard.
Li Banfeng left the newspaper building and glanced down the street. There were more than a dozen newsstands on that one street alone. Getting a newspaper was just too easy.
The roar of the printing press interrupted Li Banfeng’s train of thought and reminded him of something else. Not only was buying newspapers easy here, but printing them was even easier. Black Stone Slope was full of paper mills and printing plants, making paper and ink very cheap. With low base costs for newspapers, prices could be kept low, allowing more of the budget to be invested in content.
Li Banfeng had thought he knew Black Stone Slope well. Only now did he realize that profound wisdom had gone into its planning—a wisdom he had never noticed before.
...
In an abandoned factory, Tang Shijiang pulled out an iron lunch box from beneath the lathe and asked, "Are you hungry? Let’s have a meal first."
The Coachman set down the carrying pole and said, "Senior Brother, how could I possibly eat right now? I need to ask you for a favor!"
Tang Shijiang smacked his lips and said, "Can you not call me Senior Brother? Being your Senior Brother is quite shameful."
PS: Tang Shijiang is the Local Deity of Black Stone Slope; he likes people who have guts.