Gu Yanshu had been in high spirits even before meeting Wen Qingxiao.
Now, after their conversation, his mood had soared several notches higher.
It wasn't just because he'd finally secured the perfect candidate for the newspaper's chief editor.
It was also because, during their exchange, he'd discovered an unexpected intellectual kinship with the legendary Sixth Young Master Wen.
Wen Qingxiao was erudite, insightful, and—despite the upheavals of the past three years—remarkably free of bitterness or cynicism.
Even more impressively, when Gu Yanshu floated ideas that might sound radical in this feudal context, Wen Qingxiao swiftly distilled their merits and offered constructive feedback.
If this was their rapport during a preliminary discussion, Gu Yanshu could only imagine how seamlessly they'd collaborate once the newspaper launched and Wen Qingxiao officially joined his team.
In just a few hours, their interaction had evolved from polite formality to warm familiarity—almost as if they'd recognized each other as kindred spirits.
Gu Yanli, who'd initially served as their intermediary, soon found himself completely sidelined, unable to interject a single word.
Watching the two converse so animatedly, a troubling thought struck him:
Was introducing Wen Qingxiao to Yanshu a mistake?
If this momentum continued, what if Wen Qingxiao, caught up in the excitement, inadvertently "stole" his younger brother's affections?
What if Yanshu, swept away by their intellectual chemistry, succumbed to temptation and strayed from Prince Li?
The mental image of Qin Lu, sword in hand, radiating murderous intent, flashed through Gu Yanli's mind.
By the time he'd mentally drafted contingency plans to cover for both his brother and his friend, their discussion finally wound down.
Perhaps unaccustomed to prolonged social interaction, Wen Qingxiao now wore a faint trace of fatigue.
When Gu Yanshu rose to leave, Wen Qingxiao made no attempt to detain him.
"The Princess Consort's insights today have been invaluable. Should you find time to visit again, I'll ensure a warm welcome."
Gu Yanli, who'd just begun to relax, nearly choked on his own breath.
Three years.
Three years since the accident, and Wen Qingxiao had never voluntarily invited anyone—let alone promised to "ensure a warm welcome."
This only deepened Gu Yanli's unease.
To his further alarm, Gu Yanshu not only accepted the invitation but responded earnestly:
"Recent affairs at the estate have kept me occupied, but I'll certainly visit when time permits."
They even exchanged a knowing glance right in front of him.
Once they'd left Wen Qingxiao's courtyard and boarded the carriage back to Prince Li's estate, Gu Yanli wrestled with his thoughts before finally speaking up:
"Ahem... Yanshu."
"Hmm?"
Gu Yanshu, still savoring the stimulating conversation, wore a faint smile.
That smile only amplified Gu Yanli's anxiety.
"What do you think of Wen Qingxiao?"
"Excellent," Gu Yanshu replied without hesitation, oblivious to his brother's concerns. "Radiant as the moon, humble as the valleys—the very epitome of a noble gentleman."
The effusive praise made Gu Yanli's heart sink. Before he could stop himself, the question tumbled out:
"And compared to His Highness Prince Li?"
"Why compare them—"
Mid-sentence, Gu Yanshu finally registered the oddity. His head snapped up, taking in Gu Yanli's conflicted expression.
One look at that face, combined with his brother's strange behavior all day, and the implication became glaringly obvious.
For a moment, Gu Yanshu's emotions were... complicated.
But this was his elder brother after all. Killing him would raise inconvenient questions.
Suppressing the urge to resort to violence, Gu Yanshu gritted out:
"Wen Qingxiao is admirable, but he's not my type."
He didn't even bother stating a preference for Qin Lu over Wen Qingxiao.
Such a comparison wasn't just unnecessary—it would've been an insult to both men.
What kind of person does Gu Yanshu like?
The answer had already crystallized in Gu Yanli's mind the moment he recalled his younger brother's reaction upon first seeing Prince Li on their wedding day.
Now, realizing how absurd his earlier worries had been, Gu Yanli couldn't help but feel a pang of embarrassment.
Catching sight of Gu Yanshu's murderous glare, Gu Yanli—fully aware he'd overstepped—scrambled to the farthest corner of the carriage.
"Ahem! Your elder brother was clearly out of his mind just now—pay no attention to that nonsense!"
After a pause, he added hastily:
"Oh, and don't mention this to Qingxiao either."
The last thing Gu Yanli wanted was for Wen Qingxiao to learn about this and mock him relentlessly in the future.
Gu Yanshu merely shot him a look, refusing to dignify that with a response.
Tell Wen Qingxiao?
If Gu Yanli wasn't embarrassed, he certainly was!
Still, watching his elder brother shrink into the corner like a chastened child, Gu Yanshu found his anger dissipating.
By then, the carriage had arrived at the gates of Prince Li's estate.
Seizing the opportunity to escape the awkwardness, Gu Yanshu bid Gu Yanli a curt farewell and stepped out.
Under normal circumstances, Gu Yanli would have lingered to chat, but today, he was all too eager to see his brother off.
Upon returning to the estate, Gu Yanshu didn't head straight to rest. Instead, he made his way to the study.
Procrastination wasn't in his nature—now that he'd decided to present the newspaper proposal to the emperor, he needed to draft a tailored version of the plan without delay.
By the time he set down his brush, night had already fallen, lanterns glowing softly across the estate.
Qin Lu, who'd been handling military affairs, had also returned and sought him out in the study.
Seeing Gu Yanshu at the desk, freshly finished writing, Qin Lu couldn't hide his curiosity:
"Was there something urgent today?"
After spending time together, Qin Lu had grown familiar with Gu Yanshu's habits.
Even with the estate now equipped with glass lanterns, Gu Yanshu still complained about the dimness of candlelight.
Unless it was absolutely critical, he avoided working after nightfall.
Since Gu Yanshu had been planning to find Qin Lu anyway, he handed over the newly drafted proposal without hesitation.
"It is rather important. Your Highness, take a look at this first."
Qin Lu scanned the document, brow furrowing slightly.
"This version seems far more concise than the one you showed me days ago?"
Not only was it shorter, but certain details were deliberately vague, while the benefits of the newspaper were emphasized more prominently.
It read less like a concrete plan and more like... an enticing sales pitch.
"Your Highness has a sharp eye—you've pinpointed the key difference immediately!"
Gu Yanshu offered a small compliment before explaining:
"After meeting Wen Qingxiao today, we discussed some... adjustments."
He then summarized the day's conversation, including Wen Qingxiao's insights.
Qin Lu grasped the implications instantly.
"So you've decided to hand the newspaper over to His Majesty?"
"Not exactly. In the end, His Majesty will likely entrust the task back to Prince Li's estate anyway."
Gu Yanshu waved a hand.
This wasn't about surrendering control—it was about shifting the official ownership from Qin Lu to the emperor.
For Prince Li's estate, the trade-offs were minor compared to the long-term advantages.
Yet instead of responding immediately, Qin Lu fell into an uncharacteristic silence.
When he finally spoke, his voice was unusually subdued:
"How do you truly feel about giving the newspaper to His Majesty?"
What he really wanted to ask was:
Is this worth it?
After everything they'd been through, Qin Lu was acutely aware of Gu Yanshu's uniqueness.
Glass, movable type printing, the newspaper—each of these ideas was revolutionary enough to secure a lifetime of wealth and prestige for anyone else.
Yet here was Gu Yanshu, meticulously calculating every move, weighing the consequences for Prince Li's estate, even sacrificing his own creations for its future.
Was it worth it?
And more importantly—what had he ever done to deserve such devotion?
"How do I feel about it?" Gu Yanshu had initially wondered why Qin Lu would ask such a question.
But when he looked up and saw the complex mix of guilt and remorse in Qin Lu's eyes, he instantly understood.
He couldn't help but laugh.
"Your Highness, you didn't actually think I'd bother creating this newspaper if I weren't married to you, did you?"
"Hm?" Qin Lu's expression shifted slightly—wasn't that the case?
"This newspaper isn't some effortless, money-making venture. It's labor-intensive, slow to yield returns, and carries significant risks."
Gu Yanshu scoffed, listing the drawbacks without hesitation.
"If it weren't for Prince Li's estate, I wouldn't touch this thankless task with a ten-foot pole."
To achieve mass circulation, the newspaper's price had to remain low—otherwise, how could impoverished scholars afford it?
Even those from modestly wealthy families might hesitate to buy it daily if the cost were too high.
This was evident from the pricing of newspapers in the modern era, where most cost only one or two yuan, rarely exceeding five.
In Gu Yanshu's plan, the newspaper was similarly priced at five wen per copy—roughly equivalent to one yuan in modern terms.
But compared to the future, printing costs in Tianqi were far higher.
Though movable type printing could reduce expenses compared to traditional woodblock methods, high-quality paper remained a luxury.
The paper cost alone for one newspaper was at least twenty wen.
Meaning, for every copy sold, Gu Yanshu would lose at least fifteen wen—not even accounting for ink, labor, or rental costs.
Of course, as someone who'd risen to the top of the post-apocalyptic business world, Gu Yanshu was no philanthropist.
He had a plan to turn a profit: advertisements.
But advertising required the newspaper to first establish its reputation.
In the early stages, when readership was low and influence minimal, what merchant in their right mind would pay to place ads?
Thus, substantial upfront investment was unavoidable—along with considerable time and effort.
Yet the timeline for profitability remained uncertain, making this a high-risk endeavor.
Moreover, the newspaper's "Political Affairs" section was practically dancing on the edge of a knife.
In a feudal society, who dared let commoners openly discuss court politics?
Even scholars debated policy with extreme caution.
Without Qin Lu's backing and the protection of Prince Li's estate—let alone the Chengen Marquis's feeble influence, which couldn't even intimidate a fourth-rank official—how could Gu Yanshu dare attempt such a thing?
There were countless ways to make money—why choose the most arduous and unrewarding path?
After this explanation, Gu Yanshu summed it up plainly:
"So handing the newspaper over to His Majesty actually makes my life easier."
This was the first time Qin Lu had heard such reasoning from Gu Yanshu.
Previously, he'd only emphasized the benefits—controlling public opinion, staying informed of capital affairs, building relationships with scholars.
He'd never mentioned the risks.
Rather than feeling reassured, Qin Lu's guilt deepened.
Noticing this, Gu Yanshu shifted tactics.
"Your Highness, why do you think I dared swindle Chang Le Gambling House without hesitation? Or reveal movable type printing and glass so freely?"
"Hm?" Qin Lu frowned—was there something to fear in sharing these innovations?
"Your Highness knows the saying: 'A man's wealth is his own ruin'?"
Though outsiders viewed Qin Lu as ruthless, his years on the battlefield had surrounded him with straightforward military men.
His understanding of human darkness paled compared to even a three-year-old from the post-apocalyptic world.
Having spent enough time with him, Gu Yanshu knew this well.
With a sigh, he spelled it out bluntly:
"The world moves for profit. Enough gain will make most abandon their principles. Isn't that why Tianqi has been mired in war for so long?"
"Mn." Qin Lu nodded. Tianqi's vast resources and weak defenses made it a target.
"The 1.2 million taels from Chang Le Gambling House alone drove the First Prince to madness. What makes you think the Chengen Marquis's household could protect innovations like glass and movable type printing?"
Without waiting for an answer, Gu Yanshu continued:
"Without Prince Li's estate, these wouldn't be assets—they'd be death warrants."
This wasn't entirely exaggeration.
In an era where imperial authority reigned supreme, the royal family held life-and-death power over commoners.
Even with his intellect, Gu Yanshu would've struggled to safeguard these innovations alone—certainly not as effortlessly as now.
At this point, Qin Lu's tense expression finally softened slightly.
Seizing the opportunity, Gu Yanshu reached out, tracing his fingers along Qin Lu's brow.
"My mind holds countless ideas as valuable as glass and movable type. If Your Highness truly feels indebted over the newspaper, then just protect me a little more in the future."
"Good." Qin Lu's frown eased completely. His voice was firm as he met Gu Yanshu's gaze.
"From now on, I will protect you."