"She didn't kill us," Yue Xiaochan said, popping up from behind a screen. "That went better than expected."
"She's an artist," Xue Mu shrugged. "Artists are suckers for philosophy. If I had talked about money, she would have left. But I talked about 'Purpose', so she stayed."
He turned to Xue Qingqiu, who was reading a report from the Six Fan Gate.
"Sect Master," Xue Mu said. "We have a problem."
"Oh?"
"Tonight was a success, but it's a flash in the pan. Tomorrow, the excitement will fade. People will go back to their lives. We need to keep the fire burning."
"How?"
"We control the narrative," Xue Mu said. "We need a mouthpiece. A way to talk to the entire city every single morning."
He walked over to the desk, grabbed a brush, and spread out a sheet of cheap, coarse paper.
"What is this?" Xue Qingqiu asked.
"This," Xue Mu grinned, "is a Newspaper."
He dipped the brush in ink. "In this world, information is slow. It travels by word of mouth, distorted by rumors. The Imperial Court posts dry edicts on walls that no one reads. We are going to change that."
He wrote a headline in bold, aggressive characters:
SHOCKING! THE ZITHER FAIRY VISITS THE DEMONESS AT MIDNIGHT!
Below it, he wrote a sub-headline:
Secret Alliance or Bitter Rivalry? What happened behind the closed doors of the Hundred Flowers Manor?
Xue Qingqiu read it and frowned. "This... makes it sound scandalous. Nothing happened. We just drank tea."
"Exactly," Xue Mu laughed. "But the truth is boring. The possibility is exciting. People love secrets. They love drama."
He continued writing. He drafted a short article describing the intense "musical duel" (which never happened), the "clash of philosophies" (which was just a chat), and hinted that Yue Xiaochan's new style had "shaken the Fairy to her core."
He added a section at the bottom: "Exclusive: The Secret Life of Yue Xiaochan - Her Favorite Snacks revealed!"
And another: "Market Watch: Grain Prices Stable, but Sword Prices Spike?"
He finished and held it up. "This is the Capital Morning Post. Issue Number One."
"You want to print this?" Xue Qingqiu looked skeptical. "And distribute it? To whom?"
"To everyone," Xue Mu said. "Free of charge. For the first week."
"Free?" The manager gasped. "Paper and ink cost money!"
"We aren't selling the paper," Xue Mu explained patiently. "We are selling the attention. Once everyone is reading this, merchants will pay us to put their names in it. It's called 'Advertising'."
He looked at Xue Qingqiu. "Imagine, Sect Master. A weapon that can reach every home in the capital. We can make heroes. We can destroy reputations. We can steer the anger of the mob wherever we want."
Xue Qingqiu stared at the crude paper. Her eyes, usually cold and detached, began to glow with a terrifying realization. She was a grandmaster of martial arts; she understood power. And she saw that this... this was a different kind of blade. A blade that could cut without drawing blood.
"Do it," she commanded. "Use the printing blocks in the study. Get the disciples to copy it. I want five thousand copies on the streets by dawn."