Chapter 11: The Time Has Come to Unleash True Power

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“Young lady, all the letters are here.” Qiulu and Xiahe each carried a large box and placed them on the writing desk.

They had just returned from the Shanhai Bookshop, collecting readers’ letters, and were stunned by the two full boxes.

They had heard before that the young lady’s book was widely read, but they never expected it to be so popular, with so many readers writing in.

Both stood eagerly by her side, curious about the contents of these letters.

“You two sit together and read them,” Xu Chengyue said.

If she were to read all these letters alone, how long would it take?

“May we read them too, young lady? Would that be inappropriate?” Xiahe asked, excited yet hesitant, since letters felt quite private and not something easily shared.

“Of course. You’ll help me filter out useful information, like readers’ opinions and feedback about the book. You can discard the boring stuff without showing it to me.”

Qiulu and Xiahe felt the weight of their task and responded solemnly, “Understood.”

Then, unable to contain their curiosity, they eagerly opened the letters.

“Wow, this one wishes for Miss Chu to regain her beauty soon. Such a fine lady disguising herself is truly a waste. It says those who looked down on her before should see how blind they were,” Qiulu said with a smile.

“This person is shameless, claiming the young lady’s book is poorly written and disorganized. He says he’s an expert in writing and offers to review her future drafts to give pointers,” Xiahe said angrily.

Xu Chengyue silently rubbed her forehead.

This person was practically throwing his abacus beads in her face.

“And some readers suggest the bookshop should release a volume every day—it’s too agonizing to wait otherwise.”

A volume a day? Does he think I’m an octopus?

Overall, the letters were quite harmonious. Most praised her writing for being excellent and the plot exciting and captivating. Some urged for faster updates, while others discussed the story.

Then Qiulu took out another letter and unfolded it carefully.

But this letter was unlike the earlier ones filled with praise.

The handwriting was neat and strong, restrained yet confident.

The tone, however, was far from polite—vehemently condemning the “ignorant young man” for writing nonsense.

It began with refined language but soon, as anger took over, descended into vulgar curses, accusing the young lady of feeding her books to dogs’ bellies, sullying scholarly knowledge, and better off not reading at all.

It proceeded to criticize the book from every angle.

Qiulu’s face turned pale with anger.

Seeing Qiulu’s expression, Xu Chengyue quickly snatched the letter away.

She forgot they were different from her; they hadn’t endured the storms of online comment sections in their past lives.

It’s often said that being misunderstood is the fate of any communicator. Writing is a form of expression too.

Reading is actually a secondary creation process; the author can only control their own ideas during creation, but cannot control how readers interpret the work in their minds.

Such misunderstandings can cause fierce conflicts between readers and authors.

Even though Xu Chengyue hadn’t written controversial topics in her past life, she still faced many misunderstandings.

Her heart had grown strong and she had grown accustomed; she forgot they hadn’t experienced this.

“Miss, this person’s words are harsh. You better not read it,” Qiulu said, not wanting her to be hurt.

“It’s okay, don’t worry, and you don’t have to be angry. Just read it and don’t take it to heart.”

She was curious about how insults were delivered in the Tang Dynasty and how they differed from modern ones.

Xu Chengyue’s eyes first caught the beautiful calligraphy on the letter.

Though her own calligraphy was not excellent, she appreciated fine penmanship and recognized this handwriting must be the result of years of hard practice.

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She guessed the writer was an old scholar.

Sure enough, continuing to read confirmed this.

The person first accused her of being unlearned and defiling the classics, then, from the perspective of rites and morals, criticized her heroine from start to finish, saying she failed to observe the three obediences and four virtues — the heroine lacked virtue, appearance, speech, and conduct.

Then, he advised her to read the “Admonitions for Women” carefully to understand what a truly virtuous and gentlewoman should be.

Oh, and he seemed unaware she was a woman, since he repeatedly called her “young man,” almost pointing fingers to curse her.

Xu Chengyue wasn’t surprised by this letter.

Many might think the Tang Dynasty was open-minded and women enjoyed great freedom, but its openness was relative to other dynasties. It was still a feudal society.

It was the Tang Dynasty that codified the “seven grounds for divorce,” and decreed, “Anyone who beats their wife shall be demoted two ranks.”

Its openness only extended as far as if you dressed flamboyantly and went out without any cover, people could only verbally criticize you; if you ignored them, they had no means to punish you.

In other dynasties, you might be cursed to death for such behavior.

That was the Tang Dynasty: strict in feudal rites while often breaking conventions.

Conservative and outdated attitudes like the letter writer’s were not uncommon, and her novel wasn’t written for such readers.

Though Xu Chengyue was upset, she understood that while it was possible to challenge feudal rites, openly denouncing the rites themselves was suicidal — even Empress Wu Zetian hadn’t dared to do so. How could a minor author like herself?

— Stay calm, stay calm. This old fool is just triggered by my book.

Xu Chengyue took a deep gulp of water to steady herself and forced herself to keep reading.

An author’s emotions are important; she needed to remember this feeling to “go mad” properly when writing.

The old curmudgeon then criticized her punctuation, declaring that traditional reading marks were passed down through generations, and turning them into modern punctuation was a perversion, a shortcut that would lead to failure. He scolded her for not studying properly and said she was better off not reading and farming in the countryside.

This made Xu Chengyue laugh outright.

Reading marks are indeed important and hold a significant place in Chinese literary culture. They help people study classical texts; every student’s first step in ancient literature is learning to read these marks.

Even in modern college entrance exams, they remain a key test point.

Yet the convenience of punctuation cannot be denied. It reduces ambiguity caused by improper phrasing and allows readers to grasp the meaning of a sentence at a glance. The convenience punctuation brings is unmatched by traditional reading marks.

But to these old scholars, their concern was only tradition and prestige. They regarded seeking convenience as lowly, never considering the cultural dissemination benefits this brought.

Xu Chengyue bared a grim smile.

Old fool, I can’t argue with feudal rites, but debating? That’s my specialty—through a sheet of paper! Who’s afraid of whom?

It was time to show her true strength!

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One must admit, Master Lü was far-sighted.

His forward-looking promotional strategies caused the Shanhai Bookshop to suddenly become popular.

Because of his advertising, many learned of the “Divine Physician Poisonous Consort” book.

The ending of Volume Two had left many yearning for more, and when Volume Three was finally released,

Crowds gathered early at the Shanhai Bookshop’s door,

Whispering as they lined up.

“Are you here to buy that book too?”

“Of course! What else? I’ve been waiting so anxiously these days, couldn’t even sleep well at night.”

...

The shopkeeper peeked out from the door crack,

Feeling amazed at the number of people.

He straightened his clothes and cleared his throat.

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When the city drum sounded “dong”,

The bookshop doors opened.

The first person in line, having waited a long time, exclaimed happily, “Shopkeeper, is Volume Three available?”

“Yes, here it is.” The shopkeeper held a stack of books and placed them directly on the counter.

The book was hefty, and when it landed, it made a dull thud.

The crowd stepped forward one by one to buy.

Watching their eagerness in line and joy upon getting the book, the shopkeeper felt a deep sense of pride.

These people could only see the book now and had to queue for it, unlike him, who got the manuscript at the Shanhai Bookshop the moment it arrived.

He had been busy these days, and his husband had even given him a raise.

The shopkeeper’s mood was beyond pleasant.

Someone who received the book cheered, “I got it!”

They ran excitedly to their friends, shaking the book and boasting, “I told you to come early, but you two wouldn’t listen.”

“Well, how could we have imagined so many people would line up to buy a book?”

“Enough talk, open it and see.”

One person snatched the book impatiently.

“Hey, where’s your manners? I bought this book; if you want to read it, go queue yourself,” the buyer protested, taking it back.

“Alright, alright, I owe you one. Next time I’ll buy it. Now, hurry up and read.”

The three crowded close together, engrossed in the book.

The previous volume recounted how Chu Muqing met an elderly maid who called her “Madam.”

It turned out this old woman was the personal servant of Xu Chengyue’s mother long ago, and immediately saw beneath Chu Muqing’s disguise the resemblance to the lady.

After so many years apart, the old maid was tearful.

Chu Muqing anxiously asked what had happened back then.

The old maid wiped her tears and began to tell the story.

Chu’s father was a humble scholar who went to the capital for exams and fell in love with Madam Chu. After he topped the imperial exam, he sought to marry her.

Madam Chu’s maternal grandfather opposed the match due to Chu father’s poverty, fearing she would suffer.

But Madam Chu insisted, and the grandfather relented. After their marriage, he even helped promote Chu father.

Unexpectedly, Chu father proved ungrateful; when Madam Chu’s family faced disaster, he abandoned them, quickly severed ties, imprisoned his wife in the inner courtyard, and brought in his childhood sweetheart cousin as his new wife.

After the cousin moved in, Chu father visited Madam Chu’s quarters. The old maid overheard a fierce argument; afterward, Madam Chu became depressed and soon passed away.

“Chu father is truly heartless and ungrateful. Madam Chu was a noble lady who did not mind his poverty, yet he was opportunistic and treacherous.”

“Hey, you can’t say that. Madam Chu’s maternal grandfather committed treason. Chu father’s actions are somewhat understandable.”

“You’re defending him? Hmph, give me my book back. Stop reading.”

“Hey, I only said a few words. Why are you so worked up? Fine, fine, Chu father’s a villain, alright?” The other person swallowed his pride for the sake of the story.

Chu Muqing asked the old maid what Chu father and her mother had argued about.

The old maid said she was sent away and didn’t hear, but in the days after, Madam Chu kept murmuring, “It’s all my fault, I brought ruin to my father.”

By then Madam Chu was delirious and refused to talk.

Later, Chu father executed all the maids who served Madam Chu.

The old maid had escaped by a stroke of luck.

“This seems off. Could it be that Madam Chu leaked evidence of her father’s treason, causing the downfall?”