On May 16, Ganpu was tranquil and serene. Jiang Shiguang, an elder of the Jiang family, sat on his doorstep, puffing on his water pipe, the sound of bubbling water soothing his restless thoughts. Since April, the town had become increasingly uneasy with soldiers passing through, occasionally taking people away. Jiang Shiguang had retreated to his village, where his third son resided, finding solace in the simplicity of village life.
The years had not been kind, and with each passing day, more mouths appeared to feed while the availability of food dwindled. Officials from the town and the prefecture would frequently come to requisition grain, sometimes demanding more than what the village could spare. Bandits and soldiers, both those who supported and those who opposed the government, added to the burden. Jiang Shiguang had heard rumors of the government hunting down Communists, executing many. His only wish was that the retreating soldiers would not pass through his town.
As he mused over these concerns, he heard the distant sound of children arguing, interrupting his thoughts.
The old man abruptly stood up, thumping his water pipe on the ground. "These little brats! Such nice weather, and instead of studying, they're out there making noise. Don't they want to pass the exams? Don't they care about their studies anymore?" he muttered as he walked toward the commotion, intending to scold the children.
Jiaxing had a long tradition of valuing education, with many scholars and officials emerging from the region during the Ming and Qing dynasties. Jiang Shiguang himself had attended a private school in his youth, funded by his clan. Unfortunately, he hadn't been favored by his teacher and eventually dropped out. Now, in his old age, he couldn't stand the sight of children neglecting their studies. Holding his water pipe in one hand and lifting his robe with the other, he quickened his pace toward the village entrance.
At this moment, Huang Xuan found himself surrounded by a group of children. Had he been a trained dimensional traveler, he would have had numerous ways to handle the situation. But Huang Xuan was at a loss, unable to move.
Lorin had discarded anything non-essential, including zippers, to conserve energy. As a result, Huang Xuan's attire was not only strange but also in tatters, resembling that of a beggar. His pants were ripped right in the middle, drawing laughter from the children, who soon surrounded him, making it impossible for him to escape.
It was fieldwork time, and although it wasn't the peak farming season, there weren't many people in the village. The few villagers who were around couldn't control the children and mostly stood by, amused by Huang Xuan's predicament, until Jiang Shiguang arrived and dispersed the group.
Jiang Shiguang scrutinized Huang Xuan with a discerning eye. The young man had a fair complexion, his fingernails were neatly trimmed, and there were no calluses from manual labor. Although his clothes were tattered, they were relatively clean, aside from some dust and minor stains. The fabric of his clothes even resembled that found in the foreign shops in the county town. Despite his discomfort, Huang Xuan had a vitality that set him apart from the local youth. Jiang Shiguang wasn't a man of the world, but he recognized that this hopeful expression was rarely seen among peasants.
With these thoughts in mind, Jiang Shiguang made a half-bow and spoke respectfully, "Young man, were you attacked by bandits? Are you traveling alone?"
Though the Xinhai Revolution had ended over a decade ago, banditry remained an unresolved issue throughout the Republic of China. The lives of rural folk were inextricably linked with bandits. Like many villages, Jiang's village had built fortifications for self-defense, but dealing with bandits was inevitable. However, the village's proximity to Ganpu meant that large groups of bandits were unlikely to be a threat. Jiang Shiguang's question was an attempt to gauge the young man's background.
Relieved that the children had scattered, Huang Xuan exhaled deeply and, imitating Jiang Shiguang's gesture, made a bow of his own. "I got separated from my family. I was hoping to find an inn to stay at. Do you know where I might find one?"
"This isn't exactly a place by the main road," Jiang Shiguang replied, handing his water pipe to his left hand and stepping closer. "If you need a place to stay, you can stay at my house. We have an empty room."
Huang Xuan, who had no money for an inn, gratefully accepted the offer. "I'd really appreciate that."
"No trouble at all," Jiang Shiguang said, leading the way. "In the countryside, space is plentiful, and everyone has their inconvenient times."
Huang Xuan had participated in such conversations countless times in his life, making him adept at navigating them. Although the times were different and the polite phrases had evolved, the essence of the conversation remained the same—establishing rapport through small talk. As they chatted, Huang Xuan relaxed, and to Jiang Shiguang, the young man seemed like an unfamiliar but well-mannered young gentleman from out of town. These four words, "well-mannered young gentleman," were enough to earn him a free stay in Jiaxing.
Ganpu was where the Jiang family's ancestral tomb was located. The old mansion, though showing signs of age, was far from dilapidated. The main house in the village center was constructed from green bricks, with tiles at least two palm-widths wide, extending from the large red front gate. The main gate bore the inscription "Haichang Jiangshi Bingshe," with a stone plaque and a couplet that read, "Mountains connect the North and South Lakes, likewise, Xiu Peak faces the West Stream."
The calligraphy was exquisite, better than many scholars Huang Xuan had seen at his grandfather's house. Intrigued, he whispered to Lorin, "Can you check this out?"
"No problem," Lorin replied. In the absence of interference from other bases of the same level, Lorin could hear everything he wanted to. As he continued, he added, "Accessing the data requires an internet connection, which consumes too much energy."
"I'll connect you when we get back," Huang Xuan reassured him as he followed Jiang Shiguang.
Seeing Huang Xuan's interest in the ancestral home, Jiang Shiguang slowed his pace and said, "About ten years ago, all the Jiang family's books were stored here. It took dozens of boats to transport them." He proudly lifted his chin.
Jiaxing had a long tradition of book collection, which began in the Southern Song dynasty and reached its peak during the Ming and Qing dynasties. Although this tradition had waned since the Xianfeng era, the idea of "cultivating the land and reading" remained deeply ingrained in the minds of the local gentry. For the so-called "wealthy families," having a private library was a must, and the Jiang family was no exception.
Huang Xuan's slightly surprised but composed smile satisfied Jiang Shiguang's vanity. At the same time, Lorin relayed information: "This should be Xijian Hall, where Jiang Guangxu stored his collection of books. According to the standard history, about ten years ago, he moved all his books here, which were later relocated to Yanfen Hall."
"Are those books valuable?" Huang Xuan's eyes gleamed as he took in the ancient ambiance of the mansion. To continue dimensional travel, he would need funds to purchase energy.
Lorin paused for a moment, seemingly searching through data, before replying, "According to the records, there were about 100,000 volumes, but according to the standard history, these books were donated to the Chinese government in the 1950s."
"Won't that expose me?"
"No, although rare books are scarce, they are not necessarily the only copies in the world. Even if they are, it's impossible to guarantee that they are the only ones in existence. However, the owner of the Jiang family treasures these books dearly. Acquiring them may require considerable effort." Lorin's language was becoming increasingly human-like, with more precise phrasing. However, Huang Xuan was still preoccupied with the idea of the books and lamented, "I was hoping to bring some of them back."
A true book lover is passionate about books. While impoverished scholars might focus on copying books with the goal of collecting ten thousand volumes, wealthier scholars not only sought content but also coveted rare or even unique editions. As a result, the value of significant books had steadily risen since the Song dynasty. Huang Xuan knew that his father's study housed a dozen old books worth millions, and his grandfather's collection was even more extravagant—once trading a Zhang Daqian painting for a rare Song dynasty manuscript and boasting about the great deal he had made. Recalling this, Huang Xuan felt a familiar itch.
Noticing that Jiang Shiguang was still basking in his earlier pride, Huang Xuan quietly asked Lorin, "So, no one around here is selling books?"
"There isn't enough data, but based on analysis, many private libraries in Jiaxing have fallen into disrepair since the Xianfeng era. With sufficient funds, you should be able to acquire a significant number of books. However, there's a caveat."
"What caveat?"
"Although books are perishable and the method of preservation for dimensional travel isn't a concern, the energy required to transport books is still far greater than that required for grain. Given the current energy reserves, I suggest that the total weight of the books should not exceed five kilograms."
Huang Xuan pouted. Buying books by the pound—only Lorin, the time-space guardian, would think of that. Having learned what he wanted to know, he refocused his attention on Jiang Shiguang, eager to gather more information while he had the chance.