Chapter Fifty-Four: The Defiant Advertisement

Chapter Fifty-Three

“Your Majesty, please look at the assignments of these three individuals!” Kong Yingda presented the schoolwork of Qin Huaiyu and his two companions. The portly man immediately stepped forward, took the papers, and handed them to Li Shimin.

“Cheng Chumo, Qin Huaiyu, Yuchi Baolin?”

Li Shimin looked at the three names with a curious expression. As he flipped through the pages, his face revealed a hint of surprise; he had clearly noticed something peculiar.

“Lords Qin, Cheng, and Yuchi, the three of you should take a look as well,” Li Shimin said.

The three men accepted the rice paper from Pang De, their faces darkening when they saw their sons' names inscribed upon it. They cast a somewhat unfriendly glance at Kong Yingda.

After all, boys will make mistakes, and even if punished directly, they could not complain—but to bring the matter before the imperial court? That was another matter entirely.

“Kong Master, you have gone too far this time!” Cheng Yaojin threatened, baring his teeth.

Even Qin Qiong and Yuchi Jingde were dissatisfied, though they held their tongues in the grand hall.

Kong Yingda forced a bitter smile. “My lords, please calm your anger. May I ask you to examine the assignments in your hands.”

They leafed through the twenty sheets, finding not a single fault.

“There’s nothing wrong! This is indeed Qin Huaiyu’s handwriting, and the page count is correct!” Qin Qiong said in confusion.

“There’s definitely no problem. I know my own son’s writing!” Cheng Yaojin slapped the paper noisily, declaring loudly.

Yuchi Jingde nodded in agreement—there was not the slightest error.

“My lords are not mistaken; these are indeed your sons’ handwriting. Even the Calligraphy Scholar at the Imperial Academy found nothing amiss at the time. Not until we saw this!” Kong Yingda produced another stack of flyers and a wooden board. The board was strange in shape, having a handle and a surface densely carved with text.

Li Shimin and the others looked at the flyers in their hands in silence.

“So this is what you want us to see?”

Li Shimin held up the flyer, speechless. The words “Mohist Printing Exhibition” were conspicuous at the top.

Kong Yingda flushed scarlet but pressed on, pointing to several identical flyers. “These flyers are exactly the same, just as your sons’ assignments are identical. This proves the assignments were not written by hand, but printed.”

“Printed?” Li Shimin frowned, pondered for a moment, and suddenly understood. He picked up his own jade seal and stamped it repeatedly onto the flyer; the seal’s imprint was strikingly similar to the text—lacking any brush strokes.

Kong Yingda nodded, holding up the carved template in his hand with a wry smile. “But their stamp was much larger, and much cheaper.”

“So it’s true!” Qin Qiong’s face reddened with embarrassment. His child had cheated and even fooled him—and now the matter had reached the emperor, bringing shame to all three families.

“That brat! He’ll get what’s coming to him when we get home!” Yuchi Jingde said angrily.

“We have failed in teaching our sons. Your Majesty, please forgive us,” Cheng Yaojin quickly pleaded, thinking fast.

“We beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness!” Qin Qiong and Yuchi Jingde echoed.

Li Shimin was thrown into a dilemma. The three lords were noble marquises—how could he punish them over something so trivial? But Kong Yingda was a revered scion of Confucius and a renowned scholar; he could not offend either side.

“My lords, you misunderstand. I have not come to accuse your sons, but to ask that they be commended,” Kong Yingda said.

The court erupted in astonishment.

What was going on? Kong Yingda, that stubborn old man, had finally caught Qin Huaiyu and his friends cheating and had brought the matter to the emperor. Why the sudden reversal, now asking for commendations? Had he lost his integrity?

“Dean Kong, this is no joke. Our rebellious sons went to such absurd lengths to evade their assignments—they must be punished severely, or how will they ever succeed?” Qin Qiong declared sternly.

“Please, Lord Yi, do not be angry. I am not jesting. Precisely because the three young masters tried to avoid their assignments, they inadvertently invented something that will benefit countless students and educate the people,” Kong Yingda replied.

“To benefit millions of students and enlighten the nation!” The entire court was dumbfounded by this dramatic turn.

“This can’t be!” Cheng Yaojin was stunned—his son had cheated, and now the matter was being elevated to a national concern? The responsibility seemed overwhelming.

“It is no exaggeration!” Kong Yingda said earnestly. “All of you often write. To pen twenty copies would take at least a whole morning. Do you know how long it takes with the wooden board?”

Under the puzzled gazes of the ministers, Kong Yingda picked up the carved block and, following Motun’s method, adjusted the ink and pressed it onto a stack of blank rice paper.

Bang! Bang! Bang! … Bang! Bang! Bang!

After twenty resounding stamps, twenty sheets were printed.

“Twenty breaths!” The ministers gaped in disbelief.

“There are tens of thousands of impoverished students in the world, most of whom must transcribe texts by hand to study. If this block printing technique were used to mass-produce books, it would be a blessing to them all—a benefit to countless students,” Kong Yingda’s face was flushed with excitement.

“Yes! When I was a child, I could never afford a book. I copied my first Analects by hand—three days and nights it took!” recalled one minister, sighing at the hardships of his youth.

“My mother once stitched embroidery for a whole month to buy me a single book. Her hands were red and swollen from the needlework,” another minister said tearfully.

More and more ministers realized the benefits of block printing, and were overwhelmed with excitement.

One after another, they stepped forward to try it themselves: laying out the paper, spreading ink, gently pressing down—the flyer for the Mohist Printing Exhibition appeared instantly.

“That little rascal!” Kong Yingda ground his teeth at Motun as he watched the freshly printed flyers.

Kong Yingda had originally wanted to confiscate the template the boys used to cheat, but Motun insisted they had destroyed it after printing to avoid discovery, leaving only the flyer template—take it or leave it!

Left with no choice, Kong Yingda brought the sole remaining template to the Hall of Supreme Harmony.

Watching the empire’s top ministers help Motun print flyers, Kong Yingda needed no explanation to see through the Mohist youth’s scheme—he had advertised the Printing Exhibition right in the imperial court.

If future generations learned of this, their jaws would surely drop. The world’s very first flyer had truly made history.

Still, for the sake of block printing, Kong Yingda could only grit his teeth and accept it. The Confucians had gained block printing, the Mohists had advertised in the imperial court—who could say who profited more?