Liu Bian at the start, so you're called Dong Zhuo, right?

Tongshenghui, Dongpianku.

The two engravers borrowed from the Shaofu Craftsmen's Workshop were already sweating profusely. They laid out the pear wood planks one by one, first using charcoal sticks as a base, then carefully carving along the strokes with fine chisels, wood shavings falling like snowflakes onto the corner of the table.

"The characters must be upright, and the knife must be steady."

Liu Bian sat under the lamp, staring intently: "If the thread breaks, the seal breaks; if the seal breaks, the rules break."

The engraver responded in a low voice, and with a gentle flick of the knife tip, he finished the last stroke on the four characters "Donggong Ceshi".

Cao Cao's eyelids twitched as he watched from the side—Liu Bian had already explained the function of this thing to him in detail.

Once it's achieved, the world's literary scene will be unstoppable.

"Let's try printing it." Liu Bian raised his hand.

The ink was not from a brush or ink stick; it was made from finely ground pine soot mixed with a little glue to make it thick but not sticky.

Cao Ren picked up a brush and spread it evenly on the board. Zhou Wen aligned the sizing paper, covered it, and then gently pressed it down with a wad of cloth.

"rise--"

Once the paper is peeled off, the ink lines are cleanly cut with a knife.

One line of text, and hundreds of pages are all the same.

The engraver stood frozen in place, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"This...this is a hundred times faster than copying."

Liu Bian didn't laugh, but said calmly, "Speed ​​isn't the key; control is."

He reached out and took another board.

This is not a classic text, nor a poem, but a "format"—inbound and outbound slips, seals, receipts, serial numbers, and even the serial numbers and seals on the "sealing slips" have all been broken down into neat formats, one by one, like straightening a tangled mess.

"From now on, when copying the account books, only copy the 'numbers,' not the 'words.'"

Liu Bian tapped his fingertip on the three boxes for "item name, weight, and price".

"The characters are printed by the printing plate, and the numbers are filled in by people. People can make mistakes in the numbers, but it is difficult to change the format; if the format is not changed, it is difficult to overturn the case."

Cao Cao was shocked when he saw the identical "sample papers"—this was not just printing books, this was printing rules.

-

Just as dawn was breaking, the gate to the backyard of the Tong Sheng Association opened once.

Two unassuming carts, carrying several wooden boards wrapped in cloth, a few sample prints, and a stack of adhesive paper, quietly made their way through the alley to the Yang family's villa in Luoyang.

The gatekeeper dared not be negligent and proceeded step by step.

The person who received the letter was still that same retainer of the Yang family.

He had been calm and composed, but when the wooden board of the "Eastern Palace Examination Template" was unveiled and the first sheet of paper was printed, the nonchalance in his eyes seemed to be extinguished.

He didn't discuss the price further.

They didn't discuss the recipe again.

He simply raised his hand, picked up the few sheets of paper, looked at them again and again, and ran his fingertips across the paper as if to confirm whether the ink could really "stand up".

After a long pause, he uttered a barely suppressed whisper:

"This matter... is no longer within my control."

He turned and left, his steps quickening considerably compared to yesterday.

-

That evening, a line of carriages and horses stopped in front of the Cao residence.

The man in the lead got out of the car; he was dressed neatly and had a calm demeanor. It was Yang Biao.

He didn't wait for the announcement; he handed over his calling card first.

The steward felt a chill run down his spine upon seeing this and hurriedly ran inside: "Young Master... Lord Yang of Hongnong has come in person."

Cao Song was busy with court affairs, leaving only Cao Cao in the hall.

He stood up upon hearing this, but he wasn't in a hurry—he knew that the Yang family wasn't here to discuss business, but to establish a new order.

As soon as the door opened, Yang Biao entered.

Without exchanging pleasantries or beating around the bush, his gaze first fell on the stack of trial-printed "sample papers" on the table, and then he looked at Cao Cao:

"You said that once woodblock printing is completed, paper can also hold ink."

"Then this is not just a business deal within the association, but a path for all scholars in the world."

He paused, then made his point definitively:

"What exactly does the Cao family want from the Yang family?"

Cao Cao did not reply.

He didn't even touch the teacup, but simply turned slightly to the side, as if making room for someone.

Just then, the curtain behind the hall rustled softly, and a slightly childish voice came from behind:

"That's a good question, Master Yang."

Yang Biao's eyelids twitched.

He saw the boy walk out slowly. His figure was not yet fully developed, but he stood very steadily, and his eyes were so clear that no one dared to underestimate him.

Cao Cao took a half step back, his manners subtle yet clearly demonstrating the distinction between "primary" and "secondary."

A string in Yang Biao's heart suddenly went "buzz"—

He instantly understood: this was not the Cao family's ambition, but the Crown Prince's hand.

He still did not kneel, but merely bowed with his hands clasped, speaking in a more cautious tone:

"Greetings, Your Highness the Crown Prince."

"I wonder which side Your Highness is asking Yang to take?"

Liu Bian did not say "which side".

He only said:

"Stand on the side that is advantageous to the Han Dynasty."

"I don't want the Yang family's money, nor their land. All I want is for the Yang family to unconditionally support one thing."

Yang Biao's eyes darkened slightly: "What is it?"

Liu Bian shook his head, his tone calm to the point of being almost cold:

"I can't go into the details."

"If I tell you, the road might be blocked."

He pointed to the "pattern papers" and wooden boards on the table:

"Master Yang understands better than anyone else. Once woodblock printing is invented, it can print not only books, but also notices, announcements, regulations, and legal articles."

"What I need to do is to take 'reputation' out of social class and put it back into books."

"If this is successful, then all scholars in the world will know that as long as they are willing to read, write, and answer policy questions, there is a way out."

"If the Yang family is willing to protect the orphan for this journey—"

Liu Bian's voice wasn't loud, but it sounded like a hammer striking the beam of the hall:

"If this matter is accomplished, the name of the Yang family will be written in the brightest line of history."

Yang Biao stared at him, remaining silent for a long time.

"Your Highness is the heir apparent of this era, why don't you personally spread this method?"

He's an old fox, and he's most afraid of "unseen accounts".

Liu Bian shook his head and instead asked:

"What does Lord Yang think of the current state of our Han Dynasty?"

Yang Biao's body trembled slightly, and he didn't dare to answer for a moment.

Liu Bian looked at Yang Biao's figure and smiled slightly.

"I believe that Lord Yang already has the answer in his heart."

"Then let me ask you another question, Master Yang—if I were to personally spread this method, what do you think the outcome would be?"

Yang Biao's eyes flickered slightly: "Your Highness is the Crown Prince, so of course—"

"Is it permissible?" Liu Bian repeated softly, as if he were chewing on the two words.

He walked to the window and looked out through the thin curtain. The light from the palace lanterns illuminated his profile, revealing a premature clarity despite his still-childish features.

"Let's start with the official aspect," Liu Bian began slowly. "The imperial court has its laws, and the prefectures have their own paths. No matter how good the laws are, when they are implemented at the local level, it still depends on who holds the seal, who holds the people, and who holds the grain."

He didn't say "greed" or "chaos," but spoke very softly and steadily:

"When the superiors have a certain preference, those below will follow it to an extreme. The new rules I intend to establish will, once they gain fame, be eager to borrow from others—some will treat it as a merit, some as a business, and some as a weapon."

Yang Biao's Adam's apple bobbed, but he didn't interrupt.

Liu Bian continued, speaking as if recounting an unimportant piece of old news:

"Let's talk about aristocratic families." He looked up at Yang Biao. "Master Yang understands this better than I do. Why is family background valuable? Because it can stabilize people's hearts and also secure one's path."

"If I were to make the selection of officials public, scholars across the land would be moved, but their families would become suspicious. Once suspicion arises, they would not oppose me first, but rather the law."

"They won't say 'You're not allowed to take the exam,' they'll say 'Your Highness is young, we must be careful'; they won't say 'You can't post a list,' they'll say 'It might disturb the Imperial Academy'; they won't say 'You can't take the exam,' they'll say 'It might create factions'."

Liu Bian paused here, as if swallowing back some sharper words.

He made no mention of eunuchs, relatives of the empress, or "who holds the key to the palace."

But Yang Biao could tell that the child was avoiding taboos and also hinting at them.

"As for Father Emperor..." Liu Bian pursed his lips.

"Father loves novelty. Novelty can please or ruin people. He appreciates you today because you make him happy; he will abandon you tomorrow because you annoy him."

"These woodblocks, these sizing paper, these regulations—in his eyes, they may not be 'national treasures,' but more likely just 'what the Crown Prince is playing at.'"

Yang Biao finally spoke, his voice low and deep: "Since Your Highness knew the danger, why did you still do it?"

Liu Bian turned to look at him, his eyes clear as a pool of cold water:

"Because if you don't do anything, you'll just be pushed around by others."

"If I were to personally spread the word, I would surely be dragged down from the stage; if I were not to spread it, I could only hide the path in the shadows—let it take root first."

He pointed to the wooden board on the table, and then to the stack of "pattern papers":

"That's why I came to find Madam Yang."

"What I need is not for the Yang family to do things for me, but for the Yang family to walk the path I need to take—to shield me from the wind and suppress the waves."