Early morning.

When a ray of sunlight shone on the majestic east gate tower of Chang'an City, the entire Chang'an City boiled in an instant, like a sleeping giant opening its eyes.

What is different from the past is that today's Chang'an City has more noise and expectations, because today is the day when the ink magazine is released, and Mojiazi's advertising poems will be released today.

"Shopkeeper Pan, hasn't the ink magazine been delivered yet?"

As soon as Pan's Restaurant opened, Sun Juren couldn't wait to come in and wait.

"Oh! It turned out to be Sun Juren! The shopkeeper Pan was still tidying up the counter, and when he saw Sun Juren coming in, he couldn't help but be surprised.

"It stands to reason that it has been delivered at this time, but today at this time, I don't know how it hasn't arrived yet!" Shopkeeper Pan was also puzzled.

"Oh! I didn't receive the newspaper either, so I came to check it out with you. Sun Juren was slightly disappointed and said, Sun Juren also subscribed to the half-year ink magazine, but he really didn't receive it today, so he couldn't help but come to check it.

After a few months of circulation, the ink magazine has almost been integrated into the daily life of Chang'an City, and the usual news from all over the world is learned through the ink magazine. I usually drink tea, read ink magazines to learn about the news in various places, and usually chat with friends to have enough talking points.

Of course, the prosperity of ink magazines is not unpopular, there were once people who wanted to copy the road of ink magazines, although the engraving printing technology has spread, but there are several news channels that can have Mojia Village.

Now the news source of Mojia Village has extended to the Sichuan and Shu regions to the south, to Luoyang to the east, and even to the north and the prairie. Today's ink magazines are very similar to the comprehensive newspapers of later generations.

"Sun Juren rest assured, the Mo family's printing office is very close to the Panjia Restaurant, and it will be delivered as soon as possible every time, and I believe it will be delivered soon." Shopkeeper Pan said.

"Okay, I just have nothing to do, so I'll just wait here for a while." Sun Ju is humane.

Suddenly, the nephew of the shopkeeper Pan was very clever and sent a pot of tea, made tea, and put it in front of Sun Juren.

"Master Sun, is he waiting for Mo Jiazi's poems any longer!" The nephew of the shopkeeper Pan asked with a smile.

"Oh! Xiao Pan, also knows that Mo Jiazi is sending poems today? Sun Juren asked in surprise while holding up the teacup.

"Look at what Master Sun said, who doesn't know Mo Jiazi's poems? A few days ago, it was three articles in a row, and the guests who came and went were full of praise, and the boy's ears were almost out of the cocoon. Xiao Pan said excitedly.

"Oh! Then I'll test you, and you can memorize that Chunxiao and listen to it! Sun Juren said with interest.

Xiao Pan immediately put the tray at ease, patted his clothes and stood up straight and said: "I don't know about spring sleep, mosquitoes are ...... everywhere, no, I smell birds everywhere." ”

A spring dawn, Xiao Pan quickly memorized it. Although he was almost led astray by Mo Jiazi's crooked poetry, it was also good for Mo Jiazi in the end

"It seems that Mo Jiazi's poems are really popular all over Chang'an City this time, and even the restaurant guys can recite them fluently." Sun Juren sighed, and looked forward to Merton's poems this time.

"Phew!"

A carriage stopped in front of the restaurant where Pan's shopkeeper was.

"Shopkeeper Pan, your ink magazine!" A disciple from the Mojia village got down from the carriage, ran down with a stack of ink magazines prepared in advance, put them in front of the counter and galloped away, continuing to the next family.

Mo San is now wealthy, and there is no shortage of horses in Mojia Village, so he directly put a carriage on the newsboy who delivered the newspaper, and in the shortest possible time, it was delivered to the customers of Chang'an City who had been subscribed for more than half a year for the first time.

In the words of the young master, this is the user experience, and Mo San has always kept it in mind.

"It's already here!"

Sun Juren suddenly got up in surprise, walked quickly to the counter, grabbed an ink journal and flipped through it.

There are 20 newspapers and periodicals ordered by Pan's restaurant, and the shopkeeper Pan and Xiao Pan are not to be outdone, and they have picked up the ink magazines and watched them.

"Here!" Xiao Pan pointed to the ink magazine in surprise and said in surprise.

"Xuemei, Mei Xue is not willing to descend in spring, and the Sao Ren Pavilion pen fee is commented. The plum and snow are three points white, but the snow loses the plum and a piece of fragrance. Xiao Pan read it in frustration.

"Good poetry!" Sun Juren's spirits were lifted, enjoying it like a spring breeze, and at the same time, he also felt a little regretful in his heart, the dispute between Meixue and Xue has been going on for a long time, why didn't he think of it at that time? However, this poem of Mo Jiazi did not disappoint him.

"The plum and the snow are three points white, but the snow loses the plum and a piece of fragrance!" Sun Juren chewed this snow plum carefully, and felt more and more that Ganjin was in his mouth, and the aftertaste was endless, and the regret that he had not been able to guess Mei was gone.

"Hey, it's a pity, why didn't I think it was Mei? When it snows, it's exactly when the plum blossoms are in full bloom! The shopkeeper Pan also said regretfully, he is not a literati like Sun Juren, but a budget-conscious businessman, if he can get ten catties of snow salt, it will not be able to leave a sum of expenses for the restaurant.

With the release of the ink magazine, Merton's Xuemei quickly spread throughout Chang'an City.

There was a wail in Chang'an City, and many people regretted it, this was such a simple poem as the Meixue dispute, how did he not think of it.

Of course, there are also a lot of ecstatic voices, this time there are only 100 people who can guess, Merton waved his hand, as long as all the guesses are given, ten catties of snow salt.

"Hahaha, twenty ink periodicals are only twenty articles! Ten catties of snow salt is worth hundreds of yuan, how to look at this business and how cost-effective! "A shrewd fellow, who bought twenty newspapers and periodicals at once, finally got the right deal with Mei Xue's dispute, and shouted excitedly.

The people around him were annoyed, why didn't they think of this way?

Song Shichao looked at the ten catties of snow salt in his hand, it was like tears in his eyes, he didn't expect that he had an idea, and he really guessed it.

"Bump!"

Ten catties of snow salt were placed heavily in front of his mother-in-law, and Song's mouth opened wide in shock.

"This is snow salt?" Song looked at the white salt grains in his hand in disbelief, and involuntarily pinched a little and put it in his mouth, and suddenly a salty fragrance filled his mouth, completely lacking the bitterness of the coarse salt he usually ate.

"Of course!" Song Shichao said proudly, looking at his wife's shocked eyes, he only felt that the depression in his heart was swept away.

With the spread of ink magazines in Chang'an City, the popular poem Xuemei became completely popular all over Chang'an City.

In just half a month, Mo Jiazi actually came out with four popular poems one after another, and at this moment, Mo Jiazi's talent abused Chang'an City.

"Giving birth to a son should be like a son of the Mo family!" Countless people lamented, if only my children had the talent of the Mo family!

Suddenly, someone had a sharp eye mixed a small advertisement in the middle of the ink magazine.

"Do you want to be your child and become a child prodigy? Do you want your children to be as poetic as Mo Jiazi? Please buy Mojiazi's exclusive poetry writing secret "Sound Rhyme Enlightenment", so that your child can read and write at the age of three, recite poetry at the age of five, and write poetry at the age of ten is not a dream! ”