I Opened a Bookshop in Ancient Times

After an accident, Chen Yan found himself in the body of Chen Laoshi, a farmer's son in some unknown dynasty. He was now a penniless orphan with no parents and a house as bare as bare could be.

Chen Laoshi lived in a leaky thatched hut, tended barren fields that yielded no grain, and was constantly bullied by his awful relatives.

Just as Chen Yan was figuring out how to claw his way out of this mess, a letter arrived out of nowhere from his maternal uncle, who ran a publishing house in the prefectural city.

"Dear nephew, come to the city at once and inherit my business."

Chen Yan's eyes lit up, and he rubbed his hands together excitedly. Was he about to inherit a fortune and reach the pinnacle of life?

He dealt with his awful relatives that very night, packed his bags, and set off for the city.

When he arrived, he discovered that his uncle was gravely ill in bed, barely breathing and almost unable to afford medicine.

The so-called publishing house was deep in debt, had no customers, and received no submissions. To make matters worse, a shameless rival showed up every day to poach its staff.

And his uncle's beautiful Shuang'er was being eyed by a pack of ill-intentioned people.

His uncle clasped Chen Yan's hand, tears streaming down his face as he pleaded, "I'm entrusting the family business... to you."

Chen Yan looked at the battered publishing house, then at the pretty Shuang'er beside him, head lowered and the corners of his eyes red.

All right. He was already here, so what was one more mess to clean up? He'd take it on!

He solicited manuscripts, wrote stories, and worked on marketing, turning all the strange tales he remembered from his previous life into popular fiction.

Romances between talented scholars and beautiful women, supernatural tales, ghost stories, detective cases, legends: whatever was popular, he wrote; whatever was novel, he sold.

After all that, the publishing house really did come back to life.

His uncle's illness was incurable. On his deathbed, he looked at Chen Yan and his Shuang'er, wanting to say something but stopping short.

Chen Yan thumped his chest and promised: "I'll look after the publishing house, and I'll find my cousin a good husband!"

His uncle closed his eyes, content.

His cousin was fair-skinned and beautiful, with a slender waist and long legs, and a delicate, captivating appearance. Men came to propose one after another, but not a single one met Chen Yan's standards.

One was too ugly, another too poor. One was as tall as a bamboo pole, another as short as Dalang.

At long last, a well-off man with a decent face came along, but the moment he opened his mouth, his words were so greasy that Chen Yan sent him away before he had even finished his tea.

After picking and choosing for more than half a month, Chen Yan still hadn't found a single man he liked.

Wait, wasn't something off here? He was choosing a husband for his cousin, so why was he fussier than the person getting married?

Chen Yan was confused. Chen Yan was puzzled. Then Chen Yan understood.

If he was so worried his cousin would suffer after getting married, why look for a good husband at all?

Why not marry him himself?

[Slice of Life and Business Management]

Theme: Read ten thousand books, and write as if divinely inspired