From Corsica to the Fourth Rome

Avenue Maine is a street located in the West End of Paris. It is still a long way from the city center. Residents basically have to take a horse-drawn carriage to go to the city center.

The remote location also means that the environment here is unsatisfactory:

The potholed roads had not been maintained for an unknown period of time, and there was a pungent odor permeating the streets. Almost no one was responsible for lighting and extinguishing the street lamps on both sides of the road, and the lamp oil inside might have been stolen long ago.

However, despite the harsh location and environment, for Mr. Hailsson, who runs the Observer Daily, the low rent forced him to set up the newspaper's editorial office here.

House No. 78 on Main Avenue is not a tall brick building, but a low and somewhat dilapidated two-story building.

It looks no different from the surrounding private houses, except for a large blackboard hanging at the door, which reads in beautiful and neat cursive characters:

"Observer Daily, if you have any questions, please contact Mr. Hailsson."

In an office on the second floor of the newspaper office, a middle-aged man with a beard wearing an old suit was sighing at the sales report on the table.

This man who seemed a little lost was Mr. Hailsen, who was both the operator and the editor-in-chief of this small newspaper.

At this moment, there was no brilliance in his eyes at all, and every number on the dismal sales report on the table was hurting his eyes.

"The daily sales volume is less than 400 copies."

President Hailsen rubbed his eyes bitterly and silently calculated the newspaper's income and expenses in his heart:

"Each newspaper earns one sol, which is twenty livres a day, and six hundred livres a month. Alas, this money is barely enough to pay the rent and employees' wages. If you are unlucky, you have to pay extra. "Go in"

After arriving at such an unoptimistic result, President Hailsen couldn't help but let out a long breath and wished he could just get into a bottle of wine in the morning to drown his sorrows.

He was once an editor of a large newspaper with decent status and considerable income. However, after he unfortunately offended the editor-in-chief, he was quickly deprived of his job.

President Hailsen, who lost his job, still decided to engage in his old business, so he gritted his teeth and took out all his family assets and founded the newspaper after borrowing several loans.

However, President Hailsen is very capable in writing and writing, but he is much mediocre in business management. This is why the newspaper is struggling on the edge of bankruptcy.

"If it really doesn't work, I have to find another way to make a living. If I sell all the equipment and furniture, I should be able to get some money back, and at least pay off part of the loan first. The children should stop going to school, and my wife has to find a job as a female worker. Already."

President Hailsen muttered to himself in confusion, seeming to recall the days when he had no worries about food and clothing:

"What else can a person like me do without the desk?"

Just when the small room was shrouded in boundless melancholy, a staff member pushed the door open and broke in with excitement and reported:

"President, there is a gentleman who wants to see you. He is downstairs."

"A gentleman?"

President Hailsen was stunned for a moment. In his impression, very few people would take the initiative to visit this newspaper office; even if they did, they probably did not come with good intentions.

The clerk nodded and said:

"Yes, a young gentleman, very well dressed, came in a carriage."

"Let's invite him in first."

President Hailsen hesitated for a moment, then nodded and asked his subordinates to bring the gentleman up. At the same time, he whispered uneasily:

"Isn't he here to cause trouble?"

Downstairs at the Observer Daily, Lawrence looked curiously at the dilapidated building in front of him. Just standing outside, he could smell the pungent smell of ink emanating from inside.

The clerk who received him panicked and led Lawrence into the newspaper office after getting permission from President Hailsson.

The newspaper office has two floors, each floor is small.

As soon as I walked in, I saw a huge printing press that occupied two-thirds of the first floor. There were also bundles of yellow paper of worrying quality scattered on the floor.

"No wonder the quality of the newspaper is so poor. It doesn't even have a cooperative printing factory. It's like a small family workshop."

Lawrence glanced at the printing machines on the first floor. From this, it can be seen that the financial problems of this newspaper are very worrying, otherwise it would not have to start its own printing business to save costs.

Passing through the printing yard full of lead powder, Lawrence was led up to the second floor by the staff.

The second floor is much tidier. There are nearly ten people working at desks. Plus a few foreign reporters, it seems that they are the entire staff of this newspaper.

In the deepest room on the second floor, Lawrence saw President Hailsson who looked uneasy and nervous.

"Uh, hello sir, I'm Hailsson, the editor-in-chief and president of this newspaper."

President Hailsen greeted, while carefully looking at the visitor in front of him. He was indeed a young and well-dressed gentleman. His aura of superiority was like that of the heir to a hereditary duke.

With that said, President Hailsen quickly opened the desk drawer, took out a yellowed business card and handed it over.

Lawrence took the business card and glanced at it, nodded and put it in his pocket, then turned to look at the layout of the office:

All the furniture was very old, obviously not brand new but bought from the second-hand market. Even the chair under Lawrence made a harsh squeaking sound from time to time.

Looking at President Hailsen again, there are a few inconspicuous patches on his gray dress. It seems to be quite a few years old, and the style is probably a style that was popular ten years ago.

"Nice to meet you, President Hailsen. The newspaper is very nice."

Lawrence looked at President Hailsen with a smile and said after roughly guessing the operating conditions of the newspaper.

"Well"

President Hailsen couldn't help but became speechless after hearing this. He didn't know if Lawrence was making fun of himself. No matter who came here, he wouldn't think this was a good newspaper.

With dismal sales, almost zero profits, dilapidated facilities, and few employees, no matter how you look at it, this newspaper is about to reach the end of its life.

Only someone with ulterior motives like Lawrence would call it good.

Because in Lawrence's eyes, the lower the starting point of this newspaper, the easier it is for him to completely hold it in his hands.

As for the current difficult situation, it didn't matter at all. Lawrence had plenty of ways to get the Observer to appear in every mailbox, even in the King's Suite at Versailles.

"If you don't mind, President Haytham."

Lawrence leaned on the back of this uncomfortable wooden chair and said easily:

"Can you tell me about this newspaper?"

President Hailsson carefully looked at Lawrence. Although he still didn't know the identity of this gentleman and his purpose, he was obviously a person of outstanding status.

Since he asked this question, President Hailsen still said seriously:

"As you can see, this is the Observer Daily. The original intention of our founding was to express our voice against the various strange phenomena in society, to express our cry against the unfair reality, and to..."

"Ah, what a good original intention and ideal."

Lawrence chuckled and interrupted President Hailsham and said:

"But I think it's better to just touch on ideals. Let's talk about the current situation of this newspaper."

President Hailsen couldn't help but pause for a moment, then nodded helplessly, sighed and said:

"The current situation. In fact, there is nothing to say. Everything about this newspaper is here. A small rented building, a printing press, a dozen employees, and a bleak newspaper with a daily sales of 400 copies. That's it. You ask Is this what you want?”

Lawrence kept a calm smile and said slowly:

"I want to buy it."

"Buy this newspaper?"

President Hailsen swallowed, not believing his ears.

Without any nonsense, Lawrence took out a deposit slip with a denomination of ten thousand livres from his chest, slapped it on the table, and gently pushed it in front of him.

"Certificate of Deposit of the Banque Commerciale de France."

President Hailsen's pupils trembled. Even before he lost his job, he was not rich enough to deposit money in the bank. This was the first time he saw a real deposit slip.

However, after seeing the denomination on it, President Hailsen's heart stopped for a moment. The series of eye-catching numbers on the deposit slip occupied his entire field of vision.

"One hundred thousand. Ten thousand livres?!"

Even with President Hailsen's training, he couldn't help but scream out in surprise, grabbed the deposit slip, held it in his hand and looked at it carefully in disbelief.

Even when he worked for a major newspaper, President Hailsson's salary was only sixty livres per month. This piece of light paper was equivalent to his remuneration for more than ten years of working without food or water.

Not to mention that he is now running this newspaper that cannot make ends meet, and he never thought that such a huge sum of money would appear in front of him.

"This deposit slip was signed by Mr. Montmartre himself. Wait?!"

President Hailsen looked at the signature on the deposit slip and suddenly remembered something. He couldn't help but suddenly raised his head and looked at Lawrence, his expression full of surprise.

After all, President Hailsen is also a journalist. Of course, he also knows the big news in the financial world recently, that is, Mr. Montmartre injected one million livres into the Corsica National Silver Company.

As the president, Mr. Montmartre rarely issues deposit certificates in person.

"That is to say."

President Hailsen subconsciously wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, immediately sat up straighter, straightened his clothes in a panic, looked at Lawrence, and asked tentatively:

"Are you Monsignor Bonaparte?"

President Hailsen couldn't believe that this rising political star who had become famous recently appeared at his desk.

Lawrence ignored President Hailsson's shock, tapped his fingers on the table, raised his eyebrows and asked:

"What do you think? President Hailsen, ten thousand livres, will completely acquire your newspaper. I only have two conditions. One is that you continue to be responsible for the operation of the newspaper as the editor-in-chief and operator, and the other is that the Observer Daily The content must be distributed according to my ideas.”

President Hailsen couldn't care less about the two conditions mentioned by Lawrence. He looked at the priceless deposit slip in his hand and nodded without thinking. His cheeks turned reddish red due to excessive excitement.

"Very good, this is really a pleasant deal. Let's discuss the contract and other matters later."

Lawrence stretched out his right hand with satisfaction and said.

President Hailsson also quickly held Lawrence’s hand tightly and said excitedly:

"You are the boss, you have the final say."

As the two hands clasped together, the deal was officially concluded.

Although the formal contract has not been signed yet, President Hailsen does not dare to take advantage of this to play any tricks.

He knew very well that a little person like himself was just a little bug in front of Lawrence. If he dared to play any tricks today, his family would be able to collect his body in a smelly ditch tomorrow.

President Hailsen smiled and carefully put the deposit slip into his pocket, then stood up and respectfully invited Lawrence to his seat, while he himself moved to Lawrence's chair.

"Then let's talk about the Daily Observer."

After completing the transaction, Lawrence also regained his serious look, spread out the Observer Daily and Financial News he bought in the morning on the table, and said slowly.

"Of course, of course, do you have any ideas?"

After talking about business, President Hailsen's excitement was slightly diluted, and he looked at Lawrence cautiously and asked.

Lawrence pointed to the two newspapers on the table and said:

"First of all, the Observer Daily can no longer use such inferior paper and printing. I need you to contact the printing factory. The quality of the newspaper must reach the level of this Financial News."

"The cost of such a newspaper is nearly five sols, so our profit will be reduced," President Hailsen said with a frown.

"Money is not an issue, and I don't want to make money from the newspaper." Lawrence interrupted with a wave of his hand, not caring at all about the impact on profits that President Hailsham said.

"Okay, you have the final say." After hesitating for a moment, President Hailsen quickly took out the memo and wrote down Lawrence's instructions.

Anyway, President Hailsson is no longer responsible for the profit and loss of the newspaper. Since Lawrence has the money to mess with him, naturally he can't control it.

"Also, the content of your newspaper is really boring."

Lawrence pointed to today’s Daily Observer and said:

"Look at your front page today, the title is 'Criticism of the high age of working women in the areas surrounding Paris'"

"Uh," President Hailsen said with a bitter smile:

"You know, some women even in their 60s and 70s still have to do manual labor to make ends meet. We are very worried about this phenomenon, so..."

"I don't care what you think, but this title makes people have no interest in reading it. Even though I read the content of this report is quite good, you should be the main author."

Lawrence shook his head resolutely and said:

"The style of the Daily Observer must change, starting with the title. For example, for this report, you can change it to 'Shocked! A 70-year-old woman goes to work in the fields every day, and the reason turns out to be!'"

"Isn't this a bit of a false report?"

President Hailsen couldn't close his mouth for a long time. He vaguely felt that such a style of headline was indeed more eye-catching, but it also seemed to deviate from the principle of seeking truth from facts in news reporting.

Lawrence ignored his views and continued to talk about a series of changes.

It wasn't until more than an hour had passed that Lawrence finished telling all his thoughts, and President Hailsham's memorandum also contained three pages of densely written contents.

"God, Monsignor Bonaparte, I must say that your ideas are very bold and creative, whether it is numbering each newspaper as a lottery ticket, or setting up a section for serialized novels in the newspaper, and other All kinds of things, these are things that have never happened in journalism, but..."

President Hailsen rubbed his sore wrist and said hesitantly:

"The audience of our newspaper is still too small. I'm afraid it will take a long time for your changes to be effective."

After hearing this, Lawrence pondered for a rare moment, then suddenly stared at President Hailsham and said in a deep voice:

"Don't worry, I will let the Observer Daily report an exclusive news soon, and I will naturally have no worries about sales. But before that, I hope that the news that I am the owner of the Observer Daily will only be used as a communication between you and me. secret."

"Don't worry, I will only say that the newspaper has a sponsor, and I will never reveal any information about you."

President Hailsen quickly patted his chest and assured.

"Very well, I believe you can handle this, then it's almost time for me to leave."

Lawrence looked at the time on his pocket watch and said, then stood up and patted President Hailsson's shoulder and whispered:

"Work hard for me, and one day your office will be moved from this shabby building to the Louvre."

"I will certainly do so, Monsignor Bonaparte."

President Hailsen trembled, as if a burst of electricity coursed through his body, and then he kept saying gratefully.