Turning back time to late summer, as the October school season approached, a war without smoke and gunpowder was quietly igniting in France.
Count Rohan's "far-sighted" proposal was passed with an overwhelming majority and signed by Prime Minister Jules Ferry, officially becoming law.
"Copyrights made publicly accessible, decentralization of printing rights!"
These eight words were like a pack of dynamite, blowing open the educational publishing barriers long held by Hachette and Belin.
In the past, the Ministry of Education designated textbooks, and large publishers were responsible for printing and national distribution, enjoying stable and substantial profits.
Now, every provincial education committee and every slightly larger public school gained the power to independently choose their textbook printer.
This meant that a large cake previously divided among a few giants was placed on the table, left for contenders to vie for.
Hachette and Belin naturally wouldn't sit by and do nothing.
Leveraging their deep roots and enormous size, they quickly sprang into action.
Young François Belin, though his heart bled, had no choice but to face reality.
He summoned all his regional managers and issued instructions:
"Spare no expense! Protect our market share! Contact every official and principal you know! Price? We can negotiate! Conditions? We can offer them!"
Thus, a "public relations feast" began.
In a luxurious restaurant in Bordeaux, Hachette's representative entertained the education director of Gironde province.
During the meal, "special discounts" and "quality services" that could be provided to the province were casually mentioned.
In a Toulouse cafe, Belin's manager "coincidentally met" several principals from local prestigious schools, enthusiastically presenting samples of their printed books.
And hinting that, if an exclusive supply agreement could be signed, a considerable "consulting fee" would be provided.
In Marseille, Lyon, Dijon, Strasbourg... similar scenes were constantly playing out.
Carriages carrying well-dressed publisher representatives shuttled between local education departments and schools.
Invitations to banquets flew like snowflakes to those holding decision-making power; promises, hints, and even outright exchanges of interests were quietly reached amidst the clinking of glasses.
This was a game for the big players, a war fought in offices, restaurants, and salons.
Traditional publishers believed that, as long as they secured these "key figures," they secured the market.
However, amidst this noisy, upward "offensive," "Charpentier's Bookshelf" seemed unusually silent, even somewhat "unambitious."
George Charpentier, strictly following Lionel's advice, sent almost no lobbyists to any provincial education official or prestigious school principal.
Instead, he invested the company's limited funds and energy into another circuitous front.
His target was not the bureaucrats sitting in offices, but the frontline teachers standing at the podium.
Lionel compiled a detailed "action guide."
The guide not only listed the various advantages of "Montiel's Secret Scrolls," but more importantly, it analyzed the mindset of grassroots teachers:
"Their income is meager, and they long for respect and practical help..."
"Their workload is heavy, and they need tools that can lighten their teaching burden..."
"They hope their students achieve good results to prove their own worth..."
"They often understand students' actual needs better than bureaucrats..."
Salespeople from "Charpentier's Bookshelf" carried samples of "Montiel's Secret Scrolls" and began to penetrate Paris and various provincial towns.
They did not go to elaborately decorated government office buildings, but visited one after another slightly modest teachers' offices or private residences.
——————
At a municipal primary school in Lille, young salesman Jean-Pierre knocked on the door of Madame Lafont, a senior teacher.
He did not boast like other salesmen, but respectfully handed over "Montiel's Secret Scrolls (French Edition)," priced at only 12 sous.
Jean-Pierre's tone was sincere:
"Madame Lafont, we deeply understand the hard work of teaching, and we hope this booklet can become a capable assistant in your teaching."
Madame Lafont was initially a bit impatient, but when she casually opened the booklet, her gaze was quickly drawn in.
The booklet was arranged according to the chapter order of "French Reader" and "Two Children's Journey Through France," with clear "learning objectives," "vocabulary analysis," and "in-depth explanations" for each lesson.
In addition, there were meticulously designed "thought-provoking questions" and "mock exercises."
What surprised her even more was that the angles of the "mock exercises" were extremely tricky; some even she, an experienced teacher, had never considered, yet they tightly grasped the core of the text.
Madame Lafont's gaze was drawn to an analysis of a landscape description in "Two Children's Journey Through France," and she couldn't help but read aloud:
"'Why does the author repeatedly use the seemingly contradictory words 'dismal' and 'resilient' to describe the land of Lorraine?' This question is truly excellent; it can guide students to think about the emotions and symbolism behind the words."
Jean-Pierre added at the appropriate moment:
"Madame, this is just one example. Our editorial team is composed of excellent scholars from Paris and experienced teachers.
They have thoroughly studied the textbooks, ensuring that the content of the scrolls is both practical and thought-provoking. You can recommend it to your students as a supplement to their classroom learning.
With it, students can achieve twice the results with half the effort in previewing and reviewing, and you can also be somewhat relieved from repetitive basic explanations, focusing more on heuristic teaching."
He paused, lowering his voice slightly:
"We also know that teachers' salaries are not generous. If you could help us count the quantity needed for your class, we can offer it at a 10% or even 15% discount.
And... for your personal efforts, we will also have a small token of appreciation, calculated at 2 centimes per copy sold, paid directly to you."
2 centimes! It sounded insignificant, but if a class of forty students purchased it for every main subject, that would be a considerable extra income.
For a teacher like Madame Lafont, who supported her family on a meager salary, this temptation was very real.
Similar scenes were constantly unfolding across France.
Math teachers praised "Montiel's Secret Scrolls (Arithmetic Edition)" for its clear problem-solving approaches and abundant application problems.
History teachers found that "Montiel's Secret Scrolls (History Edition)" wove dry chronological events into easy-to-remember clues and charts.
These grassroots teachers, for the first time, felt respected, understood, and even "empowered."
They were no longer passive links in the educational chain, but guides who could actively choose quality learning resources for their students.
Of course, that little "rebate" also reduced their psychological burden in promoting it.
The salesmen always emphasized:
"No forced purchases are necessary; just recommend it to the students, count the quantities, and hand them to us. We will be responsible for delivery, ensuring it reaches the children before school starts."
This approach bypassed the cumbersome bureaucratic system.
Starting in October, orders for "Montiel's Secret Scrolls" began to converge from various schools at "Charpentier's Bookshelf"...
George Charpentier looked at the continuously growing order statistics chart on his desk, utterly impressed by Lionel.
He seemed to already see countless 12-sou notes converging into a golden river, flowing towards his publishing house.
(End of Chapter)