Gu Hao did not announce the Chronicle.
He attached it.
The first copies were not stacked in markets or pinned to walls.
They were placed inside grain shipments.
One copy per delivery.
Folded neatly. Protected from moisture. No seal. No explanation.
Gu Qing noticed it immediately.
"You're piggybacking," he said.
Gu Hao nodded. "Momentum already exists. We don't need to create it."
Every recipient of Steady Ration Grain was already a node.
Patrol captains.
Caravan leaders.
Sect quartermasters.
People who moved.
People who talked.
People who remembered names.
The Chronicle itself was thin.
Eight pages.
No headlines.
No editorials.
No rankings.
Just sections.
The Flying Crane Chronicle – First Issue
Verified trade route updates
Three paid clan recruitment notices
Five individual breakthrough announcements
Two forge commission advertisements
One short market price summary
No opinions.
No adjectives.
No Gu Clan praise.
Gu Hao insisted on that personally.
Gu Jian skimmed it once.
"This doesn't feel important," he said.
Gu Hao smiled faintly. "That's why it will be read."
The second delivery confirmed the strategy.
A patrol captain returned the Chronicle with notes in the margin.
A caravan leader asked whether the price summary would be updated monthly.
A sect clerk asked how one submitted an announcement.
No one asked who wrote it.
That mattered.
Gu Qing reported the numbers at the end of the week.
Chronicles distributed: 430 copies
Paid notices in first issue: 10
Revenue: modest, but positive
Reprint requests: 27
Gu Qing looked surprised.
"They want the next one already."
Gu Hao nodded.
"They don't want news," he said. "They want continuity."
One message stood out.
From a small clan that purchased Steady Ration Grain regularly.
We would like to place a recruitment notice.
Your Chronicle seems… orderly.
Gu Hao underlined the last word.
Order was trust's favorite synonym.
By the third week, something subtle changed.
When traders met, they referenced the Chronicle instead of rumor.
"When did you see it?"
"Which issue mentioned that?"
"I think it was last page, bottom column."
The Chronicle had become a shared reference point.
Gu Hao did not expand distribution.
He capped it.
No free copies beyond existing grain routes.
If someone wanted it, they had to already be in motion.
That night, Gu Hao stood alone.
He felt no rush.
No thrill.
Only alignment.
On Earth, he had learned that good products borrowed attention.
Great systems channeled it.
He wrote one line in his private notes:
Momentum does not need to be loud.
It needs direction.
The Flying Crane Chronicle had found its current.
And now, the world would begin drifting toward it.