Chapter 51: The Ability to Empathize

Chapter 51: The Ability to Empathize

Chen Jianfang paused, stopping just before the threshold of the Chen family’s old residence.

The threshold of a merchant’s home was not high, barely an inch or so.

Nothing could stop it.

This was how the world worked; even merchants who possessed treasures like night pearls and owned half a city were not allowed to have thresholds higher than three inches. Only the thresholds of officials and aristocrats could be high enough to keep ordinary and lowly people from entering the realm of the elite, with their white jade and brocade.

Chen Jianfang lowered his head and gently stepped onto the threshold.

The old residence’s threshold had slightly chipped paint, revealing the aged wood grain beneath the red lacquer.

After pondering for a long while, he raised his head and saw the young girl’s pure and clear eyes, like a mountain spring without fish, and smiled, "Me?"

As he spoke, he shifted his gaze outward and stepped over the low threshold.

"When I was young, my classmates in private school would finish reading the Analects and then go back to chop firewood and carry loads; at the prefectural school, my classmates would eat two steamed buns a day, swallowing half in the morning, eating one with pickles at noon, and soaking the last half in brine water in the evening, filling their stomachs with saltwater and buns so they wouldn’t wake up hungry."

Chen Jianfang’s voice was ethereal, like distant pines rustling in the wind.

Xianjin followed him step by step.

"As for me, though I didn’t wear silk, my clothes were comfortable and clean. I had three meals a day and two snacks, with fruits and vegetables. I didn’t need to struggle for money, nor did I have to worry about food and clothing."

Chen Jianfang smiled and shrugged lightly, "The only expectation placed on me was to study well."

So, he couldn’t imagine what would happen if he studied poorly like Third Uncle—it would overturn the seventeen years of knowledge he had accumulated day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment.

They walked side by side around the corner of the old residence.

Shuixi Street was to the right, and Qingcheng Mountain Courtyard was to the left.

But Chen Jianfang’s words clearly weren’t finished yet.

Xianjin slowed down, waiting for him to continue.

But after a long wait, no more words came.

Xianjin glanced sideways and saw Chen Jianfang looking down, his long, curled eyelashes casting shadows on his lower eyelids. His sharp profile paired with his straight nose gave off a surprisingly frail air.

Hmm...

It was that frailty.

It was the frailty that actors and actresses fought over in her past life.

Now, seeing this native scholar, she realized that frailty wasn’t as simple as putting a mole at the corner of the eye, smearing rouge on the nose, or wearing large, dark brown contact lenses...

It was innate.

It was cultivated over decades in the scholarly atmosphere of ancient times, standing on the intersecting cobblestone streets, with the corner of a auspicious lion roof overhead;

It was the scholar carrying a faded cloth bag, with the small red tassel of a soft writing brush peeking out;

It was the shadow cast by the scholar’s long eyelashes, and the heavy burden hidden on the shoulders of the eldest grandson of a prominent family.

All these elements combined created that fragile frailty.

Xianjin blinked and swallowed, unsure of what to think or say.

At the crossroads, the crowd was bustling. Breakfast stalls occupied half the street, the aroma of soy milk, the sweetness of glutinous rice balls, the clarity of vegetable porridge, and the liveliness of fried dough mixed into a complex scent of daily life.

Xianjin was jolted back to reality by the scent and pointed westward in a panic, "I... I should... I need to get to the shop."

Chen Jianfang nodded gently at Xianjin, "Go ahead, see you tonight."

See you tonight.

But they didn’t meet that night.

Xianjin was working overtime.

Zhou Ergou brought back two mule carts full of paper from Xiaocao Village. As a muscle-bound man with little brains, he had loaded the paper onto the carts without sorting them; when unloading them into Chen’s warehouse, he hadn’t sorted them either. More than two hundred bundles of paper were haphazardly piled inside.

Ten-wen Yu Ban paper lay next to twenty-wen Orchid Pavilion silkworm paper; thirty-wen gold-sprinkled paper was next to free rough paper, which even stuck out a corner over the expensive Xuan paper.

It was like Li Ka-shing’s neighbor being a beggar.

And the beggar stretched out a hairy leg over Li Ka-shing’s face.

It truly embodied equality and impartiality.

Xianjin couldn’t understand Zhou Ergou’s grand ideals and cruelly stifled them in the bud, "...Brother Dog, can you sort the paper by price? Place the cheaper paper near the windows and doors where it might be exposed to wind, and put the valuable paper inside, away from light..."

Zhou Ergou scratched his head, his sleeves almost splitting from his bulging muscles. He chuckled, "We used to store them like this."

Xianjin: "…"

Of course, she remembered that they used to store them like this.

Last time she came to this warehouse, the door was locked tight, and there was even a window on the side!

In recent days, she had been busy dealing with Mr. Chen Liu and that pig-headed man, as well as settling the debts on the books. She had been too preoccupied to notice that under Mr. Chen Liu’s management, the workshops in Jing County were like scattered sand, resembling a group of idle soldiers. There were no rules for buying and selling in the shops and workshops, everything was arranged according to the preferences of those in charge. Those who made paper didn’t sell it, those who sold paper didn’t understand its production, those who kept accounts only cared about making money, and those in charge… the ones in charge were the worst, they didn’t manage anything.

Everyone had their own characteristics.

There was no need to mention Master Li Sanshun; whenever faced with a problem, he would immediately deny it. He was stubborn and had all the typical flaws of middle-aged men, but he also had the stubbornness and innocence that a domineering CEO would admire.

Next up was Big Brother Zhou Ergou, a hulking, simple-minded man who could hit where directed, but if left to his own devices with a gun in hand, he might just shoot his own foot.

Following Zhou Ergou were a few Zheng lads, like leg ornaments on him, barely noticeable.

The only one who truly fought side by side with Xianjin was Steward Dong, the one with hardly any hair.

And there was Mama Zhang, always trying to stir-fry a dish in her mouth.

Little Wang Sansuo, with skinny arms and legs, unable to read or write, not yet battle-ready. If she could smoothly turn her slim face into a plump cheek, Xianjin would be chanting "Amitabha," considering it divine mercy.

This team, oh, this team was riddled with problems.

As the sun sank in the west and the sky turned a gentle hue, Xianjin finished organizing the accounts and the day's inventory, ready to put them away in the counter. Just as she was about to leave, she noticed a light still on outside the warehouse at the back of the shop.

Xianjin went to investigate. Inside the warehouse, no lamp was lit; only the light from the porch allowed her to see dust swirling everywhere.

Zhou Ergou had a stack of paper on his back, another under his arm, and a thin book in his hand. Leaning against the window frame, he didn't dare open the window, instead squinting through the sliver of light that seeped through the cracks.

Xianjin poked her head in, "Brother Dog, what are you doing?"

Zhou Ergou jumped, startled, "… I'm arranging the paper according to the book…."

He waved the small book in his hand, "Didn't you tell me to arrange the paper by price? My mind is slow, I only know what each type of paper is, not their prices. I've tried five times today, and they all seem wrong… Everyone else has work to do, I can't keep taking up their time and delaying things, so I asked Master Li to write it down for me. This way, I won't forget."

Xianjin stepped inside and glanced at the book.

It was written simply.

"Jia" represented "Jiagong," "Mao" represented "Maobian"…

Xianjin pointed to a drawing that looked like a "fish" and asked Zhou Ergou, "What's this?"

"A fish!"

Zhou Ergou smiled, showing eight bright white teeth, "Yuban! Master Li is the most literate person here, but there are some words he can't write, so he draws pictures instead."

Indeed.

There were many more drawings below, such as "mountain" representing "coral paper," "heart" representing "Chengxin paper," and "moon" representing "Moon Shadow paper"…

Xianjin returned the book to Zhou Ergou and said, "… Arrange them well."

She then turned to leave.

Mama Zhang had said that tonight they were having hot pot, with spicy fermented black bean soup, her favorite fried tofu bubbles and white radish slices, and a pot of wild vegetable and potato crust rice. She had been told to come home on time for dinner.

It sounded incredibly appetizing.

Xianjin reached the door when she heard mumbling behind her, "… This is curved… Curved what? Curved moon… Moon… Moon is…"

Xianjin stopped at the door.

Two forces battled fiercely in her mind.

Goodbye, my wild vegetable and potato crust rice.

Goodbye, my spicy fermented black bean soup.

Goodbye, my fried tofu bubbles.

Xianjin finally unclenched her fists, turned around, and walked towards Zhou Ergou with resignation, her voice lacking energy, "… That's Moon Shadow paper, eight coins per sheet…"

"Forget it, I'll help you…"

This group, oh, this group was full of problems.

But they shared one common trait, the greatest benefit: pure hearts and willingness to listen and follow advice.

That was already quite rare.

...

The next day, after breakfast, Xianjin lowered her head and kicked the threshold of the old house with her toe. On the 128th kick, the figure of the frail scholar appeared in her field of vision.

Xianjin raised her head and looked intently at Chen Jianfang.

Chen Jianfang chuckled softly, "… I thought you'd gone to the shop early."

He crossed the threshold, slowing his pace, "Last night, Mama Zhang muttered for a long time, saying she made a special spicy fermented black bean pot for you, but you weren't there."

Xianjin hurried to catch up, laughing, "Something came up at the shop, couldn't make it back."

Still seeking punishment, she asked, "Was it good?"

Chen Jianfang's eyes twinkled with amusement, "Delicious. Third Master ate until he wished he hadn't, saying that if Mama Zhang cooked spicy food again, he'd invite the young master of Xiaodaoxiang to cook at home and take away Mama Zhang's job."

Xianjin laughed.

Chen Fu had the most standard Huizhou palate, preferring salty, fresh, and light flavors, emphasizing the original taste.

Xianjin's ancestry in her previous life was from Sichuan, and besides sharing the panda's love for bamboo shoots, she also loved spicy food.

Mama Zhang's taste was very adaptable, basically aligning with whoever she liked.

Recently, Mama Zhang adored Xianjin, so the dishes on the table included more Sichuan pepper, chili peppers, and bird's eye chilies, making Chen Fu suffer, reportedly visiting the toilet eight times a day.

But it wasn't much different.

In the past, he also frequented the toilet, either in it or on his way there, it was unclear where all the contents came from...

Her father in her previous life was the same, claiming that "squatting in the toilet is the last bastion of solitude for a man"...

Xianjin stretched her arms, loosened up her muscles and wrists, and lifted her chin casually.

Chen Jianfang, perceptive as he was, asked, "Something on your mind?"

Xianjin seized the opportunity with a perfectly rehearsed smile. "It's not a big deal... I just wanted to ask if you've been busy lately."

Chen Jianfang glanced sideways; they were nearing the corner where the east met the west, so he deliberately slowed his pace. "Not too busy. Master Qiao from Qingcheng Mountain Courtyard used to be my teacher. With me in mourning, it wouldn't be appropriate for me to attend regular classes. Master Qiao has arranged for me to stay in a single room, allowing me more flexible study hours."

In essence, it was like finding a better-equipped library to study in.

Except this library came with a national-level master teacher.

Xianjin nodded, the words stuck at the tip of her tongue, a little embarrassed to say them out loud.

The corner was right in front of them.

Chen Jianfang stopped and said gently, "Is there something urgent?"

Xianjin rubbed her hands together. "Well, the clerks at the shop haven't been educated. They can only recognize very simple characters, anything more complex and they're lost."

"Our business at Chen's is rather unique, catering to scholars. If we had all uneducated staff, the business would be unsustainable, and the shop unmanageable."

Last night, Xianjin had stayed up late with Zhou Ergou, sorting paper.

So late that Chen Fu stormed into the shop, thinking she had "run off with the money."

After returning home, she pondered long and hard.

To do business, one must have rules. Whether the shopkeeper or the apprentice, CEO or intern, everyone must follow the rules to operate effectively.

How could her staff follow the rules if they couldn't even read?

Could she rely on Zhou Ergou's developed biceps, or Li Sanshun's textbook-stubbornness?

After much thought, she decided to teach the clerks how to read.

Whether for the future development of the shop or their own career prospects, literacy was far more valuable than illiteracy.

But then, the question arose:

Who would teach them?

Her?

She could read and write, but how could she teach? The gap between her and them spanned several centuries. Should she teach them "a-b-c-d" or "e-p-s-d"?

Moreover, her own handwriting was a simplified vernacular style, while everyone else wrote in traditional characters. Teaching them in her style would surely mislead them.

If there were adult night schools in this era, she would send these illiterate clerks there without hesitation.

Unfortunately, there weren't any.

There were academies, but the teachers might not be willing to accept these rough men to learn alongside the young children. Even if the teachers agreed, the parents of those children, who had paid tuition, would likely object.

Xianjin spent the whole night mulling over this problem, eventually settling on Chen Erlang, a scholar who had passed the provincial examination.

Since he was in mourning and had nothing to do, it would be great if he was willing to teach!

Seeing no response from Chen Jianfang, Xianjin decided to play her trump card. "Rest assured, we will pay you a tutoring fee. I've inquired about the unmarried grandsons in the Chen family, who earn no more than two taels of silver a month. We have five students, so I'll offer you three taels a month. All you need to do is teach them common characters, no need to make them eloquent writers."

The smile on Chen Jianfang's face grew wider.

Xianjin continued to persuade him. "Our clerks may be older, but they're not stupid. If necessary, feel free to discipline them. Once a teacher, always a father. You'll gain five sons in one go, what a blessing for this life..."

The more she spoke, the more absurd it sounded.

Chen Jianfang made a gesture to stop her. "I'll do it."

He smiled. "I'll do it, but I can't teach too late. I still need to return home for dinner—I'd miss the spicy fermented soybean soup."