Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"What idea do you have?" Ji Xingwang asked casually.

Shen Yuan took a step forward and described the plan taking shape in his mind. "Manager, I think our teahouse is a bit short on customers. If we could have an engaging performance to attract people, it would definitely bring in more business."

Ji Xingwang thought Shen Yuan was going to say something else. He waved his hand dismissively and continued walking. "No need to worry about that. Our teahouse's business as it is now is perfectly fine."

There were twenty-seven towns in the entire Qingyun County, with dozens of teahouses large and small, and roadside tea stalls were even more numerous.

The Ji Family Teahouse wasn't the best one, but the Ji family's status was established. No matter how poor the teahouse's business was, it could still hold its own.

Ji Xingwang had never thought about improving the business. As long as he didn't make the existing business worse, that was good enough.

Why bother rocking the boat?

It was possible that the more he tried, the worse it would get, and he couldn't afford that risk.

This concerned his future, so Shen Yuan couldn't give up easily. He followed closely and tried to persuade him. "Manager, who's ever against making more money? If the teahouse's business could be better, the family head would surely be pleased. Then, Manager, you would be even more valued, wouldn't you?"

Ji Xingwang paused for a moment, glanced at Shen Yuan, and then sighed. "Kid, don't try to egg me on."

He wasn't stupid. He could see that Shen Yuan really had an idea and wanted to use it to get ahead.

But some things—how could a household servant be the one to decide?

The master's word was law.

Shen Yuan wanted to say more, but then he saw a customer arriving at the door. Ji Xingwang seized the opportunity to cut him off completely. "Alright, go quickly and see to the tea guests. Don't keep them waiting."

...

Today, there were no guests in the private rooms, so Shen Yuan worked alongside Fang Zaoshang in the main hall the whole time.

Watching Shen Yuan enthusiastically greeting customers, Fang Zaoshang was a bit taken aback.

He had also heard what Shen Yuan said to the manager by the stairs. Having such a plan definitely meant he wanted to find a better way out, but he had been completely shut down. Fang Zaoshang thought Shen Yuan would be down in the dumps today. Who would have thought this person would act as if nothing had happened, greeting tea guests even more eagerly and warmly than he was?

Fang Zaoshang observed Shen Yuan carefully. Besides always wearing a smile and being very easygoing and friendly, he also handled the details perfectly.

He would rinse the tea set with boiling water in front of the guests, saying it was cleaner that way. He would use a cloth to cover the teapot lid to prevent splashing, remind the guests to be careful of the heat, and proactively tell them about the properties of the tea they ordered while also complimenting the guests on their good taste.

The tea guests listened happily and would exchange a few pleasantries with him.

After a few interactions, they naturally became quite familiar.

By the end of the day, many tea guests had started calling him "Xiao Yuan."

Fang Zaoshang was deeply impressed.

Actually, before serving tea each time, the tea set was always scalded for fear that mice might have urinated in it. Their Ji Family Teahouse wasn't some low-rent little tea stall.

But he had never thought to do the scalding in plain sight of the guests.

Fang Zaoshang decided to learn from Shen Yuan and do the work for the guests to see.

Ji Xingwang took note of all this and also heard the words of praise for Shen Yuan that the tea guests specifically mentioned when leaving.

He smiled and saw the guests off, but inwardly, his heart was racing.

He was afraid Shen Yuan wouldn't want to give up on the plan he hadn't been able to voice and would still try to push it.

No, he had to mention this to the young master, lest it sow the seeds of trouble.

Unaware of Ji Xingwang's inner worries, when his shift ended, Shen Yuan grabbed his packed meal, waved goodbye to everyone, and left.

Only after leaving the teahouse did Shen Yuan turn his thoughts back to his storytelling plan.

First, Shen Yuan was determined that he was going to do this.

But Manager Ji's position didn't allow him to make that call. At the same time, he didn't want any changes.

Shen Yuan got that.

He looked around. The dry dirt road stirred up little clouds of dust from the passing pedestrians. The houses on both sides were mostly wooden structures, half-tiled and half-thatched.

The somewhat shabby street was utterly unremarkable. From time to time, petty officials walked back and forth. They rarely entered the shops, but they basically made a round of every stall.

Shaking people down.

Here, without connections or clout, setting up a stall was a hand-to-mouth existence.

Too many people had their eyes on that meager income.

Although the stories he told wouldn't threaten the powerful, they would cut into his profits.

Shen Yuan scrapped the idea of setting up his own storytelling stall. A shop was even more out of the question. Based on the local income, he would have to start saving from the previous dynasty, skipping meals for four centuries, to afford a small shop.

No, he still had to start with the Ji Family Teahouse.

Shen Yuan set his sights on Ji Ping'an. On his next rest day, he would go find him and talk about this matter.

If Ji Ping'an didn't agree either, then he'd worry about it then.

For the next few days, he would first plot out a story.

In his previous life, he had graduated from the literature department and had paid his dues in the entertainment industry for several years. Even though he hadn't seriously written a story, with that foundation and such a wealth of material, drawing inspiration from it all and writing a story wasn't a problem.

The key was, what should he write about?

The Wu Country had open folk customs, and there weren't many taboos in government affairs, allowing relatively free creation. As long as he avoided truly untouchable topics and plots that might be seen as metaphors, he didn't have to worry about being arrested for writing something he shouldn't.

So, first, he ruled out stories similar to the Three Kingdoms with heroes vying for supremacy.

This place didn't have an imperial examination system, so he couldn't write stories set against that background either.

Just as he was thinking this, he arrived at the city gate. Wang Sanhu was waiting for him there.

Wang Sanhu had finished the job of repairing the outer wall. Today, he had started carrying heavy sacks again, and was visibly exhausted.

Shen Yuan didn't say much; the two walked quietly.

After walking for a while, he saw that Wang Sanhu was so hungry he was getting weak, his steps shaky. If he didn't eat something soon, there would be a big problem.

Shen Yuan took out a millet steamed bun from his burlap bag. "Brother Sanhu, eat something to fill your stomach."

Wang Sanhu immediately shook his head and refused, but Shen Yuan pressed the bun directly against his mouth. "Hurry up and eat. If you don't eat, you're going to faint, and I can't carry you."

Shen Yuan was telling the truth; he was also feeling weak, with no extra energy to expend beyond walking.

His new job hauling sacks didn't provide meals.

With no grain at home, Wang Sanhu’s daily food consisted of only two coarse buns made from wild vegetables mixed with wheat bran. It seemed like little, but the rest of the family didn't even have buns—they boiled some tree bark powder with wild vegetables just to fill their bellies with water.

Because he went out to haul sacks and expended so much energy, he at least got to eat something solid.

The buns at the teahouse were made purely from millet flour. Though not ground from the season's new grain, they still had a full, grainy flavor.

Wang Sanhu swallowed hard, but he still shook his head, knowing how precious grain was.

“Brother Sanhu, hurry up and eat. My arm is getting tired from holding it out. If you don’t eat, I won’t dare ask you for help in the future.” Shen Yuan played his trump card. Wang Sanhu was deeply moved, knowing the other said this just to make him fill his stomach.

Mustering all his willpower to refuse twice was already his limit; Wang Sanhu truly couldn’t refuse a third time.

He was simply too hungry.

“Alright, Brother Sanhu will eat. In the future, if you need anything, just holler.”

Wang Sanhu took the millet bun, intending to break off a small piece for himself and return the rest to Shen Yuan, but Shen Yuan stopped him in time. “Brother Sanhu, you keep it. If it makes you feel better, consider it as me slowly repaying the grain your family gave us. Don’t give it back.”

Wang Sanhu hesitated for a moment; there really wasn’t much food left at home.

Thinking that Shen Yuan now had food at the teahouse to fill his stomach every day and could also bring a little home for his younger siblings—though not much, at least they wouldn’t starve—he accepted Shen Yuan’s kindness.

Wang Sanhu held the bun and took a bite. It had been a long time since he’d eaten such a delicious bun. Compared to the wheat bran and wild vegetable ones, this was truly soft and fragrant.

With something in his stomach, Wang Sanhu felt much more energetic. After eating only a small portion, he saved the rest. He could take it home, soak it in more water, and the younger ones in the family could have a bowl of porridge.

At the teahouse that noon, each person received two bowls of millet rice, one steamed fish, and two spoonfuls of pickles.

Shen Yuan ate one bowl of millet rice and one spoonful of pickles, saving the other spoonful of pickles and the steamed fish.

In the evening, there were two buns, along with the leftover millet rice from noon, which was made into a thin millet porridge—one bowl per person, plus one spoonful of pickles.

Shen Yuan drank the porridge and saved the buns and the spoonful of pickles.

When they reached Osmanthus Village, Shen Yuan took out the earthenware bowl containing the two spoonfuls of pickles and one bun to show Xu Dagui.

Xu Dagui touched the tip of his chopsticks to the surface of the pickles to taste them. With one taste, he knew it was a quality product made with fine salt. It was salty but not bitter and could even be used in place of salt to season other dishes.

Though there was only one bun, it was made entirely from millet flour, substantial and filling. It was freshly made that day, not yet dry and hard to swallow, and still relatively soft.

Soaked in hot water, it could make a bowl of fairly thick porridge.

With the summer tax due soon and the landowner announcing a rent increase at the start of spring, grain was truly precious.

Xu Dagui nodded and accepted it without hesitation.

“I’ll count it as three wen for you.”

The millet buns from the teahouse were densely packed; one jin of millet flour could make four or five such buns. The pickles made with fine salt were also expensive; ordinary families wouldn't buy them, only merchants and powerful families would.

Considering those two spoonfuls of pickles could be used as salt for cooking, counting them as one wen was appropriate.

Shen Yuan smiled and tipped the pickles and bun from his bowl into the one Xu Dagui brought out. “Brother, you’re a straight shooter. In the future, if I have any carpentry work, I’ll still come to you.”

Xu Dagui paused slightly, then chuckled softly after a moment. “Alright, then I’ll wait for your business.”

Wang Sanhu and Shen Yuan returned to Big Tree Village and parted ways.

Bringing the large half of the bun home, Wang Sanhu placed it on the shabby wooden table and had Auntie Ping boil water to soak it.

Seeing the bun, she knew it was from Shen Yuan.

“Xiao Yuan just gave us some yesterday, why did you take more?” Auntie Ping wanted Wang Sanhu to return it.

Wang Sanhu stood his ground sullenly in front of his mother. Auntie Ping’s face hardened. “What? You want to defy your old mother?”

“Nothing like that.” Wang Sanhu anxiously explained why he had brought the bun back. Fortunately, his ability to recount conversations was better than his speaking skills; he described the exchange vividly. In the end, Auntie Ping was both worried her son might starve and grateful to Shen Yuan for helping.

Knowing the reason, Auntie Ping no longer insisted Wang Sanhu return it.

She put the bun in the cupboard, tying the hemp rope tightly. “You still have to haul sacks tomorrow; soak and eat it in the morning. Don’t say anything else, just listen to me. With taxes due soon and the family short on silver, you can’t afford to get weak from hunger.”

Wang Sanhu fell silent.

When Shen Yuan returned home, Shen Xi came bouncing to greet him.

The two entered the kitchen, where Shen Dong was filling earthenware bowls with wild vegetable and wheat bran paste.

He explained to Shen Yuan, “We were drying vegetables today, so dinner is late.”

Shen Yuan patted his head. “It’s fine. Since the pot is already heated, big brother will make a fish soup.”

Seeing Shen Yuan didn’t blame him, Shen Dong secretly sighed in relief, the corners of his mouth turning up in a slight smile, happy to have his head patted by his big brother again.

“Fish! We have fish to eat again!” Shen Xi’s eyes gleamed as he stared at the cloth bundle in Shen Yuan’s hand.

“Yes, the steamed fish from the teahouse. The meat is a bit flaky, so be careful of fish bones when eating tonight, okay?”

The younger ones nodded obediently, their eyes fixed on the fish like little hungry cats.

Shen Yuan couldn’t help but smile at them. He was also craving it; there was really too little meat and oil in their diet.

The fish didn't have much fat. When he had money, he’d buy some pork belly to cook!

Thinking of fragrant, oily pork belly, Shen Yuan kept his hands busy, taking out the bowl containing the steamed fish.

To make it easier to pack, the fish had been cut in half.

At the very bottom was a tiny bit of lard Auntie Chun had secretly scooped for him. “If you’re taking the fish home instead of eating it, you should make a soup; it’ll last you two more days. Before making the soup, fry the fish with a little oil to make it more fragrant.”

And so, a small spoonful of pure white lard sat at the bottom of his bowl.