Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Shen Yuan wanted to have it written down because he was afraid that when he was developing the later parts of the plot, there might be omissions or mistakes. Without a record, it would be hard to spot them.

Although he couldn't read the characters here, he could always have someone literate read it back to him.

If the operation grew, organizing the recorded stories would also make it convenient for future storytellers to reference.

Literary flair really wasn't important; unless you were from the upper crust of the elite, most people didn't have much to speak of. If it were really full of classical allusions and highbrow talk, the listeners wouldn't understand it anyway.

Moreover, when he told the story himself, he used plain speech.

"Sure, as long as they can write characters, that's fine. No other requirements," Shen Yuan affirmed.

Upon hearing this, Ji Xingwang was immediately relieved. "Then I can write."

His master had taught him to write; otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to become the manager of the teahouse.

Shen Yuan's eyes lit up. "The manager is literate? That's really impressive! Then I'll be counting on you, Manager!"

Ji Xingwang wanted to say he only knew a little bit and wasn't that impressive. But seeing Shen Yuan's sincere, admiring look, he was genuinely flattered and couldn't help puffing out his chest a little. "Don't worry, I'll definitely write it well for you!"

Wu Country and the surrounding countries had no paper. Records were kept on cloth or bamboo slips.

Bamboo slips used for recording knowledge and texts were also called book slips. Basically, these book slips were hoarded by various noble families as heirlooms, making them difficult for ordinary people to access.

Wasting no time, Ji Xingwang fetched two blank bamboo slips from his residence in the backyard. Shen Yuan went over the beginning of the story again, this time adding more details.

To avoid excessive colloquialism leading to the order getting mixed up and too many habitual filler words, Shen Yuan spoke very slowly.

Coincidentally, Ji Xingwang also wrote slowly, so their speeds were surprisingly well-matched.

By the time they reached the part where Liu Mingqing grabbed Chu Qi's leg, preparing to drag him into the cave, a full shichen—two hours—had already passed.

Fang Zaoshang's voice sounded from outside, calling them to eat.

Once again that morning, not a single private room in the teahouse had any customers.

There were a few tables of customers in the main hall, but business was as bleak as usual.

Ji Xingwang looked at the four fully written bamboo slips—the initial two weren't enough, so he had gone to fetch two more.

He hoped this storytelling venture would truly succeed.

He didn't want to go work on the estate.

Shen Yuan also looked at the four bamboo slips, thinking no wonder the ancients used classical Chinese for records—one character could serve as a sentence, and four characters forming an allusion could replace hundreds of words.

If they didn't do it that way, they'd go through far too many bamboo slips.

He had only told the beginning and already used four slips; the bamboo slips needed for an entire book would probably be enough to crush a person.

During lunch, Ji Xingwang took the opportunity to tell the others that the teahouse was originally going to be sold, but the young master, for Shen Yuan's sake, was willing to let Shen Yuan try storytelling to make the teahouse profitable.

Everyone had the same reaction as Ji Xingwang; none of them wanted to go work on the estate.

The work there was too harsh. They had often heard before that the estate foreman had beaten people to death.

The story was that it was because they were disobedient, but who knew what the truth really was?

For a moment, everyone's gaze fell on Shen Yuan. Auntie Sanhua said worriedly, "Xiao Yuan, give your auntie a straight answer. Can this work? If it can't, you should talk to the young master quickly. If you find another place sooner, you can start making money earlier."

Although she also didn't want to go to the estate, she couldn't bear the thought of Shen Yuan, just a child, carrying such a heavy load for the teahouse.

If even the owner and the manager couldn't handle it, how could it be easy?

Fang Zaoshang, Auntie Chun, Uncle Sigeng, and the others also nodded repeatedly.

Shen Yuan alone was already burdened enough, supporting four younger siblings.

Ji Xingwang didn't dare utter a word.

Shen Yuan knew everyone cared about him and wanted what was best for him, and a warm feeling spread through his heart.

"It can work! I'll definitely do my absolute best. Zaoshang, aunties, uncles, you don't need to worry about me. I want to do this myself; no one is forcing me."

Hearing Shen Yuan say this, everyone felt relieved.

Uncle Sigeng, who didn't speak much, also spoke up to promise, "If you need anything from your uncle later, just say it. Your uncle will also do his absolute best for Xiao Yuan."

"Auntie Sanhua too!"

"And Auntie Chun!"

"Xiao Yuan, Xiao Yuan, Brother Zaoshang too!"

"Ahem, well, Manager Ji too."

Looking at everyone, Shen Yuan couldn't help but smile. "Alright, for a better life, let's work hard together!"

After lunch, Ji Xingwang and Shen Yuan put their heads together on how to rearrange the main hall.

They definitely couldn't make major changes; it would take too much time.

The sooner they started storytelling, the sooner they'd know if it could make money.

Shen Yuan's idea was to start in two days, which would also give him time to prepare two more days' worth of material.

Ji Xingwang agreed.

After thinking it over, they decided to first just add one long table in front of the counter. During storytelling, the person would sit behind the long table; if their back got tired, they could lean against the counter.

Shen Yuan additionally requested a storyteller's gavel. Having a carpenter make one would be quick.

Ji Xingwang said he would find a carpenter. Shen Yuan remembered his promise to Xu Dagui that he would find him work if he had any. Although this job was for the teahouse, he still wanted to try and get it for Xu Dagui. "I know someone. He's a good person; I'd like to recommend him."

"In your eyes, there's no one who isn't good. Alright, alright," Ji Xingwang said helplessly. "Then let the person you know make it. Have him make the long table too; there isn't a suitable one in the storeroom. We'll measure the dimensions later. It needs to be fast; we'll pay extra."

Both the long table and the gavel could be made quickly. With two days, even if Xu Dagui only had one hand, he could finish them.

He happened to be going to pick up a table today, so he could tell Xu Dagui.

Once things were settled, Ji Xingwang told Shen Yuan to go to the private room first to think about the rest of the story; he would help with the teahouse work.

Shen Yuan didn't refuse. This way, he would have more time to think things through carefully.

At Shen Yuan's request, Ji Xingwang gave him two blank bamboo slips and prepared the ink, brush, and inkstone as well.

He didn't understand why Shen Yuan needed these things since Shen Yuan couldn't write.

But now, he just went along with whatever Shen Yuan said and got things ready.

The upstairs room was quiet, with occasional breezes wafting through the open window.

Since the ink contained no chemical additives, it didn't smell pungent at all—in fact, it even seemed pleasant.

In his previous life, Shen Yuan had learned calligraphy for an acting role. As the saying goes, he’d dabbled in a lot of things, but only knew the basics.

He wrote the subsequent plot on the bamboo slips in simplified characters.

He only wrote the important parts, sketching out the rest. Fortunately, his memory was good, so even if he didn't write everything down, he could still recount it.

However, if too much time passed or the details were too intricate, he might forget.

He could only remember the broad strokes of the plot.

The faintest ink is better than the best memory, so it was better to jot things down.

Shen Yuan made good progress that afternoon. Looking at the plot he had written, he couldn't help but chuckle a few times. Good, it was dramatic enough, full of melodrama and tension.

When Ji Xingwang was called up by Shen Yuan, he rushed upstairs.

He had been wanting to go up and ask but was afraid of disturbing Shen Yuan, so he had been holding back.

Upon entering the private room, the first thing Ji Xingwang saw was the bamboo slips covered in strange symbols.

He couldn't understand them at all, assuming they were Shen Yuan's unique recording symbols.

Shen Yuan calmly picked up the bamboo slips. "Boss, better start writing this down."

Ji Xingwang got down to business, dipping his brush in ink and raising it.

"Liu Mingqing tightly clutched the man's calf, took a deep breath..."

Ji Xingwang belatedly realized—he was about to learn the subsequent plot!!!

After pausing for just a moment, Ji Xingwang, excited and expectant, began writing according to Shen Yuan's dictation.

Having steeled herself, Liu Mingqing dragged the man toward the cave. Without the tree trunk to support him, the unconscious man plummeted straight toward the cliff bottom. Liu Mingqing, with no time to spare, mustered all her strength and, at the critical moment, pulled him onto the stone ledge protruding from the cave.

However, the injury on the man's head seemed even worse.

Liu Mingqing looked at the stone surface in the rain curtain; it seemed his head had been bumped again while she was dragging him.

Fortunately, she had been gathering herbs that day and had picked some blood-clotting herbs along the way.

Liu Mingqing dragged the man into the cave, wiped the blood from his face with a cloth, and began grinding the herbs to apply to his wounds.

The rain continued all night without stopping, and Liu Mingqing tended to the man throughout the night.

In the latter half of the night, the man developed a fever. Liu Mingqing used every available herb she had. Whether he would pull through depended on the man himself.

By dawn, the rain had stopped.

Liu Mingqing needed to get back down the mountain, or her grandfather would worry.

But she couldn't take the man with her. Carrying such a large, living person, she wouldn't be able to navigate the steep mountain path.

Yet, leaving the injured man, still feverish and unconscious, behind made Liu Mingqing uneasy.

As Liu Mingqing wrestled with her decision, the man woke up.

His dark eyes were clouded with confusion as they met Liu Mingqing's gaze.

Seeing him awake, Liu Mingqing exclaimed happily, "You're awake! That's wonderful. What's your name? I'll go down the mountain and let your family know to come get you."

The man's clothing was made of fine material, and he wore a jade crown to tie his hair. It was obvious he was from a noble or wealthy family.

Since she couldn't take him with her, notifying his family was the best option.

But the first words the man spoke were, "Who... am I?"

He didn't know who he was. He had lost his memory, forgotten everything.

When he wrote this down, Ji Xingwang's eyes widened.

Lost his memory!

Could such a thing really happen?

He had never imagined that a person could lose their memory.

How could someone live without remembering anything? Could Young Master Chu not return home either? Would he not recognize his own parents?

Ji Xingwang's mind raced with countless questions, even forgetting to take notes.

Shen Yuan called him twice before snapping him out of it.

"Boss, stop daydreaming. We need to hurry and get this written down."

Ji Xingwang had ten thousand questions he wanted to ask, but he could only hold them back and dutifully record the subsequent plot.

Chu Qi had lost his memory.

Liu Mingqing had no choice but to wait for Chu Qi's fever to subside and his mind to clear before taking him down the mountain.

She figured she'd let her grandfather take a look to see if this could be treated.

As Liu Mingqing led Chu Qi down the mountain, Grandpa Liu, leaning on his cane, stood anxiously at the gate of the thatched cottage, watching for a long time. Finally, he saw the figure of his granddaughter, who had been out all night.

But who was the man beside her?

Back at the thatched cottage, Liu Mingqing had Chu Qi sit in the courtyard while she set down her basket. She explained to Grandpa Liu, "Yesterday, there was a sudden downpour, so I took shelter in a cave on the cliff. He fell off the cliff, was caught by a tree trunk, and injured his head. When he woke up, he couldn't remember anything. Grandpa, can this be treated?"

After learning the whole story, Grandpa Liu stared blankly at Chu Qi, who was sitting on a stone stool not far away. Liu Mingqing called "Grandpa" several times before he snapped out of it. Leaning on his cane, he walked forward. "Let Grandpa take a look."

Sitting on the stone stool opposite Chu Qi, Grandpa Liu said solemnly, "Stretch out your hand."

Chu Qi obediently complied.

When Grandpa Liu saw the red mole on Chu Qi's wrist, his pupils contracted sharply. Maintaining a calm expression, he absentmindedly took Chu Qi's pulse while carefully studying his face.

After a while, the old man shook his head and said to his granddaughter, "I can't tell what's wrong. First, boil some water so he can take a hot bath and change his clothes."

Chu Qi had been caught in the rain, fallen off a cliff, and dragged for quite a distance. His body was filthy and in a sorry state. A hot bath would help with his recovery.

Liu Mingqing went to boil water, while Grandpa Liu turned and went inside to fetch a set of short coarse clothes. "These were my son's clothes from when he was alive. If you don't mind, wear them."

Chu Qi felt awful, so just having clean clothes to change into was a huge relief; he certainly wasn't about to be picky.

While Chu Qi was bathing, Grandpa Liu seized the chance to collect the clothes he had changed out of.

After a quick search through the garments, he pulled a jade pendant from a hidden inner pocket.

The character "Chu" was engraved upon it.

Coming from a family of physicians, he was literate and could read.

Grandpa Liu stared at the jade pendant with a cryptic look for quite some time before finally putting it away. Just then, Liu Mingqing came in and asked, "Grandpa, I noticed that young master's clothes look quite expensive. When I go into the city tomorrow, I'll ask around to see if any family is missing their son. We should be able to find out in no time."

Grandpa Liu’s eyes darkened slightly. "No, Qing'er. Don't look for his family for now. Grandpa has other plans."

Liu Mingqing had been orphaned at a young age and was raised by her grandfather, so she always followed his lead.

She didn't understand why her grandfather didn't want her to search for the young master's family, but she knew he must have his reasons. Liu Mingqing nodded and didn't ask further.

She knew that if her grandfather wanted to tell her, he would do so when he was ready.

If he didn't want to say, asking would be pointless anyway.

Shen Yuan cut off his story there. Ji Xingwang poised his brush, waiting eagerly for him to continue. Seeing Shen Yuan put down the bamboo slips covered in a mess of strange symbols, Ji Xingwang was near a breakdown. "Stopping again right now? What exactly is the connection between Young Master Chu and the Liu family? Why did Grandpa Liu react that way? What about the red mole? And what does the jade pendant mean?"

Shen Yuan cleared his throat. "Tomorrow. I'll tell you tomorrow."

It was time; he had to clock out and go home.

Ji Xingwang sighed helplessly, only wishing for tomorrow to come sooner. He was extremely, extremely eager to know what happened next.

Today, the food Shen Yuan brought home was twice as much as usual.

Ji Xingwang had specifically instructed the kitchen to give him extra.

Whether the teahouse could survive depended entirely on Shen Yuan—how could they let him go hungry?

Author's Note:

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