Chapter 25

Chapter 25

The main hall was packed and pretty noisy.

But after Shen Yuan appeared, the crowd's noise instantly vanished. Everyone stared eagerly at Shen Yuan, their gazes following his every move.

After he sat down, he didn't even need to use the storytelling block; the hall was already completely silent.

The tea patrons wanted Shen Yuan to start sooner but didn't dare urge him, all holding their breath and waiting intently.

Even though most had already heard it once in the morning, it seemed they couldn't get enough. They'd been savoring it all afternoon after getting home; it was just too interesting, and they wanted to hear it again.

Shen Yuan cleared his throat and started his storytelling.

His memory was excellent, and he remembered everything he'd said recently, so he didn't need bamboo slips on the table to read from; he relied on memory.

The patrons were immersed in the story, following Shen Yuan's emotional tone and expressions, and lost themselves in it.

They grew furious upon hearing about the woman in difficult labor being scorned by her husband's family, who refused to find a doctor for her, saying she deserved to die if she couldn't bear a child. Then, when Liu Mingqing risked everything to find medicine for the mother and saved both mother and child in time, they smiled with relief and joy.

They felt angry yet helpless upon hearing about the hunter whose arm was bitten off by a tiger, hanging on the brink of death, while the young master from a powerful family who had ordered the hunt—because the hunter failed to catch the tiger—forbade any doctor in the city from treating him. They shed tears of emotion when Liu Mingqing defied the powerful authority, focused solely on saving lives, and managed to preserve the hunter's life.

They felt heartache and sorrow upon hearing about the villager who fell from a height and, having no money for treatment, chose to lie there waiting for death. Then, when Liu Mingqing disregarded money, declaring that life was more important, and saved the villager with all his might, their eyes welled up with tears.

Seventh and Liu Mingqing grew closer. Seventh was injured for Liu Mingqing's sake, and Liu Mingqing cared for him all night without sleep. Seventh only recognized Liu Mingqing, who was his sole source of security. She also thought of Seventh in everything, even picking a beautiful flower from the mountainside for him.

She thought Seventh was very beautiful, and the most beautiful flower suited him best.

Seventh would then take the flower and tuck it into Liu Mingqing's hair behind her ear, saying, "This looks best."

The patrons grew tense, happy, anxious, sad, relieved, or sweetly joyful along with the plot's development...

It wasn't until the sound of the storytelling block rang out that they snapped back to reality, realizing so much time had passed.

It was over again.

The patrons were still immersed in the story, savoring the lingering emotions, not wanting it to end.

Even those who had heard it twice still felt it wasn't enough.

"Another session!"

"Yes! Another session!"

Someone shouted for another session, and it quickly got out of hand. The unified chant of "Another session!" even spilled out onto the street, making people peek out from shops and pedestrians stop to look curiously at the teahouse.

What's going on? Is there a fight in the teahouse?

Shen Yuan gulped down two cups of water in a row, finally relieving the dryness in his throat.

The patrons were enthusiastic, but Shen Yuan was even more enthusiastic. Shen Yuan was especially happy that the story touched people and they loved it.

"I'm afraid another storytelling session isn't possible; my voice would give out. If it gives out, I won't be able to tell stories tomorrow. However, I can sing a song for you all."

A song?

What's that?

The patrons looked at each other, puzzled. They didn't know, hadn't heard of it—it must be interesting!

"Alright! Sing one!"

Shen Yuan cleared his throat, motioning for everyone to quiet down.

"When will the moon be clear and bright? With a cup of wine in my hand, I ask the blue sky. In the heavens on high, I wonder what year it is tonight..."

Shen Yuan sang "Wishing We Last Forever," the melody flowing and winding, carrying a faint sense of longing and sorrow. Shen Yuan's natural voice was clear and somewhat cheerful, not quite suited for this song, so he lowered his pitch considerably.

The lyrics at the beginning left the teahouse patrons baffled. They couldn't quite understand the meaning, but it felt impressively profound.

When he sang, "Men have sorrow and joy; they meet or part again. The moon is bright or dim and she may wax or wane," the patrons thought of their own experiences and the various people Liu Mingqing and Seventh had saved in the story, their eyes involuntarily welling up with tears.

They felt a deep longing—for family, for lovers, for friends, for those they might never see again.

Ji Pingan stood at the stairwell, looking at Shen Yuan with an unreadable expression.

It was a melody and singing style he had never heard before, yet it conveyed emotions with precise accuracy.

The lyrics sung were of such quality that not even the books in his family's collection contained anything like them.

If not for a celestial connection, such lyrics could not possibly have been composed by someone who had never studied.

No, even someone who had studied might not necessarily be able to compose them.

The first half of the song probably described the immortal realm.

Ji Pingan looked at Shen Yuan. He thought, if the celestial connection were real, then matters of ghosts and gods must certainly be real as well.

After Shen Yuan finished singing, the patrons were even more reluctant for it to end, clamoring for another round.

Shen Yuan, his voice hoarse, begged off, "No more, no more. If I sing again, my voice really will give out."

His voice giving out? That won't do!

"Tea server! Quick, quick! I want to give a reward. I have lingzhi mushrooms; bring them for Young Shen to nourish his voice."

"I'll give a reward too! My family has ginseng!"

"My family has deer antler!"

"My family has snow lotus!"

Leaving aside whether these things were actually good for the voice, Shen Yuan felt the patrons weren't really thinking about his throat at all; they just didn't want to be outdone by others.

He tugged at Ji Xingwang, who was holding a tray full of rewards. "Manager, what do you think about us setting up a reward board?"

Ji Xingwang: What?

The patrons were now competing to be number one on the board and had no time to bother Shen Yuan. Seizing the opportunity, Shen Yuan pulled Ji Xingwang aside and explained succinctly, "It means recording all the patrons' tips, updating the total amounts weekly, and ranking them from high to low. We'll give storytelling-related perks to the top three, with the number one getting the most benefits, decreasing in order."

Ji Xingwang's hands holding the tray trembled slightly.

He shouldn't be the manager; Shen Yuan should be the manager.

Look at that mind, coming up with money-making ideas one after another.

“We need to discuss this with the young master right away—we should start tomorrow at the latest,” Ji Xingwang said excitedly.

The more money they earned, the safer the teahouse would be!

Shen Yuan felt the same way. He wanted to make money, lots and lots of it—to build a life and secure his future so he’d never go hungry again.

Down in the main hall, the competition for the top spot on the leaderboard was still ongoing. Some, carried away by the heat of the moment, had even offered a countryside estate on the outskirts.

Thinking of his own drafty, ramshackle hut, Shen Yuan couldn’t resist turning his steps away from the stairs to ask about the location of that estate. But before he could take two steps, his collar was grabbed from behind. He turned to see Ji Ping'an.

"A property on the outskirts comes with yearly taxes—at least twenty taels. The transfer fee alone is ten percent of the land's value. Do you have that kind of silver?"

Shen Yuan’s dream of a mansion shattered instantly, the reality of his poverty snapping him back to his senses.

He shook his head repeatedly. "No, no—even if you sold me, I wouldn't fetch that much."

Ji Ping'an steered him upstairs, unable to hold back a chuckle. "Not necessarily. Selling you off to tell stories all day might actually be quite valuable. I bet those tea guests downstairs would be scrambling to buy you."

Downstairs, the patrons were still outbidding each other with lavish donations. Shen Yuan immediately declared, "I won’t tell stories for anyone else—I’m only making money for you, Brother Ping'an."

Ji Ping'an paused briefly, about to speak, when Shen Yuan added earnestly, "I'm not just saying that to get on your good side. You’re a good guy, Brother Ping'an. I want to make money for you, not for anyone else."

"Me, a good guy?" Ji Ping'an loosened his grip on Shen Yuan’s collar and gave a self-mocking laugh. "You’re the only one who says that."

Then, putting on a stern face, he admonished Shen Yuan, "Don’t be like this with everyone in the future. Just because someone shows you a little kindness, you think they’re good. You’d probably help count the money even if they sold you off—don't you think that's dumb?"

Shen Yuan chuckled. "Anyway, I know Brother Ping'an would never sell me. You really are a good person."

Looking at Shen Yuan’s smiling face, which was just like a little dog's, Ji Ping'an recalled a white, long-haired puppy his family’s caravan had brought back from the North Country many years ago. He had named it Snowball.

Snowball’s eyes were large, dark, and bright—really beautiful. When it grinned at people, it looked as if it were smiling, incredibly adorable. Unfortunately, it couldn't adjust to the environment and didn’t live long.

Seeing Shen Yuan smile at him, Ji Ping'an’s mind conjured the bizarre image of Snowball wagging its tail and grinning at him—it was downright creepy.

He fought the urge to ruffle Shen Yuan’s hair and said stiffly, "Get upstairs; we have business to discuss. All you do is joke around."

The serious matter Ji Ping'an referred to was the tips from the patrons.

Previously, both had assumed the teahouse’s profits would come from tea sales and later from food offerings, never considering rewards.

Shen Yuan hadn’t expected the guests to be so passionate and free-spending.

But upon reflection, it made sense. The wealthy nowadays often had fortunes built up over generations, leaving them quite affluent.

Moreover, with few other ways to splash their cash, it was natural for them to throw money around on something they found enjoyable.

After listening to these two sessions, Ji Ping'an also saw the promising future of storytelling.

Shen Yuan might be a naive kid who’d help count the money even if sold, but Ji Ping'an couldn’t actually sell him.

"Keep all the tips," Ji Ping'an said casually.

Shen Yuan was tempted, but he replied, "Brother Ping'an, are you trying to give thieves a reason to visit my home?"

Carrying that much silver would be an open invitation for robbers.

Ji Ping'an paused—that was indeed a problem, though it wouldn’t be for long. Before he could say anything, Shen Yuan continued, "Besides, I don’t think Patriarch Ji would agree to this either."

Shen Yuan knew perfectly well—with so much money involved, there was no way they’d agree to give it all to him.

Even in his previous life, writers on websites couldn’t keep all the rewards; the platform always took a cut.

His Brother Ping'an probably wouldn’t inherit the family business. He always called Shen Yuan foolish for trusting others, but Shen Yuan thought Ji Ping'an was the one who’d give away the family fortune over a little kindness.

Running a business like that was a sure way to ruin it.

Ji Ping'an was stumped—his father really wouldn’t agree...

Damn, he’d hit the nail on the head.

"I didn’t think it through. I'll have a word with the old man," Ji Ping'an promised.

Shen Yuan wanted to make money, that was true, but he wanted to earn it in a steady, secure, and long-term way.

He’d rather earn less initially but have a stable, lasting income. "No need, Brother Ping'an. Let’s split the rewards fifty-fifty. I'll retain the rights to my stories and get paid per performance. The teahouse should hire new storytellers to replace me later; otherwise, I won’t have time to write new stories."

Ji Ping'an was unhappy that he couldn’t give Shen Yuan all the rewards. He grumbled, "For the food recipes you provide later, the teahouse will give you a fifty-fifty split on the profits."

"That works. In that case, once the recipes are written, they belong to the teahouse." Seeing Ji Ping'an’s frown deepen, Shen Yuan patted his shoulder. "Brother Ping'an, you don’t want me to get shortchanged, and I don’t want you to lose out either."

Ji Ping'an turned his head away, not moving his arm. "How would I be losing out?"

Shen Yuan laughed, remembering the reward board, and asked Ji Ping'an if they could set that up.

Ji Ping'an turned back. "From now on, you make the decisions regarding storytelling. Hiring new storytellers is also up to you. Don’t worry about expenses—I’ll have Ji Xingwang draw from my personal funds, so it won't go through the family books. Go ahead with confidence."

Hearing this, Shen Yuan stood up and lunged in for a hug.

Once again, Ji Ping'an failed to dodge, exasperated. "Can’t you give a warning before jumping someone like that?"

This really made him look like a lousy constable!

Shen Yuan laughed heartily. "Come on, if I warned you, it wouldn’t be an ambush!"

He was actually pretty quick, so it was normal for Ji Ping'an not to dodge in time.

Ji Ping'an was speechless. Fine, as long as you’re happy.

Splitting the rewards fifty-fifty was still a substantial amount. The tips from the morning session alone were nearly twenty taels, and the afternoon session would be even more.

They might decrease or increase later—there's no telling.

Ji Ping'an asked Shen Yuan whether he wanted to collect the reward money daily or monthly.

Considering he had nowhere to store it at home for now, Shen Yuan opted for monthly collection, which would align with his performance fees and pastry commissions.

After settling the arrangements, Ji Ping'an stood up to leave. He said to Shen Yuan, "I won’t be in the county for the next couple of days. If anything comes up, talk to Ji Xingwang. Also, Qingyun County will be very safe and peaceful in the coming days. The thieves you mentioned won’t reappear, so don’t worry about your safety."

"Where are you going, Brother Ping'an?" Shen Yuan asked curiously. "Is the magistrate planning a full-scale crackdown? They’ve been dragging their feet on that forever."

There was no harm in explaining. Ji Ping'an replied truthfully, "I’m going to the neighboring county to pick someone up. The crackdown is also for this person—a big shot. The magistrate is afraid thieves might disturb this important figure and affect his own career prospects."

"That really must be a big shot," Shen Yuan remarked.

Even though Qingyun County had a dock, they still had to go to the neighboring county to escort the guest an extra leg. The magistrate was so worried about leaving a bad impression and harming his career that he’d started cracking down on thieves.

It was worth noting that bandits and thieves in Qingyun County had always been impossible to eradicate—after all, if they were wiped out, there’d be no ready excuse to levy extra taxes.

This time, the magistrate was really "going all out."