Chapter 23 Classmate

Chapter 23: Schoolmate

The woman’s eyes slid to the right, and she was instantly drawn to two big, lively baby pictures on the red paper.

"Oh my god, I want this one—give me six copies."

The woman beamed, and she didn't hesitate and pulled out her coin purse.

Meng Wan said, a little awkwardly, "Auntie, these baby-bringing pictures only come in five, and each one costs thirty-eight wen."

"What?!"

"Thirty-eight wen? You gotta be kidding me!"

"What a nerve—let me see what picture could be worth that much money!"

Before the woman could respond, the four old men nearby got annoyed.

Some had learned to read a little when they were young, others had picked up a thing or two by luck, and a few had kids who wrote New Year couplets for them to hawk. They'd been selling calligraphy to make a living for years, prices varied, but usually it was six wen a sheet. Now a young scholar shows up—okay, that's happened before—but this time he's brought a young guy along.

And this kid has the nerve to say thirty-eight wen a sheet!!!

The four old-timers, all over fifty, left their own stalls, especially the old failed scholar from Red Temple Village, who insisted on coming over to check out Meng Wan's paintings.

"These clouds are just a few scribbles—nothing special."

"Is this a snake? Just a few lines, but it's kind of cute."

"Which god is this? Smiling so warmly."

"Don't you see the banner in his hand and the gold coins falling under him?"

"Bringing in money from all sides—must be the God of Wealth. Really well done."

"These baby pictures are the best! Only five? Each one's different—this one with the qilin bringing a baby is the best!"

Four gray-haired heads huddled together, and anyone coming into the alley to buy couplets was confused: "Hey, I'm here for couplets—where is everybody? What's going on?"

The old scholar didn't even look up, just waved his hand and said, "Hold on."

That guy also squeezed in and asked, "What are you all looking at?"

People are naturally curious, and soon the alley was packed.

The woman who first wanted to buy a New Year picture got impatient: "Hey, kid, wrap me up a qilin sending a baby first, and then two couplets."

Meng Wan rolled up the picture for her and handed her two couplets. "Couplets are eight wen a pair, so that's fifty-four wen total."

Even though she knew the price, the woman still winced a little when she paid. But once she had the baby picture in hand, her regret turned to joy. This picture—how could it be so real? Those two chubby babies were so cute; wouldn't putting it up at home bring her kids just as cute?

The minute that woman pulled out her money, the crowd seemed to wake up, and everyone reached for their wallets.

"Hey, kid, give me two of those snake ones."

"I want the snake bringing luck and the thousand gold sending a baby."

"Two pairs of cloud couplets. The chubby baby for thirty-eight wen? Nah, skip that."

Song Tingzhou had never seen such a ruckus either. Except for selling New Year pictures as a kid for fun, he'd never handled money before, and he got flustered, barely keeping his cool.

"Cousin, I'll take the money—you hand me the pictures... Two snake year good luck ones."

Once they switched spots, things went faster. Meng Wan called out what the customer wanted, Song Tingzhou handed it over, and Meng Wan took the money and handed over the goods.

"Two snake year good luck ones."

"Here you go, Uncle—that'll be thirty-six wen."

"One thousand gold sending a baby, one snake bringing luck."

"Two pairs of cloud couplets."

"Yeah, eight wen a pair—we're selling the pictures."

"No worries if you don't want them—it won't hurt our sales."

"Auntie, here's yours. Take it easy—there are people behind you, don't trip."

Meng Wan smiled warmly and spoke gently, not caring whether people bought or not.

Some came over out of curiosity, but when they heard the price, they took off. Ordinary folks would rather spend that money on meat or candy, and even at New Year's, they'd only buy couplets with auspicious clouds.

But those with a bit more means couldn't tear themselves away from Meng Wan's New Year paintings, buying several at once—some as gifts, some for themselves. The crowd kept coming.

Bookshop owner Huang struggled to push through the crowd and shouted to the busy Song Tingzhou, "Master Song, how many of your God of Wealth paintings are left? Save me five."

He hadn't paid much attention when he first received the paintings that morning, but when he casually opened them later, he was stunned. Unlike ordinary folk, he often dealt with calligraphy and paintings. Though he'd never seen true masterpieces, he'd seen plenty of decent works, and Meng Wan's paintings, while not highly refined, were remarkable in technique and style.

Song Tingzhou roughly counted and replied, "Still over ten."

At twenty-eight wen each, they were a bit pricey, so fewer people bought them. Most went for the auspicious cloud couplets, blessing characters, and spring snake paintings.

"Twenty-eight wen each, right? I'll take the rest. Also, save me ten of those golden snake bringing fortune ones. It's crowded here—if you two trust me, come to my shop after you're done selling, and I'll settle the bill with the young man." Shopkeeper Huang had already heard the prices from the crowd. They were indeed a bit high, but they made good gifts—cheap gifts just wouldn't do.

Song Tingzhou handed over the paintings Shopkeeper Huang wanted, and Meng Wan said politely, "What are you saying? Take the paintings first. My cousin and I will come by when we're done. If there aren't enough, I can paint more."

Shopkeeper Huang left cheerfully with the paintings, but back at his shop, he started to wonder.

"That young man said he could paint more?"

"Did these come from him?"

"Impossible, right?"

Back home, Boss Huang couldn't stop thinking about how unbelievable it was. Meanwhile, the four old men in the alley, worried about hindering Meng Wan's business, had already returned to their own stalls.

That day, villagers from near and far in Shuiquan Town came to buy supplies, and the place was packed. This spot wasn't usually crowded, but the gathering drew everyone in. When they saw Meng Wan's beautiful New Year paintings, they wanted to buy a couple, and those unwilling to spend extra stuck with the old men's wares.

Meng Wan had essentially boosted the whole alley's foot traffic, selling more New Year paintings than in previous years.

"An unmarried young man showing his face in public like this—what a disgrace to decency!" Amid the bustling activity, a jarring voice reached Meng Wan's ears.

He had just handed an uncle two blessing characters when he looked up briefly to see who had spoken.

A scholar dressed much like Song Tingzhou, in a cotton robe and cloth headband, small-eyed and big-headed, he held a book in his left hand and tapped his right hand’s back like he was putting on airs, his back ramrod straight and belly sticking out—Meng Wan was afraid he’d keel over.

Meng Wan smiled and asked calmly, “Uncle, which branch of my family are you from?”

When he looked up, the potbellied scholar was stunned, his soul practically floating away.

“I… I’ve never, never… seen you before.”

“No, wait—what uncle? Who’re you talking to?” The scholar came to his senses, looking around, thinking Meng Wan wasn’t addressing him.

Meng Wan’s smile dropped. “I’m talking to you. Since you’re not my relative, why stick your nose in my business? I’m just selling some blessings at the fair to help make ends meet, not stealing or robbing anyone. There are plenty of other guys and gals on the street selling their embroidered handkerchiefs and woven knots—do you go around telling every one of them they’re a disgrace?”

In a backwater place like Quanshui Town, some families were so poor they sold their kids. Who could afford to keep their sons and daughters idle at home, never leaving the house?

Even Chang Jinhua, a widow who stuck to the rules and was scared of gossip, didn’t hesitate to open her doors and sell tofu once she saw a chance to make money.

This scholar was just looking for attention because his stall drew a crowd, showing off his moral superiority over the less fortunate!

The crowd watched as the scholar’s face went bright red. Despite his plain looks, his skin was surprisingly pale, and the flush spread to his neck, making him look like a fire hydrant that had come to life.

“I… I’m not yet twenty, only nineteen.”

Meng Wan was speechless. After all that, this guy only argued about his age?

Pathetic.

“Brother Zhang, since you’re not buying anything, please move on.” Song Tingzhou, who’d been squatting on the ground handing Meng Wan paintings, finally spoke up when he saw someone he knew.

“Brother Song, what are you doing here? Is this your little brother? Sorry, I really didn’t know…”

Getting scolded by a young man was bad enough, but finding out the seller was a fellow classmate!

The crowd, having watched the drama, got impatient with his hesitation.

“Young man, if you’re not buying, move aside. I need to get my New Year painting and then head to the meat stall.”

“Move aside, move aside.”

“And he’s a scholar? So clueless—must be from a rich family.”

“Young man, hurry up and give me my painting. I’ve still got other things to buy, no time to waste.”

The scholar surnamed Zhang covered his face and backed away. Maybe he had a decent relationship with Song Tingzhou, since he apologized before leaving, “Brother Song, don’t be mad. I really didn’t know.”

Aside from this little incident, business at Meng Wan’s stall was good. By around noon, the blessings, couplets, and snake paintings were all sold out.

Meng Wan’s legs ached from standing, so he sat down to rest once the couplets were sold. The other stalls in the alley had also sold most of their stuff, except for the old man from Hongmiao Village, who’d brought a lot and still had a few customers.

Song Tingzhou folded up the apricot-yellow cloth they’d spread out. The basket had been serving as a money box, now piled with copper coins an inch deep.

Seeing him pack up, Meng Wan came over. “I’ll hold the cloth; you pour them in.”

He carefully gathered the yellow cloth into a pouch between his legs, holding it tight. Song Tingzhou lifted the basket and poured the coins into the cloth pouch. The clinking sound was satisfying, but it also drew a few nosy looks.

This wasn’t a law-and-order society with cameras all over the place. Meng Wan, rubbing his sore arm, poked Song Tingzhou’s firm shoulder and whispered, “Cousin, isn’t it dangerous to carry our money like this?”

Because his voice was so low, the word “cousin” was barely hearable. Song Tingzhou, who’d been bending down to put on the basket, felt a flutter in his heart at the sound of “brother,” his face softening. “Don’t worry. We’ll go to the money changer first to exchange for silver, then browse the market.”

They couldn’t afford to lose their hard-earned money. Meng Wan stayed close behind Song Tingzhou, watching the basket on his back.

Leaving the alley, they reached the bookshop and ducked inside. Unexpectedly, the scholar surnamed Zhang was also there. Meng Wan, preoccupied with the money, had forgotten to ask about their acquaintance.

“Brother Zhang, named Zhang Jizu, has been studying with me at the private school for seven years,” Song Tingzhou explained softly, sensing Meng Wan’s confusion.

Meng Wan had guessed as much. There was only one private school in town, so all scholars likely studied there.

He had always doubted the quality of that school. Song Tingzhou studied so diligently, rising early and staying up late—why hadn’t he passed the county exam after all these years?

This year was one thing, but if he failed again next year, Meng Wan planned to save up more money and transfer him to a school in the county town.

“Brother Song, my apologies earlier. I truly didn’t know this young man was your younger brother.” Zhang Jizu now seemed to have changed his tune, apologizing again to Song Tingzhou and flicking his not-so-wide sleeves to appear more dignified.

Shopkeeper Huang, who had been about to settle the payment for the snake paintings, held back upon hearing Zhang Jizu’s words and stepped aside.

Song Tingzhou pursed his lips and said nothing. Zhang Jizu, also from a farming family in another village, was usually close to him. They had been classmates for seven years without a single argument.

(Meng Wan suspected it was because Song Tingzhou rarely spoke, so he never argued with anyone.)

In Song Tingzhou’s eyes, Zhang Jizu had always been an upright and diligent student. He had never seen him so aggressive before.

Though Meng Wan had quickly shut him down, it left a strange feeling in Song Tingzhou’s heart, and his gaze toward Zhang Jizu now carried a hint of scrutiny.

“He’s not my younger brother. He’s my fiancé.”

Meng Wan, like Shopkeeper Huang, stood quietly behind Song Tingzhou, a stark contrast to his sharp-tongued self in the alley.

“Oh, I see.” Zhang Jizu’s gaze seemed distant.

“I came to the bookshop to find a book. I’ll take my leave now. Let’s catch up after the New Year.”

Zhang Jizu smiled warmly, his tone still friendly, but Meng Wan felt a subtle shift in his attitude, as if something was off.

Song Tingzhou seemed to genuinely value their friendship, even walking Zhang Jizu a few steps outside before returning to the shop.

“Shopkeeper Huang, what book did Brother Zhang buy? Could I take a look? If it’s useful, I’d like to buy one for my cousin too,” Meng Wan asked, curious about Zhang Jizu, who had left a bad first impression. Hearing he was Song Tingzhou’s classmate, he inquired further.

Shopkeeper Huang chuckled. “He bought the latest storybook from the prefectural city. Not something for Brother Song, but you might enjoy it in your spare time.”

He pulled a new book from the shelf and handed it to Meng Wan. The cover read: *A Strange Encounter at an Ancient Temple*.

Meng Wan flipped through a few pages and the ending, his lips twitching more and more.

In short, the book was about a down-and-out scholar, unsuccessful in his career and poor, whose talent went unrecognized. By chance, he met the daughter of a Minister at a temple, and they fell in love. The Minister father disapproved of the poor scholar. Meng Wan skipped the middle part, but the ending had the scholar marrying a princess and taking the Minister’s daughter as a concubine.

What kind of nonsense was this? And this was what Song Tingzhou’s classmate read?