Chapter 11

Chapter 11

As the old saying goes, deep feelings can never be held onto; only clever schemes win people over!

The well-thought-out tactics Han Zhang had painstakingly prepared did not go to waste; they all struck a chord with Shen Qinglan.

His attire that day was nothing special—a green-colored long robe that was slightly faded and whitened from washing, but very neat and tidy.

—Though his clothing was simple, it was clean, making Shen Qinglan feel that every gesture was full of integrity and grace.

Though he was trotting at the moment, he did not appear flustered; his steps were steady, his back straight as a pine.

—This made Shen Qinglan feel he was confident and gracious, with fine posture and manners.

His voice was low and rich with magnetism, radiating masculine charisma.

—Although Shen Qinglan did not know the word "charisma," Han Zhang's voice made his ears itch.

Lastly, there was Han Zhang's appearance.

A well-shaped nose, bright eyes and thin brows, handsome and distinguished.

Over six feet tall, broad shoulders and a narrow waist, he appeared both gallant and refined, unlike most frail scholars of the time; rather, he resembled a youthful, masculine young general...

One glance and the heart was lost; half a lifetime of longing, half a lifetime of regret.

Shen Qinglan had little interest in poetry and scholarly works; he preferred a free and spirited demeanor. Han Zhang's looks and temperament perfectly aligned with his taste.

The moment he saw the person entering, he felt his chest tighten, his breath caught for an instant, and two telltale red blushes crept up his cheeks, his heart pounding uncontrollably.

It was love at first sight—a flutter in his heart, and feelings silently taking root.

"Is he... that Master Han who visited here and wrote *Tale of Two Souls*?"

Shen Qinglan's gaze fell on the person walking in from the door.

His usual arrogant tone suddenly became gentle and reserved. Earlier he had called him Scholar Han, but now it changed to Master Han, his eyes both shy and bright.

The nearby personal attendants Qiao Dong and Qiao Xi were also captivated by Han Zhang at the door and didn't notice their master's odd behavior. When they heard him, they quickly answered.

"What a coincidence—only that Scholar Han who wrote *Tale of Two Souls* would come on this day."

"Master, he must be Scholar Han! I never imagined Scholar Han could write such great stories and be this handsome too!"

Qiao Dong and Qiao Xi spoke excitedly, stars in their eyes.

As personal attendants, they had also been lucky enough to read the story in advance with Shen Qinglan and were deeply captivated by it. Now they couldn't help but feel a touch of starry-eyed excitement and idol-worship at meeting their idol.

The three masters and servants all had a very good first impression of Han Zhang.

Meanwhile, Shopkeeper Wang, for his part, had been instructed by his master and so he didn't hand the books to Han Zhang right away. Instead, he smiled.

"No need to rush, Master Han. The teachers at Xiangnan Academy are strict in their teachings. I guessed you might come late, so I deliberately kept one copy aside. Please take a short rest in the private room, and I'll have someone fetch the book for you."

"Really? That's great! Thank you for remembering me, Shopkeeper. I'll be sure to return the favor someday."

Shopkeeper Wang chuckled: "No need to be polite, Master Han. Just write a few more chapters of your serial to bring more customers to our bookshop, and that will be enough."

With that, he asked an attendant to lead Han Zhang to the private room for tea and rest.

A bookshop isn't a teahouse; it doesn't host customers for long stays, so the private room was not very large.

As Han Zhang entered, he saw the three masters and servants—Shen Qinglan and his attendants.

His gaze fell on Shen Qinglan, eyes momentarily stunned, revealing he was dazzled by Shen Qinglan's handsome appearance.

Then he realized he had been rude, and politely cupped his hands in greeting.

"My apologies. Your distinguished aura and refined bearing are simply captivating—forgive me for staring."

Shen Qinglan was indeed beautiful, but not in a delicate way. He was handsome and refined, and his male attire suited him perfectly; he looked like a gentle and cultured gentleman.

Han Zhang's stunned reaction was not surprising; in fact, it was quite normal.

Thus, Shen Qinglan did not find it offensive, and instead felt a secret thrill inside. He couldn't help but take the initiative to invite.

"No worries. If you don't mind, how about sharing a table?"

Then, thinking of something, he added, "My surname is Wang, and my personal name is Lan."

"...Alright, Brother Wang, if you don't mind, then I'll take you up on that."

Han Zhang hesitated only slightly before smiling and going over to sit down.

He then introduced himself: "My surname is Han, and my given name is Qinzhang."

His manner was open and generous, neither servile nor overbearing.

Shen Qinglan liked his straightforward and natural demeanor, and wanted to talk more with him, so he continued to start the conversation.

"Brother Han, your surname is Han, and today you happen to come to buy *Annotations on the New Book of Poetry*... Could you be the Master Han who wrote *Tale of Two Souls*?"

"Brother Wang, how do you..." know that?

Han Zhang naturally looked both surprised and wary.

After all, writing fiction was considered beneath a scholar's dignity, and most scholars were unwilling to let it be known.

Seeing this, Shen Qinglan produced a ready-made explanation.

"Shopkeeper Wang is my uncle. I usually help him manage the bookshop, handling the copying and printing of texts. That's why I had the chance to read your masterpiece in advance."

"Master, your talent is extraordinary, your ideas unique, and your writing is brilliant. I really like the *Tale of Two Souls* you wrote!"

"The day before yesterday, my uncle mentioned that you might come to the shop today. I was so excited I couldn't help myself—I had to come and get a glimpse of you, Master. And also... also to ask you how the story continues. Does Scholar Zhang pass the exams and end up with Le Geer?"

"Please, Master, give me a clue, or I'll be on pins and needles and won't sleep a wink!"

By the end, Shen Qinglan had completely forgotten about maintaining his dignified appearance as a man.

His face was full of supplication, like a child begging for a treat.

He was absolutely adorable.

Han Zhang couldn't help but curl his lips slightly before speaking.

"So that's how it is. Brother Wang, you flatter me. It's but a trifling skill, not worthy of the title 'Master.' That Tale of Two Souls has found favor with you is truly a stroke of luck to have a kindred spirit like you."

"As for the rest of the story... it's not that I'm being stingy and unwilling to share a bit—rather, there's a hidden secret to it, a suspense worth keeping. Wouldn't anticipation make it all the more delightful?"

Giving away spoilers is out of the question.

If I spoiled it now, how could I keep my handsome husband-to-be thinking of me and coming back for more?

But this left the young lad feeling wronged and bitterly disappointed.

"But Brother Han, I really, really want to know. If I can't get a hint of what's next, the days ahead will feel like years, and I won't be able to eat or sleep... How about just a little, just a tiny bit?"

"Or, at least tell me: Scholar Zhang and Le Geer—will they end up together in the end?"

Shen Qinglan still refused to give up, desperate for spoilers.

Because he couldn't bear a tragic ending. If Scholar Zhang and Le Geer ended in tragedy, he would—whether through acting cute, being a pest, threats or bribery, or throwing around piles of silver—make sure someone changed the ending!

Too bad Han Zhang was as stubborn as iron.

"What can't be said, can't be said."

But seeing Shen Qinglan's disappointed expression,

Han Zhang laughed and added, "Still, Brother Wang, your anticipation honors me greatly. I'll speed up and finish the rest sooner, so you can get an early look—how about that?"

"Really? Alright, but you'd better be quick."

Shen Qinglan was still disappointed, but he had no choice but to let it go.

After all, Han Zhang didn't make a living solely from writing novels; he was preparing for the imperial examinations, and his future couldn't be delayed.

But even if spoilers were off the table, he could still ask about what had already been written!

Shen Qinglan quickly perked up again, eagerly pressing further.

"Oh, by the way, Brother Han, in your book, you wrote about a type of food called 'cotton candy'—the spun-sugar kind that stretches into strands that can be wound three times without snapping, and the soft version melts on your tongue. It sounds absolutely delicious. Does such a thing actually exist in real life?"

"Of course it does. But this recipe came from an idea I had while reading some miscellaneous books—I figured it out on my own. It's not sold anywhere outside."

Han Zhang thought for a moment and, without hiding anything, also explained the method.

"The thread-pulling cotton candy is made by melting sugar into a syrup, then dip a bamboo skewer in syrup and spin it fast. The sugar strands harden in the air, forming a web that looks like cotton."

"As for the soft cotton candy, you whip egg whites into a froth, then add gelatin to firm it up... The final product looks like fluffy clouds, light and melts in your mouth, no chewing needed."

"If you're interested, Brother Wang, you could have your household cook try making it..."

Shen Qinglan loved good food. Just hearing this made his mouth water.

He immediately urged his page boys, "Qiao Dong, Qiao Xi, did you catch that? Write down the recipe quickly!"

"We've memorized it, Master."

Qiao Dong and Qiao Xi quickly nodded. As servants tasked with attending to their master, memorizing his words on the spot was their primary skill.

"Good."

Shen Qinglan nodded.

Then, as if suddenly realizing something, he quickly said to Han Zhang, "Brother Han, this is a unique recipe you figured out yourself. I can't take it for nothing. How about I pay you ten taels of silver for it?"

No sooner had he spoken

than Shen Qinglan regretted it.

Because scholars of the time prized integrity and looked down on money as dirt.

By directly offering to buy it with silver, would Brother Han think he was reeking of money, that he was insulting him on purpose, and wound his pride?

Thinking this, Shen Qinglan was filled with annoyance.

And as for Han Zhang—would he be offended?

Of course not!

He was already living off handouts—how could he be so thin-skinned?

Not only did Han Zhang show no sign of feeling insulted, but he even looked happily surprised.

"This recipe of mine is worth ten taels of silver?"

His reaction stunned Shen Qinglan for a moment—clearly, this was the first time he had met such a down-to-earth intellectual.

Perhaps sensing what Shen Qinglan was thinking,

Han Zhang explained a little awkwardly.

"Please don't laugh at me, Brother Wang. My family is poor. Every year, scraping together tuition money already drains my parents and uncles dry. With the imperial exams coming up next year, to raise the examination expenses, I have no choice but to write novels in my spare time to make a living."

"Ten taels of silver would be a huge relief—it's a real life-saver. Sorry for getting carried away just now. Please forgive me..."

Though he talked about his struggles openly, without any shame.

He showed no sign of feeling inferior about his humble background. His smile remained bright and carefree. He wasn't ashamed of his humble roots—confident, calm, honest, and straight-up.

It was as if the brilliant, self-assured, scholarly Scholar Zhang from Tale of Two Souls had stepped right out of the pages.

"..."

Gazing at the gentleman before him—upright and noble, as if bathed in a radiant golden glow—

Shen Qinglan's regret and embarrassment quickly dissipated. Instead, his heart started racing, like a deer caught in headlights, thumping with an uncontrollable thrill.

No wonder he's the scholar who could create a character like Scholar Zhang. Brother Han was truly one of a kind.