Chapter 6: Making a Living by Performing

The next day, early in the morning, Mo Laodao, who had gotten up and gone through the motions of practicing a round of Five Animal Frolics, saw Fang Xiu with a face full of astonishment.

Fang Xiu's originally fair and tender face now sported two huge dark circles; this guy had barely slept a wink last night, communicating with his suspected golden finger dad all evening, trying every conceivable method, even using various dialects, and even resorting to English and Thai, yet that scroll of bamboo slips remained utterly unresponsive.

It felt like it was forcibly lodged in Fang Xiu's consciousness, yet had absolutely nothing to do with the host, not even bothering to pay rent.

"Fang family lad, your constitution is still no good. Once your leg heals, practice this Five Animal Frolics with Dao Ye. Mine is the authentic Taoist Five Animal Frolics, passed down from the Western Han. Persistent year-round practice guarantees you a long life of a hundred years."

Fang Xiu looked at Mo Laodao speechlessly. Over forty, half his hair gone, missing seven or eight teeth, looking like he had one foot in the grave — how could he even think of living to a hundred?

"Mo Laotou, it was your snoring last night that kept me from sleeping peacefully. I need to catch up on sleep now, so today's begging trip to Dong Cheng is on you."

"Can't sleep peacefully? You'd need to have a pillow first before you blame me.

Don't rush to sleep. I've brewed medicine for A Ku here. You feed it to her later. After she takes this dose, she'll be more or less cured.

I'll handle Dong Cheng. I washed my face clean today, that fat cook might even give me two extra steamed cakes."

Washing your face white gets you steamed cakes from the fat cook? Does the fat cook like that you're old and don't bathe? It's clearly because this young master is fair and tender.

Fang Xiu complained inwardly, thoroughly done with Mo Laodao. He limped over to the fire. The medicine needed more time, and the little girl wasn't awake yet.

Once the medicine was ready, Fang Xiu coaxed the half-asleep A Ku into drinking the decoction. This time there were no meat buns to cushion it; the little girl found it so bitter her whole face scrunched up. She finally finished it and went straight back to sleep.

Fang Xiu rested a bit, feeling he had recovered some spirit. By now Mo Laodao still hadn't returned — who knew if the fat cook had done him in? When leaving Dong Cheng yesterday, Fang Xiu had listened carefully. In that shrew-cursing battle, the fat cook had clearly gotten the worst of it, sitting on the ground bawling.

A woman's anger couldn't possibly dissipate in one night. Mo Laodao going over to curry favor today was asking for a tongue-lashing from the fat cook.

Mo Laodao, at his age, had no woman and understood female psychology even less. Getting scolded, having spit sprayed on his face — he had it coming.

Seeing the sun high, and the little girl sleeping soundly, Fang Xiu decided not to wait for Mo Laodao. Leaning on his crutch, he headed for the Fang Market.

"That Hangzhou's beautiful scenery is peerless under heaven, the West Lake's shore has rare flowers and strange grasses fragrant in all four seasons~.

In spring touring Su Causeway, peach blossoms red and willows green; in summer admiring lotus flowers reflecting the full pond.

…………"

A segment of Taiping lyrics "Legend of the White Snake," entirely learned from a certain guild society, sung in a child's voice clear and melodious, instantly won a hall full of applause.

Fang Xiu followed up with a few short jokes, even did a "Reciting the Menu" routine — unfortunately that relies on basic skills, and his Reciting the Menu was a mess.

Even so, the Hongyun Restaurant's guests cheered continuously. Many patrons who hadn't intended to eat there were drawn in by Fang Xiu.

In a short time, both floors of Hongyun Restaurant were packed. The shopkeeper's face beamed like a chrysanthemum, wrinkles multiplying several rings.

Heeding Fang Xiu's suggestion, the shopkeeper set up a long table in the restaurant's southeast corner. Fang Xiu stood behind the table. On the table there was no wake-up wood or folding fan, only the broken bowl he had brought.

After one performance, quite a few copper coins had been thrown into the broken bowl. Fang Xiu rejoiced inwardly, almost wanting to burn three sticks of incense for Boss Guo back in the Song Dynasty.

After the noon market passed, most guests dispersed. Fang Xiu's mouth was dry and tongue parched from talking. He counted the bowl — surprisingly over twenty copper coins. He chuckled. With these, even just buying buns would feed the three of them for two days. But things couldn't be handled that way.

Fang Xiu counted out ten copper coins and placed them before the shopkeeper: "Shopkeeper, this is my share money for today. Please accept it."

The shopkeeper, short and fat, smiling all day, froze for a moment: "Fang family lad, what's the meaning of this?"

Fang Xiu clasped hands and bowed slightly: "Borrowing your precious ground gave me this livelihood. You saved my life. This lad isn't insensible either. A venue fee must be paid, so we can come and go regularly. Only then can this lad's heart rest easy."

The shopkeeper sized up Fang Xiu a few times. He originally meant to refuse, but the phrase "come and go regularly" dispelled the notion. He reached out and took the copper coins. His look at Fang Xiu visibly changed — no longer looking at a child.

"Good. From now on, that long table in the northeast corner is your spot. As long as the guests are satisfied, you can keep at it. The venue fee is whatever you say. Eat here at noon every day. I heard you have a sister at home. Take a portion back when you leave."

"Though you're a lad with a lame leg, you understand propriety and know advance and retreat. You'll amount to something. Today I'm forming a good karmic tie with you."

Lunch was eaten a bit late. Running a restaurant is like that — always waiting for guests to leave before eating. Fang Xiu finished, bowed to the shopkeeper again, took a lotus-leaf packet in hand, leaned on his crutch, and returned to the ruined house, unconsciously humming a little tune along the way.

The midday meal was good — the most comfortable since transmigrating. What they ate in the restaurant was actually leftovers, but not the cold scraps left by guests. Rather, the chef specially portioned them out before they left the wok. Not sumptuous, but proper dishes.

In the lotus-leaf packet Fang Xiu held were still-warm soft mantou, several small dishes, even some fried lard residue. After leaving the restaurant he bought a few more buns. A Ku's day today was absolutely not bitter. The little girl would surely be smiling and nodding away.

Who would have thought the foreign languages, math, and physics learned before transmigrating would be utterly useless, yet in this era he'd manage a bowl of rice by relying on the crosstalk he constantly watched from a certain guild society.

Right now it's solo storytelling. Once A Ku's illness is cured, teach her the straight-man role. Today's audience is easy to fool. Using the little girl's childish voice to deliver a "go to hell" — others may not know, but Fang Xiu himself would definitely be secretly delighted. From today on he's also of the Yun Character Department. Stage name: Fang Yunxiu.

A pity he already had plans. The moment his leg injury healed he'd leave immediately. Otherwise opening a Quyi Society here wouldn't be a bad choice. How about "Ting Yun Pavilion"?

As for proactively paying the shopkeeper a venue fee, that too came entirely from an adult's mindset.

Relying on others' sympathy never lasts. After a while, that broken leg just becomes a familiar sight.

Today's performance effect was good. The shopkeeper was very satisfied. But for Fang Xiu it was still a form of charity.

Once the venue fee is paid, sympathy-charity turns into a cooperation model. Only then can it last relatively long.

Begging for a few days then advancing to performing for a living — finally no longer being taken advantage of. A sense of achievement welled up in Fang Xiu's heart.

Life had something to look forward to. Fang Xiu's leg didn't hurt so much anymore. He walked a few percent faster than usual. But just as he reached the Slum, Fang Xiu's expression instantly changed.

Blood smell. Thick, heavy blood smell rushed into his nose. And the source of the smell was unmistakably the ruined house where the three of them lived.

He also heard sounds of struggle, angry curses, and miserable screams. One of the voices belonged to Mo Laodao.

Thanks to Gourd Sister, Miao Sheng, Big Sea Beast, Book Friend 0111, Book Friend 0470 for the recommendation tickets. Gourd Sister is an old friend, always the first to support me. Big Sea Beast is my old classmate, so I'll be polite on the surface. And Miao Sheng, the first friend to leave me a comment on my previous book. Seeing you appear again is a huge surprise. Don't know how many of the previous readers I'll see again. Looking forward to it.

PS: Two updates daily before going on the shelf

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(Chapter End)