Chapter 273

Xue Shao accepted the money and nodded. "I'll speak tomorrow. I'll depart early the day after tomorrow, and I'll stay at the inn until early that day too."

The tavern shopkeeper bowed and withdrew.

The waiter, waiting outside, rushed up as soon as the shopkeeper stepped out. "Master, Mr. Chen has come—he's listened for two days straight and gone out to verify. It's true: there really was a Daoist named Pan Sanzhu among the bandit-suppressing force. They say she and her two young disciples, Si Shui and Wu Huo, were accidentally recruited by the bandit chief Song Bei as guards. But she saw through him—he was a Japanese pirate—and grew suspicious. Only then did she realize she'd entered a den of thieves, so…"

"Enough, enough. Everything you're saying now is what Young Master Xue already said. Is there anything he didn't mention?"

The waiter paused, then said: "There is. Mr. Chen says this operation was a joint effort between the Jianghu Alliance and the Zhang Zhang Tian Shi's Mansion, working with the navy. In the Jianghu Alliance, there's a righteous hero named Qu Le—he's Lin Mengzhu's nephew. He performed a great feat, slaying dozens of Japanese pirates single-handedly, even flying across the sea."

He added: "Also, a Daoist priest named Zhang Weiliang from the Zhang Zhang Tian Shi's Mansion is extremely formidable. His story is full of twists and turns. After Young Master Xue leaves, you can pick up right where his story ends."

The shopkeeper finally nodded and whispered: "Have Mr. Chen listen closely to how Young Master Xue tells it. Then expand on it—make sure this battle sounds dramatic and captivating."

He sighed. "It's rare the imperial court gives us a good story to tell. Finally, we don't have to bribe the government office Runners. Let Mr. Chen speak for a while longer."

He paused, then continued: "Tell Mr. Chen to be clever. Young Master Xue is an eyewitness—he can be invited for drinks, asked more about the battlefield. If all else fails, just use Pan Sanzhu's story and those of her two disciples. I don't think people are tired of it yet. At least it'll last another half-month."

The waiter bowed. "Master, why are you so kind to Young Master Xue? You even want Mr. Chen to ask him for stories."

Isn't it usually the case that once you hear something, it's yours?

Whoever has the skill can just retell it.

The shopkeeper glanced at him. "Do you really think this man is an ordinary storyteller? He's a Provincial Graduate!"

The waiter's eyes widened. "Why would a Provincial Graduate become a storyteller?"

The shopkeeper: "How should I know? Maybe he's truly short on cash."

"Even Provincial Graduate can be short on cash?"

The shopkeeper didn't know whether other Provincial Graduate were truly poor, but Xue Shao definitely was—he wore patched clothes and his shoes were torn.

The patches on Xue Shao's clothes were sewn after a Japanese pirate slashed him with a blade aboard the ship.

He had no money.

He truly had no money.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have been given two steamed buns by Pan Yun back then.

But after the bandit suppression, he received a share of the spoils—not wealthy, but no longer destitute.

Yet all the captured pirates, besides the clothes on their backs, had their belongings confiscated.

Xue Shao kept only enough for his travel expenses; the rest he traded for cash with the righteous heroes and Daoists, giving it to those people.

Settling down always costs money—some of them had infants in swaddling clothes. You can't let them live on a single piece of cloth, can you?

Clearly, the army wouldn't consider such things for prisoners.

After leaving Quanzhou, Xue Shao headed northwest, earning his way home as he traveled.

He sold calligraphy, paintings, wrote letters for others, and even went to the county school to write essays for the students.

He was familiar with this—winter had arrived, and in two months the academy would close for holidays.

Usually, before the break, instructors assigned large topics for students to work on slowly.

Poems, essays, policy proposals—all of them.

Xue Shao wandered near the county school and received several assignments. After taking on the work of writing poems and essays, he checked into the best tavern, writing essays while telling stories.

Xi Jin poured tea for Xue Shao and ground ink for him. "Young Master, storytelling takes too long and earns less than writing essays. Even painting or calligraphy earns more. Why bother with this?"

Xue Shao said: "I don't tell stories to make money."

"Then just to glorify Daoist Pan Sanzhu?"

"The day I saw her on the beach, she was drenched in blood, her forehead dark—her fate was clearly one of imminent violent death," Xue Shao said, tilting his head with a puzzled expression as he held his brush. "Her destiny is strange: when good, it's exceptionally good; when bad, it's exceptionally bad—as if something amplifies her evil and misfortune, yet something else counters it, allowing her to easily gain merit, using merit to offset the evil."

"So when I saw her on the beach, she was ink-black. An hour later, she was deep black. By the time I reached the tavern, she was black-red…"

"Merit, in essence, is incense smoke—and incense smoke is human belief," Xue Shao said. "Since it benefits her and I earn travel money, it's a small favor. Why not?"

Xue Shao swiftly wrote a seven-character quatrain and set it aside. "Just repaying her kindness. I didn't find her in time then—I still feel guilty."

Xi Jin blew on the poem to dry it, then placed it aside. "I'll follow your lead, Young Master. Who is this poem for?"

Xue Shao: "Two taels."

"Got it."

Xue Shao paused slightly, then wrote another poem and handed it to him.

Xi Jin carefully blew it dry and asked: "And this one—for which Young Master?"

"Three taels."

Xi Jin noted it down.

Prices were agreed upon in advance, with deposits paid; he sorted them carefully.

Only then did Xue Shao take out another sheet of paper, weigh it down with a paperweight, and ponder long before putting brush to paper.

Xi Jin peered over, frowning. "Young Master, this is too plain."

"What do you know? This ten-tael Young Master paid ten taels for an assignment not meant for the academy, but for his father. What's his level? Doesn't his father know?"

"Since we took so much money, we should make him happy a little longer. This essay is something he could write himself with effort—no suspicion will arise." Xue Shao smiled slightly. "Besides, I'll give him a good foundation for the books he'll need to study over the next half-year. That's worth ten taels."

Xue Shao stayed up until midnight finishing all the essays and poems.

He checked them once more, made sure nothing was missing, labeled each piece with its client's name, then laid down his brush and collapsed onto the bed.

Xi Jin had long since fallen asleep on the couch beside him, legs propped up, snoring softly.

Xue Shao lay still for a long while before rising, pulling the blanket over Xi Jin, then removing his shoes and socks and climbing into bed.

The next morning, Xi Jin woke early, quietly gathered all the poems and essays, picked up his satchel, and went to the county school to deliver them and collect the final payments.

Xue Shao had woken when Xi Jin rose, but waited until he left before getting up himself.

He tidied himself, took his money, and walked out into the street to find something to eat.

The winter morning was cold; few people were on the streets. Looking around, he saw many huddled or lying against walls.

Among them were many children and the elderly.

!. Read

Xue Shao paused, then took from his sleeve the string of coins he had only received the day before, counted out twenty copper plates and said, "Give me ten more steamed buns."

The stall owner happily agreed, took a large lotus leaf, folded it once, and went clank-clank-clank tossing the steamed buns inside.

His family's steamed buns were all very large, and the children all liked eating them because they were fluffy, but the adults actually preferred the old-dough steamed buns, because they were more substantial.

Xue Shao first took his own bao, bit into it, and felt it was pretty good too, so he took out another twenty copper plates and said, "Give me ten more bao then."

The stall owner happily agreed, took the lotus leaf, folded it once, and went clank-clank-clank packing them up for him.

He also said enthusiastically, "Would Young Master like to try the eggs from our shop? We have boiled ones, and ones made with chopped scallions poured over. The boiled ones are two wen each, the poured ones are three wen a bowl. In this weather, drinking a bowl will make you sweat, very comfortable."

Xue Shao hesitated for a moment, then said, "We'll see."

With a bao clamped in his mouth, he quickly finished it and walked toward the person lying in the corner of the wall.

He handed the bao to a person.

He took it; the beggars lying in the corner against the wall immediately went "gulp" and stood up, crowding over one after another.

Xue Shao turned no one away, giving each person one.

Adults got steamed buns, children got bao.

In no time, the twenty steamed buns and bao were all distributed. Xue Shao took his own steamed bun and squatted together with them to eat.

He asked the youth wolfing down his food beside him, "Does your family still farm the land?"

The youth swallowed hard while speaking unclearly, "We farm, it's just not enough to eat."

Xue Shao nodded slightly, "Coming out in winter can save your family a share of food, but what if one day you can't beg for a meal?"

He said, "You still have to find some work to do."

The youth: "I'm looking too. Sometimes I carry sacks for the local masters and shopkeepers, just to get a meal, but there are too many people out here looking for a way to live. I might only manage to snag a job once every three or five days."

Xue Shao sighed, patted his shoulder, turned his head and asked the child sitting on his left, "What about you, who did you come out with?"

The child glanced at Xue Shao, immediately scrambled up, and ran off clutching half a bao.

The youth said, "He's not like us. He's an orphan from around here, usually living in the Charity Nursery. These past few years the Charity Nursery hasn't had an easy time of it either, especially in winter. When they can't eat their fill, they can only beg on the streets."

Xue Shao felt a pang in his heart upon hearing this and said nothing more.

Xijin ran back cheerfully and said happily to Xue Shao, "Young Master, our travel money is enough, look."

Xue Shao looked at the money revealed when he opened the bundle, and fell into thought.

Xijin immediately snapped the bundle closed with a swish. "Young Master, you're not thinking of donating the money again, are you? This-this-this, this is our travel money."

Xue Shao came back to himself and smiled, "With our skills, earning money isn't hard. Worst case, we just take a longer route on this trip. When we have money, we ride; when we don't, we walk. But they are in a very difficult spot."

Xijin: "But how many people can this little bit of money help?"

Xue Shao: "Helping one is one. As long as that one person is happy at that moment, that's enough."

Xijin opened and closed his mouth, then muttered softly, "Then can we still get home before the new year?"

Xue Shao: "Spending New Year outside has its own flavor too. I've grown this big and never once spent New Year out here."

"In any case, you're always right." Xijin asked, "Where are you planning to donate the money?"

"The Charity Nursery."

Pan Yun at this moment was also meeting with someone from the Charity Nursery.

"With so many children orphaned, according to the laws of the imperial court, they should be raised by the Charity Nursery."

Good night, tomorrow I'll continue trying to post earlier

(End of this chapter)