Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
The shop just opened, and it might not be a good sign to start a day with your first guest being your Big Owner. But Ning Que was fine with it, and even a piece of troublesome insider information did not disturb him.
He was convinced that the man who owned all of the street shops in Chang’an was someone who was either a billionaire or an aristocrat. Since the landlord had made his promise, there was no point in worrying about the rest. As the Old Brush Pen Shop was the only tenant shop on the street, the middle-aged man had granted him three months rent-free, which was good enough to make both young master and handmaiden in a cheerful mood.
What truly bothered him was their business, which was as bleak as the weather.
The spring rain had been going on for four or five days in Chang’an incessantly, and it seemed that it wouldn’t stop. The weather was gloomy and chilly, and the roads were slippery and muddy. No one would like to go out under such weather conditions. Their shop was the only one open on the entire street, and others’ doors were firmly closed on either side. The street appeared more deserted than ever as there was no business. In fact, there were only a few people and a couple of sparrows hopping hither and thither on the street.
On the first day of the opening of the shop, Ning Que looked at the spring rain and commented something like, “Spring rain is as precious as oil.” Now he thought of the rain as cheap as piss. He sat in a wicker armchair, sighing while watching the rain pattering outside. If one’s sight did have power, and if he was a Psyche Master of the Knowing Destiny State, then probably his resentful sight could knock down the gray wall in front him.
The middle-aged man said that both side shops of Lin 47th Street belonged to him, except this grey wall opposite to the Old Brush Pen Shop. Behind the wall was the warehouse of Logistics Department, which needed extending. That was the real reason why Ning Que was sulky.
At noon, someone finally walked in the shop. It was a potbellied, stout man with a look of a wealthy businessman, followed by two attendants. At first, Ning Que was vigilant as he thought they were one of those who was trying to persuade him to tear this shop down. Upon overhearing their casual talk, he understood that they were no more than some average shoppers who happened to seek shelter from the rain.
Since they were casual, Ning Que felt lazy to stand up and serve them. With both hands holding a shoddy, red-clay teapot and looking outside at the rain, Ning Que half-opened his eyes as if he could doze off at any moment. But his heart was on fire and eager to make some money.
The stout and wealthy looking man peered at something on the wall at a close distance, with his hands behind his back. It was interesting that those who visited the Old Brush Pen Shop tended to put their hands behind backs, seemingly displaying their sharp appreciation. This wealthy man, who had been living in Chang’an for a good while, was no exception and had cultivated a sharp taste. After examining the calligraphy hung on the wall, he said to his attendants, “I’m surprised to see such good calligraphy in this shabby little place.”
It could be taken as a compliment, though in a bit of a frivolous and condescending tone, which was unable to strike a chord with Ning Que. Ning Que still sat in his chair, appearing nonchalant. In fact, he was listening carefully to the wealthy man with his ears strained, longing to sell one of those calligraphies.
The stout wealthy man turned around and asked, “Lad, who wrote these calligraphies?”
“I did,” Ning Que answered politely, slightly making a bow.
The wealthy man didn’t say anything more, and after a while, he shook his head and commented. “What a pity! There were several calligraphies written quite handsomely. However, the young lad wants to pass himself off as some great calligrapher master. Anyway, you’re lucky that I happened to seek shelter here. San Er, take this one, I’ll buy it.”
Ning Que turned around, looked at them, and asked, “May I ask how much you’d like to pay for it?”
The wealthy man said with a smile, “If this were sold outside the Scent Workshop, it would cost 500 cents at most. Considering that you need to pay rent for your shop, and you’re still young, I’ll give you two taels of silver.”
Ning Que picked up his teapot, taking a drink, and then put it down and cursed. “Piss off.”
The wealthy man turned angry and shouted, “You don’t know how to appreciate favors, do you?”
Ning Que shook his head and answered, “I’m young, though I’m no fool. I was going to ask you to get out when you insulted me just now. I was just wondering how much you’d like to offer. If your offer was good, I think I’d be fine with your insult. But your offer is far from enough.”
The wealthy man walked off with a leaden face. Sangsang rushed out from the backyard only to see the silhouette of the three disappearing in the rain. She felt disappointed and turned around to look at Ning Que in the chair, angrily saying, “Young master, that’s TWO taels of silver!”
Two inksticks and three sheets of rice paper were all the Old Brush Pen Shop had sold during these days. Though they were exempted three months rent by the middle-aged man, Sangsang couldn’t sleep well these days, concerned about the huge expense of the academy in the future. You couldn’t blame her for blowing off steam.
As there was no business, Ning Que closed the shop after lunch, on the pretext of comforting Sangsang. But he wanted to have a stroll himself. He took Sangsang to Chenjinji Cosmetics Store for some powder a couple of streets away and stopped by Danbo Bookstore for several leisure books.
It proved a good idea to take a stroll outside. Sangsang could not suppress her joyous face with her one hand holding a cosmetics box from Chenjinji Cosmetics Store and the other with several books fastened together. Ning Que felt a lot better too, with his right hand holding the big black umbrella, and left hand stretching out to feel the rain. The rain pattered on his umbrella and hand. The young master and handmaiden, with rainboots on, strode over large and small rain puddles along the way back to Lin 47th Street.
Suddenly, the umbrella jerked, Ning Que stopped and looked at their shop dozens of meters away. Rain blackened the grey wall, and a man was sitting under the roof. The swarthy man appeared pale from his excessive blood loss. Ning Que held the umbrella more tightly.
A loud sound resonated in the air. Ning Que’s left foot trod into one of the puddles on the slate, splashing the water all over. He planned to rush towards the gray wall with all his strength summoned around his abdomen.
But at that very moment, the swarthy man soaked in blood managed to smile at him and shook his head firmly. He had a horrible wound in his abdomen, and his black clothes were tattered, bones crushed, and entrails revealed. Even those Grand Cultivators of the Limitlessness State could do nothing for him.
Upon seeing this and understanding his resolve, and hearing pounding footsteps and shouting near the entrance of the lane, Ning Que retreated his left foot slowly and awkwardly. He couldn’t help but shiver fiercely with his hand holding the umbrella.
“The Military Ministry is searching for a spy, move!”
A dozen of Yulin Royal Guards charged into the street and completely surrounded Zhuo Er, who was sitting in the corner of the wall, with solemn yet vigilant looks. The general who led the army seemed to let out a sigh of relief upon finding that this man had been severely injured.
The spring rain came down in torrents, making the gray wall darker, and streamed along the wall like a brook, quickly washing the wall smeared by Zhuo Er’s blood.
