Chapter 24: Money Earned Is Meant to Be Spent

Chapter 24: Money Earned Is Meant to Be Spent

Li Er announced, "Write a storybook."

Yan Fengan thought of Scholar Liu who had just been driven out: "Like that scholar just now?"

"Oh, don't compare yourself to him." Li Er was quick-tongued and talkative. "That Scholar Liu is a scholar who failed the imperial exams and thinks he's a reincarnated literary genius. Everything he writes is nothing but clichés—they're a dime a dozen, yet he still believes the readers just don't appreciate his brilliance. Not only are his stories poorly written, but he's also stubborn as a mule. Our shopkeeper kindly gave him suggestions, but he insisted every single line he wrote was a classic that couldn't be cut, and the core of his story couldn't be changed either. Even our shopkeeper, who has the patience of a saint, lost his patience with him..."

Once Li Er finished his long-winded explanation, Yan Fengan said, "Scholars have their integrity. Perhaps he's simply satisfied with what he's written."

"Integrity won't put food on the table. And when it comes to making money, what's the use of integrity? A story is meant to be read by others—what's the point if only he's satisfied? The readers need to be satisfied too."

Li Er took two booklets off the shelf—one titled *Strange Cases of Justice* and another *Anecdotes from the Imperial Academy*—and handed them to Yan Fengan. "These two are our shop's bestsellers this year. We printed two thousand copies each and sold out within six months. Our boss is even thinking of reprinting them."

Yan Fengan took them and flipped through them casually. After a couple of glances, they seemed familiar. Thinking more carefully, didn't he have these exact two books on his shelf at home?

Not long ago, when he had some free time, he'd read both from cover to cover. Though the titles were quite different, the core of the content was the same.

*Strange Cases of Justice* recounted various court cases at the county office, while *Anecdotes from the Imperial Academy* followed a student who ran into strange happenings while studying at the academy and got accidentally tangled up in several murder cases.

Zhang Sheng's sinister thoughts were certainly intriguing, but with a little thought, you could easily guess where the plot was heading. But these mystery cases were truly gripping—they pulled at your heartstrings and made you desperate to find out the truth.

It was still early, and the bookshop had few customers. With nothing else to do, Li Er kept chatting with Yan Fengan: "These two authors earned nearly twenty taels of silver from just one book each. Isn't that better than copying manuscripts?"

Copying a manuscript only earned you fifty to eighty wen, but writing a storybook could earn you ten to twenty taels. Comparing the two, writing storybooks was indeed a hundred times better than copying.

Twenty taels of silver could feed a farming family for a whole year. A storybook of about a hundred thousand characters could be written in just over a month. All in all, it was a decent way to make a living.

But while writing a storybook sounded easy, actually making it big was incredibly hard. Yan Fengan had heard everything the clerk said to Scholar Liu. Only these two storybooks sold well; there was a whole pile that didn't sell at all.

Compared to romance stories about gifted scholars and lovely ladies, mystery and court-case storybooks had a much higher bar. Not only did the cases need to be fully laid out for the readers, but the values upheld and the criticisms made in the stories also had to match what the common folk cared about. In short, it could only be described with one word: difficult.

Yan Fengan knew he couldn't write such stuff, but he still asked, "Aside from mystery cases, do you take other types?"

Li Er said, "We take other types too. Reading the same kind of stories gets old, doesn't it? You don't have to write mysteries—as long as the story is fresh and interesting enough, our boss will likely take notice. Even if you don't earn twenty taels, you can still make enough to cover your ink and paper."

The clerk talked a lot, but every word was sincere. Yan Fengan cupped his hands in gratitude: "I understand. Thank you."

Li Er had been annoyed after dealing with Scholar Liu, but now meeting a polite scholar like Yan Fengan, he felt much better.

Though their social statuses differed, Li Er still held his head high in front of Yan Fengan: "Don't mention it. If you ever write a storybook, just bring it here. I'll put in a good word for you with the boss."

Yan Fengan smiled, then bought some coarse paper and ink sticks from the shop. Remembering Wen Xi was still waiting, he didn't stick around after buying his things.

While Wen Xi was helping Shen Yun sell persimmons, he kept scanning the crowd. After searching again and again without success, he finally caught sight of that familiar figure in the distance.

When Yan Fengan reached him, Wen Xi looked at him with bright eyes and asked, "Did you get everything you needed?"

Yan Fengan nodded: "How are the persimmons selling?"

Wen Xi said, "The six-wen ones are mostly sold. A few of the others are still left."

Yan Fengan looked around—there were still plenty of people around. With a little patience, the persimmons would definitely sell.

By late morning (around 11 a.m.), few shoppers were left in the market. Except for a few bruised persimmons that nobody wanted, everything else had sold out. Now they could finally head out.

None of them had eaten breakfast because they had to catch the early market, and Shen Yun's stomach was already growling. After cleaning up the stall, he grabbed Wen Xi's hand eagerly: "Come on, come on, I'm treating you all to some lamb soup."

The smell of lamb soup mixed with scallions drifted through the air, almost luring people from half a street away. Shen Yun was drooling—since he'd earned money, how could he not treat himself?

At the stall, he generously grabbed a handful of copper coins from his pouch and slapped them on the table: "Waiter, give us four bowls of lamb soup and two steamer baskets of lamb buns."

"Lamb buns are twenty wen per basket, and lamb soup is twelve wen per bowl. That comes to eighty-eight wen in total. Can I get you anything else?"

Having gone hungry all morning, Shen Yun was worried the lamb buns wouldn't be enough, so he added, "Give us each a flatbread as well."

"Sure. That'll be exactly one hundred wen."

When he heard their meal would cost a hundred wen, Wen Xi was stunned. As Shen Yun was paying, Wen Xi grabbed his hand and said, "I can share a bowl with Yan Fengan. You can order one fewer."

"We're not short on cash—why would we share? I wouldn't skip yours for anything." Knowing what Wen Xi was thinking, Shen Yun patted the pouch on his waist and said, "Before we came, my brother said all the money from today's persimmon sales is mine to keep, and I can spend it however I want. Don't worry about the price—we can easily afford a bowl of lamb soup."

The pouch was full of the copper coins Shen Yun had earned today. When he patted it, the coins clinked invitingly.

"We made nearly three hundred wen from the persimmons. Eat as much as you want."

Seeing his enthusiasm, Wen Xi didn't want to spoil the mood, but that hundred wen stuck in his chest like a thorn. After the waiter left, he said, "Persimmons only sell once a year. We should still save a little."

Shen Liang said, "Our family doesn't depend on selling persimmons to make a living. This money was meant for him to buy treats anyway. You two already went to the trouble of coming along—if we can't even treat you to a meal, then I've failed as a host."

A hundred wen was indeed a lot, but indulging just once a year was something he could accept.

Wen Xi's heart was still racing nervously at the price. He looked at Yan Fengan uneasily, and the man reached under the table to hold his cold hand, comforting him: "It's hard to refuse such hospitality. Since Brother Shen has insisted, let's not be so formal."

Then he leaned in closer to Wen Xi and whispered, "If friends are too particular about splitting things, it creates distance. Someday when you earn money, you can treat them in return."

Wen Xi nodded, mentally keeping track of the debt.

The lamb soup had been simmering in the pot all along and was brought out soon after. The white broth was sprinkled with bright green scallions, and beneath them lay a few paper-thin slices of lamb.

Wen Xi picked up his chopsticks, brushed the scallions aside, and was about to put two slices of lamb into Yan Fengan's bowl when he realized the man was doing the exact same thing for him.

Shen Yun, being an unmarried young man, didn't dare make any teasing remarks, but he winked at Wen Xi and covered his mouth to chuckle.

Yan Fengan wasn't one to be shy about such things. After putting his own meat into Wen Xi's bowl, he picked up his bowl and took the meat from Wen Xi's chopsticks.

Though their exchange was a bit redundant, both of them felt warm inside.

The lamb had a slight gamey smell, but the owner had prepared it well. Aside from being a bit hot, the soup was simply delicious.

The lamb buns were also thin-skinned with a generous filling, bursting with meaty flavor in every bite. Wen Xi had never tasted anything so good, and his heart no longer dwelled on the price. After finishing his flatbread and the last drop of lamb soup, he squinted in satisfaction.

The lamb buns were truly delicious, so before leaving, Shen Yun bought a few more to take back to his mother at home.

Wen Xi's heart stirred. He hesitated, then tugged at Yan Fengan's sleeve. He didn't say a word, but Yan Fengan understood from his hesitant look: "You want Mother and the others to try these lamb buns too?"

Wen Xi asked, "Is that okay?"

Yan Fengan said, "Of course."

It was rare to come into town—they should bring something good back for the family. How shameful that he, as a son and brother, hadn't thought of it while Wen Xi, his husband, had been so considerate.

One basket held eight buns. Besides him and Wen Xi, there was exactly one for each member of the family.

Yan Fengan paid, took the oil-paper-wrapped buns, and said to Wen Xi, "Let's browse a bit more and see if there's anything else we need."

"No need to look around. Let's head home early."

The city was different from the countryside—even a wild vegetable cost money, and even the air seemed thinner. Wen Xi's heart felt heavy like a stone pressing on his chest, and he had no desire to keep strolling around.

Shen Yun said, "Hold on, don't rush off—I haven't treated you to candied hawthorn skewers yet."

Before Wen Xi could say anything, he added, "A skewer only costs a few coppers, it's not expensive."

Since they'd already spent so much money, Wen Xi didn't want to sour the mood over a few coppers, so he gladly accepted.

Yan Fengan and Shen Liang weren't into that stuff, so Shen Yun only bought them for himself and Wen Xi.

Remembering there were two kids at home, Yan Fengan fished out a few coppers and bought a skewer each for Tiezhu and Tao'er.

Having gotten their fill of treats, the four didn't linger in town and walked back home along the same path they'd come.

His money pouch felt heavy, and Shen Yun, finding it a hassle, handed it to Shen Liang to carry, saying he'd return it once they got home.

Shen Liang was more than willing and went along with whatever he wanted.

Wen Xi observed this and thought to himself that Shen Yun, having lost his father at such a young age, was truly unfortunate, but at least he had a brother who doted on him endlessly, which added some warmth to an otherwise sad situation.

At the village entrance, Yan Fengan thanked the brothers again for their hospitality, and they each headed home separately.

That day, the village schoolteacher had given the kids the day off, and Tiezhu and Tao'er were playing by the courtyard gate. When they saw Yan Fengan and Wen Xi returning, they called out happily, "Third Uncle, Uncle Xiao Xi!"

Though they hadn't promised the children anything before leaving, what child wouldn't hope for treats from adults? Tiezhu and Tao'er were well-behaved and didn't ask outright, just staring at them with such hopeful eyes it could melt your heart.

Yan Fengan took out the candied hawthorn skewers wrapped in oil paper and held them high, making the two little ones' eyes go wide.

Any other kids would've grabbed them right away, but Tiezhu and Tao'er, eyes glued to the two red treats, wiped their drool and asked, "Third Uncle, are these for us?"

Yan Fengan smiled and patted their heads: "You're the only little ones at home, who else would they be for?"

He bent down and handed a skewer to each child: "Here, one for each of you, no fighting over them."

"Thank you, Third Uncle!"

They were still children after all—Tiezhu and Tao'er took the candied hawthorn skewers and eagerly licked them, their eyes crinkled with happiness from the sweetness.

That clever little Tiezhu, licking his treat, mumbled, "Third Uncle, you and Uncle Xiao Xi are so kind. When you two have kids someday, I'll buy them candied hawthorn skewers too."

Though it was just a child's innocent remark, Wen Xi still blushed deeply at the words. He didn't dare look at Yan Fengan's expression and hurried into the courtyard with the oil paper package.