Chapter 337

Shopkeeper Wang had been waiting in the courtyard all along. Upon hearing Lord Wang’s words, he took note immediately and hurriedly sent a clerk to find a doctor to examine Master Dong’s hand for any injury. The clerk returned swiftly, bringing the doctor back, panting heavily. Seeing Wang Xiujin’s hand, the doctor’s beard bristled with anger, nearly bursting into a scolding. The fingers weren’t even reddened, yet they summoned a doctor—was the nobleman being overly delicate?

Wang Xiujin felt somewhat embarrassed under the doctor’s gaze. He hadn’t expected Shopkeeper Wang to react so promptly, and the clerk, unaware of the situation, had assumed something serious had happened, hence the commotion. Wang Xiujin could only awkwardly clasp his hands in apology to the doctor and instructed his men to prepare a carriage to send the doctor back. The doctor understood how the mistake had arisen and let it slide, merely advising him not to let such a thing happen again.

The clerk scratched his head, worried that failing to handle the matter properly might cause Master Dong displeasure. Wang Xiujin was not a petty man; he simply nodded to Shopkeeper Wang and ordered the clerk to hasten the carriage to send the doctor off. He also instructed the steward to weigh this year’s new rice and deliver it to the clinic along with the doctor’s departure.

Once the doctor left, Wang Xiujin found himself with no mood for other matters. After exchanging a few words with Shopkeeper Wang, he stepped out of the shop. He had originally planned to return to the General’s Mansion, but since the carriage had not yet returned, he decided to sit briefly at the teahouse across the street, enjoy a pot of clear tea and some melon seeds, listen to the storyteller’s tales, and wait for the carriage. Listening to the storyteller felt no different from hearing a traditional narrative performance.

Leaning on his chin, Wang Xiujin pondered whether it might be possible to hold a storyteller competition at the sports grounds, selecting the best of the best to be awarded a royal plaque declaring them the finest storyteller under heaven, along with a prize. They would then tour thirty-eight performances throughout Daliang. Just as this idea took shape, the carriage returned. He ceased listening to the tale, rose, and, accompanied by the household guard waiting by the door, boarded the carriage, redirecting to the sports grounds.

There were countless storytellers in Daliang, making it no easy task to find the best. Yet the commercial potential and rapid monetization were striking. Though the imperial treasury was currently flush, who could say no to more money? The court maintained many idle retainers, and annual upkeep costs demanded substantial funds. Without additional revenue streams, the state’s various taxes would never suffice. Even though the emperor annually handed over a portion of the funds, the treasury had not seen significant expenditures; otherwise, it might already be half empty.

Arriving at the venue, Wang Xiujin openly stated his purpose. The Fifth Prince listened with some confusion. Was this not similar to the previous competitions for the best chess player or calligrapher? Why did Wang Xiujin choose to organize this? Wang Xiujin shook his head. “The difference lies in the thirty-eight subsequent touring storytelling performances. A storyteller granted a royal plaque by the emperor would not perform for free. Like actors on stage, they charge a fee per show. Everyone is curious; who would not want to hear what distinguishes a storyteller with such a plaque? Naturally, people will be willing to pay to attend.

“Seating will vary in distance and price. The better the seat, the higher the price; the less favorable, the cheaper. The revenue collected is partly shared with the storytellers, encouraging more spirited and superior performances. Imagine thirty-plus shows spanning a year; then the following year, a new competition crowns a new champion, named for the season or year. The cycle continues with tours, and previous champions share the stage, exchanging stories—one speaks, then another.”

Wang Xiujin elaborated the competition’s structure to the Fifth Prince. If the era were more advanced, he mused, he might replicate the format of the “Super Girl” talent show, which was highly profitable. For now, he could only entertain the idea, but even the existing plan promised considerable revenue.

The Fifth Prince nodded eagerly as he listened, his eyes brightening. Since taking over the management of the sports grounds, expenses were mounting. Every outlay required requesting funds from the emperor, and frequent appeals had left him feeling embarrassed. Though there was some surplus, it was only because the funds did not come from his personal coffers. He worried about sustaining the venue, which required constant maintenance and occasional performances by troupes. Without continued imperial funding, he doubted he could manage such a large establishment.

Bearing this burden for some time, the Fifth Prince finally understood why, since the army’s defeat, the emperor had relentlessly squeezed money from the vanquished states. If he struggled to maintain a small venue, how much more so for his father, who supported a vast court with myriad expenses? The prince had long wanted to discuss profit-making ideas with Wang Xiujin but rarely saw him without pressing matters. He felt awkward initiating the topic himself. So when Wang Xiujin arrived, he resolved to broach it no matter what. He did not expect Wang Xiujin to raise the subject first, which spared him the discomfort of having to do so.

Unaware of the prince’s thoughts, Wang Xiujin concluded their conversation and prepared to leave. The prince did not idle away the time either. If the plan was approved, the emperor’s personal endorsement would be necessary. Wang Xiujin envisioned creating plaques of gold, silver, bronze, and iron—gold for first place, the others for second to fourth. Each touring storytelling session could not feature only one performer but four rotating storytellers, ensuring variety and engagement. The stories could either be the same, with each storyteller covering different parts from beginning to end, or tailored to their strengths. All this hinged on the emperor’s approval.

After returning to the palace, the Fifth Prince recounted Wang Xiujin’s proposal to the emperor in detail. The emperor listened attentively and nodded, his eyes shining just as the prince’s had when first hearing the idea. “I find this feasible. As for the preliminary arrangements, consult with the Royal Merchants. Since this was their suggestion, inquire thoroughly. In terms of profit-making, you and the Fourth Prince cannot match him. Across the realm, few can rival his talents.”

The emperor’s praise was no exaggeration. Though Wang Xiujin enjoyed royal support, all his money-making ideas were his own. Without such ability, even the most favored by the court would fail to generate income.

After leaving the sports grounds, Wang Xiujin returned to the General’s Mansion. Upon arrival, Li Linshan was just returning. They exchanged greetings at the gate; Li Linshan’s eyes softened as he waited for Wang Xiujin to catch up, then they entered side by side. As they walked, Wang Xiujin narrated the encounter with the ritual officer. He knew nothing of what happened after the man was taken away by his father.

Li Linshan, upon hearing the man had been captured, wanted to inquire further but sensed that something more was at play. He advised patience, believing that once his father-in-law had completed his investigation, he would share the truth. Matters not meant for their ears would remain undisclosed, no matter how much they asked.

Several days passed. Each day, Wang Xiujin suppressed the urge to ask his father for updates, hoping the investigation would conclude soon. Today, determined not to delay further, he resolved to inquire directly. Yet before he could move, the Wang family steward arrived, bearing a letter for him. The two families lived nearby, so the steward’s special delivery puzzled Wang Xiujin—what was his father up to?

Breaking the seal, Wang Xiujin read carefully. The letter did not detail much but explained why the ritual officer had attempted to kill him, revealing he was not alone; an accomplice had secretly supported the plot. The abduction of Ya Chang had been orchestrated by this hidden supporter. However, the letter made no mention of how the ritual officer returned to the capital, his current intentions, or the identity of the mysterious ally. Why then did his father write this letter and send the steward on a special errand?

Wang Xiujin felt something was amiss but could not pinpoint what. He turned the letter over and over, even considering examining the ink or burning it slightly, but Li Linshan stopped him. “I’ve heard the Censorate has been very busy lately. What with, no outsider knows. Your father must be occupied and only had time to write to you upon seeing you. The letter’s contents probably involve sensitive matters. We should wait patiently. With his character, he would never let his family suffer unfairly.”

Wang Xiujin fell silent. Such words would have seemed unbelievable a dozen years ago, but now he believed them. His father had grown increasingly protective. His mother said that during their time at the shipyard, when his eldest sister likely suffered some grievance at her in-laws, his father, upon hearing this, had summoned his brother-in-law for a stern lecture.

“Then we shall wait,” he said.

From that day, whenever Wang Xiujin went out, he sensed an eerie calm before a storm in the capital. Patrols had increased visibly in the streets and alleys, heightening his unease. He wondered if he was merely being overly sensitive or if the cooler weather had thinned the crowds, making the guards more conspicuous. Fortunately, Wang Xiujin maintained good relations with the constables and exchanged casual greetings when they crossed paths, with no unusual incidents.

About two weeks later, on a deep night, Wang Xiujin was awakened by the sound of Li Linshan quietly rising and turning over in bed. As Wang Xiujin prepared to speak, Li Linshan silenced him with a finger to his lips, shaking his head. Without a sound, and barefoot, Li Linshan moved to the door, quietly unlatched it, and opened it. The courtyard was silent. Following Li Linshan’s lead, Wang Xiujin stepped outside and saw the distant sky ablaze with fiery red. It was not the dawn’s first light, nor the sun’s setting direction—could it be flooding?