108: Respect the clothes first and then the person

Down the mountain, in the backyard of the new Tianyuan Residence.

Jiang Hanwen and Gong Qing were drinking tea.

"qi gathering grass seeds, three taels a catty. You wouldn't just take them from the Medicine Field, would you?" Gong Qing frowned, looking at Jiang Hanwen with concern: "If you're short on money, I have some."

Jiang Hanwen shook his head. Poor?

Don't be silly. I'm afraid if I take out money, you won't want to strive anymore.

"Don't worry, I have money. How many stages have you reached now?" he asked.

"Hehe, I'm at Transcendent Sixth Stage now." Gong Qing grinned, smiling like a child.

"Oh, and there's this." Jiang Hanwen took out two shiny, lustrous bitter apricot fruits.

"Take them and try their effects. Later, I'll have Zhang Ping send you more."

Gong Qing picked up the bitter apricot fruit, sniffed it carefully, and narrowed his eyes slightly.

"This should be at its peak, right?"

An expert knows at a glance. Gong Qing understood the quality of the bitter apricot fruit from the smell alone. He explained:

"I later heard that qinggang wood has a strong fire element, so I tried it, but it wasn't very useful.

I'm guessing it's the water that makes the difference, right?"

Jiang Hanwen nodded. bitter apricot fruit was, so far, the only thing that could draw Spiritual Qi into a soup. Clearly, Gong Qing had not given up his research.

But qinggang wood and the Spirit Rain Technique, one water and one fire, had already reached Perfection, a complete and final conclusion, with no further progress possible.

A hint of melancholy flashed in Gong Qing's eyes. Naturally, he didn't want his path in Medicinal Cuisine to end here.

Yet, after trying so many Spiritual Plants, only the bitter apricot fruit had this effect. He couldn't possibly rely on this one thing for the rest of his life.

He knew best how difficult it was to forge a new path.

"I heard that Black Wind Martial Hall has a First Grade Alchemist. Since Alchemy has alchemical fire, do you think cooking can also have stove fire?"

Jiang Hanwen patted his old friend's shoulder:

"There was originally no road on the ground, but when many people walked it, it became a road.

What's the rush? Hurry up and Breakthrough, have a few more little brats. You've already done enough. The rest, leave some for the next generation to ponder."

"You're right." Gong Qing smiled faintly and raised his wine cup.

"Bang!"

...Jiang Hanwen's main purpose for coming today was to finalize the matters of the foot bath city and the calming tea. As for Zhang Ping, he had already sent him to Lei He to check the accounts.

Now, the Tianyuan Residence down the mountain was responsible for security by the Zhuang family, holding a twenty percent share. The rest, Gong Qing was free to do as he pleased—in two words, freedom.

After finishing the wine, Zhao Shuang came in as usual to clean up the mess.

"Second Master." Zhao Shuang looked at Jiang Hanwen, a stiff smile on his lips.

"Come here." Jiang Hanwen beckoned. Zhao Shuang approached, and Jiang Hanwen squeezed his cheeks with both hands.

"Smile happily. No one despises your humble origins.

Heroes are not judged by their origins, and manhole covers are not judged by their source, understand?"

Zhao Shuang looked at Jiang Hanwen in astonishment, as if saying, 'How did you know?'

"I'm leaving, little fellow. Next time, smile happily." Patting Zhao Shuang's shoulder, Jiang Hanwen departed.

Unlike Zhang Ping, Zhao Shuang kept things bottled up, while Zhang Ping was a bit dim-witted.

If that boy were here, his first reaction would definitely be to ask Jiang Hanwen, 'What's a manhole cover?'

Stepping out the door, standing on the bustling street, Jiang Hanwen squinted. Down the mountain, it was very lively, with the population already exceeding one hundred thousand.

He decided that once he finished devouring the books in the book tower, he would move his base down the mountain.

The war was still ongoing, turning into a cat-and-mouse cold war in Yong'an Commandery in the north. Here, however, nestled in a corner, far from the clamor, it had become a haven, a land of peach blossoms.

Walking along, to see his own chamber of commerce, his own book tower, and most importantly for this trip down the mountain—the Immaculate Body!

His three houses, kept as cunning rabbit's three burrows, were all filled with beggars. Jiang Hanwen, not wanting the trouble, simply bought a new courtyard with two wings.

The price of the courtyard had increased fivefold compared to a year ago, now demanding three hundred taels of silver.

House prices reflecting prosperity, this saying was truly accurate. Jiang Hanwen recalled the magic capital of his previous life.

In the 90s, a square meter cost over two thousand, but later, with a population explosion, house prices increased by twenty or thirty times, if not more.

Removing his disguise, Jiang Hanwen strolled along the street.

The steam rising from the tea stall drifted up to the second floor of the wine shop, where a girl holding a round fan leaned by the brownish-yellow window, gently waving her fan.

The painting of emerald willows and a rising sun on the fan seemed to fan out the clinking of glasses and cups from inside the room, making it boisterous and romantic.

The scent of human activity was thick; this was merely the edge of the inner circle.

On the main street, the formerly crude dirt road was now entirely paved with thick, even bricks. Carriages passed by occasionally, with wind chimes hanging from their corners, making pleasant tinkling sounds, and wisps of sandalwood incense drifted from the swaying curtains.

"Come and see, fresh candied hawthorns, just coated in syrup, still warm!"

"Guest, please come inside for tea..."

The shouts of vendors rose and fell, mixing with the sounds of baozi shops kneading dough and blacksmiths hammering iron filings, forming a wave of sound, like a gentle breeze constantly caressing a lake, sparkling, spreading out in ripples.

Gentle and dense, undulating but not explosive, full of the rich scent of human life.

In the central area, Zhuang's Pharmacy had expanded two zhang wide, taking over the shop on the right.

Herbalists with shoulder bags, customers buying medicine, apprentices delivering medicine, doctors diagnosing patients—the shop was as lively as a fair.

Looking next door, at the location of his bookstore, a crowd of people was gathered at the entrance, with lively shouts coming from within.

Jiang Hanwen squeezed into the crowd. Just as when he first encountered him, the old man Xia Dong was telling stories to everyone in the crowd.

The difference was, the old man was wearing a refined, snow-white robe, his beard neatly trimmed, and he stood tall like a pine, exuding three parts of a Grandmaster's demeanor.

"As the saying goes!

Golden mountain bamboo shadows, a few autumn days, clouds lock high flight, water flows freely.

Ten thousand miles of long river, a floating jade belt, a silver moon, a rolling golden ball.

Far from Hubei three thousand li, close to sixteen prefectures of Jiangnan.

The beautiful scenery cannot be fully appreciated in a moment—"

Xia Dong held a storytelling block, slapped it on the counter with a 'pa,' widened his eyes, scanned the crowd, and loudly proclaimed:

"With destiny, you can wander in the painting!"

"Good!"

Everyone applauded.

After speaking, Xia Dong smiled slightly and turned directly into the house, displaying his nonchalance.

Beside him, Xia Dong's grandson, Xia Zhijie, clapped the donation cylinder by the door and said with a grin:

"Everyone, big brothers and uncles, my grandpa doesn't easily tell this part to others. It's only because you've come that he opened his golden mouth."

"It's no big deal, watch this." A chubby man shouted, throwing a piece of broken silver into the cylinder, which made a hollow 'dong long' sound.

"Thank you, big brother." Xia Zhijie clasped his fists with a grateful expression. The others, those with money threw a couple more copper coins, and those without said they would definitely donate next time, then clasped their fists and left.

Compared to a year ago, when the old man would talk until his mouth was dry without a single copper coin, the current income had increased dozens of times over.

The old saying goes, first respect the clothes, then the person; first respect the appearance, then the soul.

Conversation can suppress a gentleman, but clothes and hats can cover a villain.

The story was still the same story, and the storyteller was still the same person.

But because the clothes worn were different, and the position was different, the outcome was completely different.

This perfectly describes the inherent nature of humanity.

Seeing Jiang Hanwen standing motionless at the door, Xia Zhijie greeted him:

"This big brother, are you perhaps looking to browse books in the shop? Our shop's books..."

Amidst Xia Zhijie's eager solicitation of business, Jiang Hanwen entered the bookstore.

He looked around. Most were storybooks, with an occasional travelogue.

Some books had consistent handwriting, likely handwritten by the same person.

Some book pages were yellowed, showing their age, likely collected.

"I see your shop has a good location. I'd like to take it over. Can you make the decision?" Jiang Hanwen asked.

"Sir, please don't scare me.

My grandpa and I both work for someone else. How could we make the decision!" Xia Zhijie, with a startled expression, slowly explained:

"The manager of this bookstore is a very important person, and he's busy.

My grandpa and I haven't seen him for several months.

If you want the bookstore, leave a location and a sincere offer. Then, I'll tell the manager. If he agrees, I'll be the first to come find you. How does that sound?"

Jiang Hanwen understood. These grandparents, using the human weakness of 'better safe than sorry' to protect the bookstore, it was hard on them.

Now, it remained to be seen if it was genuine or a facade.