117: Cangwu Bookstore

Lei He and Song Shuming exchanged glances. Indeed, though they had long suspected it, the truth was now out, and they finally confirmed that Chief Steward Jiang had not only achieved Qi Induction but had done so long ago.

“Do you think we’ll ever see him again?” Lei He asked.

Song Shuming looked at the tall earthen pillar, responding with a question of his own:

“I want to erect a plaque here. What do you think?”

Lei He also looked at the sky-piercing stone pillar, stroking his chin:

“What should we write on the monument?”

“Let’s start from the compilation of the books,” Song Shuming said, looking at the pillar and emphasizing:

“From the very first time, over ten years ago.”

...At the entrance of the Zhuang family manor, Zhang Ping paced, his brows tightly furrowed.

Despite repeatedly telling himself to calm down, he had been by Chief Steward Jiang’s side for five years; how could he still lack composure?

But the thought of leaving still made him uneasy, like a hot branding iron about to fall, his limbs bound, leaving him only to accept the judgment of fate.

At least ninety percent of his progress in Cultivation, the things he had learned, and the respect he received, were all because of Chief Steward Jiang.

He remembered clearly the first time he reconciled accounts with Elder Chen; he spoke hesitantly, somewhat disbelieving that he actually had thequalifications to speak directly with Elder Chen.

The Elder told him not to be afraid; he was sent by Chief Steward Jiang, and even if a huge mistake occurred, as long as Chief Steward Jiang trusted him, everything else was a minor issue.

Even the Family Head had spoken with him, asking if he had any difficulties, and to speak up if he did, as the family would resolve them.

Chief Steward Jiang’s significance to him was less a patron and more a guiding light for his soul.

He proved with his strength that humble origins were not a disgrace; as long as one believed in oneself, one day, when one became powerful...

Even the most stern Family Head would speak kindly, and the Elder most shrewd with money would become generous.

The cold world suddenly became filled only with warm praise, and reality was as docile as a rewarded courtesan, easily manipulated.

It could be said that ever since he started running errands, reconciling accounts, and handling money for Chief Steward Jiang...

All the disdain he had ever heard came from Chief Steward Jiang; no one else dared to show him a bad face.

Chief Steward Jiang was always incisive, either saying his punches were terrible or that he didn't know how to handle social situations, like a stubborn mule.

It was Chief Steward Jiang who taught him Cultivation while also teaching him how to handle things, why to do them that way, and how to refine himself.

He looked at himself from five years ago and saw a completely different person.

Reading ten thousand books is not as good as traveling ten thousand miles; traveling ten thousand miles is not as good as meeting countless people; meeting countless people is not as good as having a renowned teacher guide the way.

“What are you thinking about, so engrossed?” A familiar, gentle voice drifted into his ears.

Zhang Ping froze, then sharply turned his head. Chief Steward Jiang was smiling at him.

“Finally, I need you to do one more thing for me: deliver this letter to the Family Head personally. From today on, you are free.”

Taking the letter, Zhang Ping’s mind buzzed as if struck by a massive hammer, his rosy complexion instantly turning pale.

“Chief Steward Jiang, thank you!” Zhang Ping didn’t open his mouth to follow Jiang Hanwen, because he knew that when this man in front of him made a decision, it rarely changed.

The guards nearby looked over, their faces filled with suspicion.

The atmosphere today felt off. Had Zhang Ping, usually so cautious, angered Chief Steward Jiang?

Jiang Hanwen looked at the young man before him, his heart also filled with emotion.

From a clueless, naive youth to someone who could now easily handle various visitors, without falling behind in Cultivation, Zhang Ping had never uttered a single complaint along the way, truly deserving of the word “rare.”

Others only saw that this foolish young man had his favor, but they never considered that, though seemingly having money and status, he had never once visited a brothel, nor had a single massage even when reconciling accounts down the mountain. Whenever he had free time, he would Cultivate.

Several times, Jiang Hanwen returned from the basement to rest in the courtyard, hearing faint muffled thuds nearby.

He went to look and found the young man tempering his Qi and blood.

It was the middle of the night, with a bright moon and sparse stars. Worried about disturbing his rest, he had always controlled his strength, not daring to exert his full power.

People always like to attribute success to luck, because effort is a metric one is always ashamed to compare.

Just as too many things in life never even reach the point of needing to compete with talent.

Competing with luck, a comforting word, isn't it?

Jiang Hanwen shook his head and smiled:

“Let me ask you a question: over these past few years, how much money has passed through your hands, whether from the Medicine Field, the Zhuang family, or Tianyuan Residence?”

Zhang Ping blurted out:

“A total of eight hundred seventy-four thousand three hundred twenty-eight taels!”

“Have you ever taken a single tael?”

Zhang Ping shook his head, his gaze sharp.

“So, whether I helped you or you helped me, that’s a matter for debate.

I could give this opportunity to you or to someone else; you merely seized it yourself.

Zhang Ping, you want to become me, so you must never deny your own worth.”

Jiang Hanwen patted his shoulder:

“You must have been exhausted these past few years. Relax.”

Pfft~

Starting from his shoulder, Zhang Ping’s entire body stiffened. He felt as if all the Qi and blood in his body had frozen like ice.

Jiang Hanwen pulled out a slip of paper and tucked it into his hand, raising an eyebrow with a hint of encouragement:

“I can’t make it to your wedding, so this is my gift.

I’m leaving.”

In Zhang Ping’s vision, Jiang Hanwen’s back gradually blurred until he completely disappeared.

After a hundred breaths, starting from his shoulder, the ice-like sensation completely melted away.

Zhang Ping quickly stared at the slip of paper.

“There’s a boxing manual in my room. It’s yours.

Silly boy, you can’t delay any longer. The girl can’t wait much longer.”

Zhang Ping cupped his fists and bowed deeply towards the direction of the mountain.

“Chief Steward Jiang, goodbye.”

A quarter of an hour later, in Zhuang Kongming’s room, after reading Jiang Hanwen’s letter, he waved his hand, dismissing Zhang Ping.

Zhuang Kongming sat on his chair, looking at the white light streaming onto the floor from the wooden door, feeling utterly devoid of interest.

Only a single sentence was written on the white paper:

Congratulations, you have reached the other shore.

This was not his achievement alone, but now, only he could enjoy it by himself.

Such was the achievement, and such was the joy.

A nameless sadness choked Zhuang Kongming’s chest. He wanted to speak but found no one to confide in.

They had endured time together, endured the trials of human nature; everything had come to pass, yet now they were parting ways.

He finally understood that no one could replace Jiang Hanwen’s place in his heart.

“Bang!”

The sound of a porcelain vase shattering echoed in Zhuang Kongming’s room... Time flew by, and three springs passed.

Inside the Cangwu Bookstore, two tea artists were brewing tea for guests. As the gurgling kettle steamed, the bronze teapot was lifted from the small stove and evenly poured into each celadon cup.

Full tea is disrespectful; full wine shows respect.

The pale yellow tea water stopped rising at seventy-five percent, and a masked woman carried the tea to the table, replacing the guests’ cups.

The masked woman said nothing throughout, leaving after serving the tea and returning to read by the tea bar, looking very serious.

The guests nearby were already familiar with the practice, and they savored a sip of tea, closing their eyes in delight.

The once simple small bookstore had long since transformed.

Fifteen zhang wide, two stories high, connected by four circular staircases, with gnarled lacquered wood and screens adorned with green willows.

The first floor held leisure books, the second floor Cultivation Techniques; there was tea and water, a full staff, and an antique design that exuded a unique charm.

The bookstore was shaped like a square, allowing guests on the second floor to clearly see the movements of those below, and those below could look up and greet each other, creating a sense of transparency.

On the second floor, a person sat at Jiang Hanwen’s table.

Li Minzhong, the young master of the Li family, dressed in a yellow brocade robe with a lion-mane belt, mumbled:

“Shopkeeper Jiang, the more I look at your renovated bookstore, the more I like it.

If you ask me, you should just build a few houses in the backyard, and I won’t go home. I’ll just live here permanently from now on. What do you think?”