Li Diudiu himself hadn’t expected things to turn out this way—on his very first day performing at the teahouse, he’d become a minor celebrity within a small circle, and had gained a devoted fan like Madame Sun.
From the first day onward, Madame Sun had been calling all her sisters over, and that circle kept expanding.
When Li Diudiu arrived at Yuanzhai Teahouse on the second afternoon, he got quite a shock—the teahouse was already packed to capacity, with not a single empty seat in the main hall.
And every single one of them was a woman.
What Li Diudiu didn’t know was that the ladies who’d come the day before had eaten lunch there and claimed their seats in advance—or rather, claiming seats was the primary mission while eating lunch was just a side benefit. The men who were accustomed to an afternoon nap had arrived later to find no seats left.
Madame Sun spotted Li Diudiu coming in with a large bundle on his back, his small frame forming a striking contrast with the enormous pack.
“He’s here, he’s here!”
Madame Sun immediately rose to her feet and went out to greet him. This left Li Diudiu feeling flattered and flustered—he appeared composed on the outside while his heart was in a complete panic on the inside.
Several dozen zhang behind Li Diudiu, little Gao Xining was sneaking along after him. She didn’t know what he’d been going out to do—lately Li Diudiu had stopped inviting her along to sell candy, and was deliberately putting more distance between them. She guessed that her grandfather had probably had another talk with Li Diudiu, or had pressured him through Yan Qingzhi again.
This irritated her greatly. Children of her age were already developing a rebellious streak—the more family members told you not to do something, the more you wanted to do it.
Besides, Gao Xining had grown up inside the academy and had no friends there at all. Apart from Li Diudiu, not a single disciple in the academy could be around her so naturally and freely. They either kept a respectful distance or fawned over her with flattery. Only Li Diudiu was like a breath of fresh air.
So lately she’d been feeling worse and worse. She asked herself why she felt so troubled, then explained it to herself by saying it was probably because she couldn’t go back on her word—she’d promised to arrange his marriage, so how could she give up halfway?
Having reasoned it out this way, she moved herself to tears. What a noble justification—truly righteous.
Gao Xining had already started following him the moment Li Diudiu walked out of the academy with that enormous bundle on his back. She didn’t dare let him discover her, creeping about like a little thief stealing hearts—or perhaps a little thief whose own heart had been stolen without her knowing.
When Gao Xining saw Li Diudiu being welcomed into Yuanzhai Teahouse by a rather beautiful woman, her small face fell.
When she saw that the teahouse was filled uniformly with women, her small face went from merely fallen to utterly expressive.
Li Diudiu walked into Yuanzhai Teahouse somewhat awkwardly under the gaze of a room full of women. For just a brief moment he considered turning around and walking right back out—but in the same instant that thought arose, another line came to him.
*I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.*
So he took a deep breath and made his way through the crowd to the small space that was temporarily his—a table and a chair. Was this not his own little domain?
He made no great show of himself and no excessive gestures. He simply sat down, took out his instruments one by one and arranged them on the table, then offered his standard smile and asked,
“What would you like to hear first today?”
Madame Sun said, “Young Master Li, just play whatever you like. Anything goes.”
Li Diudiu gave a slight bow in thanks.
Most of the women were there for the first time, and they felt that such a handsome young boy simply sitting there already went perfectly with the lazily drifting afternoon sunlight.
“All right then—I’ll choose for myself.”
Li Diudiu picked up a bamboo flute, sat quietly for a moment, then began to play. The moment those melodious notes drifted out, a wave of cheers erupted through the teahouse.
Madame Sun immediately grew anxious and called out loudly, “Don’t shout, don’t shout—listen properly, don’t disturb Young Master Li!”
Though Gao Xining desperately wanted to burst in and drag Li Diudiu out, she didn’t dare. She didn’t even know what she was afraid of—certainly it wasn’t those women.
She hid outside the window and peeked in, watching only Li Diudiu and ignoring the women entirely. She noticed that his eyes weren’t fixed on anyone—he was completely focused, and he knew exactly why he was there.
When the piece ended, the ladies launched into their own performance. The competitive spirit among women was terrifyingly powerful. The first person to scatter coins always felt a certain smugness about it, and anyone who scattered coins afterward would feel shamed if they didn’t throw more than those who had gone before.
Li Diudiu stood and bowed slightly, then went to collect every single coin—picking them up one by one. In that moment, Gao Xining—who had thought her heart was fairly resilient—felt a small ache.
*He’s here to earn money. He’s only here to earn money.*
Was earning money shameful?
Just then, Gao Xining heard someone speak behind her. The voice was quiet, but it still startled her. She turned to look and saw that the instructor Yan Qingzhi had appeared behind her at some point.
“Before this, he’d already saved enough money to buy a house for his teacher. But after taking a trip to Tang County, he made a friend there—and that friend ran into great trouble. He gave away a large portion of what he’d earned to that friend.”
Yan Qingzhi watched Li Diudiu picking up coins outside the window, and after a pause continued, “I know that seeing him like this might make you feel somewhat critical of him. But I don’t think there’s anything particularly wretched about him bending down to pick up coins right now. I don’t think he’s lost any dignity.”
Gao Xining shook her head vigorously. “I don’t think that either—he’s not wretched at all.”
Inside the teahouse, once Li Diudiu had collected the coins and returned to his spot, he picked up his second instrument and began to play. He still used no unnecessary words—didn’t even offer a single line to explain what piece he was playing.
“I haven’t heard this one before,” said Gao Xining, then turned to ask Yan Qingzhi, “Master Yan, are all these pieces Li Chi plays things he learned from you?”
Yan Qingzhi shook his head. “This one—I haven’t heard it before either.”
Li Diudiu hadn’t explained which piece it was because he’d composed it himself the previous night.
The entire teahouse grew still. Even passersby who caught the music would stop and linger. Gao Xining, listening to the melody from outside the window, felt a hazy vision form in her mind.
She seemed to see an old man and a young child in the fading amber of a setting sun, walking hand in hand down a road stirred with dust—no conversation, no other movement, just hands clasped together, walking forward without end.
When the piece ended, Li Diudiu rose and bowed again. But this time, no one scattered any coins.
Li Diudiu blinked in mild surprise, thinking to himself that the piece he’d composed must not have been very good after all.
Then he watched as Madame Sun took out a handkerchief and raised it to dab at the corners of her eyes. She murmured to herself, “Why… did I suddenly think of my father?”
The teahouse was so quiet that Madame Sun’s words, soft as they were, carried to every corner. People who had been somewhat lost in a daze suddenly came to themselves—and each of them had felt exactly the same thing.
They missed their fathers.
Seeing the mood among the crowd, Sun the proprietor of Yuanzhai Teahouse thought someone ought to say something, so he called out from the back of the room, “What a piece!”
And tossed out a single copper coin, which landed on the floor with a crisp clink.
His words were like a call that woke people from a dream, and then coins began scattering in waves, their landing sounds as dense as rain drumming on banana leaves.
Li Diudiu, as always, offered his courteous thanks and, as always, went to bend down and pick up the coins one by one. It was then that a small, delicate hand appeared before him. He looked up and saw Gao Xining’s smiling face.
“Let me help.”
Gao Xining smiled. Li Diudiu’s vision blurred for a moment—he seemed to see once again that just-bloomed jasmine with morning dew still clinging to its petals.
“Thank you.”
Li Diudiu smiled, showing perfectly white, even teeth.
Gao Xining helped him gather up all the coins, then went back to stand near the teahouse entrance. Many of the women glanced her way, and all at once Gao Xining felt a faint thread of unfriendly gazes.
She didn’t care in the least.
Li Diudiu hadn’t shown any of them that brilliant smile—the smile just now had been for her alone. So she felt quite pleased with herself.
“Well then…” Li Diudiu cleared his throat and said with a hint of bashfulness, “That’s two pieces now—let me rest a moment. I also brought some other things along; you’re welcome to see if any of them interest you.”
He opened the bundle again and took out a number of lollipops, which he arranged on the table, then said, “These were made by one of my very best and dearest friends, and they taste wonderful. If you’d like to try one, please come and have a taste. Outside I sell them for ten wen each—for friends here, just eight wen.”
Sun the proprietor stood up at once. “That won’t do—you didn’t discuss this with me. How can you sell your own things in my establishment?”
His words were barely out when Madame Sun’s fingers materialized near his ear, and Sun the proprietor immediately hunched his neck. “All right, all right—but you still have to give me a share.”
Madame Sun said, “He brought them himself. What share?”
Sun the proprietor: “…”
But no one came forward to buy. For whatever reason—perhaps it was Li Diudiu’s music they had come to enjoy, and not his wares.
“I’ll take one!”
Madame Sun was the first again, stepping forward and picking up a lollipop. As she unwrapped the paper she said, “I’ll settle up with you all together in a bit.”
She put the lollipop in her mouth, and then smiled. “So sweet.”
The power of a devoted fan asserted itself once more.
With Madame Sun taking the first one, others soon followed. A few copper coins were nothing to them, and after they put the candy in their mouths—well, it was sweet, that much was certain.
So in less than a quarter of an hour, every lollipop Li Diudiu had brought was sold out.
Li Diudiu had just reached for an instrument to begin his third piece when a man who hadn’t managed to squeeze inside called out from the doorway, “Never mind playing—what are you eating today?”
Li Diudiu: “Pardon?”
The man called out loudly, “I didn’t come to hear you play, and I didn’t come to see you sell candy either—I came to watch you eat. If you eat like you did yesterday, I’ll give you a generous reward.”
Li Diudiu glanced toward Sun the proprietor and said apologetically, “My arrangement with Proprietor Sun of Yuanzhai Teahouse was to come for one and a half hours each afternoon, because after that the evening guests arrive and I need to get back as well—so the agreed-upon performance can’t be cut short.”
Sun the proprietor said immediately, “No matter! They’re still buying things from my establishment and paying for it—I’m fine with it.”
Madame Sun shot him a fierce glare.
Compared to yesterday’s earnings, Li Diudiu’s income today had doubled. Counting what he’d made the day before, he’d earned several hundred copper coins; today it should top a thousand. Only trouble was that in Dachu these days, the exchange rate between copper and silver kept getting worse—where once a string of coins could fetch a tael of silver, now it took about two strings.
And anyone selling a house wouldn’t accept copper coins—they all wanted gleaming, solid silver.
But that was all right. Things should get better and better.
Compared to the common people still scrambling to scrape by, earning over a tael of silver in two days was already very, very good—in a year that could add up to nearly two hundred taels.
Pretty good.
—