Volume One, Chapter 20: A New Approach—The Little Fish Takes the Bait

Chen Pingchuan’s gaze swept over the gleaming silver fragment without lingering for even a moment. His expression remained as calm and unruffled as ever. “Thank you for your generosity, Miss. However, stories are like good tea—meant to be savored slowly, not rushed.”

Eating food was one thing, but accepting money was quite another matter—especially in the strictly regulated Zhang household. If someone discovered he had privately accepted a reward from the young lady, it would spell immense trouble!

Zhang Jingshu saw that her coaxing and threats alike had failed—even throwing silver at him had no effect—leaving her both flushed and pale with frustration. She snatched up the silver from the table, gave a heavy huff, and stormed off in a pique.

...

A few days later, a slightly stooped yet unmistakably familiar figure entered the secluded courtyard where Chen Pingchuan lived, escorted by Steward Ren.

It was Chen Zhonghe.

He carried on his shoulder a load of polished river stones, the result of a long trek through the hills—his brow beaded with sweat, the fatigue of travel evident upon him.

Steward Ren was of a kindly disposition and granted Chen Pingchuan a little time to see his father.

“Father!” Chen Pingchuan exclaimed, both surprised and delighted, hurrying forward in three quick steps.

Chen Zhonghe set down the heavy burden and gripped his son’s hands, inspecting him from head to toe with painstaking care.

He saw his son dressed in plain but neat cotton garments. His face, too, was rounder than before; gone was the sallow, gaunt look of their days at home. The boy’s complexion was healthier, and Chen Zhonghe’s long-held worries were eased, if only a little.

“Pingchuan, is everything well in the Zhang household?” His voice was hoarse, tinged with concern.

“Don’t worry, Father. Everything is well here,” Chen Pingchuan replied quickly, then asked anxiously, “And at home? How are Mother and my sister?”

“All is well, all is well…” Chen Zhonghe nodded repeatedly, yet his voice wavered. He seemed about to say more, hesitated, and finally confessed in a low tone, “It’s just… your mother… Shortly after you left, she fell ill. The doctor said she was sick with longing for you.”

At these words, Chen Pingchuan’s heart clenched, as if gripped by an invisible hand.

“The three taels of silver you left behind were all used to buy your mother’s medicine. She’s much better now, so don’t fret too much.” Seeing his son’s distress, Chen Zhonghe quickly patted his shoulder in comfort, though guilt crept unbidden onto his face.

...

The money had originally been set aside to redeem his son’s indenture one day, and now…

Hearing that his mother had recovered, Chen Pingchuan felt the weight in his heart finally lift. Money could be earned again—his mother’s health was all that mattered.

“Father, truly, I’m well here—no need to worry. You and Mother must take care of yourselves and not fall ill from overwork.” As he spoke, he took out the two taels of silver he’d received as a reward from Zhang Shengcai and pressed them firmly into his father’s callused, cracked hands.

“Pingchuan, you should keep this for yourself. In case of trouble, it’s best to have something on hand…” Chen Zhonghe tried to refuse, worried his son might go hungry, cold, or be bullied in this wealthy household—some money might make things easier for him.

But Chen Pingchuan only grinned, flashing neat white teeth. “Father, I have food and clothing here and books to read every day. What would I use money for? Besides, I can’t even leave the estate—there’s nowhere to spend it. Please take it home to help with expenses.”

After much back-and-forth, Chen Zhonghe finally relented under his son’s insistence. Eyes reddened, he tucked the silver close to his body and left, full of longing and concern, glancing back with every few steps.

Watching his father’s figure disappear around the corner, Chen Pingchuan’s small fists clenched with resolve.

He must devise a better way to lift his family out of hardship once and for all.

Supplying river stones to the Zhangs could not last forever—the day would come when their walkways were fully paved. Besides, once the method became known, his honest father would stand no chance against the cleverer villagers.

A new path must be found.

Taking a deep breath to calm his thoughts, Chen Pingchuan turned to return to his room and ponder his next move.

But as he turned, he bumped into a small, soft wall.

Zhang Jingshu stood before him, hands on her hips and cheeks puffed out in indignation, glaring at him like a furious little pufferfish.

“Hmph! Stupid book-boy! I’ve asked around!” she declared. “Nanny Zhou from the household, Aunt Liu from the kitchen, and Sister Chuntao from my courtyard—they’ve all said they’ve never heard of any ‘Journey to the West’!”

Her tone was resolute, her face proud as if she’d seen right through him.

Chen Pingchuan couldn’t help but let a trace of a smile curl at his lips. This girl was truly relentless in her quest for stories.

Yet, if harnessed properly, this persistence…

A splendid idea flashed through his mind, forming and taking shape in an instant.

“Hurry up! Tell me the story!” Zhang Jingshu stamped her foot impatiently, urgency in her voice. She was desperate to know what happened next.

But Chen Pingchuan merely brushed off his sleeves with practiced calm. “Of course, I’ll tell the story.”

He paused, watching her eyes light up, then added, “But simply telling it… somehow feels lacking, not lively enough.”

Her curiosity piqued as expected, Zhang Jingshu blinked her bright eyes and pressed him, “What’s missing?”

He smiled inwardly—she’d taken the bait.

Over these past days, he’d learned that the Zhang family traded in textiles and owned their own dye workshops. The top-grade dyes they used were water-resistant—just what he needed.

“Miss, could you help me acquire some dyes from the household’s dye works? Not much, just a small jar will do—the best quality, the kind that doesn’t fade when wet.”

Zhang Jingshu frowned, scrutinizing him like a little adult. “What do you want dyes for? What’s that got to do with telling a story?”

Chen Pingchuan smiled mysteriously. “Everything.”

“If you can bring me the dyes, I promise you a tremendous surprise tomorrow—one that will make ‘Journey to the West’ a hundred times more vivid and exciting, both to hear and to see!”