Ger, So Proud

Chapter 12: Storytelling

Although this was a top-tier restaurant in the town, it was not in a wealthy area. The restaurant had only one floor and no private rooms, but it was spacious and had good business. Despite not yet being noon, there were already quite a few patrons sitting in groups of threes and fours, munching on seeds and whispering among themselves.

In the front right corner of the restaurant, a space had been cleared for a raised platform with a wooden table. A storyteller in a long gown stood behind it, holding a folding fan. With a slap of the clapper in his hand, he launched into an animated monologue.

That must have been the sound He Ze heard earlier.

Entertainment was scarce in this world. Operas and such were too expensive for restaurants to afford, and ordinary people couldn’t afford to listen to them. To attract customers, storytellers became the best option, and thus, almost every restaurant in town had one.

The flow of people in this restaurant was undoubtedly tied to the storyteller on stage.

He Ze glanced around but didn’t see Lin Yu, who was likely in the kitchen. He chose a seat near the stage and had just sat down when a waiter approached. “What would you like, sir?”

“Just a pot of cold tea.” Here, cold tea referred to plain boiled water.

“Huh?”

The waiter’s mouth twitched. Who comes to a restaurant just to drink tea? How stingy!

“A pot of cold tea. Is that a problem?” He Ze repeated, unfazed.

“No, no problem at all. I’ll bring it right away!”

The waiter quickly lowered his head, slung the tablecloth over his shoulder, and hurried off. On stage, the storyteller was in high spirits, the clapper’s sound resonating. The atmosphere in the audience wasn’t very lively, with only occasional laughter reaching He Ze’s ears.

“Sir, here’s your tea. Enjoy.”

Though the waiter thought He Ze was stingy, he quickly brought the tea. He Ze poured himself a cup and listened intently to the storyteller.

“In the blink of an eye, a sharp arrow whistled through the air. General Zhou’s tiger-like eyes widened as he leaped aside, moving a meter away. He flung his four-foot-long sword, and with a splatter of blood, it struck the enemy leader right in the forehead!”

This story was about a brave general from the previous dynasty who died on the battlefield. Whether it was true or fictional was hard to say. When He Ze was still in school, he would skip class to listen but lost interest after a few times.

This world had seen much warfare and chaos. The current unified regime had been established for less than a hundred years and was still in a period of recovery. Although the new emperor had just ascended the throne, granted amnesty, and reduced taxes, cultural development was still lagging.

Though narrative works like novels had appeared, the different level of technological advancement made printing expensive. Educated people often saw themselves as too refined to write what they considered low-class literature.

The storyteller wasn’t necessarily literate; their craft often relied on oral tradition. Consequently, the repertoire consisted of a limited number of stories, which, after being heard multiple times, became tiresome. This was true for the original He Ze and the current patrons alike.

The storyteller continued, “General Zhou, clad in black armor and wearing a green helmet, sat alone in the camp. Suddenly, a voice shouted from outside the tent—’General, the enemy is attacking! The provisions… the provisions are on fire!’ Smack! To find out what happens next, tune in for the next installment!”

With a slap of the clapper, scattered applause followed. The storyteller folded his fan and signaled to his apprentice, who stepped into the crowd with a tray.

“All guests are dreamers, so please show your support for Wei,” said the storyteller, whose name was Wei Quan, though he often referred to himself as Wei.

As soon as he finished speaking, the sound of coins being placed on the tray began, but most of the customers left. Wei typically performed twice daily, and though this was only his first performance, the audience had already thinned significantly. His apprentice returned with only a few copper coins in the tray.

Wei Quan frowned, stroking his beard. “Could it be that my performance today was lacking? It seems the audience isn’t very enthusiastic.”

Just then, a “clang” was heard as He Ze tossed a copper coin into the tray. He looked at Wei Quan and said, “Mr. Wei, your storytelling is good, but we’ve all memorized this tale by now. What’s the point of listening anymore? Don’t you agree?”

“Exactly, exactly…” echoed the patrons.

Wei Quan’s face darkened. He waved his sleeve and glared at He Ze, saying, “The ‘Legend of General Zhou’ is well-known. How could it be boring? What does a young boy like you know? Can you tell stories?”

“I can’t tell stories,” He Ze shook his head and then added, “but I believe my stories are more interesting than yours.”

“You…”

“Since I have nothing to do today, how about I tell a story for free and let everyone judge?” He Ze said, standing up and taking a sip of tea.

“Great! Tell a story! Tell a story!” The patrons, always eager for something new, cheered. Listening for free was definitely a win for them.

“Please make way for me,” He Ze requested.

With a cold snort, Wei Quan stepped off the stage, curious to see this young boy embarrass himself.

“Smack!” He Ze slapped the clapper and began, “Long, long ago, there was a lone herbalist living on Green Mountain. He was kind and generous. One day, while gathering herbs, he rescued an injured white snake. He took great care of it. The white snake was intelligent and charming. After it recovered, it stayed with him, and their bond grew deeper over time.”

The sound of patrons cracking melon seeds below didn’t stop, and Wei Quan rolled his eyes. What a good story he was telling!

He Ze’s expression remained unchanged as he continued, “Several decades later, the man passed away, and the white snake returned to the mountains. After centuries of cultivation amidst the sun, moon, rain, and snow, it finally transformed into a demon, taking the form of a ger in white…”

His voice was clear, and the story took two twists, becoming more intricate and captivating. The audience below quickly became enthralled, and the bustling tavern gradually quieted down.

When Lin Yu emerged from the backyard, this was the scene he witnessed.

He saw He Ze speaking eloquently on stage, with the audience below silent as crickets. He was the only one in the entire tavern who attracted everyone’s attention.

Author’s note: He Ze: Because I stand out the most, hahaha.