Chapter Eighteen: Emphasizing Simplicity

Business, after all, is about making money by catering to the market—like selling crutches to the lame.

Of course, if the market doesn’t exist, one must create it. For example, have Old Taoist Xiao break someone’s leg, and then Wu Ning’s crutches will surely sell.

Yet, Old Taoist Xiao felt the injustice gnawing at him: Why? Why should I labor from dawn to dusk telling fortunes, only for this kid to reap the benefits?

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll refuse to be your benefactor?” he demanded.

“Impossible!” Wu Ning replied with certainty.

He knew Old Taoist Xiao well—this was a man who wouldn’t rise early if there was no profit to be made.

“Tell me, Master Xiao, if I give you a fifth of the earnings, won’t you become my great benefactor?”

“…”

At that moment, the elders and kinsmen seated around the table finally wore expressions of shock.

“…”

What on earth are they talking about? How is it that no one understands these two? Wasn’t this supposed to be a simple fortune-telling? How did it devolve into riddles after Jiu Lang uttered a few mad words?

Only the Old Ancestor and the Ugly Uncle grasped their meaning, but their feelings differed entirely.

The Old Ancestor couldn’t fathom why changing the timing of the fortune-telling would make the Taoist Xiao Wu Ning’s benefactor. Yet, having a charcoal kiln at home, he understood business well enough to know what a fifth of the income meant.

Moreover, Wu Ning’s demeanor and speech now bore no trace of a mountain child unfamiliar with the world.

The Old Ancestor sighed inwardly, “This boy has grown up; he can shoulder a household now.”

Ugly Uncle, however, understood it all. He cast a deep look at Wu Ning, thinking, “Could it be he planned this all along, which is why he wanted to open an inn?”

But something still didn’t add up. Ugly Uncle furrowed his brow and pondered, “Even if Taoist Xiao helps him, with only two coins, what kind of inn could he possibly open?”

After all, those who sought Master Xiao’s costly fortunes were either wealthy or noble, demanding extravagance. Ugly Uncle simply couldn’t imagine what sort of inn Wu Ning could manage for two coins. He feared that the distinguished guests would sooner sleep in their carriages than stay in his shabby house.

…

In truth, Old Taoist Xiao, after a moment of confusion, came to the same conclusion.

How much money could Wu Ning possibly have? Once the house was built and a bed added, there’d hardly be anything left, not even half a coin.

He sneered, “A fifth? Even if you gave it all to me, I wouldn’t care for it!”

“This ‘benefactor’ is not a role I can accept!”

“Don’t!” Wu Ning waved his hand. “Don’t be so hasty, Master. What if—”

“What if? Even if it happens, I’ll accept it!” Taoist Xiao cut him off, not letting Wu Ning finish. “Why don’t we, master and disciple, make another wager? I’ll do as Jiu Lang wishes and change the fortune-telling to morning and evening.”

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“But!” Taoist Xiao grew serious again. “If your inn can keep running, then fine. But if it fails—”

Wu Ning immediately responded, “I’ll climb the mountain at once, kneel three times and kowtow nine, serve tea, and formally become your disciple!”

Taoist Xiao’s eyes lit up. “Agreed?”

“Agreed!”

…

“Master…” Meng Cangsheng, who had remained silent, timidly interjected.

“Didn’t you just lose a wager? You’ve already lost, haven’t you?”

“Oh, right…”

Wu Ning suddenly realized, after all that maneuvering, he thought he’d gotten the better deal, but in the end, the cunning Taoist had trapped him again.

…

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Once the beams were up, things went smoothly. Thatching the roof and painting the walls would only take a few days.

Then came the finer tasks, like installing doors and windows, which only Sixth Uncle could handle; Seventh Brother, Old Eleven, and the others could each return home.

Wu Ning, however, had no intention of letting everyone go. First, he had planned to build a covered courtyard corridor; second, there was still the vegetable cellar to be dug.

…

Adding the corridor sounded complex, but was actually quite simple. Find a few dry wooden posts for columns, use thinner wood for the ridge, then cover it with straw—done.

Changluo Mountain wasn’t large, but for a corridor, the materials needn’t be thick. A few steps and you’d find them everywhere. Even dry wood was easy to come by—who doesn’t have a few poles behind their house?

As for the vegetable cellar, Wu Ning had already explained, though it was in his own backyard, all the families helping would share it. If it worked, come autumn, everyone could store their produce there and sell together in winter.

Unfortunately, no one seemed to take it seriously.

The others didn’t believe storing vegetables until winter would fetch much profit. Since it was the slack season for farming and they had time, they figured they’d help Wu Ning out. Whether they’d get a share, none gave it much thought.

Half a month passed in a blink, and the two shabby rooms were now completely transformed, lacking only doors and windows to be indistinguishable from new.

The corridor was finished too, and, surprisingly, looked quite nice.

With Wu Ning’s straw house and the courtyard’s large grape trellis, there was a touch of rustic elegance.

The backyard vegetable cellar was being dug, though Wu Ning wasn’t involved.

It was simple—just dig a hole in the ground, with Seventh Brother leading Old Eight and Old Ten.

Wu Ning, meanwhile, freed his hands to consider the inn’s décor.

Truthfully, by the others’ thinking, what was there to consider? A bed would suffice—he couldn’t even afford tables or chairs.

So it was, in fact.

These days, just the food for everyone had cost nearly a coin; Wu Ning’s two coins had already halved.

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In the city’s carpentry shops, a basic, large bed cost eight or nine hundred, and that was for the lowest grade, without fancy materials or carvings.

Clearly, he couldn’t even afford a table.

But what no one expected was that Wu Ning never intended to buy beds. He certainly didn’t plan to waste money on ready-made furniture. He would make everything himself.

He sought something simple yet not simplistic, rustic yet dignified, a retro, natural style.

…

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Fine, he spoke grandly, but the truth was, he’d do things as simply as possible. The emphasis was on simplicity, the guiding principle a return to the basics.

Wu Ning planned to use four wooden stakes for support, lay planks across them, and call it a bed.

If ancient people found it lacking in privacy, he’d hang a piece of gauze from the ceiling—a curtain and a mosquito net in one.

As for tables?

In these times, there were plenty of massive logs that two people couldn’t lift. Pick a slightly rotten, unwanted piece, split it in two, leave the bark on, and set it on stumps—there’s your long table.

Decorations?

Forget porcelain vases—just a few cheap clay jars on the bedside or windowsill, some wildflowers picked from the mountains, and a couple of climbing vines dug up from behind the house, so they could grow right into the room.

If that wasn’t enough, he’d build a European-style fireplace in the mountain wall and place a lounge chair beside it. Winter or summer, sit there and feel uniquely different.

Still not satisfied? Wu Ning would simply open the back window.

Heavy plums hung from the tree, blocking half the window; morning glories twined around the fence, splashes of vibrant color; the lilac tree’s small blossoms hadn’t yet faded, their fragrance drifting in.

Looking further, from Wu Ning’s house midway up the mountain, the whole valley below was visible; distant Fangzhou City, perhaps unburdened by modern smog, was shrouded in a faint mist.

Tell me, such a pastoral mountain-view mini villa—how much would it cost per night in modern times!?

What? No market? Doesn’t suit the tastes of the Tang Dynasty?

Wrong—quite the opposite.

Don’t forget, before the Tang came the Sui, and not far before that, the Six Dynasties of Wei and Jin.

…

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To clarify, some say the Southern and Northern Dynasties were the Four Dynasties of Song, Qi, Liang, and Chen. But for me, it’s the Six Dynasties of Wei, Jin, Song, Qi, Liang, and Chen.

123456—Six Dynasties.

That’s right!