Dao of Money

The tea shop was nothing out of the ordinary.

The lanterns, already lit, cast a warm glow that mingled with the lingering scent of brewing tea, creating an inviting atmosphere. Despite the late hour, the place was still full of life, with customers ranging from wandering cultivators to weary travellers, each nursing a steaming cup and engaging in low, murmured conversations.

Chen Ren stepped through the entrance, his eyes scanning the familiar space.

It had been a haunt of his— well, the previous Chen Ren’s. He would come here occasionally, trailing behind friends with the same lofty aspirations, searching for volumes on the lives of famous cultivators. Those old legends were filled with tales of extraordinary feats, profound enlightenment, and battles that shook mountains. That Chen Ren had been enchanted by such stories, trying to emulate the speech and mannerisms of those ancient heroes. Perhaps it was this obsession that had made him so haughty, looking down on mortals as if they were dust beneath his feet.

Chen’s lips twisted into a half-smile at the memory, but his expression soon shifted into one of mild curiosity as he glanced around. The tea stall hadn’t changed much; the scent of worn scrolls and ink mingled with the earthy aroma of the tea.

Rows of shelves lined one side of the establishment, stacked with books and scrolls, each promising knowledge for those who sought it.

Once a customer selected a book, they could choose to take a seat in one of the small cubicles— cramped spaces enclosed within wooden walls, offering a modicum of privacy— or sit at the open tables, reading amidst the buzz of conversation while sipping their tea.

Chen Ren walked towards the shelves, his fingers brushing against the rough spines of the scrolls as he searched for something that might be of use.

Most of the volumes were the same as he remembered: biographies of storied cultivators, legends of ancient sects, and tedious records of lineages.

He even caught sight of a few of the more absurdly long titles— works like “The Celestial Sword that Cut Through the Humans and Heavens” or “Heavenly Phoenix Rising from Ashes to Burn Everything into Ashes”. Yet, buried among these, there were some books whose names made his eyebrows twitch. Volumes like “Lusty Snake and the Rising Wood” sat side by side with the more serious tomes, its title boldly displayed as if challenging anyone who dared to judge the content.Curiosity piqued, he reached for it. ”Only for research purposes,” he muttered to himself, cracking open the pages. As he skimmed through the lines, he found that it wasn’t the scandalous tale he expected.

Instead, it detailed a bizarre story about a snake spirit that formed a bond with a tree beast, their journey through the wilderness, and their trials against various predators. The language, poetic and flowery described their struggle to survive and thrive amidst hostile terrain, and there wasn’t a single racy detail to be found.

He shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips as he placed the book back on the shelf.

He continued to search, his eyes narrowing as he sought something more practical— treatises on rare herbs, bestiaries that catalogued the creatures of the surrounding forests, anything that might give him an edge. But to his growing disappointment, nothing of the sort seemed to exist among the shelves.

The tea house, with great reputation for its book collection, had nothing but fanciful, questionable stories and endless odes to long-dead cultivators.

Frowning, his gaze drifted toward the small desk nestled in the corner of the tea stall, where an old woman sat.

Her hair having lost its colour now streaked with silver, bound up in a loose bun atop her head. Her face was wrinkled and sun-kissed, but her eyes resembled one of a hawk. She cradled a clay cup in her hands, sipping tea slowly and occasionally moving her eyes around the shop.

His memories told him that she was the owner of the place. Deciding that she might have more insight into his search, he approached the desk, offering a polite bow. His eyes went to the label on the table — Qing He, her name must be.

“Good evening, Senior Qing He. I’m looking for a particular book if you’d be so kind as to assist me.”

Qing He looked up, one brow arching slightly, her eyes darting toward the shelves lining the walls. “There are plenty of books around there, young one. Take your pick,” she said, her voice creaky.

“I’ve seen the ones out there, but I can’t find what I’m looking for. Specifically, I’m interested in herbs and beasts. A book that could give me detailed information on them.”

Qing He leaned back in her chair, the wooden legs creaking under the shift of her weight. She set down her cup with a soft clink, peering at him over its rim. “Herbs and beasts, you say? This place isn’t a sect library, boy. You want those kinds of books, then join a sect.”

He hesitated, then shook his head, meeting her gaze directly. “I already tried. Failed the entrance exams.”

A brief, almost pitying chuckle escaped the woman’s lips. “Not all sects are the grand, sky-reaching one’s. There are smaller ones, always looking for stray talents.”

Chen Ren shook his head. “Not interested. I just need access to knowledge. That’s all. I’m even willing to pay more.”

Qing He’s expression didn’t change. She picked up her cup again, taking a slow sip before setting it back down. “Then you’re out of luck. There are no secret collections here, no hidden tomes. If what you want isn’t on those shelves, you might as well leave. As for money, you can pay for my tea and books on those shelves. Nothing more than that.”

Chen Ren let out a long sigh, nodding to himself as he considered her words. His mind briefly entertained the idea of using his status as a cultivator or perhaps invoking his recent association with the Tang Clan. But as he glanced back at Qing He, looking at the wrinkles around her eyes, he discarded that notion.

Using his status here would be akin to acting like the previous Chen Ren, especially when he was just against an old woman. He needed a different method to get through her.

“Thank you anyway,” he said, bowing again before turning back to the shelves.

After some searching, he pulled out a book titled “The Immortal Travels of Lu Jie”. It was yet another biography of a cultivator and his turtle whose life had become the stuff of legend. Not the practical text he sought, but at least it might offer some inspiration.

He settled down in one of the public seats, choosing a corner where the noise of the tea stall was muted and cracked open the book. As he began to read, a shadow loomed over him, and he glanced up to find Qing He standing beside him, a steaming cup of tea in her hands.

“Here,” she said gruffly, setting the cup down on the table beside him. “Glad you found something to read.”

Chen Ren blinked, surprised, before offering her a small, genuine smile. “Thank you.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a few coins and placing them on the table. She grabbed them without turning to leave. She didn’t look back, but Chen Ren thought he saw the corners of her lips curl upward ever so slightly at the coins.

He took a sip of the tea, savouring the warmth that spread through his chest, and let himself sink into the tales of Lu Jie, even as his mind continued to puzzle over the best way to find what he truly needed.

His other hand turned the brittle pages of the biography. The dim glow of the lanterns cast shifting patterns on the floor, and the hum of conversation from the other patrons filled the air with a comforting background murmur. The tea was warm, smooth, and soothing, but his thoughts remained restless, circling back to Qing He behind the counter.

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As he took another sip, a soft rustling reached his ears. A moment later, a familiar weight settled on the seat beside him, fur brushing against his arm. He glanced sideways and saw Yalan. The creature stretched leisurely, curling her tail around her paws, before it spoke through his mind.

“It’s good you didn’t try to pester her,” Yalan said, her gaze shifting toward Qing He who was now busy wiping down a dusty ledger. “That woman is strong.”

He raised an eyebrow, setting the book aside for a moment. “A cultivator?”

Yalan nodded, the tip of her tail flicking lazily. “One that should be an elder of a sect at the very least. Dunno what she’s doing here, hiding in plain sight.”

Chen Ren’s gaze drifted back to Qing He. Her mannerisms were unhurried, almost mundane— just a regular shopkeeper tending to her tea stall. Yet, there was a precision to the way she moved, a calmness that seemed just a bit too steady for an elder who had supposedly lived among average folks all her life.

He tried to see through the veil of ordinariness she wore like a cloak, but there was nothing to give her away. Everything about her, from the faint lines around her eyes to the way she drank, seemed unremarkable.

But he couldn’t dismiss what Yalan had said. If she truly was a hidden master, then it explained the knowledge in her advice earlier— her casual mention of joining a smaller sect.

He had given her no direct clue that he was a cultivator when she suddenly mentioned the sect competition. Though, even mortals tried their luck in those sect competitions, hoping to secure a menial position within the sect’s ranks. But she had spoken as if she knew he was a cultivator.

He cast another glance her way, but she continued her work, her focus entirely on her task.

Perhaps she had grown used to keeping her true nature hidden, blending into the background of this quiet corner of the world.

From what he remembered, the tea stall had been around for over a decade, always present yet never standing out. And in all that time, she had never done anything to betray her strength— never once let slip the aura that clung to true cultivators like a faint shadow.

Chen Ren sipped his tea thoughtfully, a plan beginning to form in his mind. If she was indeed a hidden master, there was a chance—however slim— that she possessed the knowledge he sought, the books he needed. Ancient masters often kept hidden troves of information, things that would never find their way onto the dusty shelves of a public stall.

He just needed to find the right opportunity to make himself useful, to earn her favour, to perhaps gain access to whatever secrets she might be guarding.

Yalan’s voice broke into his thoughts, her tone curious. “So, what’s the plan, then? Sit here drinking tea until your cup runs dry?”

Chen glanced down at Yalan, his lips curling into a faint smile. “I’ll look out for the right opportunity to intervene. There’s always something, some small act that might win a favour. If she’s hiding her strength, then she’s got her reasons, and people like that often need help— help they don’t want to ask for.”

He took another slow sip, feeling the warmth seep into his chest. “If nothing comes up, then I’ll have to play the long game. But I don’t have much time for that.”

Yalan’s tail twitched, her gaze shifting from Chen Ren to Qing He once more. “Hmph. Impatient as always, aren’t you?” But there was no reproach in her tone, only a hint of amusement.

Whether it took a moment or a month, he would find a way to crack open whatever mystery the old grandma held.

After all, in a world of secrets and shadows, the right connections could be more valuable than any rare herb or elusive beast. And if she was truly a master, then beneath that ordinary exterior, she held more than a few keys to the knowledge he sought.

Time drifted by slowly in the tea stall, the minutes bleeding into one another as Chen Ren sat in his corner, pretending to be absorbed in the dusty old biography.

His gaze, however, frequently drifted over the rim of his cup to Qing He at the counter.

She continued with her routine— refilling teapots, arranging cups, and occasionally greeting new customers with a weary nod. The steady pace of her movements betrayed nothing of the hidden strength Yalan had hinted at. But, even as he kept his eyes peeled, no opportunity presented itself.

He watched as people came and went— workers, merchants, and the occasional scholar, all entering with the prospect of a warm drink or a brief respite from the day’s troubles.

Nothing of interest, nothing out of the ordinary. His second cup of tea turned cold. He ordered a third, and as the minutes stretched on, he began to wonder if he would spend the entire evening here without any progress.

But just as the tea warmed his hands once more, the bells above the door chimed, announcing the arrival of a group of young women.

Their attire marked them as scions of wealth— draped in robes of fine silk, embroidered with different patterns of flowers and mythical creatures. Gold-threaded tassels hung from their sleeves, swaying with every playful step. Jade bangles clinked softly on their wrists, and their hairpins shimmered in the lantern light, each one showing off their families’ prosperity.

Chen Ren’s interest piqued as they made their way to the reception. They gathered around Qing He, who set her teacup down with a soft clink, meeting their smiles with a polite but detached nod.

“Ah, Grandma Qing He, do you have any other books here?” one of the girls asked, her voice carrying the cultured tone of someone used to making requests.

Qing He regarded her with a raised eyebrow.

“What kind are you looking for?”

The girl gave a small sigh, adjusting the hem of her silken sleeve. “Most of the books here seem to cater to children or men. We’ve read through nearly all of the cultivation stories you have in stock. Isn’t there anything... different? Something more to our taste?”

Qing He’s face remained impassive as she shook her head.

“This is all I have, miss. If you’re looking for something different, I suggest you try the merchants next time they come through town.”

The disappointment in the girls’ expressions was clear, but they could do little but exchange glances and mutter among themselves before turning away, their footsteps carrying them out of the tea stall in a trail of silk and perfume.

Chen Ren watched their retreating figures thoughtfully, a plan forming in his mind. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for. With a quick breath, he downed the last of his tea and rose to his feet, striding toward Qing He with purpose.

She looked up at his approach, her expression turning from mild curiosity to a familiar wariness. “What do you want now?” she asked, voice flat.

Chen Ren offered a polite smile, gesturing in the direction of the door where the girls had exited. “Those young misses. Don’t you think you’re losing customers by not catering to them? If you had books they wanted, they’d keep coming back, and they’d spend plenty of silver doing it.”

Qing He shrugged, picking up her teacup again as if the matter was already settled. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t have any more books. And even if I wanted to get more, it’s not easy. Merchants don’t bring many these days, and the ones they do bring are mostly the same— cultivation stories, tales for children, nothing more.”

Chen Ren leaned in slightly, his tone gaining a touch of enthusiasm. “What if I offered you a solution to that problem?”

She eyed him sceptically, one brow arching as she set her cup down again. “And what solution would that be?”

He straightened, letting a bit of confidence slip into his voice. “I could write a book— one that would appeal to those girls. You have a lot of young misses visiting your shop, don’t you? If you had a story that they actually wanted to read, it could bring in more business. They’d come for the tea, stay for the book, and keep returning. Girls like them talk about everything to each other so I’m pretty sure your business will boom.”

Qing He’s scepticism only deepened, her lips curving into a dry smile. “You don’t look much like a writer to me.”

Chen Ren chuckled softly, spreading his hands in a disarming gesture. “Appearances can be deceiving, Senior. Just give me a chance. If I can do it, will you let me have a look at the herbal books?”

She let out a short, humourless laugh. “I already told you, I don’t have any of those. What part of that did you not understand?”

“Maybe there are some in the back. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look, would it? Just a small favour, if I manage to write something that brings more customers to your shop.”

Qing He stared at him, her gaze as steady and unyielding as a mountain. For a moment, Chen Ren wondered if he had pushed too far, but he held his ground, his expression remaining calm and composed.

Qing He let out a long sigh, her breath carrying the weariness of someone who had seen too many schemes and empty promises. She took her time, letting her gaze sweep over Chen Ren, measuring him up from head to toe. Her eyes, sharp and judgemental, flicked briefly to Yalan lingering a few paces behind him. After a moment’s pause, she folded her arms and gave a small, almost reluctant nod.

“Sure.”

“If you can write up a good book that brings in more business, I’ll search through what I have. But understand, there’s no guarantee I’ll find what you’re looking for.”

Chen Ren’s face lit up with a hint of satisfaction. “That’s good enough for me,” he replied, his voice carrying a note of enthusiasm that hadn’t been there before.

Without waiting for her to change her mind, he turned on his heel, striding toward the door. If he hadn’t controlled himself, he’d be bouncing on his feet. But good thing, he was still sane. Yalan padded after him, her tail swishing lazily behind.

As he left the tea shop, the air seemed cooler, and crisper— or maybe it was just his mind.