The shopkeeper was dozing off on a recliner in the backyard.

Half asleep and half awake, I heard what sounded like people talking in the lobby.

He rolled over, yawned, and reached for the teacup on the wooden table.

They swished around a few times, but failed to catch it.

There is an osmanthus tree in the yard.

The leaves landed on his chubby face, tickling him and waking him up.

I got up and went to the front yard.

Bookstore.

The waiter looked somewhat conflicted at one of the Spring Festival couplets, slightly faded, and placed it on the table.

Looking around, he mustered his courage and stuffed the paper into the pile of useless scrap paper next to him.

Ha, what kind of stories could a farmer write? Besides, he doesn't look like a well-off farmer; he's wearing patched clothes.

Yes, Chen Xian's calm demeanor and lack of servility just now undoubtedly hurt the waiter's pride. We're all from the bottom of society, so why is he so confident despite being so ordinary?

Shouldn't you be begging me to accept your manuscript?

Naturally, he had wicked thoughts.

But they didn't dare to do it openly, so they just threw the paper away.

What if, what if it's another good manuscript?

The shopkeeper was furious, realizing that he was the one who had suffered the loss.

Naturally, the manuscript was mixed in with those discarded manuscripts.

The shopkeeper parted the curtains and came in from the courtyard.

I sat down at my desk and started working.

Selecting manuscripts.

I lost patience after watching for a short while.

I got up to leave and go to a restaurant outside for a delicious meal.

Chunsheng glanced furtively at the desk and said in a fawning tone, "Shopkeeper, this desk looks messy. I have nothing to do right now, so why don't we tidy it up while we still have some time?"

The shopkeeper nodded calmly and got up to leave.

"Okay. Don't touch anything on the table. Put the things in the baskets underneath into the back warehouse."

Chunsheng suppressed a smile. "Everyone's here."

Putting them in the warehouse is basically just collecting them to sell as waste paper. If they are really good manuscripts, it's because you, the shopkeeper, accidentally threw them in. You selected them yourself. What does it have to do with me?

Ha, a farmer, where did you get your confidence from?

He excitedly grabbed the paper frame and was about to leave.

"etc!"

Who knew the shopkeeper would return?

He called out to Chunsheng.

"I'll do another round of screening, just in case I missed anything."

Chunsheng froze for a moment.

Hesitant and stammering.

"What's wrong?"

Then the shopkeeper quickly sifted through the paper in the box, almost reaching the red paper.

Chunsheng's heart was pounding wildly, and his breathing was rapid.

"Hmm? When was this manuscript published?"

I glanced at it; it was a scholar and a young girl. I initially thought it was just another formulaic story about talented scholars taking the imperial examinations and social status.

He casually tossed it into the basket.

Chunsheng breathed a sigh of relief. "I knew it," he said. "What good stuff could a peasant like him possibly write?"

But the paper seemed to possess a magical power. The shopkeeper glanced at it and sensed a ghostly aura.

They got it back!

Chunsheng: "..."

For a moment, his heart felt like it was being squeezed, relaxed, and then squeezed again...

The more he looked, the more alarmed he became. The shopkeeper's face was filled with excitement as he grabbed Chunsheng's collar and shook him violently.

"Tell me, what about the rest of the manuscript?"

Chun Sheng hesitated, "I..."

My mind went completely blank.

The shopkeeper understood instantly.

The scholar who submitted the manuscript could not possibly accept only this one piece; there must be a sequel.

The story isn't finished yet, but there's only one truth!

He scolded, "Chunsheng, how many times have I told you before? No matter how down on your luck someone is, you must greet them with a smile. You have no idea that the down-on-his-luck scholar you look down on today might become famous throughout the world in the future."

Those are all our God of Wealth!

"Fool! You've ruined my life!"

Chunsheng's mind was foggy, as if he had taken some kind of medicine.

"Tell me! Where did they go?"

"Perhaps it's in Qingping...the study across the street!"

The shopkeeper nearly choked. Rainforest Bookstore's reputation was built on its storytelling. If such a talented scholar went to the shop across the street, Rainforest Bookstore would lose all its advantages.

In the vast town of Daxing, where is there even a place for Rainforest Bookstore to stand?

How could he face the deceased young lady?

How can we face the young master?

The shopkeeper was so frustrated he was about to vomit blood. "I only took a short break, and the waiter gave me a huge one."

"What's the name of the person who came?"

"have no idea."

Where do you live?

"have no idea."

"Get lost, what do you know?"

The shopkeeper, in a flurry of activity, grabbed the red paper and ran to Qingping Study across the street, shouting wildly, "Hey, where are those gentlemen who wrote about the Jade Feet Ghost?"

The scholars watching laughed and joked, "Uncle Fu, have you taken the wrong medicine? What do you mean by writing about a female ghost with jade feet?"

The onlookers were nearly driven mad with laughter.

The staff at Qingping Study were also making jokes.

"The shopkeeper across the street has gone mad; he's gone mad with wanting to read storybooks."

When I heard this story, I knew it wasn't some respectable tale. If he dared to sell it, I was willing to report him to the authorities.

At the tea stall, a cup of tea costs one coin.

Dazhu and the others already knew that their father had decided to write a storybook, so they all gathered around.

Erzhu saw Su Liniang coming over first.

He exclaimed in disbelief, "Father? Auntie?"

Liniang and Shuangshuang walked side by side, their short hair neatly styled but clearly messy, with some areas even bald.

Li Niang was slightly annoyed. "Husband, that seemingly honest peddler who collects hair braids is actually a heartless man. He pulled my hair hard."

Shuangshuang's originally jet-black hair had turned into short hair, and her head looked like it had been shaved off. Her tender face was full of pride: "Husband, I sold my hair for more than a hundred coins and bought five catties of fatty meat."

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