After leaving the blacksmith's shop, Meng Zhao didn't go home. Instead, he planned to take two days off to rest properly.
There weren't many entertainment facilities in ancient times. After wandering around for a while, Meng Zhao finally found a teahouse. Seeing that it was quite lively inside, he went in as well.
As soon as I stepped into the teahouse, I heard someone next to me exclaiming warmly, "Hey, Brother Li, what a coincidence to run into you here today! Are you here to listen to storytelling too?"
"That's right! I heard that the storyteller is going to revive that play today. I happened to pass by before and was lucky enough to hear a short segment. Oh, it was absolutely wonderful! It's a pity I couldn't hear it from the beginning. That's why I came here early today, hoping to hear it all the way through."
The man smiled knowingly, "Hehe, I came here specifically to hear this play. Although I've heard it several times, each time I hear it, it's a different experience, and I can't help but want to hear it again."
Meng Zhao listened to their conversation and knew that a storyteller was coming today, and that there would be a good show. A sense of anticipation welled up in his heart.
She glanced around the teahouse, and just as she found an empty seat, a quick-witted waiter hurried over and asked her what she wanted to eat.
According to the waiter's introduction, this teahouse offers quite a variety of food and drinks, including not only common tea leaves but also all kinds of snacks and fruits.
Meng Zhao ordered a pot of tea and a plate of dried fruit. Then, on the waiter's recommendation, he ordered a lotus flower pastry. Before the tea leaves had even fully unfurled, the teahouse was already packed.
When the appointed time arrived, a gavel sounded precisely on time, and the storyteller standing on the platform in the middle of the teahouse began his vivid and expressive narration.
"Ladies and gentlemen, listen to my words! The journey to the capital for the imperial examination is always fraught with danger and hardship. But Liu Fuyuan seems to have been blessed by the heavens. His journey to the capital has been remarkably smooth. When a raging river lies in front of him, he only needs to turn around to find a stone bridge. When he encounters a torrential downpour, even in the middle of nowhere, he can always find a thatched hut to shelter him from the wind and rain. It seems that there is a plan in the dark."
Meng Zhao's smile froze slightly. If nothing unexpected happened, Liu Fuyuan would definitely have a spirit helping him, and it was very likely that it was a beautiful fox spirit.
She patiently continued listening. This Liu Fuyuan was like a protagonist in a wish-fulfillment novel. He smoothly entered the capital and was even taken in as a protégé by the Minister of Personnel. One day, he got lost in the mansion and happened to enter the boudoir of the Minister's daughter. The two fell in love at first sight and pledged their lives to each other.
Meng Zhao stared blankly, inwardly thinking, "Oh, so it's a love triangle story after all."
When the storyteller said that right after the two pledged their lives to each other, the strange situation around Liu Fuyuan disappeared, and the beautiful young lady suddenly fell ill and became unrecognizable, Meng Zhao knew that the fox spirit was angry and was about to start a feud.
Meng Zhao's smile vanished completely. She quickened her pace, intending to finish the snacks and fruits on the table and hurry home. Suddenly, she heard what sounded like a teacup breaking coming from a cubicle on the second floor. Then, the door opened, and a woman came out.
The woman was beautiful, with eyebrows like distant mountains. She wore a light pink silk dress, and every gesture she made exuded the elegant temperament of a lady from a prominent family.
When she reached the middle of the teahouse, her words contradicted her appearance: "What nonsense are you talking about? This is impossible." Her voice was clear, yet tinged with anger and dissatisfaction.
The storyteller on stage was speaking with great enthusiasm when he was suddenly interrupted and became very displeased: "Young lady, this play is the hottest thing right now. As soon as it was printed, countless copies were sold. It's being played everywhere. How can it be some kind of nonsense?"
Upon hearing this, the woman's anger intensified. "Which of the noble ladies in the capital has not been rigorously raised since childhood, with every word and action governed by rules? How could they possibly pledge their lives to a scholar they've never even met? Your fabrication is nothing but a disgrace to their reputation."
Some spectators below, who were already engrossed in the performance, lost interest after being disturbed by the woman. They couldn't help but retort, "Young lady, it's just a play. If you don't like it, you can leave. Why spoil everyone's enjoyment?"
Another onlooker chimed in, "That's right, this teahouse is a place for men to relax, when did it become a place for young ladies like you?" A buzz of discussion quickly filled the teahouse.
Sitting in the corner, Meng Zhao immediately recognized the woman. She had met her once when the woman had a stall at the night market. Although the woman never came back, she sent her maid to buy skewers several times. The maid was generous and bought a lot of skewers, making her one of her biggest customers.
By this time, Meng Zhao had finished eating and drinking, leaving nothing on the table. Seeing the woman's face flushed red with anxiety, wanting to retort but unsure how to respond, he simply said:
"Ha, I thought it was some kind of good show, but it turns out to be just the wishful thinking of a down-on-his-luck scholar." Meng Zhao's voice wasn't loud, but it echoed clearly in the teahouse, his tone filled with sarcasm and disdain.
Immediately, someone below retorted loudly, "What down-on-his-luck scholar? Mr. Wuyou is a renowned master. This book was compiled by him based on his own experiences. If it weren't for his own experiences, how could he have written such a vivid story? You are just a young woman, don't spout nonsense and slander Mr. Wuyou's masterpiece."
Upon hearing this, Meng Zhao's disdain deepened, and he sneered, "Ha, personal experience, huh? Do you believe that the Mr. Wuyou you're talking about has never even lived in a two-courtyard house?"
She straightened her back, scanned the crowd, and continued:
"A woman's boudoir is usually in the backyard. To get in, one has to go through several gates and walk a long way. Not to mention that this is the residence of a high-ranking official, which is heavily guarded. There are probably servants guarding every gate. This carefree young master described accidentally entering a young lady's boudoir as if he had accidentally entered his own kitchen. Anyone who has lived in a large courtyard and knows its layout and rules would not have written such a brainless plot."
The crowd was stunned by his sharp words, and Meng Zhao took the opportunity to point out the flaws in the book from various angles, leaving the crowd speechless.
Before anyone could react, Meng Zhao quickly pulled the woman who had been nodding and agreeing with her words the whole time she was speaking and led her outside.
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