Chapter Thirty-Two: Transformation

Wu Ning had no idea that he was somehow registered with Qin Wenyuan without even knowing it.

At this moment, Old Wu Nine was drooling, staring intently at the several large burlap sacks before him.

Five hundred strings, five hundred strings!

How much is five hundred strings of money?

In the Tang Dynasty, one thousand coins of the Kaiyuan Tongbao made a string, weighing about four pounds. Five hundred strings amounted to two thousand pounds in total, and Qin Fu had used two ox carts to bring them over.

Wu Ning, a country bumpkin, had never seen so much money in his life; his eyes glazed over.

Wu Qi, equally stunned, finally blurted out, "Damn, that dog of a rich man, turns out he’s loaded!"

"Compose yourself!" Wu Ning shot him a sideways glance. "A respectable son of a commander’s family, acting as if you’ve never seen money before."

"Honestly, I’ve never seen this much."

Wu Qi grinned, slapped Wu Ning’s shoulder, and urged, "Quick, let’s move it inside!"

"Right, right!" Wu Ning snapped out of his daze—this was money, after all, and could not just be left lying in the courtyard.

He called Wu Li over, and the three brothers spent quite some time hauling all the sacks into the house.

Then, Wu Ning began to worry.

"How in the world am I supposed to spend this money?"

He could figure out ways to spend a single string, but five hundred had come so suddenly, leaving him bewildered.

After much deliberation, he rose and walked to the courtyard where the Old Ancestor resided.

"Suppose, just suppose," he began, "if I had five hundred strings, how should I spend them, do you think?"

"Five hundred strings?" The Old Ancestor scoffed. "Better spend your time thinking about something worthwhile and stop daydreaming!"

As expected, Wu Ning knew that would be the reply.

"But I mean it—I really have five hundred strings!"

"Hmm?" The Old Ancestor arched his brow, still skeptical.

"Truly, five hundred strings? Where did they come from?"

"I sold a pot of soup."

"Golden Soup?"

"It’s true." Wu Ning explained the story of Qin Wenyuan buying his secret recipe.

With a bang, the Old Ancestor sank to the floor.

"You’re not lying to me?"

"Why would I lie to you?" Wu Ning hurried to help him up.

Afraid he wouldn’t believe it, Wu Ning led the old man into his room to see the money for himself.

Faced with several sacks right before his eyes, the Old Ancestor could not doubt any longer.

"It really was Golden Soup?"

The old man sat on the edge of the kang, unmoving for a long while.

One pot of soup sold for five hundred strings—it had utterly surpassed his comprehension.

"Ancestor, how should I spend this money?" Wu Ning asked again. "Should I lend it to the villagers to open inns, as I mentioned at noon?"

The Old Ancestor was silent.

After a long pause, he stood and patted Wu Ning’s shoulder. "Good child, you’ve made something of yourself."

Wu Ning’s ability to earn such a sum at once convinced the old man that he was capable. But what pleased him most was that, having money, the boy did not think only of himself, but wanted to help his kin in the village.

On this alone, the past five years of raising him were not wasted.

"This sum is too great—it’s not to be spent so lightly."

Wu Ning grinned sheepishly. Receiving praise from the Old Ancestor was no easy feat.

"Actually, I thought the same."

Looking at the heap of coins, he mused, "If I lend all of it to the villagers so they can open inns, then suddenly there’d be so many, and it wouldn’t be just us making money—even my own business might fail."

The market had not yet been cultivated, and a sudden massive investment would turn the whole valley into a cluster of inns, which was a recipe for disaster.

"But perhaps it’s not an impossible path."

"Oh?" The Old Ancestor was intrigued. "What do you think, Ninth?"

"Here’s what I propose."

Wu Ning sat cross-legged on the kang, facing the Old Ancestor.

"Opening inns is definitely a way to make money—I have no doubt about that."

"Only, our reputation is still humble, and we rely entirely on the fortune of the Immortal’s Temple. We shouldn’t open too many at once, but opening three or five would be fine."

The Old Ancestor nodded, acknowledging Wu Ning’s orderly reasoning. With five hundred strings of coin right there, he could not help but regard the boy as a grown man.

"How about this," Wu Ning suggested, "I’ll discuss it with my Fifth Uncle and renovate his courtyard as well."

"Then, we’ll see who else in the village is willing to join us. I’ll provide the funds, whether as loans or partnerships."

"We’ll open a few inns to test the waters. If guests increase and we make a name for ourselves, then the villagers can all join in. What do you think?"

"Yes," the Old Ancestor nodded. Wu Ning’s plan was cautious.

"I think it’ll work!"

"Then it’s settled," Wu Ning rejoiced. "For the rest of the money, you can take part of it to the charcoal works. Didn’t you have trouble collecting charcoal? Now that we have funds, there’s nothing to fear!"

But the Old Ancestor shook his head. "The charcoal kiln isn’t a matter of money—no need!"

The charcoal business could not compete with Chen’s village; their location was better, near the mountain, and money wouldn’t solve it.

Even if they raised prices to collect materials, they’d still lose money when selling—the Old Ancestor knew this all too well.

"Just manage your own affairs well," he advised.

...

————————

That night, the Old Ancestor discussed the inn project with Fifth Uncle.

With Wu Ning’s successful inn as an example, Fifth Uncle was naturally tempted.

The charcoal business was failing, his wife was pregnant, and Fifth Uncle was worried about how to make ends meet.

Early the next morning, Fifth Uncle sought out Sixth Uncle, intending to hand the business over to him. But as soon as Sixth Uncle heard that Wu Nine was willing to lend money to open an inn, he rushed to find Wu Ning.

Sixth Uncle had watched Wu Ning’s little courtyard grow bit by bit, and hearing it had been full of guests every day, he was naturally eager.

And so, besides Wu Ning’s place, two more small inns were soon to be opened in the valley.

Others, however, were not as bold as Fifth and Sixth Uncle. The Old Ancestor asked around, but no one dared to take the risk.

After all, borrowing Wu Ning’s money meant that if they lost it, they’d be unable to repay him.

...

Fifth and Sixth Uncle wasted no time, quickly gathering a team of villagers to begin renovations.

In the following days, Wu Ning left his business in Fifth Aunt’s care and, together with Wu Li and Wu Qi, went to help at Fifth and Sixth Uncle’s inns.

As for whether Wu Ning’s inn was profitable—such a question was hardly worth asking.

With Du Gu Ao and Qin Wenyuan, who had stayed there, deliberately spreading the word, the news of a sky-high priced inn in the mountain valley outside the city had become the talk of all Fangzhou.

As Qin Wenyuan had said, an inn charging five hundred coins a night—who wouldn’t be curious as to why it was so expensive?

So much so that, besides pilgrims climbing the mountain, in recent days city folk who had nothing to do with it were coming to the valley just to see for themselves.

They lingered outside the courtyard, found it novel, and many ended up staying for a night just to try it out.

...

Seeing the constant flow of guests at Wu Ning’s inn, Fifth and Sixth Uncle became even more convinced that they could make money.

Seventh Brother and Old Eleven watched as well, considering whether to discuss with their families about borrowing money from Wu Ning to open an inn themselves.

Unknowingly, Wu Ning’s efforts sparked a flicker of hope in the valley.

...

——————

In the blink of an eye, a month had passed, and the fervor at the Immortal’s Temple began to subside, but Wu Ning’s Seeking Jade Residence remained full every day.

For Wu Ning, this month had been wonderful.

But for someone else...

"Master!" Meng Cangsheng reported to Daoist Xiao, "Wu Nine’s little inn seems to be doing well."

"It’s no big deal!" Old Daoist Xiao was dismissive. "Isn’t it all thanks to your master’s favor?"

This was on the first day of August, when Old Daoist Xiao made his pronouncement.

...

"Master, Wu Nine’s shabby inn is charging five hundred coins a night now!"

"He’s extorting people!" Old Daoist Xiao glared with his mouse-like eyes. "Once the pilgrims leave, who’ll stay at his decrepit inn?"

This was Old Daoist Xiao’s prediction on the fifth day of August.

...

"Master, the pilgrims are gone, but Wu Nine still has guests?"

"Those were booked in advance. Wait until he shuts down, you’ll see."

August tenth.

...

"Master, the inn is still open..."

"No, this won’t do!" Old Daoist Xiao grew anxious—he was about to lose.

"Does he think I can’t deal with him?"

"Pack up. There’s a seven-day ritual at the city’s guesthouse—we’ll stay in town for a week. Without me, who’ll go up Mount Changluo?"

"..."

Meng Cangsheng was speechless, amazed at such a petty tactic.

"Well..."

Meng Cangsheng kindly reminded him again, "Master, I think... there’s still time to reconsider."

...