Chapter 83: Blind to the Very End

In truth, Wu Ning was unaware that, although the ancients lacked systematic technology and certain depths of thought, their methods were in no way inferior to those of later generations. Take, for instance, the special watermark paper used for ledgers—even a public official like Wu Changlu knew about it, and most common folk did as well.

Yet he did not. And it seemed that silly Qin Miaoniang was equally ignorant. Otherwise, why would Wu Ning need to devise a plan? She could simply check the paper upon returning home.

At this moment, Wu Ning could only sigh in his heart: It seems that possessing skill alone is not enough; there is so much more about this era that he must truly understand.

It was much like ancient apprenticeships—whether in carpentry, accounting, smithing, or medicine, or even for errand boys like Li Wenbo—one always learned the rules before the craft itself. Every trade had its own customs and codes.

For example, when Qin Miaoniang sought another accountant to examine her family’s books, even if they agreed to help, the profession had its own rules; they would not even tell her where to begin, leaving her to flounder like a headless fly.

Wu Ning, in that regard, was hardly different from Qin Miaoniang—he had ability, but was ignorant of the rules.

“You!” Wu Changlu looked at Wu Ning with amusement. “Clever enough, but lacking in experience!”

Wu Ning conceded the point, simply saying, “Well, that makes things easier. Tomorrow, let Qin Miaoniang go to the paper shop to investigate.”

“She?” Wu Changlu shot Wu Ning a contemptuous glance. “Do you think a slip of a girl can check the records at the official paper shop? Only the prefecture office or your fourth uncle could open such doors for her.”

Clearly, Ninth Uncle Wu was out of his depth again.

“You…” Wu Changlu stood up. “Stop worrying about others and take care of that pox-ridden face of yours! Tomorrow I’ll have Wei Dalang take the Qin girl to the shop himself.”

“Fine,” Wu Ning could only agree. He really did need to tend to his face; if it healed poorly, it might leave scars.

“It’s late—go to bed,” Wu Changlu said, preparing to retire for the night.

Just as he reached the door, he paused and turned back. “Wei Dalang told me everything. Why are you pretending to be blind every day? If you’ve taken a liking, speak to your uncle and bring her home!”

“No, no, no!” Wu Ning quickly waved his hands. “Let me decide my own affairs, all right?”

But Wu Changlu, far from backing down, glared at him. “Spoiled! Matters of marriage are not for you to decide!”

Wu Ning could only roll his eyes. Such feudal patriarchs, one and all.

“All right, all right, you have the final say. When I need you to make the decision, I’ll let you know. Is that enough?”

Wu Changlu left with a flick of his sleeve. “Not one of you is easy to manage!”

...

The next day, upon Wu Changlu’s orders, Wei Dalang did indeed take Qin Miaoniang to the paper shop.

And… they found the problem.

Wu Ning had assumed that, even if Sun the accountant had kept his own set of books, he would not have used the special watermark paper. Even if they checked at the shop, it should have taken some effort.

But this old hand, perhaps thinking that Qin Wenyuan was imprisoned and the Qin orphans and widows had no means to investigate, had brazenly bought the watermark paper for his private accounts.

When Qin Miaoniang compared the papers at her shop, they did not match. She confronted Sun the accountant directly, and with the menacing Wei Dalang looming over him, the old man confessed without resistance.

When she checked the accounts, she found that, in just over a month, the old fellow had embezzled more than forty strings of cash. Even after accounting for the cloth shop’s recent losses, over twenty strings remained.

...

“That’s all? It’s too little, isn’t it?” Wu Ning couldn’t help but complain. How could such a large cloth shop make only twenty strings in over a month?

“That’s already very good!” Qin Miaoniang was overjoyed—it was the first profit she had earned since taking over her family’s business.

Her delicate face bloomed with happiness. “Few shops in the city earn so much.”

“Fair enough,” thought Wu Ning. Contentment is indeed a blessing, and at least the girl was satisfied.

He cautioned her, “Be more careful in future. Don’t let such things happen again.”

“I understand,” Qin Miaoniang answered readily.

“When hiring an accountant, be sure to check their background. Anyone dishonest should not be employed.”

“That won’t happen,” she replied. “I already have someone in mind—someone of the highest integrity.”

“So soon?” Wu Ning was surprised. Accountants were rare and hard to find in this era.

“Mhm.” She lowered her head. “I have a candidate, but…”

“But what?”

“I haven’t spoken to him yet. I don’t know if he’ll agree.”

“Who is it?” Wu Ning grew curious. “Offer more silver if need be—they’ll agree.”

“Really?” She looked up. “Do you think he will?”

“Certainly,” Wu Ning reassured her. “The Qin family is a great merchant house in Fangzhou. People would vie for the chance to work for you.”

Without thinking, Qin Miaoniang blurted, “Would Brother Ning come?”

As soon as she said it, her bright eyes fixed on Wu Ning, unblinking.

“Me?” Wu Ning finally caught on, pointing at himself in disbelief.

“You’re not suggesting me, are you?”

“Of course, Brother Ning!” Qin Miaoniang was delighted. “Name your price—how much silver do you want?”

“No, no, no!” Wu Ning panicked. “I’m just a blind man. How could I be an accountant?”

“You’re far better than those with perfect sight.”

“Impossible—I have my own family business to look after.”

Qin Miaoniang’s gaze dimmed, and she lowered her head. “But you seem so free, Brother Ning…”

“Come on, sister!” Wu Ning wore a bitter smile. “I truly can’t. I’m a fugitive; the authorities wouldn’t let me register. Better find someone else!”

He thought, it was one thing to pretend to be blind at night, but to spend every day in her shop would surely give him away.

Qin Miaoniang nodded, but she couldn’t help feeling disappointed.

Brother Ning was the nephew of Wu the Magistrate—his fugitive status was just an excuse.

Still, she could see that, whatever the reason, Wu Ning genuinely did not want to work in her shop.

...

While Qin Miaoniang did not persist, this incident nevertheless stirred something within Wu Ning.

Truth be told, if not for his “blind man” pretense, he would have liked to try working at her shop.

It wasn’t for the money, nor for her, nor did it concern his own family’s business.

He simply agreed with his fourth uncle—“capable, but lacking in experience.”

Just this matter of checking accounts had shown him, all his knowledge from his past life was useful—very useful. It was his advantage, one that people of this era did not possess. But there was still much to learn.

At the very least, he needed to understand the professional customs, commercial habits, and even Tang dynasty laws governing trade—where there were loopholes to exploit. Without mastering these, he was bound to encounter trouble eventually.

And the answers to all these could be found in Qin Miaoniang’s cloth shop.

...

After returning home, Wu Ning couldn’t sleep, his mind preoccupied with these thoughts. He only dozed off in the latter half of the night, and didn’t get up until nearly noon, when the East Market was about to open. He set out with Wu Li, intending to check on the charcoal they were selling there.

But as soon as he entered the market, he looked up and saw a sign hanging outside a shop:

“Accountant Wanted—High Wages Offered!”

Wu Ning chuckled—just as he wished for a pillow, someone offered him one.

He looked up at the shop sign: “Yuanning Cloth Shop?”

He was startled. “Could that be Qin’s shop?”

“No way!” Wu Old Eight waved him off. “What are you thinking? Everyone in Fangzhou knows the Qin family’s shop is called Qin Cloth Shop.”

With a sneer, “Besides, their shop is on the best street in the West Market. Why would they move to the East Market?”

“Oh,” Wu Ning exhaled in relief. “All right, you go to the charcoal stall. I’ll take a look inside!”

With that, he strolled into Yuanning Cloth Shop, unconcerned about official records or his fugitive status.

“Anyone here?” he called.

A shop assistant hurried over. “Young sir, here for cloth?”

“No.”

The assistant rolled his eyes. “Not buying cloth—why are you swaggering in here?”

“I’m here for the accountant position.”

“Whoa!” The assistant couldn’t help exclaiming, “You’re awfully young!”

“Of course,” Wu Ning laughed. This one had spirit.

“What, do I not look the part?”

“Not really,” the assistant answered truthfully, grinning. “Young sir, this is a proper business. I don’t have time to play. If the manager comes out, I’ll be the one scolded.”

“I’m serious,” Wu Ning said, matching the assistant’s polite tone. “Just call the manager to test me.”

The assistant studied him again and saw that this young man truly didn’t seem to be joking.

“All right, I’ll trust you this once.”

“Trust me.”

“Then come inside! The manager and the owner have stepped out—they’ll be back soon!”

Wu Ning had no objection, and entered the side hall confidently.

Inside, he found three or four others—young, old, and unattractive—already waiting. All here to apply for the accountant position.

Wu Ning took an empty seat. The others eyed him curiously—was this boy really an accountant? He looked about fifteen or sixteen.

...

On the other side, Qin Miaoniang had also been deeply affected by recent events.

She finally realized that running a business required more than money, a shop, and staff. One had to be personally involved and understand the intricacies, or risk being fooled by a few falsified ledgers.

So, she arrived at the shop early. Before opening, she heard from the manager that a merchant from Xiangzhou had brought fine cloth to Fangzhou, and she volunteered to accompany him to inspect the goods.

The shop manager, hired by the Qin family, was genuinely impressed.

A girl of fourteen or fifteen, facing family disaster, taking charge of the business—already remarkable. Now, to step out with the staff to handle affairs herself—truly admirable.

He thought, anyone who married this young mistress would be truly fortunate!

...

After viewing the cloth with Qin Miaoniang, they returned to the East Market shop.

Though the West Market was more prosperous and drew more customers, the Qin family’s shop there had been handed over to Wang Hongyi, and they could not find a suitable new location, so they had to open in the East Market.

Moreover, Qin Miaoniang insisted that the old shop name brought bad luck after recent troubles, so even the shop’s name was changed.

As soon as they entered, the shop assistant greeted them. “Mistress, Manager, you’re back. The sign went up at opening, and in just a short while, four accountants have already come to apply. They’re waiting in the side hall!”

“Oh?” The manager was delighted—an accountant was just what they needed.

He looked at Qin Miaoniang. “Would you like to join me, Mistress?”

She was tempted, but after a moment’s thought, declined. She knew nothing of accountancy, nor the workings of the shop; she had to learn everything from Manager Qian. If she joined, she’d be of no help—in fact, her presence might make Manager Qian uneasy.

With a gentle smile, she replied, “Uncle Qian, you handle it. I haven’t eaten today and will have some refreshments in the back.”

Manager Qian was surprised she hadn’t eaten all morning. “Then please, rest inside, Mistress. I’ll take care of this.”

He watched her go, then entered the side hall.

No sooner had he stepped in than he saw a boy in his teens sitting up straight.

He wondered, which applicant brought their child along?

...

—Author’s Note—

The so-called “Dead Fish Author Rescue Operation” in the review section has absolutely nothing to do with me!!

How could you all stir up such a commotion while I wasn’t looking? “Dead fish author”? Even daring to mock the boss—are you trying to rebel?

And such lowly prizes—how could you come up with this? Did Old Ninth Wu trick you all into it?

I just said yesterday that we are Daoist authors, that I had just transcended and shown off… Now you’re slapping my face!

First prize: Dali silver jewelry. Silver is valuable, but… does a silver ear pick count as jewelry?

Second prize: folding fan… Who still uses a folding fan? If you want to show off nowadays, wear a cotton coat in midsummer.

Third prize: custom T-shirt… just barely acceptable. But couldn’t you call it a limited edition “Training the Great Song” theme T-shirt?

Signed postcards… You yourselves said, a dead fish author!! What’s the use of a dead fish author’s autograph? Isn’t that embarrassing?

Tell me, isn’t it?

...

All right, enough kidding.

The admins really organized this event without my knowledge—they take me too lightly. While I was napping yesterday afternoon, they discussed everything with my wife and made all the arrangements.

All while I was asleep!

It was a bit rushed. The reason is simple: I keep saying results don’t matter.

But my editor, Xu Xu, didn’t believe me, and went to great lengths to secure a listing goal for me, and an event. There’s a day of app splash screens, three days of event pages.

There are various targets—booklist numbers, monthly tickets, total rewards, popularity votes, and so on.

I still don’t fully understand the specifics—haven’t paid attention to app events in ages.

Basically, it’s about roasting this dead fish (you’re right, I am a dead fish) on the spit.

Isn’t this not only a slap in the face, but a kick in the backside?

How could I compare with the true great authors? It feels like being forced onto the stage.

Nothing I can do. Booklist numbers aren’t up to me; it depends on whether you like the book.

Tips as you wish—I won’t trick you.

Just the monthly tickets…

So I asked the admins for help…

(I really did take cold medicine yesterday.)

(One admin is called ‘Bitter Smile’… how depressing!)

(Another is called 125… half a 250!)

Anyway, Bitter Smile organized this vote-pulling event for me.

(Honestly, I’m not keen. Do you believe me?)

It’s fine…

My requirements aren’t high—just want to reach the target, a few thousand votes.

But the prizes are too lame—they have to change.

First prize: silver jewelry—too vague, and I don’t know how many winners there’ll be. Probably not many…

So I’ll personally decide: a strand of pure silver Guan Gong head beads. About eighty grams—I forget exactly. It’s my own, worn for two years, and I quite like it, so I’ll give it to you!

Second prize: forget the folding fan—it’s useless and insincere. I recall there’s a handmade Dongba paper notebook from a Dali shop. I’ll pick some out personally to send to you.

As for autographs, forget it—I’m no celebrity. Even I’d be embarrassed to sign anything.

But I’d be very happy to write a Dali-themed postcard to a reader, to show my thanks.

...

Finally, there’s the prequel manuscript about Wu Ning, Tang Yi, and Qi Lei before they crossed worlds…

Let me be clear: it’s not a true manuscript—I’d be exhausted writing it all by hand. At best, I’ll handwrite one, then photocopy it.

And…

Can we change it? I really don’t want to give it out!

It contains the ending for Tang Yi in the Great Song, a lost memory for him and Wu Ning from their past lives, spoilers for Qi Lei’s character, a chronicle of the eleven-dimensional universe and parallel timelines…

In other words, it reveals the plots for my next three books.

Shall we change it?

Would you all agree?