Chapter Thirty-One: Seeking Help to Find Someone

To ensure long-term development, the quality of these storybooks cannot be underestimated.

Previously, he was the sole author, which inevitably limited his perspective in many ways. Certain topics remained lacking in his writing. Thus, from this angle, the man considered that perhaps he ought to recruit some talented individuals to assist him—ideally, scholars who had poured their hearts into their studies. Many of them were unrecognized talents, but their literary prowess was considerable.

This, too, would be a lasting endeavor.

Yet, he had barely settled into Tinglan Courtyard when an unexpected visitor arrived.

“Master Han, your courage is renowned. I hope you can forgive the misunderstanding at the last poetry gathering,” the guest said.

Wenxuan—he actually humbled himself to visit this modest estate.

Clearly, this was a gesture from the man before him.

But Han Qing had no favorable impression of Ouyang Wenxuan. Certainly, the man was learned, but he was far too scheming. He could never be a true friend.

“Please, it was merely mutual admiration. Besides, without your generosity, I would never have acquired this courtyard.”

They exchanged polite compliments, but Ouyang Wenxuan obviously had something to ask of him. Otherwise, why would he lower himself to visit the home of an ordinary scholar?

“Master Han, I wish to ask you to compose a few lines of poetry for me. My mother’s birthday is approaching, and I hope to honor her with your words.”

What kind of request was this? Could he not write his own?

“Do you mean offering my own poetry as a gift, or do you want me to write something for you?” Han Qing asked calmly, seeking clarity and wary of any hidden traps.

“I’d like you to write a few lines for me, and of course, I’ll compensate you.”

That was out of the question.

Han Qing had no desire to help this man without reason, especially as it was nothing worthy of public acclaim.

“I’m afraid I must decline. Truly, I cannot assist you. The gentleman from Longnan is quite capable—perhaps he can help you instead?” Han Qing replied, rejecting him outright.

Ouyang Wenxuan forced a smile, clearly embarrassed, and soon found an excuse to leave.

He had no intention of tarnishing his reputation for mere money. Who knew what sort of person this “mother” of Wenxuan was? Rumors suggested Ouyang Wenxuan’s background was anything but simple. To offend him might bring disaster to the entire Han family.

Thus, Han Qing weighed such matters carefully.

No sooner had Wenxuan left than another visitor arrived—Master Zhu.

It seemed today was unusually busy for him.

“What’s this? Did the two of you plan your visits together?” Han Qing asked, half-joking.

Master Zhu looked puzzled. “What do you mean, two people? I’m alone.”

“I simply wanted to ask you about that previous case. Strange knowledge always interests me, and after hearing what that fellow said, I realized I’d missed something.”

It was still about that actress?

“They’re just minor tricks. Let the Ministry of Justice handle it,” Han Qing replied, unconcerned, as if the matter meant little to him.

Perhaps there was more he wanted to say, but held back.

“You’re right, I almost forgot. By the way, why did Wenxuan visit you?” Zhu asked, curious.

“He said his mother’s birthday was coming up and wanted me to help with a congratulatory poem.”

“A birthday gift? I’ve never heard of Wenxuan’s mother—everyone in Beijun City knows him as a great scholar, but no one knows anything of his family.”

They nodded, sharing his confusion, though it was not a pressing concern.

“Let them be—everyone has their own fate.”

Han Qing observed Zhu closely, but didn’t press further, instead changing the subject.

“Since you’re here, I need your help. Your network is vast—do you know any promising scholars, preferably those with quick wit, a cut above the average?”

This left Master Zhu momentarily stunned.

“What do you want with them? Surely you’re not planning to host poetry gatherings like Wenxuan? I remember you’re not one to pursue such refined airs.”

Master Zhu was genuinely puzzled. He had admired Han Qing precisely because he was unique, not one of those pretentious literati.

Why was he now seeking to gather scholars?

“You’re overthinking it. My storybook shop needs improvement. I want some scholars to contribute articles—what’s wrong with that?”

This made sense. Aside from sons of prominent families, most scholars’ works would be well received.

“In this way, I can offer scholars a platform to showcase their work, and give those who appreciate such writing a source of comfort.”

His shop was evolving into a platform.

Though there were few such people now, he was building an industry chain.

“In that case, I can introduce you to some. I’ve attended their poetry gatherings and met several talented individuals,” Master Zhu said enthusiastically.

If this could gain traction, it might transform the current situation.

“There’s one, Su Pei from the eastern part of the city. His family is poor, but he conducts himself with order and has unique insights.”

Su Pei?

“Is he the one whose calligraphy is on the paper fan you picked up?”

“Yes, your eye is sharp—you recognized it immediately.”

Han Qing nodded, committing the name to memory. Master Zhu then recommended several others, and Han Qing felt he’d gained much.

But he was most impressed by Su Pei—the few phrases written on the fan revealed the man’s far-reaching vision. He was no ordinary person. Han Qing resolved to meet him soon.

He was pondering this in his study when—

“Husband, Mother wants us to invite Sister’s family to live here.”

What?

Why had the old lady suddenly come up with this idea?

“Did Brother-in-law come by again?”

His sister would never request this; the only one likely to cause trouble was Liu Tie Niu.

“No, Mother just thinks the courtyard is too large, and it feels empty with only a few of us living here,” Xiuxiu quickly explained.

But Han Qing was not convinced—someone must have been weeping at Mother Han’s side, probably while Xiuxiu was away.