That evening, Shu Rui worked in the rear kitchen preparing dishes, Lu Ling served them, and Qing ran errands.
Business was better than at noon, and two tables were set up at the entrance. Fortunately, Lu Ling’s help made operations smoother.
Some customers came hoping for yesterday’s roasted lamb and five-spice meat buns. Since those dishes weren’t prepared today, they went elsewhere.
Shu Rui had anticipated this before opening and wasn’t upset, only instructing Qing to explain the inn’s daily specials and customs. Guests could request certain dishes in advance or order for delivery next time.
“This is the place! Really exists! Ten-li… Inn…” Some companions squinted at the sign, piecing together the name mentioned by the storyteller.
“Looks like business is good; the outside tables are full.”
Several women and their husbands walked along the street, noticing no one outside greeted customers.
“They must be busy,” one said.
“But busy or not, no greeter is careless. Remember the Jin Building? Even when busy, they had staff attending guests.”
“An ordinary inn can’t compare with Jin Building,” another replied.
Meanwhile, a lively woman approached an outside table and asked a seated diner, “Young sir, is the food here good?”
“Excellent! I ordered preserved pork with pickled mustard greens. Rich, savory, perfect with rice. Only ten wen a plate, and the innkeeper gives ten percent off.”
The woman tasted it—unfamiliar spices gave a fresh, unmatched flavor.
“What are the signature dishes here?” she asked.
“The sign says daily specials vary according to what the cook prepares—usually three meat dishes and two vegetarian, plus a cold dish. Signature dishes would be roasted lamb and five-spice meat buns. Rarely are they prepared, so one must request in advance.”
“Impressive for a new inn! What dishes do you have today?”
“The sign lists preserved pork with pickled mustard greens, stir-fried lungs, rabbit skewers, tofu with sesame oil, tender lotus root soup, and flat cabbage with egg soup. Usually, three meat and two vegetable dishes, plus one cold dish.”
“Young sir, you are truly knowledgeable—but don’t tell me the inn hired someone to pose as a guest.”
The man eating frowned, irritation rising in his chest. “Madam, why do you say such things? I was kindly pausing my meal to answer your question. If you didn’t wish to listen, that’s one thing—but to accuse me like this? That’s unreasonable!”
With that, he picked up his chopsticks and resumed eating, refusing to speak to her further.
“Oh dear, I was so busy running around the hall, I haven’t noticed any guests outside yet.”
Qing hurriedly noticed a few people chatting outside. She wiped her hands on her skirt, straightened her posture, and greeted them politely: “Ladies and gentlemen, please come inside. I’ve just set up a table for you.”
Seeing a man at the outer table with a serious expression, Qing bravely added, “Brother Wang, are you cold sitting outside?”
“I’m fine; I had a drink to warm up. But next time, don’t seat me outside. People might think I’m a hired guest of your inn,” said the man surnamed Wang.
“Good food, lively conversation, and yet misunderstood…” he muttered, shaking his head.
The woman who had questioned him earlier noticed his sour expression and said, “Oh, young sir, you really take things to heart. I was just joking—my words are clumsy, not meant to offend.”
Qing hurriedly smoothed things over. “Our inn was careless in accommodating you; please don’t be upset. Ladies, please come inside. Brother Wang, I’ll bring you a small cup of wine shortly—don’t be angry.”
Among the group, two couples waved off the offer—they only came to watch the excitement and did not wish to dine. Qing could not persuade them.
Two other guests were more generous and entered the inn, one even ordering a bowl of pickled mustard greens to take away after hearing it praised.
By mid-evening, following customary practice, the inn stopped taking new diners. Takeout orders could be packed, but no additional seating was accepted.
After a busy night, everyone was exhausted—not only from the evening rush, but having been active all day since dawn. Shu Rui felt his legs aching and his head dizzy. He removed his apron and rested briefly at the counter.
No overnight guests had arrived yet, so the inn remained quiet. Still, Shu Rui followed his usual closing time—first, to maintain the routine for existing diners, second, in case a guest arrived and found the hall chaotic, they might be unwilling to stay.
While recording accounts in his ledger, two men entered.
“Ten-li Street Inn? Are there any rooms available?”
“Yes. Upper and lower shared rooms are open. What kind of room would you like?”
“How much?” they asked.
Shu Rui quoted prices. They exchanged glances and said, “We’ll take the shared room. Also, we’ll need two buckets of hot water for washing.”
One man pulled out his purse, adding casually, “We only learned of your inn today from the street storyteller. It’s close to the city exit, newly opened, reasonably priced—we thought we’d stay the night.”
Shu Rui’s brow lifted slightly. It seemed his idea was indeed useful. “Good. Our location is slightly off the main street, but the rates are fair.”
After some idle conversation, the men, attracted by the aroma of the hall’s cooking, ordered stir-fried lungs and tofu with sesame oil to eat.
Shu Rui instructed Lu Ling to lead them to the shared rooms to choose their sleeping mats. Once inside, the fresh air and clean, orderly bedding pleased the guests.
That night, Shu Rui lay down immediately. Lu Ling wanted to stay close, but seeing how tired he was, he quietly returned to his room.
Shu Rui’s dreams were filled with inn matters. He realized that hiring the storyteller had been a good promotional strategy, though it was still a temporary, imperfect plan. The night was restless, full of chaotic thoughts.
The next day, he reflected and devised a more comprehensive plan to attract customers. He approached more storytellers, caring little whether their storytelling was good or bad—so long as they could draw a crowd.
He discussed collaboration: storytellers could incorporate the inn in their stories—mention its location, recommend dishes, or praise the lodging. They had freedom in delivery, but Shu Rui reviewed the scripts to avoid exaggeration or disparagement.
Two payment options were offered: one-time fast payment—thirty wen per performance; or long-term collaboration, where the storyteller earned two wen for every guest they successfully referred, whether for dining or lodging.
Shu Rui approached ten storytellers; eight agreed. Three took the thirty-wen fast payment, while five, thinking long-term, chose the referral plan.
Either method suited Shu Rui: short-term work spread awareness of the inn, long-term collaboration incentivized storytellers to attract paying guests.
The initial days showed modest results, but gradually, visitors arrived for meals and lodging. After the first seven days of opening promotions ended, prices returned to normal, and traffic visibly decreased.
One storyteller, Zheng Qian, approached Shu Rui: “Previously, with your promotions and attractive wording, I could bring guests to your inn. Now, without the promotional advantage, you need to offer me some benefit to continue recommending it.”
Among Shu Rui’s storytellers, Zheng Qian was the most persuasive, capable of generating twenty to thirty wen per day.
“I’m not unreasonable,” Zheng said. “If I can convince two more people to come, wouldn’t that also benefit you?”
Shu Rui silently agreed; the man’s perspective was fair. Coming to negotiate showed he took the partnership seriously. Some people are straightforward, others clever and adaptable; such individuals, without misfortune, usually fare better than most.
“Very well. Since Mr. Zheng cares for my business, I’ll make your job easier. From now on, guests referred by you receive a five-percent discount on meals and ten percent off lodging,” Shu Rui said.
Zheng Qian nodded, satisfied. “And the other storytellers? What benefits will they receive?”
Shu Rui smiled. “If any of them are as clever as you and come to discuss collaboration, I’ll offer advantages. But only you are my most valued partner; no other storyteller’s benefit will surpass yours. Over time, if collaboration lasts, increasing your referral earnings will be natural.”
Hearing this, Zheng was extremely pleased and bowed in thanks. “With your support, our partnership is assuredly long-term.”
After seeing Zheng off, Shu Rui returned to the inn, relieved. A gust of wind made him shiver; the morning had been overcast, and it felt like late autumn had quietly arrived.
Feeling lightheaded, Shu Rui added a layer of clothing as rain began to fall. He worried Lu Ling might have forgotten an umbrella. “Achoo!” he sneezed.
Qing, having tidied upstairs, warned, “Sir, take care not to catch a cold. The weather’s turning chilly; many children in our alley have already been struck by it. Perhaps have a bowl of ginger soup to keep warm.”
Shu Rui acknowledged her. Busy with the inn, he forgot the passage of time.
Later, while preparing dinner, he felt dizzy, thinking it was mere fatigue. Lu Ling noticed and touched his forehead and neck—hot to the touch!
Shu Rui’s calm face betrayed little, making it hard to read his condition. Seeing this, Lu Ling instructed Qing to close the inn early, preventing new guests from checking in, and focused on attending the current residents.
The rain drizzled and the wind blew. Lu Ling summoned a horse-drawn carriage, lifted Shu Rui in, and brought him to the medical hall.