Transmigrated Farmgirl's Scheme to Get Rich - Chapter 7
Listening to Stories
The storyteller hadn’t arrived yet, so the children were running around and playing together. The village idiot Erdan was running with them, giggling the entire time. [1]
One by one, the villagers came to the threshing field and called their children over. Then, they went to the straw mats their children had placed down for them.
Mr. Tian had brought over a desk from the school, and Cao Zhang was carrying a lantern to light the way for him. The table was set up under a large tree where a bell was hanging, and Cao Zhang found a suitable branch to hang the lantern on as well.
Once everything was set up, they stepped back and stood to the side.
Immediately afterwards, an old gentleman with a short white beard and wearing ash-grey clothes stepped forwards. He was the storyteller.
The old storyteller stood behind the desk, taking a small gavel out of his sleeve and rapping it on the table. He said, “Hello everyone, this humble storyteller is here today to tell tales and earn a living in Chenzhong Village, I beg your esteemed personages to tolerate any mistakes during my storytelling.” He clasped his hands and bowed to the crowd.
Perhaps it was because of his age, but the storyteller seemed a little out of breath and his voice was a little hoarse. It didn’t sound very pleasing to the ear.
The crowd quieted down and the children all sat on their straw mats. Even Erdan stayed silent.
“Today I’ll tell the tale of the Chu-Han Contention. It’s said in the stories that Xiang Yu, the hegemon of the West Chu Empire…” [2]
Although Xiang Yu was brave, this story was a tragedy. When the storyteller illustrated the scene where the hegemon bade farewell to Consort Yu, his most beloved concubine, the old men all sighed, the young men felt righteous fury and the women felt bad for Consort Yu.
When the storyteller finished, the village’s administrator governing official Wu placed a bowl on the desk, and the villagers came forward to pour wheat wrapped in handkerchiefs or held in containers into the bowl.
Mo Yan had no idea when Mrs. Liang had arrived, but she went forward with a small item wrapped in a handkerchief and opened it to reveal two eggs, “These are the salted eggs I made. Please try them!
The old storyteller took the salted eggs and thanked her repeatedly, but at that moment, Mo Feng appeared from nowhere and asked, “Mom, you haven’t even given me salted eggs yet! Why did you give these to him?”
Mrs. Liang put her handkerchief away and pretended to berate him, “There are still a lot more in the jar! I have enough salted eggs for you.”
While pulling up Mo Yan and putting away the straw mats, Mo Ling said, “She just loves her own reputation!”
The other families only gave the storyteller freshly-threshed wheat, and it went without saying it wasn’t the highest of quality. But Mrs. Liang gave him two of the salted eggs that even her own children rarely got to have.
Now, the whole village would consider Mrs. Liang not only a good homemaker, but also kind-hearted and in a good financial situation. After all, salted eggs weren’t something that every family could casually take out, or willingly give to others.
After that, the moon finally came out, and the crowd dispersed. The only thing left on the threshing field were piles of uncollected threshed wheat, scattered haphazardly. Mr. Tian started moving the desk and Cao Zhang re-took the lantern as they headed back towards the school.
Mo Ling clutched Mo Yan’s little hand tightly, afraid she would get lost.
“Sis, so this storyteller gets paid in wheat grains for his stories?”
“What’s wrong with getting paid in wheat grains? Do you want to pay him with money?”
After Mo Yan thought about it a bit, Mo Ling was right. Most of the people in this village were in similar financial situations to the Mo family. Who would give money to a storyteller? The storyteller only got this much because they had just threshed the wheat, too. If it was winter, no one would be willing to give even this much.
When they returned home, even Mo Feng said that this year’s storyteller wasn’t very good. According to him, the storyteller wasn’t impressive enough and the combat scenes were all dull and lifeless.
She remembered what Lu Junming had said: You’re good at telling stories, you might be able to make money from it.
I know a lot of stories!
“Sis, could I become a storyteller?”
Without waiting for Mo Ling to answer, Mo Feng started laughing at her, “Forget it! You? Become a storyteller?”
“What’s wrong with that? I know a lot of stories, so I’ll tell whatever people want to hear!”
Mo Feng laughed, “If you’re telling whatever people want to hear, are you going to tell dirty stories if they ask for it?”
Mrs. Liang reached out and poked him in the head, “You’re talking nonsense again. All sorts of people listen to stories. If someone dares tell a dirty story, they might not even be able to leave the village!”
All of them thought she was joking, and no one took her seriously. But there was one thing they did take seriously, and that was the salted eggs Mrs. Liang made.
The few chickens in the yard fed themselves and didn’t lay many eggs, so it wasn’t easy to save a few. They only got to steam a few of Mrs. Liang’s salted eggs to eat every day during the harvest. It wasn’t just Mo Feng, even Mo Ling thought about them from time to time!
Mo Ling said, “Mum, since you still have salted eggs left, we need to eat them as soon as possible! If they’re left for any longer, they’ll start to stink!”
You had to salt the salted eggs for just the right amount of time for the egg yolk to turn oily. If the salted eggs were salted for too long, the egg whites would turn black and start to stink.
Mrs. Liang smiled smugly, “I marked the salted eggs and put them into the jar in waves, so there’s no way they’ll start stinking!”
At the mention of good food, Mo Feng’s mind immediately lit up, “That means there’s a wave of salted eggs whose yolks are oozing with oil right now!” He couldn’t help but swallow his saliva as he said this, showing his gluttony in its entirety.
Mrs. Liang started fanning herself with a paper fan, “I’ll cook a few for you tomorrow!”
My mum is much better when she’s being generous compared to when she’s scolding people!
As she lay on the kang, Mo Yan was still thinking about storytelling. She was silently rehearsing in her mind, imagining what it would be like if she became a storyteller.
The next day, she released the ducklings to the pond as usual, and Lu Junming came over with a fishing rod in his hand. He knew he wouldn’t be able to catch any fish, so he didn’t even bother to bring a small bucket. [3]
“Lu Junming, did you go listen to the storyteller yesterday?” Mo Yan asked.
“I did.”
“Then how come I didn’t see you?”
“I arrived late, stood at the back, and left early, which was why you didn’t see me.”
“How good do you think he was at storytelling?”
“He’s not as good as you!”
He was the only person who had ever complimented her so much, and Mo Yan was ecstatic.
“Really?”
She waited for Lu Junming’s response with anticipation.
Lu Junming smiled faintly at her, “Really. If you were the one who was telling stories instead, everyone would definitely like it!”
Who wouldn’t feel warm and fuzzy inside when they were praised and encouraged? Mo Yan smiled happily at him and said, “Lu Junming, you look good when you smile!”
Lu Junming tried to resist the urge, but the corners of his lips still rose involuntarily, “Stop joking around!”
With becoming a storyteller in mind, Mo Yan was very quiet today, and didn’t tell Lu Junming any stories.
It was almost noon, and the birds in the willow trees were chirping with increasing effort. It was so loud it was making their eardrums hurt.
Lu Junming took the initiative to put his fishing rod away and stood up, saying, “It’s too hot today. Let’s go back!” After saying that, he started walking back to his house.
When Mo Yan returned home, she saw her second grandma, who had taken a pot to fetch water from the well again.
“Second grandma, why did you wait until it was so hot to fetch water?”
Second grandma was still smiling as she responded, “It’s because it’s so hot, that I wanted to drink some cold water from the well. Give me a second and I’ll get some for you too.”
Mo Yan waited for her to fetch water from the well.
When she returned with a full pot of water, Mo Yan asked, “Second grandma, why doesn’t my other grandma fetch water?”
Mo Yan’s second grandma sat down in the shade and drank some cool water from the jar, then let out a long, contented breath.
“Your sister fetches a load of water for her every day, so she doesn’t need to fetch it herself.”
“Then why doesn’t she fetch you a load of water too?”
“Silly girl, your sister would get tired from fetching that much water! It’s not like I can’t move, I can fetch my own water from this well and get a cool drink for myself. Isn’t it great?”
Edited August 20, 2023, to try and get the rest of the story up to the current standards. This includes using the current terms and polishing up the translation. Thanks for reading!
[1] ‘Er Dan’ becoming ‘Erdan’ is one of those changes I mentioned that are in line with the current translations. (See Chapter 5)
[2] This is an actual historical event most Chinese people learn in school, which happened from 206-202 BCE.
[3] One of those minor things I messed up early on which doesn’t actually have a major bearing in the rest of the story was the fact Mo Yan actually kept the ducklings at home.