Chapter 50.2: Rainlight

"Technically, I shouldn't be taking A-Li away today, but tomorrow's a special date. We have no choice."

"Granny, it's a family matter—and besides, A-Li really ought to go."

"You've figured out where we're going tomorrow, haven't you?"

"Of course not."

"Hehe, if your eyes were better, I would've taken you along too. But I figure you're not in the mood anyway."

"Granny, don't worry about me."

"Alright, that's settled. Tingting will boil the medicine for tomorrow and the day after in advance. Remember to take it on time."

"Mm, I will."

Li Zhuiyuan headed back. As he passed Runsheng and Tan Wenbin, he paused.

Runsheng brought over a small stool, and Tan Wenbin helped him sit.

The TV was playing a drama—Chen Zhen, starring Leung Siu-lung.

Runsheng was folding paper effigies while watching. Tan Wenbin was doing homework.

The sound of a pen scratching on paper caught Li Zhuiyuan’s ear. "Binbin-ge, why don’t you go grab my desk lamp from my room to use?"

"Okay." Tan Wenbin nodded without fuss. Li Zhuiyuan didn’t need it now anyway.

Runsheng liked dragging the TV out to the open courtyard at night so he could work and watch at the same time, making cleanup easier.

A bulb hung from a pole outside. It was bright enough, but the angle wasn’t great.

"What are A-Li and her family doing tomorrow?" Runsheng asked.

"No idea. Must be something important."

Actually, Li Zhuiyuan had a good guess—Liu Yumei was likely taking A-Li to visit her parents’ graves.

He’d long suspected Uncle Qin and Aunt Liu weren’t A-Li’s real parents—just guardians in name.

"Xiaoyuan, you’re free tomorrow then?"

"School hasn’t started. I’m free every day."

Tan Wenbin mumbled, "Even after school starts, you’ll still be free."

"I passed by the town market today while delivering paper effigies and saw a little stage set up—someone was telling tales. Big crowd listening too. I asked around; he’ll be there tomorrow too. Xiaoyuan, I’ll take you to listen, yeah?"

"Sounds great."

Li Zhuiyuan didn’t want to brush off Runsheng’s good intentions—he was trying to find ways to cheer him up, after all.

The next morning, Li Zhuiyuan got up especially early, but when he reached the east wing, he found the door already locked.

Liu Yumei and the others had probably left at dawn.

Early start, early return.

He pulled over a stool and sat in the courtyard.

"Ah, Xiaoyuan, you’re up early," Runsheng said, rubbing his eyes as he came down. "I’ll go make breakfast."

"Runsheng-ge, let’s eat in town."

"Alright then. I’ll leave some instant noodles on the stove for Grandpa—he can cook for himself when he wakes."

He darted into the kitchen and quickly came back out, waking Tan Wenbin with a few pats. "Up, time to wash—we’re heading to town."

Tan Wenbin yawned. Still groggy, but he nodded.

After a quick wash, Runsheng pedaled the three-wheeler with Li Zhuiyuan and Tan Wenbin aboard to Shinan Town.

They chose the furthest table outside a breakfast shop—Runsheng wanted to smoke.

Li Zhuiyuan ordered three bowls of mini wontons and three baskets of xiaolongbao.

He’d meant to order more, but Runsheng stopped him.

As the wontons and buns were served, Li Zhuiyuan asked, "Runsheng-ge, will that be enough for you?"

"Xiaoyuan, check this out."

He handed Li Zhuiyuan something dry and hard—rough with small holes.

"Bread chips?"

"Clink clink." Runsheng shook a bag. "Heh, I brought a whole sack—perfect for dipping in wonton broth."

"Runsheng-ge…"

"You eat. I’m just having a taste. You know how much I eat—can’t afford to pig out in a restaurant."

"Let me have some too." Tan Wenbin reached over. He might’ve joked “eat all you want, my treat” before—but now, as good friends, he didn’t need to say it.

Li Zhuiyuan bit into a chip, couldn’t break it, and dunked it in broth.

Next to him, Runsheng crunched away. He and Tan Wenbin even went for a second bowl of soup.

"Ahh… comfy."

Burp…

The two stuffed their bellies and slapped them—must’ve lifted their shirts, judging by the muffled sound.

"Hey, any left? Gimme a chip."

Li Zhuiyuan's ears perked. It was his first time hearing a proper Nantong accent in a radio announcer’s tone.

"Two chips left." Runsheng handed them over.

"Good enough."

The man sat at their table with a bowl of noodles or wontons. As he opened a jar, a wave of stinky tofu smell, laced with spice, wafted over.

Tan Wenbin sniffed. "Why’s your stinky tofu that color?"

"Sichuan-style—got chilies in it."

Now it was a Sichuan accent—also in a perfect broadcast tone.

"Hey, you’re that storyteller from yesterday!"

Runsheng slapped his forehead. "No wonder I didn’t recognize you without your long robe."

"Hehe, here to hear a tale today?"

"Of course! That’s why we came."

"Ah, honored guests. Still early, though. If you treat me to a cup of tea, I’ll give you three a private performance after breakfast."

"Sure!" Li Zhuiyuan agreed immediately.

After the man finished eating, he gestured. "Please."

They followed him to a rough makeshift stage—a few cabinets strung together with two cloth sails behind.

Runsheng popped into a shop, came back with bottled water, and saw Li Zhuiyuan handing over money. The storyteller smiled.

Only then did Runsheng realize "a cup of tea" meant a tip, not actual tea.

Not much, just the price of two cans of Jianlibao.

The storyteller didn’t climb the stage. Instead, he sat on a wooden bench facing them.

He gave a simple intro—name was Yu Shu, wandering the rivers and lakes for a living. New in town, looking to make friends, gain experience, and earn a meal.

Then he launched into the tale—Emperor Taizong Li Shimin's triumph at Hulao Pass over Dou Jiande.

Since his audience was three youngsters, he used Mandarin instead of Nantong dialect. His storytelling had rhythm, drama, even sound effects.

Runsheng and Tan Wenbin were riveted, clapping and cheering.

Li Zhuiyuan clapped too, but he was puzzled. Who was this master storyteller? Clearly not a local, yet already fluent in the dialect and with such dazzling verbal skills.

Even in today’s declining traditional arts scene, how could a talent like this end up drifting through the streets?

The climax was Li Shimin’s armored cavalry smashing through Dou Jiande’s center ranks. The story closed with his triumphant return and elevation to Heavenly Strategy General.

A thrilling tale, brilliantly performed. On a sweltering summer day, it felt like biting into a chilled watermelon—cool and satisfying from head to toe.

Though blind, Li Zhuiyuan’s ears had feasted. A private show, no less—money well spent.

He reached for his pocket again.

"Enough now. You already paid for tea—can’t take more from folks not earning. Besides, didn’t you tip me with bread chips?"

"That was amazing," Li Zhuiyuan said sincerely.

"You flatter me. Kid, your eyes okay?"

"They’ll get better."

"Good. What’s your name?"

"Li Zhuiyuan."

"Li Zhuiyuan, huh. Always been a Li?"

"What else?"

Tan Wenbin, still buzzing, asked, "Can you tell another story?"

"Can’t. Gotta save my voice for the noon show."

Tan Wenbin nodded. "We’ll wait then."

"No need. Same story at noon—just with more filler. I’ll ramble a bit about Emperor Gaozu and Prince Jiancheng, and maybe touch on Wang Shichong in Luoyang. Not worth sticking around."

"That’s a shame. What about tonight?"

"Same deal. Even more filler."

Tan Wenbin: "……"

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