The teahouse was as lively as ever, packed with patrons drinking tea, listening to the story, occasionally murmuring remarks or shouting praises.

By noon, some people started leaving, and Xiao’er Cao Fa could finally take a short break to eat.

He held a baked pancake, leaning against a teahouse pillar while eating, always keeping an ear out for any master calling for him. Often interrupted mid-bite, he’d have to rush off again.

Luckily, the Manager had hired another helper called Niu Da. He’d done waiter work years ago, needing little training, which saved much trouble.

Both Niu Da and Cao Fa loved the Storyteller’s tales. Everyone in the teahouse did.

But the two often caught only fragments during their work. In quieter moments, they’d piece together what they recalled, discussing the Storyteller’s stories to grasp the full plots.

Munching his pancake, Cao Fa said to Da Niu, “How does Mr. Chen dream up so many amazing tales?”

“Huh?” Da Niu paused. “Didn’t he say Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio (or Liaozhai) was left by people long ago?”

Cao Fa chuckled. “Haven’t you heard what the guests say?”

“Say what?”

“Folks everywhere are asking what Liaozhai really is. Third Master Jin even checked all over Qingshan City—nobody’s heard of it.”

Cao Fa reasoned, “Such great stories? If ancestors truly wrote them, someone should know. So only one possibility remains!”

Suddenly, Da Niu understood.

“Aiya!” he gasped. “Which means… Mr. Chen must have written them himself!”

Cao Fa grinned. “Know it, but keep quiet. Don’t bring it up to him—might upset him.”

“Probably not…”

“Mr. Chen’s kind-tempered, unlikely true. But we’re Xiao’ers—we talk only when needed.”

“Right, right.” Da Niu quickly agreed. Though an ex-waiter, he was still far less experienced than his senior, Cao Fa.

“What’re you two whispering about?” A voice spoke behind them.

Cao Fa turned mid-bite to see Mr. Chen. He hurriedly hid his pancake.

“Manager,” Cao Fa greeted nervously.

Manager Zhuang nodded. “Eat slower. Pour yourself tea—gulping like that might choke you!”

Cheeks bulging, Cao Fa laughed. “Can’t. Slow eating wastes time. Few big bites do it. Won’t choke.”

“You…”

Manager Zhuang shook his head. “No matter. Come with me to see Mr. Chen. Luck’s truly shone on you today.” 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

“What?” Cao Fa was baffled.

“Luck?”

“Yes. Come.”

Without explaining further, Manager Zhuang led Cao Fa to the teahouse backyard, just steps away. Anxious, Cao Fa asked if he’d done something wrong.

“Stop overthinking. Good news.”

Cao Fa nervously pondered; such fortune never favored him before.

In the backyard, Mr. Chen sat drinking tea at a table.

“Mr. Chen, I’ve brought Young Cao,” announced Manager Zhuang.

Cao Fa clasped his hands respectfully. “Honor to see you, sir.”

Chen Changsheng gestured him to sit.

Cao Fa eyed the chair uncertainly. “Sir, I…”

“Better stand. Standing’s fine.” He dared not sit as Mr. Chen’s equal.

“What’s there to fear?” Manager Zhuang’s tone sharpened. “Sit!”

“Right away!” Cao Fa jolted into the seat.

His sheltered heart raced again—today felt serious.

Seeing Cao Fa sit as straight as a rod, Chen Changsheng smiled warmly. “Manager, stop terrifying Clerk Cao.”

Manager Zhuang snorted. “Needs practice sitting like this sooner or later. Just preparing him.”

Cao Fa blinked. “Sooner… or later?”

“It’s fate,” said the Manager.

Perplexed, Cao Fa stayed silent.

Chen Changsheng waved lightly. “Clerk Cao, how long in this teahouse?”

“Sir, I became a Xiao’er at twelve. Five years now.”

“Five years…”

“Yes…”

Chen Changsheng continued, “How hard do you think storytelling is?”

Cao Fa pondered. “Very hard!”

“What’s the hardest part?”

“Acting?” Cao Fa believed making stories alive and immersive was toughest.

“Platform so big—just one person plays a whole army. Impossible!”

Chen Changsheng nodded. “Exactly.”

True skill needed the spirit to become an army alone.

“If you were the Storyteller now, playing a General marching to war—how’d you perform it?”

“Uh…” Cao Fa glanced at Manager Zhuang.

“You heard—just act!”

“Yes.”

Agreeing, Cao Fa imagined a General’s bearing. Rising, he stomped two paces, suddenly whirled ’round fierce-faced, mimicking a martial arts role.

“Hah!” Finished, he calmed.

“Mr. Chen, was that alright?”

“Learned it from opera, didn’t you?” Mr. Chen noted.

Cao Fa nodded. “Saw plays a time or two long ago…”

“Not bad.”

Chen Changsheng leaned forward. “Interested in learning something new?”

Cao Fa froze—then understood instantly. He wasn’t slow.

Thump! He dropped to his knees!

“Sir, giving lowly me such an opportunity— I swear to dedicate my soul to learning, shaming neither you nor your teachings!”

Thud! Thud! Thud! He kowtowed three times, forehead marked red.

Chen Changsheng smiled kindly. “After noon-duty, your Xiao’er role ends.”

Cao Fa bowed again. A mere waiter, yet esteemed by Mr. Chen’s teaching—it was heaven’s greatest kindness.

Manager Zhuang spoke: “Learn well from Mr. Chen.”

“Understood!” Cao Fa thanked both, bowing deeply.

…

Next days, after tales ended, Chen Changsheng lingered at the teahouse.

Cao Fa trained as Storyteller under him. Yet to his surprise, another pupil stood beside him…

It was Third Master Jin!

Seeing Cao Fa, Jin grinned. “Fortune found you, lad. Don’t embarrass Mr. Chen when you take the stage.”

Cao Fa bowed. “Wise words, Third Master Jin! I shall give my utmost to learn!”

“Enough ‘lowly me’—tomorrow a Storyteller, an honorary ‘Mr.’ too, no?”