Chapter 22: Riddles at the Teahouse

If it were the Chen Ping of the past, he might have shared their sentiments; after all, what could be better for a child than playing every day? But now, having decided to sit for the examinations—and with the county exam fast approaching—he knew all too well that his current level of knowledge was insufficient. There was nothing for it but to compensate for his clumsiness with diligence. As long as he did not study himself to death, he would study with all his might.

He Qingxuan, who had already failed the county exam once, did not possess Chen Ping's single-mindedness. Perhaps influenced by Chen Ping’s arduous study habits, he had begun to rethink his own future path. In order to retain talent, the current imperial court had established many regular specialized examinations alongside the prestigious *Jinshi* degree that everyone coveted—such as the Nine Classics, the Five Classics, the Kaiyuan Rites, and the Three Histories. Having previously dedicated himself solely to the *Jinshi* track, He Qingxuan’s perspective had shifted since their last academic trial. He was no longer fixated on the *Jinshi* degree and wanted to test his hand at others, though it was still too early to speak of such things.

Chen Ping, however, did not share these complex considerations. He only wished to pass the *Xiucai* exam as quickly as possible to lighten the burden on his family, so that he might return to the life of a "salted fish"—a life of idle ease—that he so yearned for.

The days of bitter study were monotonous, and Ye Chongwen was hardly a person capable of sitting quietly to read; besides, children were naturally inclined toward play. Today happened to be their monthly day off, and Ye Chongwen was planning to head into town to browse the markets. He Qingxuan, also tired of seeing Chen Ping cooped up in his room all day, found his thoughts perfectly aligned with Ye Chongwen’s.

"Brother Ping, today is our day off and the town is having a grand market. Shall we go out and take a look?" Ye Chongwen asked, leaning against the window with a look of anticipation.

Chen Ping lifted his head at the sound. He Qingxuan was also standing outside the window, nodding excitedly. *Sigh, play really is the nature of children,* Chen Ping thought. *But I am not a child.*

"No, you two go ahead. I still need to read for a while longer," Chen Ping said softly.

"Don't keep yourself stifled in this room. Going out to walk and observe is also a form of learning," He Qingxuan urged.

Chen Ping paused. That thought actually held some merit. Dong Qichang, a great calligrapher of the Ming Dynasty in his previous life, had once said that reading ten thousand books was akin to traveling ten thousand miles. Furthermore, since transmigrating to this world, he had never truly integrated into the life of the marketplace or taken the time to experience the world; he really ought to go out and see it. *After all, I am still a child,* he reasoned.

"That makes sense. Let’s go, then."

After this brief self-persuasion, Chen Ping closed his book and walked quickly out of the room. "Any specific destination in mind?"

"To the bookstore, naturally," Ye Chongwen replied without hesitation.

"What bookstore? If we're going out to play, we should go to the teahouse," He Qingxuan said, looking at the mention of books with disdain. "We spend all day in the academy; haven't you had enough of books?"

"How can the two be the same?" Ye Chongwen argued loudly. "The stories in those fiction books, filled with tales of love, hatred, chivalry, and heroism, are worth savoring day after day. How could those dull, stuffy textbooks ever compare?"

Watching Ye Chongwen’s enthralled expression, Chen Ping sighed to himself. It seemed that popular fiction was just as beloved in this world as it was in his past life, where he himself had once been heavily dependent on web novels.

"If you put it that way, isn't the teahouse even better? The storyteller makes it even more entertaining," He Qingxuan insisted on his choice.

Ye Chongwen shook his head repeatedly, looking at them as if they didn't understand him at all. "How can you compare the two?"

Neither would yield, and finally, they both turned their gaze toward Chen Ping. "Majority rules," they declared. "Chen Ping, you tell us—where are we going?"

"How about we go to the teahouse first? I’m quite curious to see what it's like inside," Chen Ping said after a moment’s thought.

Ye Chongwen slumped his shoulders, while He Qingxuan waved his hands in excitement. Truly, as the saying goes, people’s joys and sorrows are not always connected. Having failed to get his way, Ye Chongwen grabbed Chen Ping like a mother wolf protecting her cub and glared at He Qingxuan. "Next time! Next time we are definitely going to the bookstore."

"Fine, you pick next time," Chen Ping coaxed.

"Yes, next time we can read stories together," He Qingxuan added hurriedly. Both were momentarily stunned by the other's words, then looked at each other and smiled, shaking their heads. Ye Chongwen’s mouth broke into a wide grin.

When the three of them arrived at the teahouse, they were already a bit late. It was a market day in Qingsong Town, and the teahouse was packed. Fortunately, there was one empty table left in a corner on the ground floor, and they quickly took their seats.

The storyteller had already taken the stage. He struck his wooden gavel, and the noisy teahouse gradually quieted down. On stage, he continued the tale of the pugilistic world he had left unfinished last time.

Downstairs, He Qingxuan leaned in to explain the situation regarding the teahouse and the storyteller. Originally, the teahouse wouldn't have been so crowded, as those attending the market had business to attend to. But ever since this storyteller arrived, the teahouse had established a rule: after every story, he would pose a riddle. If anyone could answer it, they would receive a prize of one string of coins on the spot. However, if no one could answer, he would not reveal the solution, and he would pose a new riddle the next time.

His rules were that anyone could ask questions, but he would only answer "yes" or "no," offering nothing more. Such a novel practice naturally piqued everyone's interest, and as word spread, the teahouse became increasingly crowded. Some came solely for the money, while others, considering themselves clever, came for the riddle itself—answering it correctly brought a certain prestige among their peers.

"That does sound interesting," Ye Chongwen said, rubbing his palms, ready to try it himself.

Chen Ping naturally wouldn't want to miss such an amusing event. "Has anyone ever gotten it right before?" he asked curiously.

He Qingxuan nodded. "Yes, but only a few. It’s a strange thing, though—of those who do get it right, very few are willing to tell others what the answer actually is."

"Then we must listen carefully to the riddle later," Ye Chongwen said, eager to try. "Shall we see who can answer it first?"

"Why not?" He Qingxuan agreed, though he felt that simply guessing the riddle was a bit dull. His eyes darted around, and he suggested, "How about we add a wager?"

"That’s fine, but what do you want to wager?" Chen Ping immediately sensed that He Qingxuan had something else in mind.

"A meal?" Ye Chongwen, oblivious to the hidden meaning, had his mind entirely on the storyteller's tale.

"That’s boring," He Qingxuan winked at Chen Ping. "How about... the loser has to do a favor for the winner. How does that sound?"

"I don't really—" Chen Ping started, then changed his tone. "As long as it's not anything too excessive."

"Naturally," He Qingxuan replied, knowing his limits. Both agreed it was a fair wager, and Ye Chongwen, of course, had no objections.

Before long, the day’s tale of chivalry concluded. The teahouse was even more crowded now, with people squeezing in even though there were no seats left. The storyteller took a slow sip of tea, seemingly accustomed to the crush of the crowd. He caught his breath, picked up the gavel, and struck the table: "Clack."

The riddle was posed: "A woman leaves the village, and the village becomes a desolate village."