Chapter 65: Great Potential in a Modest Stage

Rain fell from the eaves, wind swept past the windows. On days like this, one ought to lean against a tower and listen to the wind, gaze at the pond and appreciate the rain, a faint smile lingering between the brows, a cool pride hidden deep in the eyes. The bustling streets, filled with the clamor of carriages and crowds, were naturally shut outside the door; the fine drizzle and gentle mist remained within the heart. In such tranquility, even if life reached the point of being ignored by all, one would not feel lonely.

Wei Renshi leaned against the railing, watching the hurried passersby in the rain. The steady sound of rainfall brought him inexplicable calm. The songs and dances on the stage inside the building seemed not to reach his ears or eyes, nor did he notice the commotion below as tables and stools were arranged. Standing high above, Wei Renshi felt a strange sensation, as if he were a player in a game, and all the multitudes below were merely virtual roles. He shook his head, casting aside such absurd thoughts.

Sun Peng ascended, bowed, and asked, “The performance below has ended. Are you satisfied, sir?”

Wei Renshi nodded, then inquired, “What’s the price?”

“She commands about ten girls. If two are sent daily to sing ten songs, it will cost three hundred strings of cash per month,” Sun Peng replied. “But she’s registered with the official music bureau, and her girls are well-trained, so the price is higher. The previous provider sent four girls daily to sing ten songs, and it was only two hundred strings per month. So, it may be better to simply buy two of her girls and keep them ourselves. It’s more expensive at first, but in the long run, the expense is less. And if we buy their contracts, they belong solely to our Dream Tower, making them part of our establishment. Of course, hiring by the month has its advantage: the performers rotate, so guests never tire of seeing the same faces.”

Though he knew this was the custom of the era, hearing people treated like goods still shocked Wei Renshi.

“To buy... how much would it cost?” Wei Renshi frowned and asked.

Sun Peng quickly answered, “That depends. The better, the more expensive. But these are private performers; if you want the very best, she doesn’t have them. The average ones cost several thousand strings each. It sounds pricey, but once bought, they belong to Dream Tower, whether for five, seven, or ten years—they are our singers.”

There was a distinction between courtesans and prostitutes. The former were often talented and cultured, initially selling their artistry, not their bodies. Later, they might sell themselves either for love, with age, or if redeemed to become someone’s concubine. The latter, from the start, sold their bodies.

Official performers registered with the music bureau were government courtesans; they were more talented, and their quality was far superior to unregistered private performers.

Wei Renshi pondered and asked, “What do you think?”

“I say we buy one, but not many—just the best our money allows,” Sun Peng replied. “I’ve visited other taverns and eateries these days and realized that having a singer is very important. Take the Immortal Pavilion in the North Market: they keep a singer whose songs are enchanting. Many visit just to hear her sing, bringing considerable revenue. So, I think quality matters more than quantity—if the performance is good enough, it will attract people.”

Wei Renshi smiled, “You’ve thought of every way to draw guests here. But your idea reminds me—this little stage holds great potential. Singing, storytelling, comic performances—all these are captivating.”

After a moment’s thought, Wei Renshi continued, “Since that’s the case, handle it as you see fit. Appearance isn’t critical, but the singing must be excellent. We haven’t opened yet, there’s no income, and funds are limited—they’re all borrowed from the Jiao family. The price mustn’t exceed three thousand strings. Within that range, choose the best singer.”

“Very well,” Sun Peng nodded.

Sun Peng’s words inspired Wei Renshi. Song and dance were delightful, but storytelling and comic dialogue could also win hearts.

Especially in this era, entertainment was still singular in both form and content. If he could introduce the storytelling and comedic forms from later times, performing those famous tales and acts, it would surely have an impact.

But Wei Renshi’s own skill was lacking.

He could recite a few lines of storytelling and comic dialogue, but only at an amateur level—he’d learned a bit in the university folk arts club and performed a few times at college events. Later, after starting work, an elderly teacher at the school enjoyed storytelling, and he’d learned a bit more. As for comic dialogue, his proficiency was negligible.

So perhaps he could try storytelling first; as for comic dialogue, he’d practice more on his own.

Storytelling—in the Tang Dynasty, it was called “speaking,” wasn’t it?

The storyteller relied on eloquence, mainly interpreting Daoist and Buddhist texts outside temples for believers, occasionally weaving in legendary tales. These performers already had a foundation; if he combined their style with the storytelling formats he knew from later times, and used classic stories from his own era, it would likely yield excellent results.

But where to find such storytellers? He truly didn’t know. When he visited the Grand Daoist Temple, he hadn’t seen anyone reciting scriptures.

To find folk talent from all walks of life, whom should he turn to?

Among those he knew, only Zhang Gan could help.

That day, Wei Renshi took some gifts and visited Zhang Gan’s residence in person.

“Hahaha, the strong liquor you brought a few days ago was just in time! My matters have finally been settled,” Zhang Gan said, coming out from the back and laughing toward Wei Renshi, who waited in the hall.

Wei Renshi smiled, “Glad I could help. Today I’ve come to tell you, Brother Zhang, that Dream Tower will open in four days. Also, I must ask another favor.”

“Haha, Brother Wei, you’re straightforward indeed,” Zhang Gan laughed. “Speak freely.”

Wei Renshi smiled, “I’d like Brother Zhang to help me find some people who make a living by storytelling. I’ve thought up some good stories to have them tell to guests in my tavern. Do you know such people?”

Hearing this, Zhang Gan laughed, “Ah, so that’s it. This is easy. In the temples and monasteries, people earn their living by publicly explaining Daoist and Buddhist scriptures, interpreting texts for believers, narrating tales of immortals or Buddha. This is ‘speaking.’ The speaker holds a script, mostly stories from Daoism and Buddhism meant to persuade, told to the people. Brother Wei, you must mean these folks.”

Wei Renshi was overjoyed and nodded, “Exactly! I looked around the Grand Daoist Temple but didn’t find any.”

“They don’t often speak there. Brother Wei, you simply didn’t look in the right place.” Zhang Gan smiled, “Let me handle this for you. Rest assured; within three days, I’ll gather these people and send them to you. How many do you need?”

“Thank you so much, Brother Zhang!” Wei Renshi rose to thank him. “Just one or two will do!”