novelcrest Chapter 117 Nightclub Opens, Bookshop Speaks
Chapter 117 Nightclub Opens, Bookshop Speaks
Chapter 118 Nightclub Opens, Bookshop Speaks
Han Shaobai carried the broken cabinet and moved to Cheng Xiaojin's side.
"Brother Cheng, it says no one can escape."
Why are you sticking so close to me?
"Standing with you gives me some confidence."
"I'm now a living key. If you stand next to the key, you'll be the first one caught when the door opens."
Han Shao's face fell, and he had no choice but to shuffle back, the corner of the cabinet hitting the door frame with a dull thud from the broken sheet metal.
Tieguai Li, carrying a wrench, gestured towards the used bookstore with his lip.
"Can we smash that book?"
"Smashing books is immoral, especially in Liulichang. If you smash one book, the entire street's scholarly atmosphere will be ruined."
The proprietress of Boyaxuan stirred the noodles in the pot with chopsticks.
"What should we do then? Make one for it too?"
"OK."
The proprietress's hand stopped on the edge of the pot.
"I just said it offhand."
"That's a very accurate criticism."
Cheng Xiaojin didn't look at her; his gaze was fixed on the threshold of the secondhand bookstore.
"When a bookstore speaks, it is most taboo for anyone to engage with its literary style. Don't try to reason with it, and don't read what it has written."
He paused for a moment, the metallic taste of blood still lingering in his throat.
"Place a bowl of hot noodles at the doorway, with chopsticks laid horizontally. Don't offer it food; just tell it that there are still living people here."
King Glasses nodded.
"I'll go."
Tang Wanqing reached out to stop him.
Don't go alone.
"At my age, why would I be afraid of a book?"
"Teacher Wang, don't force yourself. Recognizing a scholar through old books is much faster than recognizing Han Shaobai."
Han Shaobai was unhappy.
"I've also been to school."
Tieguai Li was so happy that his shoulders swayed.
"Does the menu count?"
"At least I studied abroad."
"Where should I keep it?"
"U.K."
"That's it, the old books from Liulichang won't understand your style."
Someone in the crowd laughed.
At that smile, the thread-bound book at the entrance of the used bookstore turned its pages a beat slower.
Tang Wanqing picked up a bowl of noodles, with a red thread wrapped around the outside of the rim, but her palm didn't touch the door.
"Tieguai Li, come with me."
Before leaving, Tieguai Li turned back and glared at Cheng Xiaojin.
"Sit here and don't move around."
Cheng Xiaojin raised his two hands, which were wrapped like rice dumplings.
"I don't have anything to do."
The two walked towards the end of the street.
Yellow mist clung to the soles of the shoes, and a thread-bound book stood on the threshold, its pages rustling as it turned, the words on the page changing to a new line.
When a stranger enters the game, old scores must be settled.
Tieguai Li grabbed the wrench and banged it three times on the lamppost. The clanging sound rolled across half the street, but he didn't even read the words.
Tang Wanqing placed the hot noodles three feet away from the doorway, with chopsticks placed horizontally on the rim of the bowl.
Steam rose from the noodle soup, scallions floated on top, and the pages of the thread-bound book paused for a moment.
Cheng Xiaojin shouted from half a street away.
"Aunt Wang, call out!"
The proprietress raised her voice.
"A bowl of hot soup noodles, five hundred yuan, Han Shaobai is treating, why not take it!"
Han Shao's face turned green.
"Why is it me again?"
"Your door is open."
"Please, please have everything."
Shopkeepers and shop assistants on the street carried bowls, fearfully pushing their way into the crowd. Apprentices from Rongbaozhai also joined in, shouting about selling old books and paintings at a loss. Their shouts were disjointed and lacked the usual refined atmosphere of Liulichang. The yellow mist was somewhat dispersed by the noise of the crowd.
The book at the entrance of the used bookstore slowly closed and retreated into the crack in the door.
Tieguai Li spat on the threshold of the bookstore.
"Cultural people have many flaws; they put on airs even when eating a bowl of noodles."
Tang Wanqing lowered her voice.
"Don't let your guard down."
The book retracted, and another ink stain seeped out from under the door crack, crawling two inches along the pattern of the floor tiles before stopping.
The writing is blurred, but it hasn't faded yet.
She had barely finished speaking when a woman's crying came from the framing shop across the street.
"My lord, the rouge has gone cold."
A woman in palace attire stood behind the door, her long hair spilling out across the threshold.
This time, the box in her arms was opened. Inside, there was no rouge, but a row of tiny bronze mirrors were embedded in the velvet base, all of which faced the street.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the nearest shop assistant. In the shadow at the assistant's feet, there was an extra layer of outline: a door frame, the eaves of an old shop, pressing down on his shoulder.
The man's legs gave way, and he collapsed onto the brick floor.
Tang Wanqing's expression changed.
"Block it, don't let the mirror light go towards the door."
Tieguai Li grabbed an old felt cloth hanging by the door and threw it over, covering half of the door of the mounting shop.
The bronze mirror was covered, and the woman's cries were muffled.
The proprietress, holding a strainer, went over and started yelling.
"What are you crying about? Selling rouge in the middle of the night with a demon-revealing mirror, how shameless!"
Cheng Xiaojin added a sentence.
"Aunt Wang, be rougher."
The proprietress slapped the strainer against the edge of the pot.
"They don't even bother to sweep up the hair trailing on the floor. With the shop so unsanitary, who can we blame for not selling our rouge?"
The crying sound effect is stuck behind the door; I can't drag it out any longer.
Zhou Banxian stared at the compass and muttered to himself.
"The gossip of the common people stirred up hatred among the imperial concubines, which turned out to be a lucky coincidence."
Tang Wanqing said, "What concubines hate is being resentful. They can't stand being cursed in the street for being dirty and disorderly."
Tieguai Li laughed loudly.
"Aunt Wang, your mouth is so sharp it could be a brand name."
The proprietress snorted.
"Listing it for sale is fine, Han Shaobai will pay for it."
Han Shaobai no longer wanted to speak, and just nodded.
Just as Cheng Xiaojin's lips relaxed, the sound of a wooden fish suddenly filled his ears.
This is completely different from the previous groups.
The sound rose from the ground of Boguzhai, one beat after another, not penetrating the ears, but pressing down on the chest.
With each sound, a chill crept into his chest. His hands, hidden beneath the thick cloth, moved uncontrollably, lifting half an inch toward the Buddha's belly, only to be pulled back by the stinging pain in his fingertips.
The taste of blood rushed to his throat, and he leaned closer to the doorframe.
Tang Wanqing was close by, so she grabbed his shoulder to avoid his hand.
"Cheng Xiaojin".
"fine."
"Your face is frighteningly pale."
"The paper is worth more than me; that piece could probably sell for a good price."
Stop listening.
"I didn't listen; it came to me."
Zhou Banxian hurried over, placed his compass on the ground, and the compass needle first pointed to the ground of Boguzhai, then veered towards the old bookstore at the end of the street, and finally landed on the seventh position and wouldn't move.
"He mistook the door for a door latch."
Master Ma asked in a deep voice, "Can we intercept it?"
Tang Wanqing bit her fingertip and dab the blood on the red line.
"It can hold out for a while, but to eradicate it completely, we need to know where the seventh living layer is located."
Cheng Xiaojin looked up and gazed at the end of the street.
"Thirty steps."
Tieguai Li frowned.
"Thirty steps again?"
"The statement in the book that no one can escape within thirty paces is not just meant to scare people; it indicates the range."
Cheng Xiaojin swept across the street.
"Count thirty steps from the entrance of Boguzhai towards the end of the street, and the living quarters stop there."
Han Shaobai asked, "Which house is that?"
The man with glasses looked grim.
"The Liu family's old shop."
Several people looked over at the same time.
At the end of Liulichang Street, there is a very small shop sandwiched between two large stores. The signboard has long been removed, leaving only two nail holes.
The door is usually kept tightly closed; no one opens it, and no one mentions it.
Zhou Banxian muttered a curse under his breath.
"The Liu family."
Tang Wanqing looked at Cheng Xiaojin.
"Liu Bai has the first volume of Tiangong Kaiwu, and his family's old shop is located thirty steps away."
The copper coin in Cheng Xiaojin's throat felt hot through the cloth, and he gritted his teeth and forced a smile.
"Young Master Han, your 500,000 is well spent. It's buy one get one free, plus a free trip to the Liu family's old hideout."
Han Shaobai hugged the cabinet, opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything.
No one spoke anymore.
A light shone through the crack in the door of that old Liu family shop.
The light was dim, yet it cut a narrow path through the yellow fog.
Voices came from inside the door.
"Cheng Xiaojin, your father told you to run away, but you still came."
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