劍問蒼天 - 第138章 頹廢 - 翰墨軒

Sometimes Boss He secretly wondered whether the man might be mad. Yet though he was only an ordinary shopkeeper, he still sensed that this man was different from the other travelers who passed by. For one thing, during the three days the man had stayed in the little shop, the mosquitoes that used to swarm at night in this season had all suddenly vanished. More than that, the ghostly wailing that used to echo through the wilds and the old road outside the shop late each night seemed to have been frightened off by something—it too had disappeared entirely. Boss He had grown so used to those mournful howls that now, with three days of such quiet, he found he could not sleep.

At dusk that day, Boss He stood behind the counter of his little shop, closed the ledger he had just finished balancing, and let out a long breath. Then he looked around his shop.

Beyond the window, the setting sun still cast a faint afterglow, reddening the evening clouds and slanting in through the shop's window, stretching the shadows of tables and chairs across the floor—as if time itself were quietly passing through.

Boss He's mood suddenly turned strange, and a wave of melancholy came over him. By his reckoning he was past fifty now. The hired boy always said he looked about forty, but he knew in his heart that his body was gradually failing.

Time spares no one. Was this all there was to a lifetime?

He stared blankly at the lengthening shadows of the tables and chairs on the floor. When he raised his head, he saw again the mottled, peeling marks on the walls of the little shop.

The silent setting sun shone on his face, bearing a certain ineffable weariness of the world.

He sighed and shook his head. Best not to think of such things. Boss He gave a bitter smile, picked up the ledger, and walked toward the only customer left in the shop—and his monkey.

The customer always sat at the innermost table, and now, as usual, he lay slumped over it, dead drunk and motionless. His monkey crouched on the table, wine pot in its left hand and its right hand darting among the dishes to snatch morsels—a sip of wine, a bite of food, living the good life.

Boss He stepped before the customer, coughed once, and cleared his throat, but his eyes could not help straying first to the monkey. The three-eyed monkey clearly did not care about his arrival; it glanced at him once, then returned its attention to the wine pot in its hand. Boss He sighed. This monkey was truly the most wine-loving creature he had ever seen, and it carried a large wineskin on its back—shriveled now, but one could well imagine what it had held before.

Boss He withdrew his gaze. Somehow he felt a little nervous, though he could not say why. He coughed a few more times before venturing cautiously, "Sir... customer."

The man before him did not stir.

Boss He felt somewhat awkward, but pressed on: "Ah, customer, the thing is—the ingot of silver you paid three days ago has now been used up. My shop is small and the margin thin, so perhaps you might..."

Whether the man was truly drunk or not, he lay there and gave no response.

Boss He sighed and mumbled, "Actually, customer, that ingot you paid was indeed no small sum. Three days of meals in my little shop—why, even five days would be more than covered. Only... only your beast is truly formidable, with such a capacity for drink. In these three days alone it has drunk up every drop of wine in my shop, and the four vats I had fetched in two separate trips—it finished those too..."

At this point Boss He glanced again at the three-eyed monkey, which glared back at him and pulled a face.

Boss He said humbly, "Might I ask you to pay a little more silver? Ah, yes—and that ingot you paid three days ago was stolen by your beast and never returned, so I..."