Chapter 51: The Agitation Washer

The door swung open, and for the first time ever, Feng Jingzhe took the initiative to appear before them, an occurrence so rare that even Feng Xiaoman found it novel. Normally, this fellow would avoid her like a mouse flees from a cat—was it possible that, after a period of peace, his courage had fattened up?

“What do you want? I’ll say this up front: if it’s about money, you can forget it, and don’t think you can force my hand…”

She didn’t even bother to lift her eyelids—she was already in a foul mood.

“Ah Zhe, you’re here? Here, have something to eat…”

Even when her mind was muddled, their mother’s instinctive behavior was to dote on her son. Her daughter had been sitting beside her for ages, yet not a single bite of lotus root candy had been offered.

“Is it good? Is it sweet?”

“It’s delicious, very sweet. Thank you, Mother…”

Feng Jingzhe took a small bite and savored the sweetness in his heart, relishing the feeling.

“You’re about to get married, yet look at you, behaving so carelessly all day! Mother got up early and is probably tired. If you’ve nothing better to do, help me make her comfortable…”

Feng Xiaoman rubbed her temples on both sides, her tone softening a little.

“Big Sis, I’m not here to ask for money. Look at you, with that look of disdain…”

Feng Jingzhe helped their mother onto a chair.

“A while back, I partnered with Chubby Sun—you know, Sun Fugui from Delicacies of Heaven—to open a shop. Now that he’s looking to pull out, I’ve been thinking of taking over his share…”

Bang!

“And you say you’re not here for money! How much have you lost this time? Day after day, you only ever bring trouble for Mother—won’t you be satisfied until you’ve ruined this family?”

She cut him off halfway, slamming the table and reaching behind her for the rolling pin.

“Hey, hey… Sis… let’s talk this out… It’s too hot for a fight, you’ll just get sweaty…”

Feng Jingzhe quickly hid behind their mother. Having just returned from the gambling house last night, the last thing he wanted was to be beaten again for no reason.

“Let’s talk. Mother’s heart is always breaking for this family, and you only know how to mess around outside! I thought you’d finally turn over a new leaf since you’re getting married, but the moment I let you out of my sight for a few days…”

“Sis… Don’t come any closer… Listen to me… The shop’s right behind our own house, it’s a sure profit—if you don’t believe me, come see for yourself…”

“What? Isn’t the back of our house just a muddy riverbank? No wonder Chubby Sun wants out—any shop opened there is doomed. I don’t care what you’re selling, I know you’ve been tricked again!”

“Big Sis… It’s a laundry shop… If a laundry shop isn’t by the river, where should it be… Ow—don’t hit my face…”

Half an hour later, the plaster cast that had just come off Feng Jingzhe’s right leg was now newly fitted to his left hand. He remembered that previously his fingers could only make a “seven,” but now he’d improved to a “six.”

Meanwhile, Feng Xiaoman was standing in front of a row of large wooden barrels, her eyes full of curiosity.

“You’re saying that all you have to do is put clothes in here and it’ll wash them clean by itself?”

“Yes, yes! Young Miss is so clever, you guessed it right away!”

Old Cangtou stood to the side, nodding and bowing. He threw several pieces of coarse cloth into the barrel for demonstration, then pulled out the stopper at the top.

Fresh water immediately flowed from a bamboo pipe into the barrel. Once the clothes were submerged, he inserted a wooden rod into the slot on the side. Driven by the force of water below, the barrel began to spin, three turns left and three right.

It was nothing more than a simple application of gears—complex in appearance, but in principle very straightforward.

Feng Xiaoman watched intently for a while, until Old Cangtou pulled the stopper at the bottom of the barrel. As the dirty water drained away, all that was left was to take out the clothes and wring them dry.

“In the future, we’ll add some wooden barrels with perforated sides, so you can throw in wet clothes and spin them dry.”

Such an ingenious design—Feng Xiaoman knew at a glance that this laundry shop was bound to make money.

Thinking back on Feng Jingzhe’s words about Sun Fugui wanting to pull out, she now wished she could charge right over to Delicacies of Heaven and buy up all the shares on the spot.

“Do you believe me now? Based on our initial calculations, this laundry shop will bring in at least a tael of silver in profit every day. All we need is someone to sit at the door and collect payment. As for repairs, Old Cangtou guarantees three years…”

With the family’s income dwindling and no prospects, Feng Xiaoman looked at Feng Jingzhe with a newfound appreciation.

“Our Feng family doesn’t take advantage of people. That three-year warranty must be something you bullied Old Cangtou into agreeing to. Business is about mutual benefit. In the future, repairs and replacements—whatever it costs, that’s what we’ll pay!”

Feng Jingzhe spread his hands as if it didn’t matter—it was all just moving money from one pocket to the other. From now on, she would be the boss and have the final say.

After touring the laundry shop, Feng Xiaoman had barely left when the first group of customers arrived to try the service for free.

Madam Ma was the first to step up, arms full of laundry. She had watched the demonstration several times and didn’t need to be taught—she got right to work.

Feng Jingzhe, not wanting to linger, left the matters of pricing and membership cards to Changsheng’s father—whether the shop made or lost money had nothing to do with him anymore.

He just wanted to hurry home for a cold bath; after only a few steps in this weather, he already felt sticky and uncomfortable. But before he could escape the scene, a group of children cornered him. Left with no choice, he reluctantly agreed to finish telling them the story of the “Kingdom of Women.”

Another half an hour passed, and by the time he was done, Feng Jingzhe was drenched as if he’d been fished out of a river. He swore to himself that if he ever told stories to children again out of boredom, he’d be no better than a dog.

Woof woof woof…

Feng the “Dog” now sat beside his mother’s bed, gently fanning her. The tale of the Monkey King had progressed from his birth from stone to the third battle with the White Bone Demon.

Yet the old woman’s eyes only grew brighter, showing no sign of sleepiness. To make matters worse, not far behind him, Feng Xiaoman sat cross-legged, rolling pin in hand, listening with great interest.

Meanwhile, in a small courtyard by the riverbank, another tale of the Monkey King unfolded. The elderly woman there finally set down her wolf-hair brush and massaged her sore wrist.

“Take this manuscript to the Red Sleeve Pavilion and have Hong Luan make a fair copy herself. With the brilliance of this half of ‘Journey to the West,’ she should quickly establish a reputation as a gifted writer among the scholars.”

“Um… Mistress, but isn’t this story from that young man… and quite a few people have heard it lately…”

The old bamboo craftsman stammered, not daring to be too blunt.

“It doesn’t matter. The story wasn’t his creation to begin with. Didn’t he say that wandering Taoist named Wu Cheng’en is already dead? Besides, I’ve made inquiries—there’s never been anyone with the strange pen name of ‘Comrade Lao Mi.’ Besides, I’ve made certain literary adjustments to the manuscript to suit scholarly tastes better. If Hong Luan insists she wrote it herself, no one will be able to refute her claim in the short term…”

Hearing the woman’s reasoning, the old craftsman, though still uneasy, hurriedly opened the courtyard gate and made his way toward Changle Lane…