Chapter 6 – A Poor Playwright

Hongliu harbor was the busiest around twilight and nearly silent by noon. Apart from the snoring of a lazy dog and the mewls of a cat in heat, there were only the resounding curses of some upset woman.

“Wait a few more days? How many days have you wasted already? Yesterday you even dared to act like nobody was home. What sorry sort of man are you? Hiding in your room every day writing god knows what. Even the men downstairs who don’t sell shit make more than you. Oubuli An, I’ll be taking these. If you can’t pay up today, I’ll burn them all.”

Then, a young man was pushed roughly out of a set of large green doors. With a loud bang, the doors slammed shut in his face. The resulting force sent flying not only the birds resting on the roof, but also the glasses resting on his nose.

Oubuli An sighed, bent over, and picked up his fallen glasses. He wiped them off with the edge of his sleeve, then put them back on. After arguing with his landlord all morning, he was quite tired and wanted to find a place to rest.

He looked to the corner of the building only to find trash and other undesirable items left by the drunk guests last night. With nowhere to sit, he could only stand dumbly under the building’s eaves.

Hunger gnawed at his stomach. The last thing he’d eaten were leftovers for lunch yesterday. Originally, he’d planned to visit the theatre today. But the arrival of that damned woman had chased his plans down the drain.

“Even if my drafts hadn’t been confiscated, who knows if they would have been accepted.” Oubuli An grumbled to himself. He felt his pockets.

“Money… Where to make some money…”

Apart from an empty breeze between his fingers, there was only a key in his pocket. He took it out and absent-mindedly traced the circular patterns carved on it. The key didn’t unlock the set of green doors before him. Rather, it belonged to an oft traveling neighbor who’d entrusted it to Oubuli An. A terrible idea formed in his mind.

He remembered that in his neighbor’s house, there was a false panel under the bed. Oubuli An had seen his neighbor retrieve money from there before.

Oubuli An shuddered at his own thoughts.

“No, no, no.” He violently shook his head.

“If I did that, I’d be no different from the despicable villains I write about.” He muttered to himself while pacing back and forth.

“What if I write an IOU? I’ll make sure to return the money within a month. I’ll put the note under his bed. Or, I’ll wait for him to return and give it directly to him…”

“To who?”

This thundering voice scared Oubuli An so much that he let out a high pitched shriek. Trembling, he turned to find the speaker. The color drained from his face. His neighbor was two steps away, looking at him curiously.

“Hai– Hai Lian…” Oubuli An answered with a sheepish smile.

Noting the man’s awkward tone and strange behavior, Hai Lian couldn’t help but look at him again and continue asking.

“What are you doing, loitering in the middle of the street?”

“I–” Oubuli An’s mouth flapped soundlessly.

“I was taking a walk, trying to find inspiration. I thought of some lines and wanted to hear them out loud. Rather, what’s with you? I didn’t hear you at all, you scared me half to death.”

“I’ve always walked like that. It’s not like you don’t know.” Hai Lian paid him no mind. He extended a hand towards Oubuli An, asking for the key.

“Come on, let’s not keep taking a walk in that garbage dump.”

Oubuli An acquiesced haltingly. He handed over the now damp key. Only then did he realize that someone had been standing behind Hai Lian. Said person had obviously already noticed him and even nodded towards him.

“This is?” Oubuli An asked in confusion.

“He’s…” Hai Lian stopped, unsure how to introduce Fang Tinglan to this bookworm.

“My relative.” Hai Lian finished.

“Oh!” Oubuli An hurriedly introduced himself to this stranger from Dongzhou.

“I’m Oubuli An, a playwright1, and also Hai Lian’s neighbor.”

“Fang Tinglan, are you Hai Lian’s cousin or – Ouch!”

Hai Lian stepped harshly on Oubuli An’s foot.

After taking his key back, Hai Lian didn’t unlock the front door. Instead, he went around to the side of his house, pulled out a ladder, and scampered up to the roof.

It had been half a year since he’d last been home. “Home” was putting it generously; it was actually a storage room built on the top of a small, two-story building. Hai Lian sneezed several times the moment he opened the door. A stale smell filled the air, forcing Hai Lian to swat it away with his hands.

Fang Tinglan climbed up as well. Seeing the nearly uninhabitable room, he stood mute for a while before speaking.

“You… live here?”

“Where else? Where did you think I lived, in the palace?” Hai Lian replied sarcastically.

Ever since they’d left Hongliu harbor, this employer of his had been wearing an increasingly greasy smile. Fang Tinglan frankly declared that the thief had stolen all his housing allowance and that he had plans for the rest of his money. If Hai Lian didn’t help him find the stolen money, Fang Tinglan said that he was willing to squeeze into one bed with him.

Hai Lian hoped that seeing this run-down room would change Fang Tinglan’s mind.

It was small and cramped. After the three men squeezed in, there was hardly any extra space. Fang Tinglan even had to hold a hand above his head to ensure his head didn’t hit the rafters. He wiped his other hand across a nearby chair. A thick layer of dust coated his fingers. Fang Tinglan shook his head and didn’t dare to sit down.

On the other hand, Hai Lian dug out a dust cloth as hard as a rock and a small dish. He walked to the corner, flipped open a hatch, and rapidly climbed down the stairs. Moments later, he reappeared with a dish full of water and vigorously started cleaning.

The other two were left awkwardly staring at each other. Oubuli An stood off to the side, sneaking glances at this “relative” of Hai Lian’s. Despite the young boy’s words, Oubuli An had his doubts.

Much like Hai Lian, this person was also very attractive. But it was a different sort of beauty. Oubuli An still remembered when Hai Lian arrived three years ago. Given the boy’s delicate appearance, Oubuli An nearly thought the boy was in the same profession as the men and women downstairs. That lasted until Oubuli An saw the boy sitting alone on the roof one night, sharpening a knife. He was so scared that he nearly wet himself.

“I’m a bandit.” Hai Lian had said, light flashing along the curved blade in his hands.

But what sort of bandit wore such sophisticated clothes and had a relative as handsome as an actor? Furthermore, wouldn’t relatives normally be concerned if they saw Hai Lian living in such a state? This ‘cousin’ of his was too relaxed. Or maybe Fang Tinglan didn’t care much because his family forced him to visit? Oubuli An’s thoughts spiraled out of control, painting a melodramatic tale involving complicated feelings, sinister plots, and inheritance issues.

“How have you been?” Hai Lian pushed Oubuli An aside to wipe down the door, completely unaware that in his neighbor’s mind, he had already become the unfortunate bastard son of aristocracy who had been banished from the estate.

“Hm? M– Me?” The drama in his head came to an abrupt halt and Oubuli An finally returned to the present.

“Not too well, I lost my job.”

“How?”

“Their daughter got married, so she doesn’t need a teacher anymore.” Oubuli An’s expression turned indulgent.

“In my opinion, girls should continue to learn even after marrying, but they believe that the husband’s teachings will be enough.”

“En…” Hai Lian answered vaguely as he wrung out the rag and turned to wipe the bed.

“And now? What’s your plan?”

Oubuli An thought of his landlord’s words and swallowed.

“Now… It depends on the situation. I’ll probably figure it out as I go.”

“How about you try helping out on a merchant ship? I can recommend you to someone.”

“Nope nope nope, the only people who do that nowadays are those willing to risk their lives. I’m not that daring.” Oubuli An hastily waved his hands.

“I’ve heard that the pirates have run rampant these last few years. Hai Lian, you’ve got to be careful.”

Hai Lian paused but didn’t answer. Fang Tinglan took a look at the little pirate and subtly smiled.

“Are you capable of finding a job by yourself? You sure?” Hai Lian asked.

Oubuli An hesitated.

“… I’m sure.”

“Your expression says otherwise.” Fang Tinglan finally spoke up.

Hai Lian stopped working, then turned to look at Oubuli An.

Having had his thoughts exposed, Oubuli An turned red. He unconsciously fiddled with his hands, unsure where to put them.

“Really, I’ll be okay…” He defended himself weakly.

“Do you have any problems right now?” Hai Lian asked directly.

Oubuli An was mute.

The young writer withered under the others’ gazes. He wanted to hide, but Hai Lian stood in front of the door.

With nowhere to run, Oubuli An could only speak up.

“I owe Lady Jinling Hua three months of rent. I’ll be able to pay it once the theatre buys my script. But she came today, didn’t listen to my explanations, and took my scripts with her. I’d like to find an temporary job, but who would hire a scholar from the Mud District? I tried to work at the dock, but hurt my foot carrying sandbags and all my money went to the doctor instead… ”

Oubuli An felt like an actor who had been pushed on stage without memorizing his lines. His each and every word was laughable and panicked. He was even ready to show Hai Lian the pale stitches on his ankle.

“I’ve tried everything I could.” Oubuli An said angrily, nearly frustrated to tears.

“How much?”

It wasn’t Hai Lian that spoke. Oubuli An stared in astonishment at the well-built stranger and saw only a gentle smile.

“How much do you need?” Fang Tinglan repeated.

Perhaps Fang Tinglan’s sliver-lined jacket or his scabbard had blinded Oubuli An. Oubuli An first pinched himself before plucking up courage to speak.

“Th– Thirty-six silvers.”

“This is just a simple gesture, don’t worry about returning it.” Fang Tinglan said as he scooped a gold coin from his waist pocket and gave it to the trembling man.

“I can’t do that! Think of this as a loan. Pick an interest rate and I’ll write up a contract.” Oubuli An hurriedly refuted his words.

Fang Tinglan thought for a bit.

“Forget it. Seeing as you’re my little brother’s neighbor, I’m sure you’ve helped him quite a bit. There’s no need for interest. As for the loan term… How about half a year. When the time comes, you can return it to my brother. What’s mine is his.”

“Wait… ” Hai Lian tried to cut in, but it was too late.

“Thank you so much, Mister Fang!”

Oubuli An hadn’t expected him to be so generous and was nearly moved to tears. He continued to thank the man, promising to return the money as soon as possible. When Oubuli An finished, he then ran from the room – tripping as he passed Hai Lian – to find pen and paper. His steps echoed across the roof’s tiles.

“Interesting neighbor.” Fang Tinglan laughed.

“Is he.”

Hai Lian had barely finished speaking when he tossed the dust rag to the side and grabbed Fang Tinglan by the collar. Caught off guard, Fang Tinglan stumbled backwards and hit the wall with a thump. Dust fluttered over both of them.

“You clearly said you had no money.” Hai Lian growled.

“I lied.” Fang Tinglan said. “Besides, I only said I didn’t have money to rent a room.”

“You also said each coin of yours had plans.”

“This can also be part of the plan.” Fang Tinglan stood a head taller than Hai Lian. He had to look down to meet the boy’s fiery pupils.

“I’ve used a small kindness to buy your loyalty, isn’t that good?”

“Fang Tinglan, I’m perfectly capable of helping my own friends. You don’t need to interfere. Don’t try to manipulate me.”

“If I were to manipulate you, Hai Lian, you wouldn’t have had the chance to catch me by the collar.” Fang Tinglan sighed.

“There’s dust on your eyelashes.”

“Don’t say my name; I won’t believe any more of your lies.” Hai Lian glared at the man. Fang Tinglan had spoken as if coaxing an angry child.

“Now get your ass out of here and find yourself a hotel.” Hai Lian angrily bit out each word.

A/N:

Hai Lian: My fate isn’t aligned with that person surnamed Fang.

Fang Tinglan: Cousin, you’re heartless QAQ

Hai Lian: ……

playwright: the word they use means author/writer, meaning he could write any literature, but according to later chapters, I think he just writes plays.