Chapter 37: Whenever Trouble Arises at the Bamboo Grove Guild, Just Come

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“Aro, where have you been sneaking off to these past few days, enjoying yourself in secret?” Little Zhi, of course, had no inkling of Luo Gan’s encounter with the strange events at the Sima residence. He had just received a shipment from afar and was now counting his precious woods inside the house. Han Chong, meanwhile, had brought back some of the good wine that had been sold outside the tavern a few days earlier, and was now drinking it with wild abandon.

Luo Gan looked at the two of them, both envious and concerned.

“At the rate you’re spending, it won’t be long before you’re back where you started,” he said.

Han Chong drank on carelessly. Little Zhi fiddled with his woods, his gaze as intent as a master carpenter’s.

Luo Gan’s expression remained calm, but his mind was already busy considering how best to put his money to use.

Little Zhi paused, then picked up a piece of agarwood and approached Luo Gan. “Aro, I’ve got it!” he exclaimed.

Luo Gan wasn’t particularly interested, but out of courtesy he looked at him.

Little Zhi said, “You were right before! I should make something truly lifelike—let the wood carving move!”

“Move?” Luo Gan asked. “Aren’t you worried it’ll grow wings and fly away?”

“What’s to worry about?” Little Zhi replied. “If it runs off, I’ll just make another. I, Han Xiaozhi, may not have much talent, but I hope to make my fortune with these hands!”

Han Chong, lost in his wine, kept repeating, “That girl looked at me today… hmm, she looked at me…”

Once, Luo Gan had hoped that everyone would band together and achieve something great. Yet now, before they’d even tasted success, his companions were already indulging themselves. Their lack of resolve was infuriating.

He sank into a chair, sullen and preoccupied, his mind swirling with the mysteries of the Sima residence, the truth about the rat demon, and the meaning of that peach-blossom fan.

Little Zhi glanced at Luo Gan, puzzled—after all, they’d won the contest, earned some money, and he’d even spoken to the girl he liked. Why, then, did he look so miserable? Shaking his head, Little Zhi returned to his carvings, determined to create something extraordinary.

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Within the house, the scent of wine mingled with the fragrance of agarwood, creating a peculiar atmosphere—like a disheartened, drunken man stumbling into a pawnshop to trade his youth for a few coins and then squandering it all.

Now that he had money, Luo Gan reasoned, it was time to gather a team. Taking care of everything himself was inefficient—he needed a banner under which to rally his men. But what kind of banner? Recruiting openly might draw suspicion of rebellion before anything had even begun, and that would be disastrous. Managing a brothel was out of the question—too much trouble, and not his style.

Little Zhi, still absorbed in his woodwork, muttered, “If I could sell a wood carving to a nobleman, I’d never have to worry about money again! Ha!”

That remark sparked an idea in Luo Gan.

How had he not thought of this from the start? He was a man of the modern age, familiar with all sorts of enterprises. Why not set up a company, form alliances, and make things easier for himself? If he couldn’t be a lackey in real life, surely he could realize his ambitions here, carve out a legacy of his own.

Without delay, Luo Gan sought out Old Hu to discuss his idea, and Old Hu immediately approved. With his help, Luo Gan acquired an inn on Prosperity Street in Anping County—just a small payment was enough to persuade the previous owner, who was eager to leave. The shop was his.

Luo Gan then wrote a letter to Erhu, inviting the brother who had shared hardship with him to join this new venture—someone he could trust. He also tried to persuade Han Chong, the minor official, to come on board, but Han Chong declined, preferring his comfortable life to any upheaval.

Bamboo Zhang, however, jumped at the opportunity. Upon hearing of the plan, he volunteered at once, and Luo Gan accepted him as his chef. Little Zhi, though a little confused, trusted Luo Gan’s instincts—he accepted the offer and soon resigned from Tiger Roost Pavilion.

The only one left was Lady Jun Tao, the most important and cherished of all. But Luo Gan lacked the means to redeem her from the brothel; the price of the top courtesan was no small sum. With a miser like Kuang Xiangde in charge, letting Jun Tao go would cost a fortune. For now, Luo Gan could only put aside the idea of bringing her over—though he swore to himself that he would one day welcome her back with dignity.

A few days later, the “Bamboo Grove Guildhall” opened its doors, with Luo Gan as its proprietor. Word had already spread of the new establishment, and since he couldn’t count on Wang Ge the bumbling official, Luo Gan slipped some money to the local toughs to ensure their support. Money well spent—they not only caused no trouble, but even brought friends and family to celebrate.

Old Hu also provided some temporary staff, among whom Luo Gan picked out a strong young man named Yang Yanshan and set him to preparing firecrackers. Only then did he learn that firecrackers hadn’t yet been invented in the Tang Dynasty; instead, there were “bamboo pops,” set off only during the New Year.

But no matter—what’s a celebration without a bang? Luo Gan ordered Yanshan to prepare as many as possible and arranged for a lion dance to liven up the entrance.

Crowds gathered, and as the bamboo pops rang out, people abandoned the morning market to see what the commotion was about.

After a round of performances, Luo Gan stepped out in his new robe. Wanting to look the part of a distinguished proprietor, he’d had a tailor make him an outfit. He’d requested something plain, but the tailor, colorblind to yellow and green, produced a suit of grass-green. Luo Gan wasn’t fussy—if it looked good enough, it would do.

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Surveying the assembled crowd, Luo Gan addressed them with feeling: “Today, I thank you all for coming. I’ve gathered you here to make an announcement.”

At his gesture, Yanshan pulled down a red silk cloth, revealing the sign: “Bamboo Grove Guildhall.”

“It’s opening!” someone exclaimed.

The crowd buzzed with curiosity, unsure what “Guildhall” meant.

Luo Gan smiled to himself. In this era, there were no endless bureaucratic procedures—just a few coins to smooth things over with the local magistrate, and with Old Hu’s connections, everything was arranged.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering what this Guildhall is,” Luo Gan continued. “This is a place where everyone is treated like family. We take your money, and we get things done.”

“What kind of things?” someone shouted.

“Good things. Clear things,” Luo Gan replied. “We’re here to solve the problems you can’t handle on your own.”

“How much does it cost? If my dog runs away, can you find it?”

Luo Gan waved his hand like a general commanding his troops. “Of course! If you have money, we can do it—provided it’s within our power! And we’ll also have ongoing tasks. If you have clues or can offer help, there’ll be a handsome reward!”

The crowd burst into laughter and applause. So this was a one-stop problem-solver—just what the local gentry needed.

Luo Gan, delighted, added, “And if you don’t have money, you can bring something to pawn instead—we’ll still help you. Anyone, young or old, man or woman, is welcome as long as you meet our standards. Our goal is simple: universal harmony!”

The crowd erupted in excitement. Among them, a familiar figure watched Luo Gan with keen interest—a mysterious scholar from the cuju competition, stroking his small mustache, his eyes shining with admiration.