Leaning against the window with a scroll in hand, she browsed through the books.
What scholars did could not be called stealing; it should be called borrowing to read. Any useful information was copied down. The library had brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones aplenty. The girl sunning herself by the window licked the tip of her brush, and its strokes whisked across the page.
Bai Yujun would not steal books for no reason. That went against a merchant's principles.
But she could record useful, or seemingly useful, information. As the saying went, the best memory was no match for the palest ink; no matter how good one's brain was, carelessness and muddleheadedness were hard to guard against.
After visiting the libraries of two great clans in succession, she found nothing.
Yet while idly leafing through a genealogy, she found an interesting clue. Perhaps it would lead to a discovery.
"The thirteenth patriarch of the Dongmen Family, Dongmen Qingshu, loved old records and ancient books above all else. When he died, three hundred ancient volumes were buried with him, without a single item of gold or silver. He was buried in the Dongmen Family ancestral grounds. Tsk, tsk. Grave robbers probably would not even be interested."
She tossed the genealogy back, then took two somersaults to the street and found a General Store, intending to buy a few candles.
Holding a red candle, the freckled-faced dragon was conflicted.
"Shopkeeper, do you have white candles?"
"White candles? None left. The candle workshop caught fire, and all the stock burned up. The caravan transporting raw materials ran into a flash flood and lost its cargo. How about... wrapping one in white paper and making do?"
The dragon was utterly amazed by this honest-looking yet crafty merchant. He truly was a rare talent.
He