"Young master, what are you laughing at?"
The old storyteller asked with some displeasure.
Ye Qingyun hurriedly shook his head.
"Nothing. Please carry on, sir."
The old storyteller withdrew his gaze and continued his tale.
But after listening for a while, Ye Qingyun snorted with laughter again.
The old storyteller looked over at him once more.
The other patrons in the teahouse also glared at Ye Qingyun again.
"Boy, we're engrossed in the story! Why are you making trouble here?"
A man stood up and loudly rebuked him.
Ye Qingyun ignored the man and looked at the old storyteller instead.
"Sir, you've been telling this story for many years, haven't you?"
The old storyteller froze.
"What do you mean, young master? I've told this story for decades, and every time I tell it, the whole room listens with relish. I don't understand why you keep laughing."
"Do you find my storytelling laughable?"
Ye Qingyun waved his hand.
"No, it's not your storytelling that's laughable, sir. It's just that this story is far too old and stale."
At that, the old storyteller gave a cold laugh.
"Heh, I've been telling stories for thirty years. Ever since the tale of the Azure Sword Wandering Hero first appeared, people have loved it. Its popularity has endured all these years, so why do you call it old and stale?"
The other patrons also began criticizing Ye Qingyun.
"Where did this young man come from? How dare he call the story of the Azure Sword Wandering Hero old and stale?"
"A classic like this would remain popular even if it were passed down for a hundred years."
"A greenhorn spouting nonsense. Who knows how his elders raised him?"
Seeing so many people supporting him, the old storyteller grew even more smug.
"Young man, apologize to me here, and we'll consider today's matter settled."
He was demanding an apology from Ye Qingyun.
Ye Qingyun had not wanted to argue with him.
But if you're going to throw your age around, then I can't put up with that.
"Why should I apologize? Was I wrong? Your story really is old and clichéd. It's utterly boring."
"I might as well go up there and tell one myself."
At those words, the old storyteller burst out laughing.
"Hahahaha! In all my years of storytelling, I've never seen such an arrogant young man."
"Fine, fine, fine. I'll give you my place today."
"Come on, then. Let me hear what a presumptuous young man like you can come up with."
The old storyteller walked straight down.
Ye Qingyun had no stage fright either.
"Fine, I'll tell one. But don't blame me if I steal your rice bowl."
The old man smiled contemptuously.
"I, Old Huang, have been telling stories for thirty years. This is how I earn my rice. If a young man like you can steal my rice bowl, I'll kowtow to you three times right here, loud enough for everyone to hear."
Ye Qingyun stared at Old Huang.
"You said it?"
"I did."
"You all heard him too?"
"All the guests here can bear witness!"
Old Huang brimmed with confidence, utterly unconvinced that Ye Qingyun could tell a story better than he could.
What a joke.
Storytelling might seem simple.
But in reality, it was far from easy.
Old Huang had been telling stories for thirty years, having learned the craft from his father.
His family could be considered a storytelling family.
What storyteller these days had not honed their craft over decades?
"Let's see what this brat can come up with."
"Youngsters these days really don't know how high the heavens are or how deep the earth is."
"I reckon he'll be bowing his head and apologizing to Old Huang in shame before long."
All the patrons were waiting to watch the show.
Ye Qingyun stood on the platform, calm and composed, his expression serene.
He picked up the storyteller's block.
Clack!
The crisp crack gave him something of a storyteller's bearing.
"Today, I, Ye Qingyun, will tell you all a tale."
"However, you may never have heard this particular story before."
"This story is called The Legend of the Condor Heroes!"
Everyone froze.
The Legend of the Condor Heroes?
They really had never heard of it.
And wasn't the title rather unusual?
Old Huang curled his lip.
"Utter nonsense."
Ye Qingyun smiled faintly and launched straight into the tale.
"A hundred years ago, there was a dynasty called the Southern Song. It was a time of peril, with the flames of war raging and foreign enemies invading."
"Our story takes place during that time."
"One day, as wind and snow filled the skies, a Daoist came treading through the snow and passed through a place called Ox Village."
"Now, this Ox Village..."
At first, everyone listened with disdain.
But as they listened, they gradually became engrossed.
Especially when they heard of the calamity that befell Yang Tiexin's and Guo Xiaotian's families, many slammed their tables in fury, seething with indignation.
"That Wanyan Honglie is truly despicable!"
"That damned villain!"
"What a shame Qiu Chuji didn't kill him!"
Old Huang was somewhat dumbfounded.
He had never expected Ye Qingyun's story to be so enthralling.
Just this opening section alone had already drawn all the guests present completely into the tale.
Seeing this, Ye Qingyun smiled inwardly.
I may not know how to tell stories, but the books in my head are as vast as a sea of smoke. I couldn't finish telling them in a hundred years.
He continued telling The Legend of the Condor Heroes.
He told it all the way to the Seven Freaks of Jiangnan's great battle with Qiu Chuji at Misty Rain Tower, after which both sides agreed to seek out the descendants of the Guo and Yang families separately.
"Now, the Seven Freaks of Jiangnan traveled all the way toward the North of the Desert, reaching the great desert."
"At last, there in the North of the Desert, they found a child-a descendant of those very Guo and Yang families!"
Clack!!!
Ye Qingyun suddenly struck the storyteller's block again, startling everyone in the room.
"To learn what happened next!"
"Listen to the next installment!"
With that, Ye Qingyun cupped his hands toward the crowd.
Everyone seemed to awaken from a dream.
"Why did you suddenly stop?"
"Keep going!"
"Who exactly was the child the Seven Freaks of Jiangnan found?"
"Was it Guo Xiaotian's descendant? Or Yang Tiexin's?"
"Hurry up and keep going!"
Everyone was deeply dissatisfied.
They had been listening with delight, only for him to stop right then. Who could stand that?
Ye Qingyun smiled faintly.
"Everyone, I'm not a storyteller."
They all froze.
Only then did they realize.
The real storyteller, Old Huang, was still standing behind him.
They all turned around.
Old Huang's face was utterly dejected, and he looked as though all his spirit had drained away.
His mouth opened, as if he wanted to say something.
But he could not get a single word out.
Old Huang had been deeply shaken by Ye Qingyun's story.
Compared with the story Ye Qingyun had told, that so-called tale of the Azure Sword Wandering Hero really was far too old and stale.
There was simply no comparison.
Now that was a real story.
Old Huang suddenly burst into tears.
"All these years, I've been nothing but a frog at the bottom of a well!"
Ye Qingyun scratched his head.
Why's he crying now?
He was just about to step down when a middle-aged man hurried over to him and bowed deeply.
"Young master, I am the proprietor of this teahouse. Might I ask you to continue the story for our guests?"