Douluo: When the piano sounds, the hidden weapon returns to the factory

Chapter 3 Tea House
The next day, the first rays of sunlight had just broken through the night sky, and the village was still shrouded in a thin layer of mist. The crowing of roosters broke the tranquility of the night, heralding the beginning of a new day.

Feng Yao rose early. Normally, by this time, he would have shouldered his backpack, gathered his tools, and headed for the back mountain. But today, he quietly tidied his room, tying around the bundle he had packed the previous day. Standing at the door, he quietly surveyed the room, a hint of longing in his eyes. Perhaps, for a long time, he wouldn't return to this place again.

Feng Yao, who came from the modern era, was not proficient in the way of cultivation, but he clearly understood what kind of path he was about to embark on - a path full of unknowns and challenges, but also containing infinite possibilities.

After watching silently for a while, Feng Yao turned and walked towards the village entrance. At this time, the uncles and aunts who were going to the market in the village should have gathered at the village entrance.

Soon, Feng Yao saw those familiar faces. He walked forward with a smile and greeted them one by one.

"Feng boy, you're here." A middle-aged man greeted with a smile.

Feng Yao nodded and responded, "Good morning, uncle."

"Feng boy, are you going to sell mountain products with us again?" another villager joked.

"Don't talk nonsense. Feng boy awakened his soul power yesterday. He is carrying a package today. He should be going to the Soul Master Academy to study." The person next to him corrected him.

The man was pleased when he heard this and patted Feng Yao on the shoulder: "Congratulations, congratulations, Feng Yao is going to be a big shot this time."

"Thank you for your good wishes." Feng Yao responded with a smile, his tone full of gratitude.

"Okay, come on up quickly. The village chief has already told me that he will take you to the city." The middle-aged man driving the cart waved his hand, motioning Feng Yao to get on.

"Thank you, uncle." Feng Yao smiled at the middle-aged man, then jumped lightly onto the donkey cart.

After exchanging pleasantries, Feng Yao sat on the donkey cart, gazing into the distance, a look of anticipation on his face. The donkey cart slowly started, its wheels creaking as they rolled over the yellow mud road at the village entrance.

Tingquan Village is not far from Notting City. In less than half an hour, Feng Yao followed the large group to the familiar Notting City. After entering the city, Feng Yao said goodbye to the villagers.

"The enrollment deadline for Notting College is on the Waking of Insects Day. There are still a few days left. I should find a place in Notting City to make some money first." Feng Yao thought secretly in his heart.

Money might be just a number to most spirit masters, but Feng Yao knew full well that he desperately needed it right now. With insufficient innate spirit power, achieving success in cultivation would inevitably require a significant investment of time and resources. Money, however, could precisely help him grow rapidly at this stage; it could even be said to be the key to "buying time."

With the money, Feng Yao could enroll as a normal student, without having to do meaningless chores to make a living. More importantly, during the critical period of growth, he could also get enough nutrition, laying a solid foundation for future cultivation.

Thinking of this, Feng Yao did not rush to report to Notting College, but decided to wander around Notting City first to see if there were any opportunities to make money.

Soon, his eyes were drawn to a rather quiet teahouse. The teahouse's facade was simple and elegant, with a bamboo curtain hanging at the door. From within, he could faintly hear the sounds of a zither and the whispers of tea patrons. Feng Yao was delighted and was about to step in when he was stopped by the waiter at the door.

"Where did you come from, little beggar? Go away, go away!" The young waiter frowned, his face full of impatience, and his tone was rude.

Feng Yao was stunned for a moment, looking down at his plain coarse cloth clothes, a trace of helplessness on his young face. He realized that he looked more like a homeless waif than a zither player.

Helplessly, Feng Yao slowly retreated under the young waiter's dismissive gaze. His peripheral vision swept across the teahouse's curtains, and he thought to himself: This teahouse looks quite elegant, clearly a place to entertain the nobility. If I could perform in it, the reward income would naturally be the highest.

"It seems I have to use some tricks." Feng Yao thought silently in his heart, with a confident smile slightly raised at the corner of his mouth.

He didn't walk far, but instead found an empty spot on the street and sat down. With a thought, a seven-stringed zither appeared in his hands. He gently stroked the strings, his fingertips flicking lightly, and a stream of elegant music flowed out like flowing water.

The sound of the zither begins with a crisp, pure sound like the falling morning dew. Then, it gradually becomes melodious, like a mountain breeze blowing through a bamboo forest, carrying with it an indescribable elegance and tranquility. Feng Yao's fingertips dance lightly across the strings, and each note seems to come alive, weaving in the air to form a moving picture.

Pedestrians on the street were gradually drawn to the sound of the zither, and they stopped to watch. Some murmured in admiration, others listened silently, and one even pulled out a few bronze soul coins and gently placed them in front of Feng Yao. The zither's melodious sound, as if telling a distant story, drew one involuntarily into its depths.

Not far away, the teahouse patrons could vaguely hear the melodious music. Some lifted the bamboo curtains and peeked in; others put down their teacups and listened. Even the young waiter who had earlier chased Feng Yao away couldn't help but reveal a look of surprise, a flicker of regret in his eyes.

Feng Yao's music did not stop, but became more melodious and moving. He knew that his chance had come.

Sure enough, not long after, a middle-aged man in elegant attire emerged from the teahouse. He slowly walked over to Feng Yao and listened quietly for a moment, until Feng Yao's fingertips gently tapped the last note, and the last note faded into the air. Then he slowly spoke, "Young friend, at such a young age, having barely awakened your martial spirit, you've already achieved extraordinary qin prowess. I wonder who your master is? What's his name?"

Feng Yao raised his head, a smile flashed in his eyes, and he shook his head slightly, saying humbly: "Thank you for your appreciation, Senior. I am Feng Yao, but my family's skills are not inherited from a master, so they are not worth mentioning."

The middle-aged man looked at Feng Yao quietly, his gaze lingering on the package beside him for a moment, and a hint of understanding flashed in his eyes.

"It seems that Young Master Feng is looking for a job with me." The middle-aged man smiled warmly, his tone tinged with appreciation. Feng Yao did not feel embarrassed by being exposed in public. Instead, he smiled calmly and said calmly, "Senior, you have a keen eye. I wonder if you would appreciate my humble skills?"

The middle-aged man was surprised when he heard Feng Yao's answer. He hadn't expected a child to handle it so calmly. He nodded, his tone more approving. "Of course, your zither is special, and your skills are far superior to those of the musicians in my teahouse. Here's how: I'll give you a hundred gold coins a month. Just come to my teahouse and play a piece every day, and all the tips from the guests will go to you."

Feng Yao's eyes flashed with surprise upon hearing this. He hadn't expected this shopkeeper to be so shrewd and so well-versed in business. Using "hunger marketing" tactics, he could maximize profits while preventing Feng Yao from affecting the livelihoods of other musicians—killing two birds with one stone.

"What? Are you not satisfied?" The middle-aged man asked with a chuckle when he saw Feng Yao was silent.

"No, no, I'm very satisfied." Feng Yao hurriedly shook his head, then bowed slightly to the middle-aged man and said respectfully: "Thank you for taking me in, Senior. What's your name?"

"You're welcome. My last name is Ning. You can just call me Manager Ning." The middle-aged man responded warmly.

"Ning... no wonder he has such a sharp eye." Feng Yao was secretly shocked, and a flash of realization flashed in his eyes. He vaguely guessed the identity of this shopkeeper Ning and the power behind him.

"Let's go, young friend." Manager Ning said softly, with a hint of kindness in his tone.

Feng Yao regained his composure, put away his qin, stood up, and followed Manager Ning into the teahouse. The young waiter stood aside, his face full of embarrassment and regret, but he didn't dare say anything more.

After entering the teahouse, Manager Ning said to the maid beside him, "Take the young man to wash up."

"Yes." The maid bowed respectfully, then turned to Feng Yao and said softly, "Young Master, please follow me."

"Thank you, shopkeeper." Feng Yao politely smiled and thanked Shopkeeper Ning, then left with the maid.

Walking behind the maid, Feng Yao raised the corner of his mouth with a faint smile. He knew that he had taken the first step steadily.

After washing up, Feng Yao changed into the clothes that Manager Ning had prepared for him. He wore a simple, elegant blue shirt, a cloud-embroidered belt tied around his waist, and delicate dark patterns adorning the cuffs and collar. He looked both elegant and refined. At that moment, he seemed no longer the village student, but rather the son of a noble family, his every move exuding a sense of ease and grace.

Led by a maid, Feng Yao arrived at an elegant table. A cup of tea sat upon it, its fragrance wafting in harmony with the surrounding music. Feng Yao understood, and with a thought, a seven-stringed zither quietly appeared on the table. He gently stroked the strings, his fingertips flicking the strings, and the music flowed out like flowing water.

Inside the teahouse, the sound of the zither rang out once again. This time, Feng Yao's melodies were even more profound and distant, carrying a kind of magical power that enveloped the entire teahouse in a tranquil world. The sound flowed like a clear spring, a gentle mountain breeze, and the shimmering moonlight, each note telling a distant story. Tea drinkers set down their cups, closed their eyes, and lost themselves in the beautiful melody, seemingly oblivious to the hustle and bustle of the world.

Shopkeeper Ning stood nearby, his gaze sweeping over the intoxicated faces of the tea drinkers around him. A gleam of brilliance flashed in his eyes. He murmured softly, "With just his zither skills and a spirit that hasn't yet been attached to a spirit ring, he can quickly bring someone into such an intoxicated state... In the entire Heaven Dou Empire, I'm afraid only Yue Xuan's wife can do that."

His gaze fell on Feng Yao again, with a hint of deeper meaning in his eyes. He knew that the person he met today might not just be a young man with superb zither skills.

The sound of the zither gradually faded, but the teahouse remained silent. A moment later, the tea drinkers, as if waking from their dreams, began to applaud and praise the performance, with countless people offering tips. Feng Yao smiled faintly, put away his zither, and nodded slightly to the crowd.

This is a world of martial spirits, but also one ruled by the nobility. Music, an integral part of aristocratic life, is both a symbol of status and a legacy of aristocratic culture. And Feng Yao, with his innate talent for the qin, seems to hold a ticket to the aristocratic world.

Soon, Manager Ning had a maid present Feng Yao with the proceeds from his performance on a tray. On the tray, neatly arranged, gleaming with golden light, were Gold Soul Coins, numbering perhaps a hundred. Feng Yao gazed upon the wealth before him, his expression impassive, but a flicker of surprise flickered in his eyes. He hadn't expected a single piece of music to yield such a lucrative return. However, carrying these hundreds of coins proved a bit of a hassle for a child.

Meanwhile, Shopkeeper Ning was also silently observing Feng Yao. Having been in business for years, he had met all kinds of people, but Feng Yao was the most unique child he had ever met. He came from a humble background, yet possessed astonishing qin skills; faced with immense wealth, he remained remarkably calm, even a hint of distress flickering across his face. This composure and wisdom beyond his years only elevated Shopkeeper Ning's opinion of Feng Yao.

At this time, Feng Yao raised his head and said to Shopkeeper Ning, "Shopkeeper Ning, I'd better keep this money with you for the time being. It's not convenient for me to carry it with me."

Upon hearing this, Shopkeeper Ning smiled and nodded. "Okay, if you need money, you can withdraw it at the teahouse counter at any time. When the amount is sufficient, I will send someone to the bank to help you turn it into a card so that it is easy to carry. Also, if you don't have a place to stay for the time being, you can stay here temporarily without any restrictions."

"In that case, thank you very much, shopkeeper." Feng Yao bowed slightly to Shopkeeper Ning, with sincere gratitude in his tone.

"You're welcome. From now on, the business of my teahouse will depend on Xiaofeng." Manager Ning smiled and patted Feng Yao's shoulder.

As a disciple sent out by the Seven Treasures Glazed Tile Sect to do business, Manager Ning knew very well that Feng Yao would not stay here for too long. Although he observed that Feng Yao's talent was not very high, based on Feng Yao's martial spirit and his piano skills, Feng Yao would definitely have a place in the aristocratic circle of Tiandou in the future.

As expected, within a few days, Feng Yao's fame spread throughout Nottingham. The unique timbre of the lyre, complemented by Feng Yao's exceptional skill, captivated countless tea drinkers. Even the nobles of Nottingham came to hear the young lyre player in person. Feng Yao, who hadn't even received his first month's salary, had amassed a fortune in just a few days simply from tips. If he weren't so young, he'd likely have already been approached to learn from him.

Time passed like a white horse, and as the Waking of Insects Day approached, Feng Yao got up early, withdrew all his income from the counter, and headed towards Notting College.

(End of this chapter)