Chapter 19: Enticement
Old Zhou was unwilling to move. “What’s the point of weaving those little baskets? You can’t eat them or drink from them.”
“But we can make them into flower baskets to earn money,” Man Bao revealed her plan to her father, only omitting the part about candies. Brimming with confidence, she declared, “Once we’ve earned money, I can give you a share as hardship allowance, Father.”
Old Zhou stroked the tobacco pouch at his waist, resisting the urge to smoke since he had already decided to sell off the family’s remaining tobacco leaves. Though not worth much, it could still purchase a few batches of medicine for his wife.
Glancing at his daughter, he shook his head dismissively, “Your father doesn’t care about any allowance, so let’s not bother with this endeavor.”
He had no desire to indulge in childish frivolities.
Everyone’s faces fell with disappointment, so Man Bao went to seek her mother’s support instead. Unable to resist Man Bao’s pleading, Mrs. Qian could only persuade Old Zhou, “It’s not that big a deal. You’re just idling anyway, so you might as well weave a few for the children. It won’t require much effort at all.”
With his wife’s insistence and his daughter joined by a gaggle of grandsons and granddaughters staring at him pleadingly, Old Zhou felt he had no choice. He retrieved the discarded bamboo strips previously used by his second son to weave them some simple bamboo baskets.
Seeing Da Tou and Er Tou squatting nearby to watch, he beckoned them over instructing, “Come here, let Grandpa teach you both too. You’re not that young anymore, it’s time you learned some practical skills.”
While not overly numerous, the village did have its share of bamboo weavers. Yet this craft was not something one could simply master through a single lesson – in the entire village, young and old, only Zhou Erlang could produce bamboo baskets and trays suitable for sale at the markets or county town.
His woven pieces were sturdy and tightly compact, incapable of letting even grains of rice slip through. But others might weave aesthetically similar-looking baskets that would quickly develop gaps and holes after just a few uses, rendering the items practically useless.
Old Zhou’s skills unfortunately fell into the latter subpar category.
However, while unable to craft larger storage baskets, surely weaving those tiny decorative pieces no bigger than his granddaughter’s little head wouldn’t pose any real difficulty?
At most, they would be display pieces – capable of holding maybe ten eggs at maximum capacity. But Old Zhou felt they could withstand being handled roughly for a decade without falling apart.
Since he placed no real value on this endeavor and would only be using his second son’s discarded bamboo scraps anyway, Old Zhou felt no qualms about allowing his rambunctious grandchildren to join in and make a mess of things.
Naturally, Man Bao was immediately entranced, eagerly grabbing some bamboo strips to learn the craft herself while dragging Da Ya and Er Ya along too.
Glancing at his two granddaughters, Old Zhou felt such handicrafts were hardly suitable lessons for young girls. But eyeing the pile of bamboo strips, he figured harmlessly, “Let them learn then. These strips can rarely be reused after their first application anyway. And it’s not like I’m my second son who can properly straighten and reuse them.”
Once the bamboo was depleted, their weaving efforts could simply cease.
Unaware of her grandfather’s ulterior motives, Man Bao watched his movements studiously with widened eyes.
Slowly weaving as he explained, Old Zhou cautioned, “You’re just a little girl, those bamboo strips will be too stiff for you to bend properly. What are you crowding around for? Be careful not to hurt your hands.”
Basking in the courtyard sunshine, Mrs. Qian smiled amusedly before beckoning Man Bao over. “Man Bao, come here. Let mother teach you instead.”
Clutching the bamboo strips excitedly, Man Bao scampered over. “Mother, you know how to weave bamboo too?”
“From a lifetime of observation, even without practical experience my mind has absorbed the general methods,” Mrs. Qian replied. Due to her chronic illness, she was unable to perform strenuous labor. But gentler sedentary tasks like bending bamboo strips posed no issue.
So seated comfortably, she began weaving while verbally guiding Man Bao through the straightforward process. This rudimentary bamboo craft required neither complexity nor haste, allowing Mrs. Qian’s first completed piece to swiftly take shape.
Taking the basket, Man Bao compared it against the two her father had already finished, wrinkling her tiny nose in criticism. “Mother, yours looks so unsightly.”
Chuckling boastfully, Old Zhou replied, “Well of course it looks better than your mother’s attempt – I’ve woven plenty of bamboo pieces in my time!”
Undeterred, Mrs. Qian beckoned Man Bao closer. “Fetch me some more strips, I’ll weave another one.”
Smiling reassuringly, she remarked, “Proficiency comes through repeated practice. Keep at something unfamiliar and it will soon become second nature.”
Finding her mother’s words reasonable, Man Bao dutifully fetched another bundle of bamboo strips.
The four children who had initially gravitated towards their grandfather, only to relocate to their grandmother upon finding her first attempt unsightly, now glanced uncertainly between the two, pondering whose guidance to follow.
Disdaining their indecision, Man Bao huffed, “It won’t do to be so irresolute! Alright then, Da Tou and Er Tou can learn from Father. Da Ya and Er Ya will study under Mother instead.”
With clear roles assigned, the four children settled into focused study without further dithering.
Observing them fondly, Mrs. Qian felt pride that her own daughter could make such decisive judgment calls.
Of everyone present, Man Bao appeared the most unoccupied – at least superficially. In reality, she remained quite industrious, constantly consulting the system whenever a new bamboo basket took shape: “Do you think Mother’s basket is sellable?”
“In this world, there are no objects incapable of becoming commodities,” the system stated. “You can always conduct secondary processing and repackaging.”
“Then I’ll just adorn it with the most beautiful flowers,” Man Bao decided.
She began meticulously selecting the most visually striking blossoms from her floral collection, carefully arranging them within her mother’s plain woven basket until a vibrant, haphazard array overflowed from within. Yet Man Bao gazed upon her creation with immense satisfaction, beaming, “This flower basket looks so beautiful!”
The system fell into a prolonged silence before finally remarking, “There may not be many in this world who share the host’s sense of aesthetics.”
Repeating the statement slowly, Man Bao’s eyes widened in belated realization. “Ke Ke, are you saying my flower basket is ugly?”
“That is not how one crafts a proper flower basket,” the system countered, unable to resist searching its encyclopedia databases for relevant imagery to present to Man Bao. “These examples demonstrate authentic flower basket designs. Yours could be more accurately described as a… woven reed wastebasket for storing floral trimmings. No, a failed and defective wastebasket prototype, at best.”
But Man Bao had already tuned out the system’s criticisms, utterly entranced by the exquisite pictorial examples with eyes shining brilliantly as she nearly squirmed with giddy delight. “So beautiful, so incredibly beautiful! Ke Ke, can you get me some like those instead?”
Old Zhou and Mrs. Qian watched in bewildered silence as their daughter cradled her unsightly, misshapen basket while giggling euphorically, on the verge of drooling.
Exchanging hesitant glances, the couple surveyed the random assortment of wildflowers haphazardly jammed within before realizing they really ought to prioritize properly cultivating their child’s aesthetic sensibilities. Truly, how could she still seem so delighted by such an ugly, unrefined basket?
Meanwhile, Da Tou and the other children lowered their heads in embarrassment, wishing they could simply disappear into the bamboo strips themselves. Their little niece must be fantasizing about her money-making schemes again. But could such ungainly, unbalanced baskets really sell?
Scanning Man Bao’s points balance, the system stated flatly, “Host, while you possess sufficient points to purchase proper flower baskets, you have not yet unlocked access privileges to the Commerce Terminal. So I cannot directly acquire any for you at present.”
This was the first time Man Bao had heard about any sort of commerce terminal, so she asked curiously, “What is this Commerce Terminal?”
“Think of it like the markets you frequent, except the Commerce Terminal offers a vastly wider array of merchandise availabilities,” the system explained. “Flower baskets and virtually any other goods could theoretically be acquired through there.”
“When will I be able to unlock this Commerce Terminal then?” Man Bao wondered dreamily. If she could access such wondrous markets anytime, did that mean she could go window shopping whenever struck by the whim?
“Once the host accumulates a total of one thousand points while maintaining no outstanding point debts, the access privileges will automatically unlock,” the system stated.
Shoulders slumping dejectedly, Man Bao mimicked her second brother’s characteristic bargaining pout. “That’s an awful lot though, can’t you offer a better discount?”
But the system remained utterly impassive. “Negative. That requirement is non-negotiable!”
