Chapter 3: The Ground to Stand On

Behind the scenes at Liyuan Theatres, the candlelight flickered. Lin Che gently twined his fingertips, and that glimmering intelligence fragment slowly spun in his palm, reflecting four archaic characters: "Top of the Imperial Examination." The coldness in his eyes grew deeper. Once the list was posted tomorrow, Eunuch Zhang of the Directorate of Ceremonial would undoubtedly reach his hand into the public eye, and this undercurrent-rife game of chess was actually only just lifting back its first layer of curtain.

Inside the adjacent accounting room, Manager Wang was in a clandestine meeting with a brutish, fierce-looking thug. Manager Wang narrowed his eyes, his fingertips heavily tapping against the desktop with a rhythm that betrayed a mercantile anxiety. He had concluded that Lin Che’s reputation had already overshadowed the marquee name of Liyuan Theatres, and if he were allowed to monopolize the spotlight any longer, Liyuan would be reduced to an abandoned pawn in Eunuch Zhang’s hands once the rankings were made official today.

Lowering his voice, he resolved to crash the show and seize the limelight today to cut off future trouble, willing to resort to base methods if it meant crushing that wicked momentum.

The moonlight in the corridor was chilly and austere as Liu Ruyan, dressed in plain white robes, blocked Lin Che’s path. A detached chill ran through her brows, and her gaze was like a knife, as if she were inspecting an uncarved piece of jade. Parting her vermilion lips, her voice was clear and cold as ice: "Manager Wang’s eyes didn’t look right today. If you take the stage, I’m afraid there will be a storm."

Lin Che lowered his gaze, activating Subconscious Anchoring to instantly capture the probing and worry hidden deep within her words. A ripple stirred in his heart, but he only offered a faint, unconcerned smile without explanation.

The opening was imminent, and Lin Che took the stage to test his voice. The Resonance Storytelling System quietly activated, and he perceived the emotional blind spots of the audience below: these people weren't truly afraid of trouble; rather, they feared being implicated by the authorities and even more so of being looked down upon by their neighbors for treating storytelling as some affected pursuit of refinement. This layer of psychological folding was the absolute best entry point for him to customize a hook.

He didn't need to say much; he only needed to follow this emotional vein and tell the story right into the depths of their hearts.

Manager Wang had already arranged for thugs to mingle among the audience. The heckling of the thugs suddenly erupted; someone shouted that Lin Che’s story was "satirizing the imperial court," while their accomplices even overturned a tea table, the piercing sound of shattering cups and saucers grating against everyone's nerves. The surrounding audience hesitated for a moment and began backing away, the scene instantly plunging into chaos. Manager Wang sneered backstage, waiting to watch Lin Che lose his composure and make a public fool of himself.

Lin Che neither panicked nor offered a defense. Standing upon the high stage, his gaze swept over the terrified yet excited faces below, and the corner of his mouth curved into an amused arc. He slowly began to speak, skillfully weaving this "show-crashing" stunt right into the story he was about to tell.

Pointing at the gang of troublemakers below, his voice was steady and powerful: "Take a good look, everyone. In this story, the petty villains who stir up trouble all end up as dust beneath the feet of loyal and righteous men. Would any of you care to be that dust?"

The tide of public opinion instantly reversed. The audience was ignited by the words "loyalty and righteousness," and a fierce, protective urge welled up within them. The thugs had originally thought Lin Che would fly into a furious rage, but they never expected him to leverage their momentum, turning their violent acts into negative object lessons within the story.

Surrounding people cast looks of scorn mixed with fervent agitation. Instead, the thugs found themselves surrounded and hemmed in, some even getting spat upon as the situation completely spiraled out of control. Manager Wang’s face turned ashen in an instant.

The night was as dark as ink, and the clamor of the Liyuan stage had yet to dissipate, but a heavy, murderous intent was already surging in the shadows of the back alley. Lin Che leaned against the mottled brick wall, his fingertips gently turning the intelligence fragment that still retained some warmth. Its edge was sharp, reflecting a biting chill deep within his eyes.

The clash with Shen Qianji during the day was nothing more than an inconsequential pawn-move in this game; the truly fatal threat was always lurking right here among the common folk. Manager Wang’s bloodshot eyes were staring fixedly at him through the gaps in the crowd, holding no anger within that gaze—only bare, unadulterated greed and fear.

The corners of Lin Che’s mouth twitched upward, an imperceptible coldness blossoming at his lips. He knew all too well that in this cage woven from power and money, a storyteller’s fate was never his own to command; it could only be decided by those wielding authority or those grasping, mercantile scoundrels who valued profit above all else.

And right now, Manager Wang had made his decision—a fatal clearance order targeting him. Lin Che did not retreat; instead, he slowly let out a breath, as if unloading a burden of a thousand jun. He knew that the more critical the moment, the more one had to be as still as stagnant water; only within that dead end could one catch a fleeting glimmer of a way out.

"Shameless wretch, do you even rate telling stories here?" A shrill, cursing voice pierced the night sky, interrupting Lin Che’s deep contemplation. Three thugs dressed in coarse cloth tunics rushed out from the alley entrance. The ringleader wielded a short club, his fierce face warped in a snarl, evidently a hired muscle specially bought off by Manager Wang.

Rather than attacking directly, they blocked the narrow back-alley entrance, cornering Lin Che against the wall. Lin Che’s expression remained calm, even carrying a touch of mockery as he looked at them: "Did Manager Wang send you to make me crawl out of this city, or to shut me up? If it’s the latter, I'm afraid that silver was spent in vain."

The thugs roared with laughter. The ringleader swung his short club, smashing it fiercely against a nearby wooden crate; wood chips flew, releasing an aura of resolute violence amidst the dust. Lin Che was in no hurry, his gaze sweeping over the silent, deserted corners around him as he swiftly activated the Subconscious Anchoring function of the Resonance Storytelling System.

He sensed that although this was the backstage area, among the audience members who had yet to fully disperse in the front hall, there existed a massive emotional blind spot—an anger directed at the "humiliation of the weak" and a desperate yearning for the "absence of justice." This discovery greatly steadied his heart, and the hook-dialogue had already taken shape on the tip of his tongue, waiting only for the most opportune moment to detonate.

"It seems Manager Wang doesn't even understand this basic rule." Lin Che suddenly raised his voice, clear and possessing immense piercing power, instantly cutting through the walls of the back alley and carrying over to the audience in the front hall who had yet to leave. "The story isn't finished yet, but the play has already reached this scene?

Ladies and gentlemen, the drama in this Liyuan isn't just about the singing, posturing, and acrobatics on stage; it's also about the warmth and coldness of human relationships down below. Today, someone wants to teach me how to behave."

As soon as these words left his mouth, the audience—who had still been immersed in the lingering resonance of the story—successively raised their heads, their gazes curious yet guarded. Lin Che did not continue speaking; instead, he unleashed that high-intensity "Emotional Echo" to its absolute limit. His voice transformed into an invisible ripple that struck straight to the deepest souls of every audience member, awakening their innate, instinctive urge to "protect their own."

Those formerly indifferent onlookers now had raging fires burning within their eyes—an aroused fury and injustice. The number of Voiceprint Coins in his conscious space skyrocketed frantically, and as Lin Che felt this surging energy, the corner of his mouth curved into an icy arc. The situation had completely flipped.

The commotion in the front hall instantly erupted. Several porters who were in the midst of tidying up tables and chairs abruptly stood up, their eyes filled with fire. They were accustomed to bullying and oppression in their daily lives, and seeing Lin Che humiliated like this caused the resentment that had built up in their hearts for so long to instantly find an outlet for release.

"Bastards, beating people in broad daylight!" a porter roared, charging into the back alley and slamming his fist fiercely into a thug's face. Following right behind, more onlookers surged in. The previously snobbish onlookers now stood shoulder-to-shoulder behind Lin Che, throwing punches and kicks to pin those few thugs to the ground and beat them.

Manager Wang stood at the rear of the crowd, his complexion shifting from red to white, then from white to cyan, clutching his chest tightly as disbelief filled his eyes. He had originally thought this was merely a simple display of violent intimidation, never anticipating that Lin Che could harness the power of public opinion to turn the humblest folk of ordinary days into the sharpest blades.

The wails of the thugs rose one after another, their short clubs clattering to the ground to produce crisp, clear echoes. Lin Che walked out from the crowd, dusting off his clothes with an air of composure, as if everything that had just happened never took place.

"Everyone, stay your hands." Lin Che’s voice wasn't loud, but it carried an unquestionable authority that instantly suppressed the noisy clamor of the crowd. Straightening his back and adopting a sincere posture, he bowed deeply with cupped hands toward the surrounding, angry masses: "In today's performance, every single one of you is a character within the play.

If not for everyone speaking up with a sense of justice, this Liyuan would be left with nothing but a floor full of shattered glass, devoid of any lingering warmth of mortal life." These words were like a spring breeze turning into gentle rain, instantly dissolving the hair-trigger tension of the atmosphere. Upon hearing this, the crowd ceased their beating, looking at each other in bewilderment before breaking into smiles; that aroused chivalrous spirit transformed into a warm sense of shared identity.

Seizing the momentum, Lin Che stationed himself firmly in the center of the stage, his gaze sweeping across the entire venue before finally landing on that tightly closed window high above. He knew Liu Ruyan was right there, listening, watching, and judging.

"Since everyone has such refined tastes, let me tell you a new story." Lin Che took a deep breath, his voice growing low and magnetic as he began narrating the loyalty chapter of *Yue Fei*: "The humiliation of Jingkang is still unavenged; when shall the subjects' hatred be extinguished!

This Marshal Yue, clad in military attire and bearing a lifetime of solitary loyalty, chose death and injustice when faced with the iron cavalry of the Jin and the court's suspicions, yet he guarded the two words 'righteousness' in his heart."

Every single word, every pause, struck like a heavy hammer against the hearts of the listeners. They heard the blood and tears, the helplessness, and even more so, that spine that managed to stand straight even within a desperate deadlock. Halfway through the story, Lin Che deliberately paused, leaving the audience with enough room for imagination so they could complete their own emotional projection amidst grief and indignation.

This empathetic experience pushed the efficacy of the Resonance Storytelling System to its peak, and Voiceprint Coins surged once more, transforming into golden-gleaming coins that lay quietly within his conscious space.

When the show broke up, the crowd didn't disperse; instead, they spontaneously gathered around Lin Che, passing along the storyteller's name and praising the righteous deeds he had performed today. This turnaround in public reputation was something Manager Wang could never have anticipated.

Up on the high stage, that window finally creaked open. Liu Ruyan stood in plain white robes, her cold gaze sweeping past the crowd to land upon Lin Che. She didn't leave, simply listening quietly until the very last person departed before gently setting down her teacup, her fingertips leaving a faint scratch along the rim.

It was the first time she had ever chosen to linger after listening to a piece of street-corner storytelling. This attention made Lin Che feel far more uneasy than any gold or silver treasures could, yet it also excited him all the more.

Deep backstage, Manager Wang’s face was leaden as the folding fan in his grip cracked from being squeezed too hard. Gritting his teeth, he roared low to the attendant beside him: "Within three days, I want to make sure he can't utter a single story in this city! Block all theater troupes, cut off his financial path, ruin his reputation—I want him utterly disgraced!"

The attendant nervously acknowledged the order and hurried off, the viciousness in Manager Wang’s eyes practically solidifying into substance. He knew full well that having lost to public opinion today, he must use raw power to crush him tomorrow. This battle had only just begun.

Deep in the dead of night, Liyuan Theatres had long since grown quiet. A letter sealed with red wax quietly made its way out from the prefectural city, traversing the long official post road before finally coming to a halt in a corner of this metropolis. The letter remained unopened, but that special wax seal cast a gloomy, cold luster under the moonlight.

Upon it, only three small characters—"Directorate of Ceremonial"—remained clearly recognizable, while the names of the other recipients were densely smothered beneath thick wax, just like an invisible giant hand tightly choking the throat of this city.