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Just as Luan Yi had anticipated, only a few days after Xun Shuang’s departure, word of his praise for Luan Yi spread throughout the county. But what surprised Luan Yi was that a few days later, an even more novel rumor, intimately connected to him, emerged and quickly eclipsed even the story of Xun Shuang’s praise. People began to say that Luan Yi, Guo Jia, Shan Fu, Xi Zhicai, and Mao Jie were all prodigies.

In this age, where entertainment was scarce, such tales with a touch of the fantastical were the most captivating. More and more people on the streets and in the alleys joined the discussion, speaking with increasing conviction and detail. Even more outrageous was the claim that this rumor originated from the county office itself. With this semi-official endorsement, the legend of Luan Yi as a prodigy gained credibility, and the stories grew ever more bizarre.

It was said that the five of them were celestial spirits, called the Five Officers: the Divine Talent Luan Yi, the Ghostly Genius Guo Jia, the Man of Talent Shan Fu, the Heavenly Genius Xi Zhicai, and the Earthly Genius Mao Jie. Heaven, seeing the suffering of the people, sent them down to rescue the masses from misery.

Soon, these tales mutated into a new version almost daily, their popularity even surpassing that of the “Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio,” leaving the five of them dumbfounded and unable to set the record straight. All they could do was let things take their course.

The advantages of this unintended fame became apparent: the students at the academy now looked at them with newfound respect, the number of patrons at the Rising Phoenix Pavilion grew once again, and long lines became commonplace. Yet, there were downsides as well—Old Cen became even more stringent, doubling and tripling their assignments. In his words, “If you have time for business, you have time to study more books.”

Thus, under Old Cen’s relentless demands, Luan Yi and his companions found themselves living a life reminiscent of the underworld.

After the autumn harvest, Luan Yi’s grandfather, Old Luan Tao, and his father, Luan Miao, arrived unannounced, barging straight into the Rising Phoenix Pavilion.

Upon entering, Old Luan Tao, his jowls drooping, wore a fierce expression as he immediately began berating Luan Yi, “You’ve gotten yourself into quite the affair!”

Luan Yi knew well that his grandfather’s bark was worse than his bite, and that he was quite concerned about his reputation. So, with a beaming smile, Luan Yi greeted him, serving tea and pouring water, apologizing repeatedly. He explained that he had taken the liberty of opening the Rising Phoenix Pavilion and establishing the Yi Mu Workshop only because he feared his grandfather would worry about his studies. “However…” he added, turning to his father, “Father was informed about my business ventures, but he did not grant permission at the time.”

Clearly, Luan Miao had not mentioned Luan Yi’s request for funds to Old Luan Tao. Hearing this, Old Luan Tao shot him a glare, making Luan Miao visibly uneasy.

Old Luan Tao then wandered about the Rising Phoenix Pavilion, hands clasped behind his back, still wearing his perennial deadpan expression, though Luan Yi could tell he was secretly delighted.

With his back to Luan Yi, Old Luan Tao asked, “Your studies haven’t suffered, have they?”

“No, Grandfather.”

“Good! As I expected,” Old Luan Tao replied, finding a chair and sitting grandly. “Now, how will you compensate me?”

“Compensate?” Luan Yi was puzzled. With the success of the Rising Phoenix Pavilion and the Yi Mu Workshop, their income had surpassed twenty thousand coins a month, and he had already repaid his mother, principal and interest. What compensation was due? “I beg Grandfather’s guidance.”

“You’ve lured all my customers from the Wooden Brocade Residence to your pavilion, causing my business to lose money every month. Shouldn’t you compensate me?” Old Luan Tao’s eyes twinkled cunningly as he spoke.

Luan Yi was at a loss. “Indeed, I was wrong. How should I make amends?”

“How should I know?” Old Luan Tao stroked his beard, playing the rogue. “No matter what, you must bring the Wooden Brocade Residence back to life.”

At those words, Luan Yi’s eyes lit up. The meaning was clear—his grandfather wanted him to take over the management of the Wooden Brocade Residence and turn its losses into profits. Luan Yi quickly bowed, promising not to disappoint, and to restore the establishment as soon as possible.

Only then did Old Luan Tao show a trace of a smile, instructing Luan Yi to take over the business promptly.

After leaving the Rising Phoenix Pavilion, Old Luan Tao went to inspect the Yi Mu Workshop. Clearly, he was more interested in the luxury furnishings, a business untouched by the Luan family until now. He immediately offered to invest one hundred thousand coins, partnering with Luan Yi to double the scale of operations.

To stumble upon such fortune from the skies, Luan Yi was overjoyed—he had many plans in need of funding. Moreover, he understood that this investment was not only to expand the workshop, but also to help him rescue the Wooden Brocade Residence.

A warm current of gratitude surged through Luan Yi’s heart.

In the end, Old Luan Tao did not stay for a meal at the Rising Phoenix Pavilion. After a brisk tour, he hurried back to Yangzhai. As his carriage rolled away, it stopped suddenly a dozen steps from the gate. The curtain lifted, and Old Luan Tao leaned out, shouting sternly to Luan Yi, “No matter whether you become a divine talent, a prodigy, or something else, you are still my grandson!” With that, the carriage rattled off.

“What a strange old man!” Luan Yi chuckled to himself, relishing the warmth of family.

Yet, his grandfather’s parting challenge now weighed on him—how to revive the Wooden Brocade Residence? Luan Yi gathered Guo Jia, Shan Fu, and the others to discuss.

Guo Jia immediately suggested, “Why not just turn the Wooden Brocade Residence into another Rising Phoenix Pavilion?”

Luan Yi shook his head firmly. The county was only so big; the clientele limited. Two identical establishments would cannibalize each other, creating fierce competition. Competing with oneself was sheer folly. The Rising Phoenix Pavilion model would not work for the Wooden Brocade Residence.

So what to do? As Luan Yi flipped through the ledgers, he noticed that from this month, the Rising Phoenix Pavilion’s profits had dropped significantly. He asked Manager Pang if this was due to poor service, declining food quality, or something else.

Manager Pang explained, “Master, it is now the seventh month and the weather is turning cold. Guests find the courtyard seating too chilly and prefer to sit indoors, leaving the outdoor seats empty. As a result, the number of dining tables in use has dropped, and so have earnings.”

Luan Yi immediately realized his oversight—when designing the pavilion, he had focused on aesthetics and forgotten about seasonal changes. Now, the courtyard seats were wasted, which ran counter to the merchant’s creed of maximizing profit. He needed to find a dish suited to winter—one both delicious and warming.

Suddenly, inspiration struck—hotpot! “Why hadn’t I thought of this before?”

However, Luan Yi did not intend to introduce hotpot to the Rising Phoenix Pavilion, but rather to make it the centerpiece of the Wooden Brocade Residence. This way, the pavilion would remain an upscale restaurant, and the residence would become a hotpot haven, each catering to different needs and reducing direct competition. As for the cold in the pavilion’s courtyard, he would find other solutions, such as adding more braziers.

Without delay, Luan Yi rushed to his study to sketch out a hotpot concept, then explained the design in detail to Xi Zhicai, who refined and embellished it. Once the drawings were complete, Luan Yi anxiously urged Luan Fu to ready the carriage. They hurried into town before the city gates closed and commissioned the blacksmith to begin work.

They then inspected the Wooden Brocade Residence. It had a solid foundation, complete facilities, and tasteful decor, needing only minor upgrades and the addition of dining tables and chairs.

In the following days, Luan Yi and his friends devoted themselves to the project. A month later, when the newly renovated Wooden Brocade Residence opened, local gentry vied to attend, the lively scene a stark contrast to the lonely opening of the Rising Phoenix Pavilion months prior.

Luan Yi couldn’t help but scoff inwardly. When we were unknown, you looked down on us. Now that we are renowned as prodigies, you scramble to curry favor. Such is the way of the world.

Hotpot, a novelty in this era, coupled with the reputation of the Rising Phoenix Pavilion, was an instant hit. Patrons flocked to taste it. The Wooden Brocade Residence bustled with steam and the aroma of lamb filled the streets.

Overnight, the Wooden Brocade Residence was revived.

Old Luan Tao was so elated that he couldn’t sleep all night—not because the business was profitable, for the Luan family was wealthy and a single tavern’s losses were negligible. Rather, he was proud that his grandson had turned the situation around so swiftly. “Yi’er truly is a genius. No, a divine talent, a prodigy! Hahaha!”

As hotpot grew popular, Luan Yi and his companions, after months of toil, could finally relax and leave the business in the hands of their managers, living the leisurely life of prosperous heirs.

With his newfound leisure, Luan Yi finished reading the set of “Guanzi” his grandfather had given him. During his study, he discovered a serious problem. Though he had read “Guanzi” in his previous life, upon rereading it now, it felt utterly unfamiliar, as if he had never seen it before. The words were slightly different, but the content was the same. Why was this?

There was only one answer: Luan Yi was forgetting. His ever-increasing store of new knowledge was crowding out precious memories from his past life, many of which could not be lost—especially the advanced ideas and technical skills of later philosophers.

Alarmed, Luan Yi resolved to halt this decline. There was only one solution: to record the most valuable things still remaining in his mind.

But after much soul-searching, he realized in frustration that he didn’t even know where to begin; he simply couldn’t write them out. This vexed Xue Che for quite some time.

Soon, however, he found another solution—if he couldn’t write, he could copy! So, by recalling and revising, and drawing upon the seminal work of Adam Smith, the Scottish economist and philosopher lauded as the father of modern economics, he produced his first book in this era—“The Origin of Wealth.”