Shared Dining and Separate Dining

Over here, Luan Yi was painting with gusto, while on the other side, Guo Jia and the others were waking up one by one. Rubbing their bleary eyes, they shuffled over to the desk and gathered around the sketch, staring at it for a while, unable to make sense of what Luan Yi was drawing. Yet none dared disturb him. Only when Luan Yi put down his brush did they ask, “Yi, what is this with all the lines and boxes? What are you drawing?”

“You mean you don’t know?” Luan Yi was at first surprised, but then resigned; of course they wouldn’t recognize these objects. He pointed to the items formed by lines and diamonds, and explained, “This is called a chair, and that is a table.”

“Chair?” Dan Fu raised his eyebrows, puzzled. “Yi, the legs on your table are awfully long!”

Luan Yi could only sigh. The Han dynasty hadn’t yet invented tables and chairs as seen in later eras, so it was no wonder Dan Fu and the others had no idea what they were. Bending his knees slightly, he mimed sitting in midair, and explained, “Not just the table legs—chair legs are long too. The chairs I designed are meant to be sat on like this. See? Arms stretched out, with the table in front, just like this.”

“Oh!” Mao Jie nodded, finally understanding. “But… wouldn’t sitting like this be uncomfortable?”

Luan Yi rolled his eyes. Sitting kneeling as you do is what’s truly uncomfortable! Not to mention it’s likely to make your legs bow. I’ve endured it for seven years, and I can’t stand it anymore. “You’ll find out soon enough. Sitting on a chair is much more comfortable than kneeling.”

Mao Jie raised another doubt. “But sitting this way doesn’t seem grounded, and if you’re on this thing—uh, chair—your body might lean, lacking proper posture. That could make it harder to connect with the way of Heaven.”

Luan Yi chuckled, secretly sighing at Mao Jie’s current obsession with the teachings of Huang Lao, now even invoking the way of Heaven. “Actually, that’s not so. I believe your words miss the mark, brother Jie. In my view, understanding the way of Heaven has nothing to do with kneeling; it is a matter of character. As the saying goes, ‘Sit or lie as nature dictates, and the way of Heaven shines in the heart.’ In this comfortable posture, the mind is purified, stray thoughts are banished, making it easier to comprehend the way of Heaven. So compared to mats and low tables, chairs and tables suit taverns better.”

“Excellent!” Guo Jia nodded vigorously, repeating Luan Yi’s phrase, “‘Sit or lie as nature dictates, and the way of Heaven shines in the heart.’ That makes sense—the way follows nature, the way follows nature!”

“There’s another question,” Dan Fu interjected. “Isn’t the table you drew a bit too small?”

“Small? How so? This square table is over seven feet across. Two people can sit side by side without issue. How could it be small?” Luan Yi responded in surprise.

“Think about it, Yi!” Dan Fu counted on his fingers. “A banquet needs at least four dishes per person, meaning four serving pots. Eight people per table—plus wine cups. How could so many dishes fit?”

Luan Yi understood that Dan Fu referred to individual servings. In ancient China, meals were served separately, much like Western dining: each person had a small table with their own set of dishes, eating their own food, occasionally toasting each other and conversing. In modern terms, this method is more hygienic and healthy, but its drawbacks are obvious. First, it requires a table for each diner, taking up much more space—which is impractical for a tavern, where every inch of floor must be efficiently used. Second, individual servings create a sense of separation, less convivial than sharing a meal at one table.

Luan Yi organized his thoughts and explained that the large table was not for separate servings, but for gathering everyone to share the same dishes. He then outlined three advantages of this dining method: “First, the tavern need not provide as many tables or mats, saving space and accommodating more guests, which benefits the business. Second, sharing a table allows for a greater variety of dishes, not limited to four per table as before; customers can sample more delicacies and will surely be left wanting more. Third, sharing a meal means tasting all flavors together—sweet or bitter, all are experienced as one. Brotherhood is forged here, the meaning of sharing fortune and hardship embodied. With these three points, I ask you all: which is better, individual serving or communal dining?”

“Sharing a meal, tasting all flavors together? Sharing fortune and hardship?” Dan Fu fell into deep thought, his eyes suddenly lighting up as he replied resolutely, “Naturally, communal dining is superior. Yi, you are truly gifted, to have thought of all this.”

Luan Yi waved his hands humbly, “How could I deserve the praise of ‘great talent’? It was just a whim, a small idea.”

“Good, then let’s do as you say.” Mao Jie, who had previously looked down on commerce, now realized after Luan Yi’s explanation that business was not as base as he’d imagined; on the contrary, it was quite meaningful. Even something as trivial as posture and dining method could contain so much wisdom about human affairs. He volunteered, “So what do you need us to do?”

Luan Yi pondered, then said, “Here’s the thing—my drawing skills are crude, good for a sketch, but lacking for a proper design. Brother Mao’s brushwork is the best among us; would you draw a few tables and chairs to my specifications, adding some carved details in the corners to make them more ornate?”

“That’s easy enough.” Mao Jie’s confidence was clear when it came to painting.

“What about me?” Guo Jia piped up.

Luan Yi smiled and waved him off, “After breakfast, Old Xi will go into town to see if he can rent two cheap courtyards—one for a workshop to make the tables and chairs Mao draws, the other for lodgings for the tavern and workshop staff.”

Xi Zhicai nodded in agreement.

“And me?” The youngest, Guo Jia, anxiously scratched his head.

“Don’t worry, you have the most important task.” Luan Yi smiled. “In the coming days, Luan Fu will take you to recruit cooks, laborers, and carpenters from all the counties of Yingchuan. Remember to pay close attention to their character first, then their cleverness. Do you understand?”

“Well…” Guo Jia looked troubled. “Character and cleverness are hidden inside—how am I supposed to judge? Please teach me, Yi.”

Luan Yi’s smile deepened. “Have you forgotten? We’re opening this tavern to put our learning into practice; to do so, you must rely on your own understanding. But I can remind you: the knowledge Master Cen taught you can help solve this problem. Just use your mind and heart.”

Though Guo Jia was only six, his extraordinary intelligence showed in subtle ways, giving Luan Yi absolute confidence that the child prodigy would have no trouble with the task.

Yawning, Luan Yi added, “As for me… I’ve been busy all night and am dead tired. I need a nap.” With that, he flopped onto the large mat and slept soundly.

When Luan Yi awoke, dusk had already fallen. The team of craftsmen Luan Fu had found were waiting outside.

Following Luan Yi’s instructions, Luan Fu had recruited three teams of craftsmen. Luan Yi met them one by one, inquiring about prices and timelines. The first team entered, saw the client was a child, and immediately demanded fifteen thousand coins for the project.

Luan Yi knew they were asking an outrageous price, paid no heed to their assurances that “the price is negotiable,” and promptly sent them away.

Next, he told the second team that the first had offered to do the job for seventy-five coins, which he had refused, hoping for a fairer price.

The second foreman frowned bitterly, saying seventy-five was too little, no profit to be made—it couldn’t go any lower, and so forth.

Luan Yi didn’t bother with him and decisively said, “Luan Fu, show them out.”

The foreman hastily pleaded, “Wait, young master, don’t be upset. We can negotiate. How about this—I'll lower it: seventy coins, is that acceptable?”

Luan Yi drooped his eyelids and called out again, “Aren’t you going to see him out?”

Sweating profusely, the foreman protested. Times were hard, few people were building or renovating, and landing such a big project was rare. “How about sixty-five coins? I really can’t go any lower.”

Luan Yi glanced at the foreman’s expression, seeing his genuine distress, but still felt sixty-five wasn’t the true bottom. He called again, “Luan Fu, what are you waiting for? Show them out.”

Luan Fu hurried in and made a polite gesture, indicating the foreman should leave. The foreman hesitated, lingered, taking two steps and turning back repeatedly, before finally biting his lip and blurting out at the doorway, “Young master, how about sixty coins?”

Luan Yi shook his head as always, firmly instructing Luan Fu to send him out.

The foreman from the third team entered. Luan Yi got straight to the point: his project was fifty coins—would they accept?

The foreman’s face scrunched up, earnestly saying that fifty was impossible. Just the materials would cost more than thirty coins, leaving barely anything for the workers.

Luan Yi asked, “Then name your price. But I’ll say this: the last guy offered sixty—I sent him away.”

This foreman was equally conflicted, scratching his head in thought. After a moment, he replied with difficulty, “How about fifty-eight coins?”

“Fifty-five, no more,” Luan Yi said, decisive as a blade.

The foreman frowned even more deeply. “How about fifty-seven? Young master, it’s hard for the brothers to get work. If you could spare those extra two coins, it would really help us out.”

If there was one thing Luan Yi couldn’t stand, it was someone pleading poverty with him. He immediately agreed, “Fine! I’ll give you sixty coins. But you must work hard and finish quickly.”

The foreman thanked him profusely, assuring him that the project was straightforward—main construction would be done in two months. The carved details on the windows, railings, and pillars would take more time; he only had two carpenters, both highly skilled, but it would still take three months to complete.

Seeing the foreman’s sincerity, Luan Yi raised no objections, only urging them to finish as quickly as possible.