Chapter 11: Planting Seeds for a Harvest

Some dreams are like plants—you water them, nurture them, and wait for them to bloom. Others are like weeds: they grow on their own, mostly in places you didn’t want them. My tavern, however, was a mix of both. It had all the makings of a dream, but no roots yet. And roots, in this case, meant customers.

Time passed since Mei Yun’s room was built beside the courtyard kitchen. The tavern was almost ready to open, yet its doors remained shut, the final step eluding me: customers. I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. Everything was in place—the warm wood tones of the tavern, the soft glow of oil lamps, and the irresistible allure of freshly cooked meals—but no one knew this place even existed.

"All dressed up and nowhere to go," I muttered as I stared at the empty courtyard. It was a beautiful day, with sunlight filtering through the trees, casting playful shadows on the cobblestones. Yet the stillness of the place gnawed at me.

Mei Yun emerged from the storeroom carrying a sack of rice. Despite her delicate frame, she moved with practiced ease, her ponytail swaying as she walked. "What are you thinking tavarn master," she said, setting the sack down with a light thud.

"I'm thinking," I corrected, crossing my arms.

"You always call it that," she teased, brushing her hands clean. "But at the end it goes as the way you described"

“ Well! Those are coincidence and this time it's different, the tavern looks great. The food is great—if I may say so myself—but what’s the point if no one comes to see it?” I gestured dramatically at the empty space, as if inviting an invisible audience to agree.

Mei Yun gave a small laugh. “Have you tried telling people about it?”

“I’ve mentioned it to a few villagers,” I said, scratching the back of my neck. “But let’s be honest—who’s going to hike up a mountain just because some guy says his cooking is good?”

She tilted her head, thoughtful. “Sometimes, it’s not about convincing everyone at once. Start with a few people. If they like it, they’ll tell others, and if you need me do something just tell me - I'll do my utmost best.”

"Fair point,” I said, though something about her tone made me raise an eyebrow. “What’s on your mind? You’re thinking something.”

Her lips curved into a mysterious smile. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

Her lips curved into a small smile.

But I wasn’t convinced.

In truth, Mei Yun believed the tavern didn’t need much advertising. She had experienced my cooking firsthand, and the food alone was enough to draw people in. Add to that the serene ambiance of the mountain setting, and she was certain that once someone visited, they’d come back. But Mei Yun chose not to voice her thoughts. She knew I enjoyed solving problems in my own way, even if it took longer.

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After breakfast, I decided to take Mei Yun’s advice and visit the village to spread the word. The walk down the mountain was as peaceful as ever. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of pine and wildflowers. Birds chirped overhead, and sunlight streamed through the trees in golden shafts.

When I arrived, the village was already alive with activity. Merchants shouted about their wares, children darted through the streets, and the smell of fresh bread wafted from a nearby bakery.

My first stop was the butcher’s shop, where I had previously made a deal for fresh meat. The owner, a burly man with a permanent scowl, was trimming fat from a large slab of pork when I walked in.

“Well, look who’s back,” he said gruffly, glancing up.

“I’m not here for meat today,” I said with a smile. “Just wanted to let you know my tavern’s opening in two days.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A tavern? Up on the mountain? Bit out of the way, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” I admitted. “But I think the food will make it worth the trip.”

He grunted, his version of a polite response. “Good luck, then. If it’s as good as you claim, maybe I’ll stop by someday.”

Leaving the butcher’s shop, I spent the next few hours wandering the village. I spoke to shopkeepers, chatted with passersby, and tried to build some buzz about the tavern. But as the sun climbed higher in the sky, a nagging thought crept into my mind: Even if people are interested, will they really hike up the mountain just for a meal?

As I sat on a bench near the town square, watching the bustling activity around me, my gaze landed on a group of children playing tag. Their laughter echoed through the air, bright and unrestrained.

And then, inspiration struck.

If you want a story to spread, start with those who love to tell it.

Children were natural storytellers. They would exaggerate, embellish, and talk about every detail with unbridled enthusiasm. If I invited them to the tavern for a meal, they’d talk about it for days—maybe even weeks.

I chuckled to myself. “Feeding children to feed the future. Who knew running a tavern would turn me into a philosopher?”

“Genius,” I muttered to myself, a grin spreading across my face.

I approached the group of children, who stopped their game to stare at me with wide eyes. “Hello there,” I said, crouching to their level.

A boy with a missing tooth stepped forward, eyeing me warily. “Who are you?”

“I’m opening a tavern up on the mountain,” I said with a friendly smile. “How would you like to be my first guests?”

Their eyes lit up. “Really?!” one of them exclaimed.

“Really,” I confirmed. “But there’s one rule. After you’ve eaten, you have to tell everyone in the village about it.”

They nodded eagerly, chattering amongst themselves about the free meal.

As I made my way back up the mountain, the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Despite the challenges, a sense of satisfaction settled over me. Even if only a handful of villagers came to the tavern after hearing the children’s stories, it would be a start.

That evening, Mei Yun and I sat down for dinner in the courtyard. The meal was simple: stir-fried vegetables, steamed rice, and a clear broth.

“I invited the village children to the tavern,” I said, breaking the silence.

Mei Yun raised an eyebrow. “Children?”

“They’re the best messengers,” I explained. “They’ll spread the word faster than we ever could.”

She chuckled. “You’re either a genius or completely mad.”

“Can’t I be both?”

She didn’t respond, but the amused glint in her eyes said enough.

As the stars began to appear overhead, I leaned back in my chair, staring up at the sky. “It’s strange,” I mused.

“What is?” Mei Yun asked, her tone curious.

“Nothing! .”

I was was silent for a moment before saying, “Sometimes, the best paths are the ones we don’t plan. They’re the ones we stumble upon.”

My words lingered in the air, resonating deeply. The tavern wasn’t just a place for food. I wanted it to become something more—a space for stories, connections, and maybe even a little magic.