Chapter 280

Perhaps it was the loosening of a knot in their hearts, but the three of them spoke at length about the past—rising early to sell buns, working the fields, the trivialities of neighbors. Most often, they recalled the time their father nearly set the house on fire. In hindsight, those days were not only hardship. Tacitly, none mentioned the events of their journey from the capital back to the village; those days had been truly bitter, too painful for anyone to revisit.

Children cannot endure a sleepless night. Seeing the three youngsters nodding off, they sent them to the back rooms to sleep. Wang Xiujin and his eldest sister burned more paper offerings while the servants brought plain rice, though none had the appetite to eat. Wang Xiubo told his younger siblings to rest; after some thought, Wang Xiujin asked his sister to sleep as well, reasoning that men could bear fatigue better than women. Wang Xiuyun, indeed exhausted, did not insist on staying, allowing her husband to remain—only for Wang Xiubo to refuse. Song Hongyi, aware of his awkward position, did not linger but accompanied his wife to rest.

Inside the mourning hall, the two brothers sat in silence, only rising occasionally to burn paper or pace the floor. Thus passed the first night. At dawn, members of the Chun family arrived and stayed by their side. Wang Xiujin seized a brief moment to nap. After morning court, emissaries from many households came to pay their respects. Li Linshan brought Yachang to bow and burn paper; Yachang, stepping into his older brother's shoes, patted their shoulders and repeated, “Don’t cry, Yachang will stay with you from now on.” Wang Xiubo’s nose stung; after exchanging a few words with Li Linshan, he sent him off to find Yin Di with the child.

Wang Xiujin’s sleep was shallow. With so many visitors these days, the servants were busy, and the comings and goings made it impossible to guarantee someone wouldn’t slip in and cause trouble. When he heard the door open, Wang Xiujin opened his eyes, then closed them again upon recognizing a familiar footfall. He was truly tired; staying awake through a night of mourning was not the same as burning the midnight oil thinking. His body felt as though rust had invaded every joint; all he desired was a little more rest.

Yachang, seeing his little father asleep, tiptoed to the bedside, intending to climb up and sleep beside him. Li Linshan scooped up his son, not allowing him to disturb Wang Xiujin’s rest. Looking at the fatigue etched on Wang Xiujin’s face, Li Linshan was deeply pained. He sat quietly by the bed, watching the sleeping man, and were it not for fear of waking him, Li Linshan would have taken Wang Xiujin’s hand—doing nothing, only holding it.

Wang Xiujin, never truly asleep, felt awkward under Li Linshan’s intense gaze and sat up. Before he could speak, Yachang piped up, “Little father is awake, hug!”

“Did you sleep last night?” Wang Xiujin reached for his son and turned to Li Linshan. Since his father hadn’t returned home that night, he didn’t know whether Li Linshan had left the palace.

“I returned after morning court; I’ll have to go to the barracks soon, there are matters to handle.” The emperor had tasked him with training the navy, and his military rank had risen from general to commander. This wasn’t the time to mention it; it could wait until he returned home. “You should rest a bit more. I’ll take Yachang to pay respects to mother.”

“I’ll go with you. I have things to attend to today.” Wang Xiujin patted his son; Yachang obediently slid off his little father’s lap and stood quietly beside his father, watching as Wang Xiujin swiftly dressed. In moments, he was ready. He tied his hair carelessly, then looked to Li Linshan and Yachang. “Have you eaten breakfast?”

“We have.” Li Linshan tugged at Wang Xiujin’s collar.

Wang Xiujin nodded. He hadn’t eaten yet; he’d have the servants send some food to his mother’s quarters. He would first visit the mourning hall to speak with his elder brother, then go to his mother, returning in the evening. Originally, he planned to meet the accounting staff at the new building today, then visit the Censorate to discuss the shipyard with his father—that could wait until evening. There were many scattered tasks, seemingly easy to postpone, but the more they were pushed back, the greater the accumulation. Better to do what could be done early.

Li Linshan first brought Yachang to pay respects to Madam Wang, then sent Yachang to the Censorate before going about his own business. Wang Xiujin left a little later, heading to the new academy for a brief meeting with the accounting staff, calculating the year’s profits and handing over the banknotes he'd brought.

“There’s something odd about the accounts at the shop in Liangzhou. We’ve checked several times but can’t pinpoint the issue. It just feels wrong, so I brought the ledger back.”

Wang Xiujin frowned. He never underestimated the wisdom of the ancients—no sooner had the new bookkeeping method been introduced than someone found a way to falsify records. Why apply such cunning here? He leafed through the ledger and asked for pen and paper, along with a ruler. A teacher handed him an abacus. Wang Xiujin calculated each page—at a minor section, he smiled coldly. “Here, and possibly further on. Check carefully.” They’d marked the price of beans ten times higher than actual, but the balance above and below showed no discrepancy, and the losses were vaguely noted. Even a careful reader might miss it; truly, it was well hidden. “From now on, record the price of every item at every location. Differences in geography allow for price fluctuation, but tenfold discrepancies like this—”

“Master, we were careless. Please punish us.”

“Just exploiting loopholes. Without knowledge of the market, no one would notice, but punishment is still warranted. The staff at this shop will have their bonuses halved this year. Handle the matter thoroughly before the New Year.” Wang Xiujin had already decided to shut down the shop and crab-field rice operations in Liangzhou. Though it would affect some incomes, they'd earned plenty in recent years. He planned to gradually close all contract villages except Wang Village, consolidating the grain shops and making Wang Village’s crab-field rice a specialty product. He would not prevent others from cultivating crab-field rice nor dictate to whom they sold, but he would lower the purchasing price for independent farmers; crab-field rice would still fetch more than common rice, but at a reduced premium. This was his initial plan, but he would discuss specifics with Manager Wang before making a final decision.

Wang Xiujin lingered at the new building for a while, then visited the textile workshop and nearby manufactory. The sentry at the gate opened it immediately for him. Wang Xiujin, ever proper, signed the log before entering. The workshop was bustling, especially with female workers, none wasting time in idle chatter—everyone eager to complete one more piece for a little extra income. He moved on to the dye works, where the large factory was busy as ever, newly dyed fabrics hanging high in vibrant colors.

The steward, hearing of Wang Xiujin’s arrival, hurried to greet him and ask for instructions. Wang Xiujin reviewed the documents transferred from the shops and inspected the finished goods. “Though orders increase at year’s end, do not sacrifice quality for speed. No consecutive shifts for the workers—if anything happens, it will not end well. Wages must not be cut, nor meals skimped.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” the steward replied repeatedly.

Wang Xiujin did not linger; upon exiting, a servant quietly informed him that the military workshop’s steward had sent for him. He took a carriage directly there. On arrival, seeing the steward’s smiling face, Wang Xiujin stepped forward. “Xiao, have you come upon some good news?”

“Good news, indeed, the best! The cannon is finished,” Xiao could not hide his pride. “General Li and several other generals will be here soon; the test firing will be held on the back hill.”

Wang Xiujin raised an eyebrow. He’d only seen the plans yesterday, and now the cannon was ready—he was intrigued. He followed the guide toward the back hill, asking who had already arrived.

“The Fourth Prince,” the guide replied. Though not often in contact, he knew Wang Xiujin to be amiable and generous. Most workshop laborers were palace attendants, sent out when they aged or were no longer favored, often dying alone and childless; their families had sent them to the palace for money and were rarely willing to support them after.

Hearing “Fourth Prince,” Wang Xiujin paused for a moment, then continued calmly. At the test site, he paid respects to the Fourth Prince, who waved him close. “By chance, I was here when I heard about the test firing, so I stayed to watch. I’ll report the progress to Father upon return.” The Fourth Prince greeted Wang Xiujin cheerfully. “This time I left hastily and brought nothing for you. When you’re free, come to my estate for hotpot?”

Wang Xiujin readily agreed, though privately he wondered—if the Fourth Prince brought nothing, he’d have to host in return. But he could hardly refuse; and after all, he was exhausted in body and spirit—it would be good to replenish himself.

The Fourth Prince, aware of the Wang family’s circumstances, naturally wouldn’t schedule anything soon, and shifted the conversation. “I heard the shipyard has been entrusted to you. That’s fitting. The previous manager—these years, not a single ship to sea, but bold when demanding funds.” He didn’t mention that the former manager had been imprisoned by the Ministry of Justice, his house raided for boxes of silver and dozens of banknotes, not to mention countless precious items.

Wang Xiujin dared not respond, but listened respectfully. In different stations, one could not return to the carefree conversations of the past.

Soon, several generals arrived, each saluting the Fourth Prince. Wang Xiujin had already retreated to the rear, bowing to the elder generals of higher rank after the group saluted. The old generals waved him off and instructed the steward to begin.

When the cannon was brought out, it looked heavy and cumbersome. The steward began explaining the materials used for the barrel, how many people had hammered it, and the gunpowder in the shell. A burly man lit the fuse, and as it burned, every spectator held their breath, fearing their breath might extinguish the flame.

Wang Xiujin observed the cannon; though unfamiliar with its metal, he had to admit its appearance resembled the earliest cannons he’d seen in history books. It sat on two mounts, stabilized by two strong men. At the instant of firing, the recoil knocked both men flat, while the shell burst upon landing, scattering frozen earth and clods in every direction.

Estimating the distance from the cannon to the crater—several hundred meters—it was not remarkable in absolute terms, but for a first test, it was impressive. The generals hurried to inspect the crater; Wang Xiujin followed. It was deep and wide. “Are there more shells?”

“No, only this one,” replied the steward, puzzled by Wang Xiujin’s question.

“Next time, place objects of similar weight to a person at various spots to see how far they’re thrown,” Wang Xiujin suggested. “Xiao, please measure the distance and record it. That way, you’ll have a comparison for future tests.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Xiao promptly ordered the measurement. Wang Xiujin approached the cannon, touched its barrel, and raised an eyebrow—it wasn’t hot. The material, unfamiliar to him, was quite surprising. The friction from firing should have created considerable heat, yet the barrel was cool. Stroking his chin, Wang Xiujin considered the feasibility of mounting such a cannon on a ship—provided it could explode underwater and not misfire.

After the test, Wang Xiujin could not leave before those of higher rank; otherwise, rumors would spread and he’d never have peace. The Fourth Prince did not stay long; after praising the results and collecting some data, he departed with his entourage. Wang Xiujin accompanied the old generals around the workshop, testing a few smaller items. When they departed, he was about to leave himself, only to be stopped by Xiao.

Xiao had no other business, merely wanting to express his gratitude. Without Wang Xiujin’s advice to record data, even with today’s success, he would have been criticized for incomplete procedures. There were many watching his position.

Wang Xiujin waved it off—such a minor matter hardly warranted thanks. “If possible, Xiao, could you test firing into water at your next opportunity? See if it explodes.”

Xiao readily agreed; even without Wang Xiujin’s suggestion, they would have tested it eventually. Next time, they would try more, considering all terrain and conditions.

Wang Xiujin glanced at the sky and checked the time; he could not stay longer and took his leave. Xiao, knowing Wang Xiujin was busy, did not detain him, personally seeing him to the door and watching as he departed before turning back.