Chapter 016: Cruel Hands Crush the Blossom (First Update, Please Vote!)

Wei Ba spent half an hour in the study before hurrying to the workshop. The stonemasons picked out by Steward Chen were indeed skilled; in just two hours, they had carved two stone plates and were already testing the printing of forms. Even difficulties Wei Ba hadn’t anticipated were cleverly resolved by them.

Looking at the freshly printed forms, Wei Ba was thoroughly satisfied.

“Steward Chen, what do you think?”

Chen’s face broke into a wide grin, the wrinkles on his forehead fading. “I never imagined it could be done this way. From now on, our Wei family will have yet another avenue for wealth.”

“Avenue for wealth?” Wei Ba didn’t immediately understand.

“Master, just think—these stone plates can print forms, so they can print other things as well. During the New Year, we could print auspicious couplets; at other times, we could print books. With this speed, which bookstore could compete with us? We could not only dominate the market in Hanzhong, but also open shops in Chengdu. Master, this method mustn’t be shared with others. If they learn it, we’ll lose our profits.”

Wei Ba was startled. Steward Chen, though ordinary in appearance, was quick-witted. He had instantly grasped the commercial potential of stone plate printing, and even had a sense of patent protection and secrecy.

“You’re right. But stone plates are too brittle; I still need to improve them. When I switch to wooden plates, they’ll be more durable and much lighter.” Wei Ba watched the increasingly skilled printers. “Steward Chen, how many can you produce by tomorrow night?”

Chen stroked his sparse whiskers, pondering. “They’re all first-timers, not yet fully proficient—papers often tear. Even if all the stone plates are carved and used together, by tomorrow night we’ll probably only have fourteen or fifteen thousand sheets.”

Wei Ba frowned. “What should we do, then?”

“No matter,” Chen replied confidently. “Master, rest assured. You didn’t say delivery must happen tomorrow night, but rather the morning after. With another night, twenty thousand sheets will be more than enough. If you’re still worried, I can have them carve more plates; we have plenty of hands, and can certainly guarantee timely delivery.”

Wei Ba was relieved. He patted Chen’s shoulder. “If this comes together, you’ll have rendered great service. I’ll make sure Father and Madam know of it.”

Chen smiled even more broadly. “Thank you, Master, thank you.”

Seeing the printing progressing smoothly, Wei Ba left the print shop for the forge. The three master smiths who came with him were directing a group of Wei family smiths, using techniques gleaned from Mianyang’s forge to modify tools and furnaces. Though sweating profusely, their bright eyes and booming voices showed their satisfaction with the Wei family’s conditions. It was only natural; these retainers, though not much different from house slaves, were mostly related by blood, and many had sons fighting in the army. Wei Yan depended on their merits, and treated them far better than the government did its official slaves.

Seeing the workshop’s facilities so complete, Wei Ba was delighted. With such cooperation, he could easily experiment with new ideas. He called the forge steward and instructed, “Everyone, work hard and learn from the master smiths. Prepare extra iron and forge some iron hoes first…”

“Iron hoes first? Won’t that delay the weapon production?” Huan’er lifted her skirt carefully, avoiding puddles and iron scraps, tiptoeing over. Seeing Wei Ba looking at her, her face flushed; she quickly dropped her skirt and placed her hands demurely before her. “With war imminent, weapons are most important. Farm tools should wait. What does Master Ba think?”

Wei Ba sighed in regret. Huan’er was not unattractive, and clever enough, but her stern face all day was tiresome. He smiled faintly. “That’s true, but there’s more to the arrangement. Spring plowing is underway; new farm tools will be useful immediately, while weapons are not urgent. Though war is near, it won’t break out for three or five months, and even if there are skirmishes, the household surely has reserves. Why rush new weapons?”

Huan’er’s eyes flickered, ready to argue, but Wei Ba continued, “Besides, we’ve just found a better method. If we forge weapons by this new method, they’ll be sharper and their performance will improve. Wouldn’t better weapons be preferable?”

Huan’er was abruptly cut off, feeling frustrated. She had intended to counter him, but upon hearing his claim of forging superior weapons, she swallowed her retort. The Wei family’s reputation rested on martial prowess; she understood the importance of quality arms. If she interfered, not only would Master Wei Yan be angry, even Madam would be displeased.

She stared at Wei Ba for a long moment, increasingly feeling he was not the same person she remembered. Previously, Wei Ba had been weak, unable even to speak to her properly, and as he grew older, his gaze had grown greedy—yet never dared show it before her, cowed by Madam’s authority. Now, he could calmly meet her gaze, and there was no longer timid greed in his eyes, but a trace of… regret. The feeling made Huan’er uncomfortable, and being silenced only worsened it.

She wanted to argue but could find no good reason. She opened her mouth several times, finally giving up. As she racked her brain for a way to regain some dignity, Wei Ba signaled to the master smith, who, oblivious, drew a glowing iron bar from the fire, raised his hammer high, and struck down hard.

A thunderous clang resounded. The smiths were unfazed, but Huan’er, unaccustomed to the forge, was startled, leaping back like a spring, stepping into a puddle and smearing her dress with dark iron water. She glared at the hapless smith, fury rising, about to scold him when Wei Ba interjected, “Careful with the furnace.”

Only then did Huan’er feel the heat on her back, realizing she’d gotten too close. She stepped forward, turned to check, and caught the scent of scorched silk—her dress was almost certainly burning. Panic-stricken, she began circling herself like a cat chasing its tail.

“Fire… fire…” Huan’er felt the heat, tears welling, unable to maintain her composure, crying out, “Help me put it out!”

The smiths clustered together, rubbing their hands, but none dared approach. The newcomers, of course, wouldn’t; even the household men hesitated. She was Madam’s confidante—who’d dare slap her with their filthy hands? They exchanged glances, unable to find a solution, when Wei Ba strode forward, seized Huan’er’s arm, and unhesitatingly plunged her into the quenching trough.

The fire was extinguished; Huan’er was soaked through, and swallowed some dirty water. Though it was spring and her clothing wasn’t thin, the water made it cling tightly, revealing her curves. Her elaborate hairstyle drooped, water trickling down her face, transforming the once proud peacock into a bedraggled chicken, as wretched as could be.

“You…” Huan’er was furious, unable to control herself, all Madam’s lessons forgotten. She pointed a trembling finger at Wei Ba’s smiling face, “You…”

But as she spoke, Wei Ba’s expression changed; he seized her delicate finger and spoke coldly, “Me what?”

Seeing his fierce demeanor, Huan’er remembered how Wei Ba had broken Steward Zhang’s finger just hours earlier, and went pale. She tried to pull back, but his grip was firm. Realizing her finger might be broken, she dared not be arrogant, tears brimming as she looked at Wei Ba, wanting to plead but unable to utter a word of submission.

In this manor, she had never needed to beg anyone, especially not Wei Ba, whom she’d always dismissed.

“What do you want to say?” Wei Ba looked at her with a half-smile. To Huan’er, his smile was hateful, sinister. She stammered, feeling his grip tighten and the pain intensify. At last, she abandoned her pride, fell to her knees with a splash, and sobbed, “Master, I was wrong—please be magnanimous and spare me.”

“Hmph!” Wei Ba slowly released her, turned away, and arrogantly waved his sleeve. “Go. Tell Madam what happened. I’m sure she’ll give you a fair outcome. We’re about to start forging new farm tools; it’ll be noisy. If you’re not used to it, don’t come again.”

Huan’er clutched her nearly broken finger to her chest, bowed, and fled in tears.

Steward Chen had watched silently. Once Huan’er left, he tugged Wei Ba’s sleeve, drawing him aside. “Master, you came back today and first punished Steward Zhang, now you’ve disciplined Huan’er. It’s satisfying, but it might damage Madam’s reputation. This… isn’t wise. If Madam holds it against you…”

——————Monday, requesting recommendations—a new book, even more in need of support. Three chapters today; please, grant me your strength!