Deep within the Liu Garden, an abandoned side chamber had been transformed into the Xu family’s makeshift "Institute of Mechanics."
Outside, a relentless drizzle fell, but inside, the air was thick with a dry heat that made one’s heart race.
Xu Qinghuan sat cross-legged before a pile of grime-covered wooden parts. Her once-exquisite silk gown had long since been reduced to a rag, her sleeves rolled up high to reveal forearms streaked with two black smudges of coal oil.
In her hand, she gripped an iron pry bar she had "borrowed" from a blacksmith’s shop, staring intently at the behemoth before her.
It was an incredibly complex wooden structure. The craftsmen of the Great Qian Dynasty prided themselves on mortise and tenon joinery—interlocking parts that were as ingenious as they were delicate. However, once the wood became damp and swollen, the mechanism would seize up as if it had been welded shut.
She had been wrestling with this thing for half an hour.
No luck.
The main drive shaft remained motionless, seemingly mocking her incompetence as a modern person.
"Clang!"
Qinghuan tossed the iron bar to the floor, her chest tight with frustration.
She knew exactly how valuable this thing was. Eight spindles, all driven by a single wheel. What was this? This was a nuclear weapon capable of grinding those old fossils at the Jiangning Weaving Bureau into the dust! This was the spark of the Industrial Revolution!
But right now, that spark was just a heap of waterlogged, rotten wood.
"Daughter, why don't we just call it a day?"
At the doorway, Xu Youde had dragged over a small stool, squeezing his portly frame into the doorframe while clutching an abacus. He craned his neck to peek inside, his fleshy face twitching.
"This piece of junk has been soaking at the bottom of a well for God knows how many years; it’s long since rotted. Even if we aren't short on cash, we’ve used up three pounds of lard just for lubrication this morning! Three pounds! Do you know how many plates of twice-cooked pork that could have made? Take your father's advice: chop it up for firewood. Old wood like this burns bright!"
Qinghuan ignored him. She picked up the iron tool and gave the axle two more taps.
Still that dead sound. Muffled, heavy, and stuck fast.
Just as Qinghuan was about to kick the machine over in a fit of rage, the voice of the butler, Li Sheng, drifted in from outside.
"Master, Miss."
Li Sheng pushed the door open, followed by a woman carrying a tea tray. It was Jinse, the woman who had previously managed the accounts at the Drunken Red Pavilion.
"The front courtyard is being demolished, so it’s dusty and crowded with workers. Miss Jinse is steady and was once an expert accountant. I took the liberty of bringing her to the inner courtyard to serve you and help organize the inventory of the 'treasures' we fished out of the well."
Li Sheng’s arrangement was perfectly measured. Most of the newly purchased girls were trembling with fear, but someone like Jinse, who had seen the world, could keep her composure and was fit to be kept close for use.
Jinse kept her eyes lowered, gently placing the tea tray on the dust-covered table. "Master, Miss, please have some hot tea to soothe your spirits."
Her movements were brisk, her gaze respectful; she clearly knew her place.
The fire in Qinghuan’s heart died down slightly. Just as she picked up her teacup, she noticed Jinse tidying up the debris on the floor. As Jinse’s gaze accidentally brushed past the pile of wooden gears scattered on the ground, her movements suddenly faltered.
"Eh?"
It was a very soft sound of confusion.
Qinghuan’s ears were sharp. She immediately set down her cup. "What is it?"
Jinse panicked slightly, quickly standing with her hands at her sides. "Forgive my rudeness, Miss. It’s just... I feel like the pattern on that 'wooden wheel' looks somewhat familiar."
She pointed to a peculiarly constructed linkage shaft on the floor.
"Familiar?" Qinghuan narrowed her eyes, her voice carrying a hint of pressure. "Where have you seen it?"
This was a product far ahead of its time. If such things were common in the Drunken Red Pavilion, the madam would have unified the southern textile industry long ago; why would she bother running a brothel?
Jinse felt a chill under that gaze and hurried to explain. "I didn't see it in the Pavilion. It was... it was that strange girl who came back with us."
"Strange girl?"
"The one who never speaks, hates washing her face or combing her hair, and spends all her time picking up sticks from the kitchen to piece things together."
Jinse gestured with her hands. "The walls of her room are covered in drawings of these strange circles. The sisters in the Pavilion used to joke that she was the reincarnation of Lu Ban born into the wrong body. The madam used to whip her constantly, saying she was neglecting her duties and wasting firewood."
The air went still for a moment.
Qinghuan’s heart skipped a beat.
Drawing blueprints? Assembling parts? A buried technical genius?
"Li Sheng." Her voice was quiet, but it hummed with an excitement that made one’s skin tingle. "Go to the back courtyard."
"Bring that 'strange girl' to me."
"Now. Immediately. Even if you have to carry her, get her here!"
A few minutes later.
Xu Youde sat back down at the door, but this time he blocked the gap entirely, clutching a heavy wooden door bolt. He looked as if he wouldn't let a single fly through—if this machine really worked, it would be a family heirloom, and no outsider could be allowed a glimpse.
Qinghuan stood in the center of the room, watching the figure Li Sheng led inside.
Thin.
She was far too thin, like a bean sprout.
The oversized coarse cloth robe hung loosely on her frame. Her hair was a dull yellow, tied back in a haphazard bun. She kept her head low, revealing only a pale, pointed chin.
The most striking thing about her was her hands.
Unlike the other girls, whose fingers were like delicate scallion roots, this girl’s hands had thick knuckles. Her fingertips and palms were covered in callouses, and the backs of her hands were crisscrossed with tiny scars—medals of honor from years of working with wood splinters and blades.
"Cou... County Mistress."
Her voice was a bit raspy, and her body was trembling slightly, clearly terrified by the situation.
Qinghuan didn't waste words. She stepped aside, pointing to the corpse-like machine behind her.
"This thing. Can you fix it?"
The girl didn't dare look up, but her eyelids flickered as she took a quick glance.
Just one look.
Her huddled shoulders suddenly locked into place.
It was a strange sensation, like a starving person seeing a royal banquet, or a drunkard catching the scent of a century-old vintage. The fear was still there, but another, more powerful instinct overrode it.
She took two steps forward, even forgetting to bow.
The girl walked to the machine and reached out. Those rough hands gently stroked the slightly decayed grain of the wood. Her fingertips paused on the seized drive shaft, and she tapped it twice.
Thump. Thump.
The sound was dull.
"It’s not broken."
The girl suddenly spoke. Her voice was still raspy, but the tremor was gone, replaced by the certainty of an expert.
"This is the 'Heavenly Mechanism Lock' structure, a lost art from the previous dynasty. It absorbed moisture, causing the internal ratchet to swell and jam the interlocking teeth. If you try to pry it or just grease the outside, the axle will be ruined."
Qinghuan’s heart pounded wildly.
An expert! This was an absolute top-tier expert! She could diagnose the problem just by the sound?
"Can you fix it?" Qinghuan stared at her back, hardly daring to breathe.
The girl didn't look back. She simply knelt down and pressed her ear against the machine's casing, listening to the internal movement. After a moment, she nodded.
"Miss, I need a basin of ice water—the kind with ice shards in it. I also need a pot of boiling oil. And a silver needle—the finest embroidery needle you have."
Li Sheng looked toward Qinghuan.
Qinghuan waved her hand grandly. "Give it to her! Give her whatever she wants! Bring the whole jar of lard from the kitchen if you have to!"
The tools were delivered swiftly.
The girl knelt on the ground and took a deep breath. First, she dipped a towel into ice-cold water and applied it precisely to the casing of the machine's main spindle. The biting cold caused the wood to contract, emitting a faint, subtle creaking sound.
Immediately after, she picked up an embroidery needle and inserted it into the nearly invisible gap, giving it a gentle flick.
Sizzle—
In that exact moment, she lifted the pot of boiling hot oil and, guided by the silver needle, poured it swiftly and accurately deep into the bearing!
A clash of fire and ice!
Click.
A crisp, pleasant snap rang out, sounding like heavenly music.
It was the sound of the jammed mechanism snapping back into place.
Xu Qinghuan held her breath, watching those oil-stained hands weave through the complex linkages—disassembling, polishing, and reassembling. The movements were as smooth as flowing water, so skillful they were a pleasure to behold.
How was this some "money-losing commodity" from the Drunken Red Pavilion? This was clearly a master artisan hidden from the world!
The girl rested her hand on the crank and glanced back at Xu Qinghuan. A spark of spirit finally appeared on her grimy little face, along with a hint of eager expectation, like a child seeking praise.
She kept her hand on the crank, looking back at Xu Qinghuan with that expectant gaze.
"Miss, shall I try?"
Xu Qinghuan nodded.
The girl took a deep breath and put her strength into turning the arm.
Whir—
It was no longer a dull sound of friction, but a series of fine, fluid mechanical clicks as the gears meshed.
The machine, which had been like a dead object, began to vibrate. The massive flywheel spun wildly under the force of inertia, driving eight spindles to dance in unison!
Whoosh—whoosh—
Though no cotton yarn was attached yet, the rhythmic mechanical harmony filled the dim room, performing an industrial symphony powerful enough to shatter the foundations of this era.
It was spinning!
It was actually spinning!
Standing at the door, Xu Youde dropped the door bolt he was holding. It hit his foot, but he didn't even feel the pain. He stared wide-eyed at the spinning wheel, his eyes shining as if he were looking at a golden goose laying eggs.
"We're rich..." Xu Youde muttered to himself, his mouth practically watering. "That's no wooden wheel; that's a money tree! Three pounds of lard is nothing! I’ll go buy ten pigs right now to keep this thing fed!"
Xu Qinghuan stepped forward and pressed her hand against the vibrating casing of the spinning machine, savoring the intoxicating tremor.
This was mass production.
This was the primitive accumulation of capital.
This was the power that would completely sweep the noble families like the Wangs and the Zhaos—who bled people dry with their old-fashioned looms and cheap labor—into the dustbin of history.
She turned around to look at the thin little girl, who was currently rubbing her hands together nervously, afraid of staining her clothes.
At this moment, in Xu Qinghuan's eyes, this dirty face looked ten thousand times better than any courtesan. She practically glowed with a divine light.
"From this day forward, you don't need to learn music, chess, calligraphy, or painting, and you don't have to serve anyone."
Xu Qinghuan walked over and, disregarding the lard on the girl's hands, grabbed her wrist with a terrifyingly burning intensity in her eyes.
"From now on, every machine in this estate is under your command. I will grant you an independent courtyard specifically for your workshop. Whatever wood you need, whatever tools you want—even if you want nails made of solid gold—just ask! Your monthly wages... I’ll quintuple them! No, tenfold!"
The girl was completely stunned.
She had likely never heard of such a good deal in her life, nor had she ever met a master who played so far outside the rules.
Instead of being a courtesan, she was to be a carpenter? And with ten times the pay?
Her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground with a thud.
"Thank you, County Mistress..." The girl’s eyes reddened, her voice choking up. "This servant... this servant will definitely work hard. I won't be lazy."
"Stand up and speak."
Xu Qinghuan was in high spirits as she reached out to help her up. "I've told you many times, we don't do kneeling in this house. Right, since I'm handing this whole operation over to you, I need something to call you."
"What is your name?"
The girl sniffled and lowered her head bashfully, seemingly feeling that her name was not fit for polite society.
"This servant's family name is Huang."
"My father was an honest carpenter. When I was born, he hoped I could be as precious as the young misses of great families, held in the palm of someone's hand like a treasure."
She looked up, and for the first time, there was a light in her eyes.
"So he named me Jenny Huang."
Clatter!
The teacup Xu Qinghuan had just picked up to moisten her throat fell straight to the floor.
Shards flew everywhere.
Scalding tea splashed across the ground.
Xu Qinghuan stared with wide eyes, pointing at the machine and then at the girl in front of her. Her lips trembled for a long time before her myriad thoughts finally condensed into a single exclamation from the depths of her soul:
"Holy shit!"
