Everyone in the room was startled.
Xu Qinghuan, however, stood frozen as if struck by lightning.
Her eyes, which were usually sharp and calculating—remaining calm even if Mount Tai were to collapse before her—were now wide as saucers.
The spinning jenny.
Jenny Huang.
The mechanic... was named Jenny Huang?
Xu Qinghuan’s mouth hung open, a ridiculous gasp escaping her throat.
She looked at the machine that was about to change the entire course of the Great Gan Dynasty's history, and then at the innocent-looking local artisan girl.
What kind of joke was this?
Was this a historical coincidence? Or did the Heavens think her "cheat code" wasn't big enough and decided to provide the instruction manual along with it?
"County... County Princess?" Jenny Huang was terrified by her reaction and shrank back, pulling her neck in. "Is this name... some kind of taboo?"
Xu Qinghuan took a long, deep breath, forcibly suppressing the urge to howl at the sky.
She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling her heart hammering wildly.
"It’s not a taboo."
Xu Qinghuan flashed a smile that was somewhat distorted yet incredibly brilliant. She pointed at the machine and then at Jenny Huang, her voice trembling.
"It’s a good name. A great name."
"It’s so good... it’s damn near miraculous."
This was destiny.
Since the Heavens had delivered "Jenny" right to her doorstep, if she, Xu Qinghuan, couldn't swallow the entire textile industry of Jiangning City whole, she would be failing the very providence that brought her through this reincarnation.
"Li Sheng!"
The light in Xu Qinghuan’s eyes was brighter than the lightning outside.
"Seal off all information! Place ten... no, twenty vicious hounds around this courtyard! No one is allowed within half a step except for Jenny Huang!"
"Our Xu family is about to change the world."
...
Within the time it took to drink a cup of tea, the backyard of the Liuyuan Estate became an iron fortress.
Xu Wuyou hadn't even drawn the turquoise-inlaid sword at his waist before he took his stand on the steps of the courtyard gate. His peach-blossom eyes, which usually held a hint of playfulness, were now narrowed into slits. He scanned the twenty vicious hounds just brought in from the tooth agency, as well as the dozen or so burly domestic guards.
The twenty dogs had just been fed raw meat; low growls vibrated in their throats, and their leashes were pulled taut.
"Listen up." Xu Wuyou patted the head of the lead black dog and casually hung a wooden plaque engraved with the words "Deputy Commander" around its neck. "From now on, the wind can enter this courtyard, but it cannot leave. Not a person, not even a sparrow flies over without leaving its feathers behind for me to count."
The guards didn't dare utter a sound, their palms sweaty as they gripped their wooden staves. The Young Master’s murderous aura was three times more terrifying than when he was trashing a brothel.
Inside the room, the doors and windows were tightly shut, and even the smallest vents were sealed with thick felt.
Jenny Huang knelt before the massive wooden frame, her hands gripping the final drive belt made of boiled and dried ox tendon. Her movements were delicate, her fingertips covered in black grease. Sweat dripped from the tip of her nose, but she didn't bother to wipe it away.
This machine had been buried underground for too long, and every joint groaned. She had just used a silver needle to clear the blockages, and now she was meticulously fitting the ox-tendon belt into the tightly interlocking grooves of the ratchet wheel.
*Click.*
A faint, crisp sound echoed. The belt snapped into place, tightening and locking the main shaft together with the eight spindles.
Jenny Huang exhaled a long breath that carried a slight tremor. She stood up, her knees weak from kneeling too long, and she stumbled slightly before regaining her balance.
She grabbed a handful of aged cotton from a nearby basket, tore it loose, and skillfully twisted it into several thin strands, hanging them respectively on the hooks of the feed inlet.
"County Princess, it is ready." Jenny Huang took a half-step back, yielding the smooth wooden crank handle.
Just as Xu Qinghuan was about to step forward, a round, fleshy projectile launched from the doorway. Accompanied by a gust of wind, it shoved Xu Qinghuan and Jenny Huang to either side.
"Let me do it!"
Xu Youde tossed aside the door bolt he had been using for self-defense and practically lunged at the machine. His chubby hands were shaking violently—not out of fear, but out of the sheer exhilaration of seeing a peerless treasure he almost dared not touch.
Xu Wuyou walked in just in time to see this and couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Dad, why are you joining the commotion? This is delicate work. Don't go getting all that flab caught in the gears. Do you even know how to spin yarn?"
"You brat." Xu Youde turned back and spat, his jowls quivering. "Back in the old days before I made my fortune, to save those few copper coins for a weaver's fee, I spent three whole years twisting hemp and cotton thread under a dim oil lamp! Blind spinning! Do you even know what blind spinning is?"
As he spoke, he didn't care for the prestige of the red sandalwood armchair and sat his backside directly onto a small, battered stool.
His wide silk sleeves got in the way, so he crudely rolled them up past his elbows, revealing two pale, fatty forearms.
With practiced ease, Xu Youde’s left hand pinched the end of the cotton sliver while his right hand gripped the crank.
*Whir—*
The crank turned.
It was stiff at first, the friction between wood and wood producing a tooth-gritting "creak." But as Xu Youde’s wrist accelerated, the inertia broke through the resistance.
The sound changed.
It became a low, deep, and rhythmic "hum"—the roar of interlocking gears, the first growl of industrial iteration echoing in this era.
Eight spindles spun simultaneously.
The originally limp cotton slivers were rapidly drawn out, elongated, and twisted.
The disdain on Xu Wuyou’s face froze.
The hand Li Sheng held his tea cup with stopped mid-air.
It was too fast.
