On the carriage ride back to the mansion, Song Anhao rested her head against the carriage wall, motionless, her unfocused gaze clearly indicating she was lost in thought.
Song Jinzhao found this strange—just moments ago, she had been brimming with enthusiasm, ready to take on the world. Why had she suddenly deflated?
“Don’t worry about the money. In the beginning, I’ll cover it for you, little sister.”
Song Anhao snapped back to reality and shook her head, a hint of worry in her eyes.
“That’s not what I’m thinking about. As I was leaving the bookshop, it suddenly hit me how many printing blocks we’ll need to carve for all those storybooks in the future.”
“Each one is over a hundred thousand characters. Just carving them out would require three or four craftsmen working for months—not only costly but also time-consuming. What if I could carve each character individually, then assemble only the ones I need? Would that work?”
A handkerchief slipped onto her clothes, but Song Jinzhao was staring at Song Anhao in astonishment.
For an eight-year-old to think of something so innovative without any prompting—printing with individual movable type was the very principle behind movable-type printing.
“Elder sister?” Seeing her sister staring blankly at her, Song Anhao tilted her head questioningly.
“I only said one thing—why are you so shocked?”
Song Jinzhao blinked slowly, then leaned back against the carriage wall, lingering in a daze.
“It’s a good idea. You can find a craftsman to make a prototype and test it out.”
Song Anhao pressed her finger to her chin, her gaze dropping in thought. “I’ll have to discuss it with Manager Lou first. They’re the experts, after all.”
Pausing for a moment, he looked up with a bright smile, then eagerly lifted the carriage curtain and called for the driver to stop.
“I’m heading back to the publishing house now. If this works out, we won’t have to go through all that trouble anymore.”
Watching him jump off the carriage, Song Jinzhao pushed aside the curtain and leaned her head out.
The small figure, framed by the guards, suddenly seemed larger in her eyes. A thought sprang to her mind:
Song Anhao would certainly succeed in creating movable-type printing. And it wouldn’t take long.
Qingshuang lifted the carriage curtain and asked, “County Mistress, shall we still return home?”
With the young master gone, there wasn’t much reason to go back.
Song Jinzhao glanced at the stream of people outside the window.
“The autumn harvest starts today. Let’s go outside the city and take a look.”
Qingshuang steered the carriage around. On the road, she noticed a few commoner households outside the outer city already beginning to harvest their rice.
Song Jinzhao decided to hang the curtain open and sat down by the carriage door.
The sunlight blazed, warm on her face.
Using a sickle to cut the rice, ear by ear—they must be sweating buckets in the heat.
When they reached the wasteland the government had reclaimed outside the city, Song Jinzhao could see the golden rice paddies stretching into the distance, filled with figures.
On the already cleared plots of land sat several foot-pedaled threshing machines, with people busy using them nearby.
“County Mistress, the eldest young master is over there,” Qingshuang pointed toward a figure on a distant ridge.
Dressed in an official robe and riding a horse, he was easy to spot.
Song Jinzhao stepped down from the carriage, and Qingshuang quickly opened an umbrella to follow her.
The constables stationed along the ridges immediately bowed as they recognized her.
“Looks like it’s big sister,” Song Qiming said from afar, craning his neck for a better look.
Her peach-red dress stood out vividly against the ridge.
Urging his horse forward another two steps, he recognized her face and broke into a grin.
He dismounted, leaving Guyue Hong far behind him.
“Big sister, why are you here?”
Song Jinzhao smiled gently. “I knew the autumn harvest started today, so I came to see.”
Song Qiming naturally took the umbrella from her hand and leaned close to her side.
“All the marked premium rice has already been harvested in advance. They’re threshing now. Would you like to go take a look?”
Song Jinzhao nodded. “Sure, let’s see how the yields compare.”
