A rare day off.
Pei Cijing slept so deeply that the world could have ended and he wouldn't have noticed.
Not until the sun had climbed high, its warm rays filtering through the window lattice and casting a soft golden glow on the bed curtains, did he roll over, mumbling something vague, with no intention of waking up.
Shen Ninghuan had already risen.
She sat at the table by the bed, a ledger in her hands, flipping through it page by page. Occasionally, she dipped her brush in ink to jot down a few remarks. When she heard his sleepy grumble, she turned her head and saw her husband wrapped up like a little cocoon, only the top of his head visible, still fast asleep.
He looked just like a cat curled up in its nest.
She didn't rush to wake him.
On a rare day off from official duties, letting him sleep a little longer wouldn't hurt.
About half an hour later, Pei Cijing finally woke up—not naturally, but because his stomach was growling. The rumbling pulled him out of a beautiful dream, kicking and screaming.
He opened his eyes.
His gaze was a bit unfocused.
He stared at the canopy for a long moment before slowly coming to his senses.
"Awake?" Shen Ninghuan's voice came from beside him, tinged with amusement.
Pei Cijing turned his head and saw his wife sitting there, ledger in hand, watching him with a gentle smile. The morning light fell on her, softening her elegant features and making her look as warm and beautiful as a painting.
He grinned, his voice still a little hoarse from sleep. "Good morning, darling."
Shen Ninghuan set down the ledger, her tone tender. "Not so early. The sun's already high. You must be hungry. Get up and have breakfast."
Pei Cijing stretched lazily, then sat up, yawning as he went to wash up.
Breakfast was laid out in the outer room.
Shredded chicken congee, two small side dishes, and a steamer basket of soup dumplings—every dish was exquisite.
Pei Cijing sat down.
He dug in without delay.
The congee was cooked just right—thick and smooth, the grains blooming, the flavor of the chicken fully absorbed into the broth. The soup dumplings had thin wrappers and generous fillings; one bite and the broth burst in his mouth, so savory it made him squint with pleasure.
He ate with complete satisfaction, his cheeks puffed out, looking just like a little hamster hoarding food.
Shen Ninghuan sat across from him, chin resting on her hand, watching him eat with a faint, fond smile.
After breakfast, the maids cleared the dishes.
Pei Cijing leaned back in his chair, sipping tea, his mind already working—it was rare to have two days off. How should he and his wife make the most of their time alone?
A spring outing outside the city?
He'd heard that the peach blossoms south of the city were in full bloom, blanketing the hills in red, as if someone had torn apart a sunset and scattered it over the slopes.
Or maybe a trip to the teahouse for a storytelling session?
Last time, Yuanbao said that a new teahouse had opened in the southern part of the city. The storyteller there was incredibly skilled. His rendition of "The Heroic Tales of the Great Qian Dynasty" was so vivid even the tea seemed to taste better there.
Or, if nothing else, staying home wouldn't be bad either.
He could have his wife read to him. He'd rest his head on her lap, eyes closed, listening to her soft, gentle voice—and that would beat any outing or teahouse.
As Pei Cijing thought about this, the corners of his mouth curled up involuntarily.
He was about to share this "day-off plan" with his wife when—
"Darling," Shen Ninghuan spoke first, her tone gentle but tinged with seriousness. "There's something I'd like to discuss with you."
Pei Cijing swallowed the words he had been about to say and blinked. "What is it?"
"About the cement," Shen Ninghuan said, setting down her teacup and meeting his eyes. "After you gave me the formula last time, I had some people recruit a group of craftsmen at a manor on the outskirts and start trial production."
She paused, then continued: "Yesterday, someone from the manor came to report that the kiln had been set up and the raw materials were ready. They were starting pretreatment today. Since this matter is so important, I thought we could go take a look together."
Pei Cijing was momentarily stunned.
A manor on the outskirts. Cement trials.
This plan and the "alone time with my wife" he'd been thinking about couldn't have been more different. Not even close.
He silently sighed to himself.
But he knew which matters were urgent.
If this cement could be successfully produced, it would be invaluable for building dams, paving roads, reinforcing city defenses—benefiting the people and future generations alike.
The sooner it was made, the sooner it could bring good to the world.
Since he had the time, he really should go see it.
The little regret in Pei Cijing's heart dissolved under this self-consolation. He sat up straight, his expression taking on a righteous and solemn air as he nodded resolutely.
"You're right, darling. The cement is too important for us not to go. Just because it's my day off doesn't mean I have to stay home. A trip out is good too."
He paused, then silently added to himself: Brother Shuijing, for the sake of your dream, I'm making so many sacrifices!
Putting the greater good before my own desires!
What kind of spirit is this?
This is the glorious spirit of mutual support among time-travelers!
Pei Cijing mentally gave himself a thumbs-up, then stood up, adjusted his robe, and asked, "Darling, when should we set off?"
Shen Ninghuan watched him act like a martyr ready to sacrifice himself and couldn't help but smile.
His inner grumblings—"the romantic day alone is ruined," "no outing," "no storytelling," "no resting on her lap," "look what I've given up for you, Brother Shuijing"—were crystal clear to her. They were densely packed in his mind, even more detailed than the numbers in her ledger, yet they warmed her heart.
Though he'd been so looking forward to their plan, the moment she brought up an important matter, he agreed without a second thought—not even a hint of hesitation.
She stood up, walked over to him, straightened his collar, and said softly, "The carriage is ready. If you're ready, let's go."
Pei Cijing took her hand and gave it a firm squeeze. "Let's go."
The carriage was already waiting at the gate.
Yuanbao sat next to the driver, a riding crop in his hand and a blade of grass hanging from his mouth, waiting impatiently. When he saw his young master and mistress coming out, he quickly jumped down, lifted the curtain, and grinned. "Young mistress, young master, please get in."
Pei Cijing helped Shen Ninghuan into the carriage and jumped in after her.
The curtain fell.
The carriage rumbled out of the alley.
The manor on the outskirts was southeast of the capital, about half an hour's journey from the marquis's estate.
Once the carriage left the city, the road became rougher than the streets inside the walls, jolting heavily.
Pei Cijing leaned against the carriage wall, swaying with every bump, but he didn't forget to reach out an arm to steady Shen Ninghuan, worried she might get knocked about.
Shen Ninghuan glanced at the arm held protectively in front her, a smile playing at her lips, but she said nothing, simply leaning closer to him.
The carriage stopped in front of a manor.
It wasn't too big, nor too small. The courtyard wall looked newly repaired, made of gray bricks with black roof tiles, all neat and tidy. Two servants stood at the gate, and when they saw the carriage stop, they hurried over.
"Young mistress, young master." Both bowed.
Shen Ninghuan nodded. "Where are the craftsmen?"
"They're all in the back courtyard, young mistress. They finished setting up the kiln yesterday and began preprocessing the raw materials early this morning. It's quite lively back there."
Pei Cijing helped Shen Ninghuan down from the carriage, and they walked side by side into the manor.
Crossing the front courtyard and rounding a screen wall, you reached the back courtyard.
As soon as Pei Cijing stepped into the back courtyard, his eyes lit up.
In the yard, three straight-shaft kilns stood in a row, each about one meter and twenty centimeters in diameter and a little over a person's height, built of blue bricks with the outer walls plastered with yellow mud, looking solid and sturdy.
At the bottom of each kiln, three or four ventilation openings were left, each fitted with a bellows. The wooden handles of the bellows were polished smooth—clearly new, yet already well-used.
Beside the kilns were several piles of raw materials—limestone, clay, and iron slag—sorted and stacked neatly. Several craftsmen were squatting on the ground, using hammers and stone mortars to break the large chunks of raw materials into pieces and grind them into powder.
It was hard labor.
Sweat covered the craftsmen's foreheads, streaming down their cheeks, dripping onto their collars, leaving dark stains, but not a single person stopped to rest. They finished one piece and picked up another, their movements quick and steady.
Other craftsmen were mixing the ground powder according to the formula ratio to prepare the raw meal. In front of them were several small scales, and they measured spoonful by spoonful, their movements as careful as if they were compounding medicine, afraid of adding even a fraction too much or too little.
The yard was filled with the mixed smell of lime and clay—not exactly pleasant, but it carried a solid sense that something was being created.
Pei Cijing stood at the entrance to the yard,
watching this scene.
He nodded inwardly.
This group of craftsmen was meticulous in their work, hardworking, and not a single one was lazy or cutting corners.
Shen Ninghuan stood by his side, speaking softly: "I had these craftsmen brought in from everywhere—all old hands who have worked in kilns for years. Their skills are beyond reproach. They are paid generously, with room and board included, plenty of food, and good meat and oil. So they work with real enthusiasm."
She paused, a hint of satisfaction in her voice: "Three kilns—it was said it would take seven or eight days to build them. They finished in five, and built them solidly. I had someone inspect them, and they said there wasn't a single flaw to find."
Pei Cijing listened and felt even more satisfied.
When a good master meets good craftsmen, and both sides show their sincerity, the project is half done.
He turned to look at Yuanbao and waved his hand. Yuanbao quickly jogged over, coming close: "Young master, your orders."
Pei Cijing lowered his voice and whispered a few words in Yuanbao's ear. After hearing them, Yuanbao's eyes went wide as saucers, his mouth opening so wide you could have stuffed an egg in it. His expression was as if he had just heard some earth-shattering news.
"Young master, you... are you sure?"
"Sure, go ahead."
Yuanbao took a deep breath, suppressing the shock in his heart, and walked to the center of the yard. He cleared his throat and shouted at the top of his voice: "All you master craftsmen, stop your work for a moment. Our young master has something to say!"
The yard fell silent.
The craftsmen all stopped what they were doing, lifted their heads, and turned their eyes toward the young figure standing at the yard entrance.
Pei Cijing took two steps forward, stood still, and swept his gaze over the faces of those craftsmen. Their faces were covered in sweat, their hands stained with dust, their clothes thick with grime, but every pair of eyes was bright, carrying a hint of curiosity and a trace of anticipation.
He smiled, his voice not loud but clear enough to reach each ear: "I have seen all your hard work over these past few days. The kilns were built quickly, the work was meticulous, and I am very satisfied."
The craftsmen listened, a few smiles appearing on their faces. The bolder ones even replied, "You flatter us, master. This is just our job."
Pei Cijing nodded and continued: "Today, I am making a promise here. If the product we make meets expectations, each of you will be rewarded with ten taels of silver. I mean what I say, and I will not go back on my word."
As soon as these words were spoken, the yard fell silent for a moment.
Then it was as if a bomb had gone off.
"Ten taels?"
"Heavens, ten taels of silver!"
"Master, are you serious?"
The craftsmen looked at one another, disbelief in their eyes.
They had worked in kilns all their lives. Getting their wages paid on time each month was already generous treatment from a master. Getting a few copper coins as a reward during festivals and holidays, they would be grateful beyond measure.
Ten taels of silver?
What did that mean?
Enough to support the family for a long time, enough to buy a few acres of poor land in the countryside, enough to get a son married!
The younger ones were already so excited their faces were flushed, their fingers trembling as they clutched their hammers. The older ones managed to remain somewhat composed, but the smiles at the corners of their mouths simply could not be suppressed, wrinkling into creases.
Yuanbao stood off to the side, watching the craftsmen nearly bouncing with excitement, and couldn't help clicking his tongue. The young master was indeed generous—ten taels of silver per person.
There were at least twenty or thirty craftsmen here. That came to two or three hundred taels.
But then again!
This was exactly like the young master's style!
For this group of craftsmen to work under such a master, they were truly blessed.
Shen Ninghuan stood behind Pei Cijing, listening to her husband's words. Her expression did not change, and she had no objection in her heart.
If the craftsmen worked with enthusiasm, the cement would be produced all the sooner.
If it could be made even one day earlier, a few hundred taels of silver in rewards meant nothing.
But—
A funny thought suddenly occurred to her, and the corners of her mouth involuntarily curved upward.
She stepped half a pace forward, leaned close to Pei Cijing's ear, and lowered her voice: "Husband is truly generous, giving away in one go what amounts to several years of your salary."
Her tone carried a hint of teasing, a touch of mockery, and an unreserved trace of laughter.
Pei Cijing: "...?"
The corners of his mouth twitched slightly.
He understood his wife's meaning instantly.
His salary was only a few dozen taels a year. Giving away more than two hundred—it was almost the total of four or five years of his pay.
And the cement was to be submitted to the imperial court.
In other words, he was "paying to work"—working hard at his official post to earn a little silver, not even getting a chance to warm it in his hands before he gave it all away as rewards to the craftsmen.
Not only did he not profit.
He had actually subsidized the work.
Pei Cijing did a quick mental calculation, then silently lit a candle for himself.
But he didn't really care about it. His paltry salary, compared to the maritime trade dividends from his maternal grandfather's Zhou family, wasn't even spare change.
Not to mention giving away two hundred taels—even two thousand taels, he could afford it.
Besides—
If the cement truly could be produced, and then promoted to all the prefectures and states for building dams, paving roads, and constructing city defenses—that would be no small achievement.
No amount of silver could buy that!
"Pay a little fee, just a little fee,"
he muttered to himself, then turned his head, looking at his wife's teasing smile and helplessly laughing. "Wife, if you want the horse to run, you have to let it graze. This kind of expense isn't worth being too particular about."
Shen Ninghuan listened to her husband's words, watched the stubborn expression on his face that said "I'm hurt, but I won't say it," and couldn't help covering her mouth to hide a smile.
She didn't tease him further, just gently squeezed his hand.
Feeling the warmth from her palm, most of the sting in Pei Cijing's heart faded.
He was about to say something more when he suddenly remembered something and frowned slightly.
Rewards were undoubtedly a powerful stimulant that could greatly boost the craftsmen’s enthusiasm, but there was one thing he couldn’t overlook: safety concerns.
If they rushed the work and caused an accident—someone getting injured or even losing their life—the gains would not be worth the losses. Silver could be earned again, and cement could wait, but a life, once lost, was gone forever.
He turned his head to look at Yuanbao, who was not far away.
“Yuanbao.”
Yuanbao snapped to attention and quickly trotted over. “Young Master, what other instructions do you have?”
Pei Cijing looked at him, his tone growing a bit more serious. “Go tell the craftsmen again: we need to get the work done, but safety must come first. Working hard is fine, but don’t be reckless.”
“At the kiln, someone must keep watch over the fire at all times—no one can leave it unattended. When crushing the raw materials, the dust is thick, so tell them to cover their mouths and noses with cloth. The temperature at the kiln is high, so make sure they drink plenty of water and don’t get heatstroke.”
He paused, then added, “If anyone feels unwell, have them stop immediately and rest. Don’t push through. Health is what matters most.”
Yuanbao noted everything carefully and nodded firmly. “Rest assured, Young Master, I’ll relay every word.”
With that, he turned and ran toward the center of the yard, shouting as he went: “Everyone, the Young Master has more to say—”
Pei Cijing watched Yuanbao’s retreating figure.
Only then did he feel at ease.
He turned to Shen Ninghuan, the solemnity fading from his face as he broke into his usual lazy smile.
“My dear wife, we’ve seen the estate and the craftsmen. Where should we head next?”
Shen Ninghuan couldn’t help but curl her lips at his “I’ve finished the serious business, now I can play” expression.
“There’s another estate south of the city, one that Mother transferred to my name just a few days ago. Behind it lies a peony garden, and the flowers are in full bloom these days.”
She lifted her gaze to meet Pei Cijing’s eyes, her tone carrying a hint of a smile. “Since my husband rarely has a day off, why don’t we go and enjoy the blossoms?”
Pei Cijing’s eyes lit up.
Enjoy the blossoms!
Enjoy them with his wife!
This was practically a spring outing—wasn’t this a chance for some time alone together?
He had thought their intimate time together was ruined, even muttering to himself about “sacrificing the small for the big,” but his wife had clearly already planned it. She had even picked out a place to admire the flowers.
A wave of indescribable warmth suddenly surged in Pei Cijing’s heart.
He took Shen Ninghuan’s hand, gave it a gentle squeeze, and grinned. “Enjoying the blossoms sounds wonderful, truly wonderful. My dear wife, shall we head there now?”
Shen Ninghuan looked at his impatient eagerness and nodded with a smile.
The two walked shoulder to shoulder out of the estate.
Behind them, the craftsmen continued working with gusto, and Yuanbao was shouting at the top of his lungs, “Safety first, health above all!” His voice echoed through the yard.
