Chapter 256

The soldiers in the camp had recently entered a period of hardship, especially those under Li Linshan. Their daily training was full of new tricks, and at night, they were not allowed to sleep. Instead, they were forced to listen to sleep-inducing stories, struggling to keep their eyes open. Anyone who dared to doze off would be made to run dozens of laps around the camp before being allowed to sleep. Even in the dead of night, they would be subjected to surprise attacks, making life truly unbearable. Yet after a month, the results became obvious. Li Linshan’s men were entirely different from others, though it was hard to say exactly how.

During this month, Wang Xiujin had not been idle. He had the carpenters craft the first all-wooden bicycle, with only the chain made of iron; the rest was entirely wood. It was fairly easy to ride, though turning was awkward. After sealing the first bicycle in glass and recording the date, he did so to prevent disputes over its origin centuries later among descendants and foreign friends. The second bicycle was sent by Wang Xiujin to the imperial palace. The emperor found it amusing, tried it out with his attendants’ help, and enjoyed it so much that for several days, he rode it to court.

The ministers, upon hearing this, hurried to seek out Old General Li and Lord Wang. They too wished to follow in the emperor’s footsteps. Yet apart from the sealed bicycle, only the one given to the emperor existed—there was no third. Neither the Li nor Wang family had one to ride. The two dignitaries, one whose presence inspired awe, the other whose name made officials’ heads ache in dread, were not easily pressed for answers, nor dared anyone attempt force. Approach Wang, the imperial merchant? That would be courting death.

Wang Xiujin did wish to produce more, but he hadn’t found a suitable site for a workshop, and he wanted to change the bicycle’s material. Wood was not durable, but without rubber, it was difficult. Before he could find a place, an imperial edict arrived from the palace; the emperor had chosen a plot outside the city for Wang Xiujin, ordering him to establish the workshop as soon as possible. Wang Xiujin had no choice but to make a trip to the palace, wanting to know when the overseas expedition might actually take place.

Regarding going overseas, the emperor did have a plan now. Previously, he had not found suitable candidates, though many had volunteered by the end of the year, eager to see foreign lands. But with so many, whom should he choose? Wang Xiujin’s inquiry made the emperor wonder—could foreign lands be richer than the Great Liang? He decided to settle on candidates soon and send them out to sea.

With the emperor’s words, Wang Xiujin began preparations for the bicycle workshop, posting notices to recruit carpenters and blacksmiths. Though the bicycles were mainly wood, some parts required iron. The notice immediately attracted crowds; upon learning who the employer was, people nearly fought to squeeze in. In the capital, everyone knew that whether Wang, the imperial merchant, opened a shop or a workshop, the treatment was the best. Anyone who could secure a position need never worry about their future.

The workshop was still in the planning stage, and Wang Xiujin hadn’t expected such an uproar from the notice. Fortunately, carpenters and blacksmiths were considered lower-tier specialists in ancient times, with few practitioners. Though many gathered at the workshop notice, only a handful were truly qualified to work.

Previously, many looked down on craftspeople, but now, seeing how easy it was to find work as a craftsman, parents began sending their children to apprentice, hoping to secure a place in the workshop once it opened. If they could, the whole family would be set for life. Many held such hopes, and soon, workshops in the capital that rarely saw visitors became lively, with crowds coming and going daily, all eager to learn the trade.

News from the capital never escaped Wang Xiujin. When he heard of it, he simply smiled and said nothing. His workshop never admitted random people; every so often, he would tour the premises, tossing out those with ulterior motives. Rather than ordinary workers, Wang Xiujin preferred hiring wounded or retired soldiers. Though these men had their issues, they were fiercely loyal to the workshop and would not tolerate anyone trying to exploit it.

Busy with the workshop, Wang Xiujin and Li Linshan, who was busy training soldiers, never neglected young Yachang. The little one grew visibly day by day; now he could walk steadily, stand upright, and speak more fluently. He had several teeth and ate a wider range of foods. Wang Xiujin noticed that the Li family all had hearty appetites, including little Yachang. The child could truly eat; with goat’s milk and supplementary foods, he consumed more than Wang Xiujin himself. At first, Wang Xiujin worried about overfeeding his son, but in time, he grew used to Yachang’s voraciousness.

The workshop’s construction was entrusted to the Fourth Prince’s men, whose building team continued to expand. Many parts of the capital were transformed into small multi-story houses; now, three or four-story buildings were everywhere, and two-story houses seemed short by comparison. As buildings grew taller, others noticed the advantages and began to imitate. The court swiftly issued building regulations—now, one could not build just as one pleased.

Stretching, Wang Xiujin, after several busy days, finally indulged in a rare lazy morning. Opening his eyes, he was met by his son’s large gaze. Yachang was sitting on the rug playing with blocks, occasionally glancing toward his father’s sleeping direction. As soon as their eyes met, he crawled over. “Daddy, hungry.” Now that Yachang could walk steadily, he was a bit chubby from eating so much, growing tall and walking with a slight wobble. Wang Xiujin thought his son resembled a certain animal kept in zoos… a penguin.

“Hungry?” Wang Xiujin yawned and got up, picking up his son. “Son, tell me—why don’t you have a label on your head?” His son was now nineteen months old, yet Wang Xiujin still hadn’t seen what his label was. Yachang stared wide-eyed, apparently not understanding his father’s meaning. Wang Xiujin sighed, carrying his son to the little cart. “Be good, Yachang. Daddy will wash his face, then we’ll go eat.”

“Ah!” Yachang waved his tiny fists, echoing his father’s words, but when his father turned away, his face showed a puzzled expression.

Wang Xiujin washed quickly, and soon was ready, pushing his son’s cart in search of food. Servants were cleaning the courtyard; seeing them, they promptly greeted the pair. Wang Xiujin told them to notify the kitchen to prepare some dishes and send them over.

After a lap around the courtyard, the kitchen was ready. Wang Xiujin fed his son first, then began to eat himself. Yet even after Yachang was full, he kept watching his father eat, looking so pitiful that Wang Xiujin felt as if he were selfishly starving his child. “Son, you can’t eat any more.”

“Ah.” Yachang agreed, lowering his head to pat his round belly, indicating to his father that he was full.

Wang Xiujin was speechless—you’re full, yet you still eye my bowl and my chopsticks, even appearing ready to drool. Anyone would think you hadn’t eaten, filling him with guilt. “Be good, go play.”

Yachang nodded, lowering his head to fiddle with the blocks, though he still glanced at his father from time to time. Wang Xiujin felt he was far from mastering self-control; to avoid his son’s constant gaze, he ate as quickly as possible—for his son, he had to make do.

After eating, Wang Xiujin glanced at the sky and checked the time, deciding to take his son to visit the academy. Since spring, after the imperial children were sent to work the fields, those children gave him fierce looks. Several whom he had inadvertently won over stood opposed to their older brothers, firmly believing that Wang, the imperial merchant, was not involved. They said he had sent them home and pleaded for them not to work the fields, even promising to send grain come autumn. Their older brothers thought Wang sent the younger children home to sow discord. As for the adolescent boys, Wang Xiujin paid little mind; so long as they didn’t stray from the right path, he considered his task complete.

With three imperial children gone from the academy—the oldest among the students—they had sailed out to sea in early June. When Wang Xiujin first heard the news, he spoke to the three. After learning their reasons, he said no more, but prepared many supplies for them, various suitable condiments. Life at sea was difficult, and the ships were not as advanced as in later times, unable to predict weather or other hazards. Maritime journeys in ancient times were perilous indeed. Wang Xiujin explained many unknown possibilities to those three, hoping they would make the right decision, not just act on impulse. Their choice was not sudden; though there was some impulse, their greater motivation was to discover whether the outside world was as vast as Wang described, with things Great Liang lacked, and ways of life different from their own.

Sometimes the imperial children wondered why Wang, the imperial merchant, seemed to know so much, with such strange ideas. Some asked, and Wang replied that he read many books and often practiced hands-on. For example, oil pressing was something he tried himself, as well as spinning thread. Wang Xiujin, to encourage the children to read more and work with their hands, spun his tales as if they were truth.

Lord Wang, hearing rumors about his youngest—such as never being seen without a book—thought carefully about how many books his son had read as a child, then shook his head. The boy had read plenty, but certainly not to the point of never letting go of a book. As for hands-on practice, Lord Wang felt a pang of guilt; his son worked only to provide for the family.