In the seventh year of Tianqi, late August of 1627, Chengcheng County finally calmed down.
The long-running peasant uprising had been put to rest — mostly thanks to Inspector Cheng Xu's "tireless efforts," which in reality meant: he lucked out when two village idiots flattened the rebel leader with a solar car.
The rebel lieutenant Bai Shuiwang Er fled north into the mountains and vanished. No one knew where he went.
Soon after, the new county magistrate, Liang Shixian, arrived.
His very first official announcement was:
"The Emperor has passed away. All under heaven shall observe mourning."
As it turned out, on August twenty-two, the Woodworker Emperor, Zhu Youxiao, had died of illness. Two days later, Zhu Youjian ascended the throne as the Chongzhen Emperor. Beijing had already changed rulers; Chengcheng County simply hadn't gotten the memo yet — small place, far from the center.
The common folk reacted the way common folk always do:
"Oh, new emperor? Does he bring rain?
No?
Then I still have fields to plow. Goodnight."
Meanwhile, the side hall of the City God Temple was bustling.
Lady Bai — the Third Madam — sat upright in her Daoist robe. Before her knelt a dozen poor souls who had just finished thanking Dao Xuan Tianzun for saving their lives and had chanted scriptures alongside her. These people couldn't afford doctors; they survived purely because Lady Bai had administered the divine medicine left by Tianzun.
As they filed out, a gaunt middle-aged man slipped in. His face was full of misery; his coarse hemp clothes were worn thin. The moment he entered, he dropped to his knees.
"Lady, please… save me."
Lady Bai asked calmly, "What illness afflicts your family?"
He shook his head. "No illness, my lady."
"Oh?"
The man lowered his voice. "I am a furniture worker… a joiner who works sitting down all day."
Lady Bai didn't know what that meant, but she held her expression, waiting.
He continued, "Each month I must work twenty days in the county workshop. The pay is so little I can't even feed myself. So in the remaining ten days, I work desperately elsewhere just to survive."
"Recently, two figurine-makers in the workshop suddenly grew rich. Paid thirty years of labor dues all at once — never have to work for the county again."
Lady Bai blinked. "And what does this have to do with me?"
The man lowered his head even further. "They refused to say how they got their wealth. Only said they were blessed by Dao Xuan Tianzun. So I asked around to learn who Tianzun is… and that led me to you."
Ah. Now Lady Bai understood.
The man pleaded, "Please, Lady, tell me how I may receive Tianzun's favor and escape this suffering."
Lady Bai's mind began calculating rapidly.
She couldn't help him — she only had divine medicine for healing. Poverty? No cure for that.
But Tianzun could help him. Obviously.
Which meant… she simply needed to send him to Gaojia Village.
She assumed a mysterious expression and shook her head slowly.
"Your heart is not sincere. Even Tianzun cannot help you."
The man panicked. "My heart is sincere! Truly sincere!"
"If your sincerity were real," she said lightly, "you would leave Chengcheng County. Travel thirty miles northeast, to a small village called Gaojia Village."
He recoiled. "Outside the city? But the land beyond is full of chaos and bandits…"
Lady Bai sighed dramatically. "Truly, your heart is not sincere. Since you fear to go, Tianzun cannot help you."
The man practically burst into tears. "I am sincere! I'll go! Right now!
When I reach Gaojia Village… what must I do?"
Lady Bai smiled knowingly. "Once you arrive, you'll understand."
The man kowtowed three times, stumbled out of the temple, and rushed home.
He had just completed his required twenty days in the county workshop. The next ten days were his free time.
Fine. He'd gamble these ten days on fate.
He packed everything he owned — a few copper coins, two dry cakes, two shirts, one iron pot — tied it all into a single bag, and crept to the city gate like a terrified stray dog.
The gate guard didn't even look at him.
He slipped out with the crowd and headed northeast, asking for directions along the way.
To his surprise, there were no bandits anywhere. Cheng Xu, for all his posturing, did know how to wipe out local trouble when motivated.
By sunset, the tired man finally saw a tall fortress a few miles ahead.
Gaojia Village.
He'd made it.
That evening, the sky blazed red with sunset clouds.
Li Daoxuan was opening a delivery box.
Autumn wheat sowing season was nearly here.
The villagers had already dug irrigation channels and prepared to draw water from the Big Pond into their fields. But water channels alone weren't enough — the soil was too dry. What they really needed was a good rain.
Li Daoxuan had held off on making rain for over a month because the temperatures were still too high. A rain at the wrong time would be useless. The massive pond had been enough.
But by late August, the air had cooled. Sowing season approached. Rain became necessary.
Household humidifiers and sprayers wouldn't work. Their mist droplets were far too large — even the smallest was 0.3 millimeters. In the controlled space of the village "box," those droplets would enlarge two hundredfold.
That would be like dropping a barrage of six-centimeter water balloons from two hundred meters high.
Not rain. Disaster.
So he researched online until he found the perfect tool:
A medical nebulizer.
These devices turned liquid into ultra-fine mist — droplets only 2.2 micrometers wide — perfect for asthma and respiratory treatments.
Two point two micrometers.
Scaled up two hundred times, just 0.44 millimeters.
Real rain. Safe rain.
Medical engineering for the win.
He'd ordered one that morning with express delivery, and now…
It had arrived.