Early in the morning, Shansier helped Wang the Teacher borrow a proper-looking outfit — something that at least suggested "scholarly dignity" instead of "wandering poet who pawned his last bowl." Then came the real trouble: packing several massive silver ingots into a travel bundle.
Wang the Teacher tried to sling the bundle over his back in one smooth, cultured motion…
Instead, it slammed him flat on the ground with a heroic thud.
"Help! Someone help me!"
A few villagers rushed over, pried the silver-stuffed bundle off his body, and pulled him up.
Wang the Teacher stood there panting like a bellows.
"Silver… truly a love–hate thing," he wheezed. "Mostly hate."
Shansier grinned. "Teacher, a proper scholar like you can't just stroll into the county seat lugging so much silver by yourself. And traveling alone isn't safe. Better bring a group of young men with you — have them pose as your servants. Only then will you look like someone who can afford to buy a bookshop."
So the lineup began.
Hungover Gao Chuwu was immediately dismissed. Zheng Dan Niu shouldered the silver bundle, and a group of young men joined in, forming a respectable-looking "household entourage." To be fair, they looked convincing — like the retinue of a sudden rich man who'd come into "mysterious fortune."
Wang the Teacher rehearsed his cover story:
He served as tutor for a wealthy lord, received a generous reward, suddenly became prosperous, and now intended to purchase a bookshop in pursuit of the grand dream — preserving the sacred learning of the sages for future generations.
Story ready, entourage assembled, they marched toward the county.
Back in Gaojia Village, the morning grogginess finally lifted. Villagers crawled out of their beds, sore but satisfied from last night's celebration.
Dao Xuan Tianzun checked on Yi Ye, who had just awakened. She then gathered the few Wangjia villagers who had migrated here. Tianzun informed them that it had rained in Wangjia Village.
The villagers rejoiced — rain was life itself.
Unfortunately, it was already late in the eleventh month. Winter was nearly here. Even if the land was moist again, it was too late to plant anything.
Seedlings sprouting now would never survive the incoming cold. They'd wither before the season turned.
Dao Xuan Tianzun briefly considered: Should I make plastic greenhouses?
Then immediately killed the thought.
Too early. No need to introduce "technological black magic" yet.
But the villagers weren't as disappointed as he was. Rain was a blessing — and planting in late autumn would only ruin their schedule anyway. If they planted winter wheat now, they'd lose the chance to plant spring wheat later. Better to wait for proper spring.
One villager looked up at the sky.
"Tianzun, since we can only plant in spring, why not use this winter to build a cement road to Wangjia Village? Then, when spring comes, we can ride the sun-powered carriage straight home to farm. Would that be alright?"
Dao Xuan Tianzun was delighted.
Finally, a villager with strategic thinking.
"Yi Ye," he said, "tell Shansier to send them some cement. Also arrange a few short-term workers and penal laborers to help. Let's build our second cement road — one leading straight to Wangjia Village."
Yi Ye relayed the message.
The villagers cheered instantly.
Motivation soared. In a blink, they grabbed hoes and shovels and charged toward the roadside to start digging. The wind blew, dust swirled — it looked like a small sandstorm powered entirely by enthusiasm.
They were digging merrily when a lone rider appeared from the southwest.
A tall horse.
An official in full government robes.
Behind him — a troop of yamen officers, laborers, and a wagon loaded with colorful longbows.
Liang Shixian had arrived.
He had come to return the bows.
As a self-proclaimed honest official, he believed that borrowed items must be returned in full. So he personally led the group, hauling the five hundred longbows back to Gaojia Village.
Just as they were nearing the village entrance, a blast of yellow dust slapped them in the face.
The villagers digging furiously at roadside didn't even notice their arrival. Sand flew everywhere.
Liang Shixian inhaled at the wrong moment and immediately doubled over:
"Cough—cough—COUGH!"
The yamen officers erupted in righteous fury.
"You insolent peasants! How dare you ambush the county magistrate!"
Liang Shixian instantly raised a hand to stop them.
"Silence! They were already digging long before we arrived. How is this an ambush?"
The yamen officers closed their mouths.
Their attempt to flatter him had, unfortunately, landed squarely on the horse's backside.
With a gentle expression, Liang Shixian called out to the villagers:
"My good people, why are you digging beside the road?"
The villagers, terrified of the county magistrate, huddled like quails.
"We—we're building a road… a road back to our village."
"Is there not already an official road?"
"The official road is too narrow and bumpy. We want to widen it and build a cement road."
"Cement road?"
Liang Shixian, a man overflowing with scholarly pride, mentally flipped through every strange and wondrous thing he'd ever read about — foreign contraptions, exotic inventions, bizarre novelties brought from overseas…
Then his mind produced one clean answer:
'Item not found.'
So he swallowed his pride.
"And what is a cement road?"
The villagers pointed toward the path leading to Zhengjia Village.
"That gray road over there — that's the cement road."
On horseback, Liang Shixian lifted himself to full height and gazed into the distance.
Sure enough — a long, smooth gray path stretched like a silver ribbon through the forest.
"Strange… why is it this color?"
Curiosity overshadowed his original mission.
He and his group marched toward the cement road. Upon stepping onto it:
"This road… so flat!
Traveling on it must feel like gliding!"
His adviser murmured, "Looks as if someone carved an enormous slab of stone."
Liang Shixian asked, "Who could cut stone like this?"
The adviser shook his head. "No human strength is capable of this."
Liang Shixian clicked his tongue in amazement.
"Gaojia Village is truly a place of wonders. If I'm not mistaken, this must also be the handiwork of the Li family. Good — I'm returning the longbows anyway. I shall ask about this road."
He straightened his official robes and approached Gaojia Fort, where Shansier had already received the sentry's report and came out to greet him.
After a round of polite gossip and ceremonial nonsense, Liang Shixian finally said:
"I have come to return the five hundred longbows borrowed earlier. Ah—well—"
He coughed lightly, cheeks turning slightly red.
"A few dozen bowstrings were snapped by my men. I will find a way to compensate the Li family in the future."
Shansier blinked. "Magistrate, if you're returning the bows so soon… then the bandits aren't coming back?"
Liang Shixian straightened with satisfaction.
"The bandits have suffered defeat after defeat. They have retreated back to Yellow Dragon Mountain and no longer dare approach our county. My scouts report they are now withdrawing westward, toward Luochuan County."
Footnotes
County magistrates and "ambush paranoia" – Officials in the Ming era were notoriously wary of peasant movements near roads, since roadside disturbances often signaled tax revolts. In this case, our poor villagers were simply digging with heroic enthusiasm, not plotting an uprising… for once.
Cement roads – In Ming reality, the closest thing to a "smooth modern road" was tamped earth or stone slabs. A true cement road would've been sorcery-level technology — no wonder Liang Shixian mentally flipped through his entire encyclopedia and found nothing.
Buying a bookshop – Scholars often dreamed of owning a bookshop or running a private academy. It wasn't a sign of wealth so much as a declaration: "I am now officially Very Learned." Wang the Teacher leaning into this fantasy is peak scholar-energy.