Outside, rain tapped endlessly for three days and three nights.
Shuangqing City lay under a curtain of soft winter drizzle, yet inside the box… not a single raindrop fell.
Li Daoxuan checked the time.
Just about right for rainfall.
So he pulled out his medical nebulizer, aimed it at the farmlands outside Gaojia Village, and—voilà—made it rain.
It was already the end of the twelfth month, seventh year of Tianqi.
New Year's footsteps were marching closer.
Spring Festival was the single most important holiday of the dynasty—no debates, no alternatives, no runner-ups.
Inside the box, the villagers were buzzing with preparations.
The past few years had been disasters—literally—so even New Year's Eve was spent digging wild greens and stripping bark from trees just to survive.
Festive atmosphere? Long dead.
Calories? Even deader.
But this year?
This year was different.
Cotton Jackets & Hide-and-Seek
Gao Sanniang chased her youngest across the courtyard:
"Sanwa! Come put on the new cotton coat Mama wove for you!"
But Sanwa was busy playing hide-and-seek with a pack of other kids.
The Hakka-style walled house, with its nine halls and eighteen wells, was basically a ready-made labyrinth—perfect for hiding, terrible for responsible parenting.
"I'm not cold! Don't call me, you'll get me caught!"
He darted off like a little loach on legs.
Gao Sanniang sighed.
"Every winter you cried for a padded coat. Now you finally have one and refuse to wear it."
Shansier happened to walk by and chuckled.
"That's because he eats meat now. Body's stronger, winter's nothing. Come on, Sanniang, worry less. Let the kid freeze with dignity."
Public Solar Car Training Camp
Outside the fort, two young men climbed onto Solar Car No. 2.
Gao Chuwu and Zheng Daniu hopped up after them to supervise.
"Listen up! This thing is called a steering plow! Turn left—it goes left…"
The two nodded vigorously like chicks pecking rice.
"You boys need to learn fast," Chuwu said. "When spring plowing starts in Wangjia Village, one solar car won't cut it. We'll need a whole fleet zipping back and forth."
Zheng Daniu added, "Dao Xuan Tianzun said Solar Car No. 2 will be renamed the Public Solar Car. It'll transport everyone between villages. And we'll cover more and more villages later… so it'll be real busy."
The two apprentices nodded even harder.
Solar Car No. 2 chugged forward like a determined but confused ox.
Short-Term Workers vs. Penal Laborers
The short-term worker village was lively—everyone cutting red paper decorations for New Year.
They hadn't been in Gaojia Village long, so their rewards from the Tianzun were still modest, but compared to their old lives?
Heaven.
They actually had enough money to buy RED PAPER.
In drought years, red paper was basically a luxury item ranking somewhere between silk and unicorn horns.
Meanwhile, the saddest group: the penal laborers.
They had basic living rations but no extra reward income. At first, they were content—food was food—but once they noticed the short-term workers steadily getting richer…
Ah.
Reality hit.
Being a convict was not the sweet life.
If they could just finish repaying their crimes and move into the short-term worker village… someday…
Li Daoxuan watched all this while clicking "north-south-east-west" to switch camera angles, like binge-watching his favorite reality show.
Then—movement from the east.
A whole group of people.
Three to four dozen.
Travel gear, rope-tied legs for long distances, heavy packs full of goods.
The leader rode a horse, bow on her back, blade at her hip—looked like a hardened warrior.
Except… when he zoomed in with the magnifying glass?
A woman.
A very tall, very broad, very square-jawed woman.
Not ugly, just… horizontally abundant.
Without magnification, Li Daoxuan honestly didn't realize she was female—just thought the proportions were "structurally interesting."
The oddity raised his interest to maximum.
A Merchant? In Shaanxi? In This Era?
The woman barked, voice booming like a war drum:
"Brothers! Where are we now?"
A man behind her murmured,
"Boss, we should be about thirty li from Chengcheng County."
She grinned.
"Good! Before noon we hit the county, move some goods at lunchtime."
Then she suddenly froze.
"Oho? A big walled fort up front. And two small villages beside it."
Li Daoxuan: Ah, she's spotted Gaojia Fortress.
The woman's eyes lit up.
"Excellent! A big estate like that means rich folks! And those villages look lively—maybe plenty of customers. Let's make a round and sell some goods!"
Her team sped up, pacing like wolves scenting profit.
Li Daoxuan blinked.
A merchant caravan? In chaotic Shaanxi?
And led by… well… that?
Bandits should've snatched her weeks ago—unless they took one look and decided to let the "big sister" go politely.
They soon entered Gaojia Village.
The woman beamed.
"This place is rich! Look—they even have rain! People look happy and well fed. We'll sell plenty."
Her men nodded.
"Boss speaks truth! These folks look loaded!"
She cupped her hands around her mouth and roared:
"Salt for sale! Premium quality! Twenty percent cheaper than official salt! Come buy it now—miss this village, no next shop!"
Li Daoxuan needed only a second to understand.
Private salt traffickers.
Makes sense: only smugglers had enough guts to roam Shaanxi these days.
And they always fought well—unless they ran into an army-sized bandit group, they usually weren't afraid of anything.
"Salt for saaaale!"
Her yell drew every villager's gaze.
People stared with… peculiar expressions.
The watchers on the battlements rested their chins in their palms, wearing a "this will be interesting" smile.
The woman sensed something off.
"Be careful," she murmured. "These people smile weird."
Her men quietly placed hands on their blades.
Footnotes
Private Salt Trade – In late Ming times, smuggling salt was common and extremely profitable. Official salt monopolies were notoriously corrupt, so many "merchants" in chaotic regions ran salt like modern-day contraband. They often traveled armed and in groups, sometimes doubling as mercenaries.
Paper-Cut Decorations – In agrarian societies, having spare red paper to cut decorations signaled financial comfort. During disasters, red paper was the first "luxury" to go.
Penal Laborers – These were villagers serving sentences for crimes. They had food and guaranteed survival, but no economic mobility, so being poorer than new migrant workers was a particularly harsh blow to morale.