Seeing Magistrate Feng's face jump through several emotional stages in rapid succession, Shansier laughed quietly to himself.
The magistrate still had no real idea how vast Dao Xuan Tianzun's reach was. His understanding of Gao Family Village's "resources" remained firmly within mortal accounting.
No matter.
It was harmless fun to tease him a little.
Shansier gently shook the three fingers he had raised earlier.
"Three days? Of course not. Magistrate Feng underestimates us."
Feng Jun hesitated.
"Then… thirty days?"
Shansier shook his head again.
"Still too small."
"Three months?"
Shansier smiled.
"Why think so cautiously? Why not be a little braver?"
Feng Jun took a deep breath, then ventured carefully,
"Don't tell me… three years?"
Shansier laughed aloud.
"Three lifetimes."
Feng Jun froze.
To be honest, he didn't believe it.
Shansier knew he wouldn't, and didn't press the point. Instead, he spoke mildly, as if discussing the weather.
"In truth, Magistrate Feng need not worry so much. He Yang has already received rain from the Four Seas Dragon Kings. It is spring plowing season; the fields are planted. In half a year at most, the county's own harvest will sustain the people. By then, Gao Family Village's aid will no longer be needed."
That, at least, made sense.
Feng Jun nodded slowly.
As they spoke, Jinshui Gully came into view.
The coal mine was absurdly close to the county seat—just over a hill, into a narrow ravine, and there it was.
The entire valley was black.
Both sides of the ravine were streaked with dark mineral veins. Even the official road beneath their feet had long since lost its yellow earth, stained black by years of coal transport and fallen slag.
Ahead stood a cluster of crude shelters—branches and dry grass lashed together. Beside them stretched an open-pit coal field, where figures as dark as the stone itself labored in silence.
Feng Jun glanced uneasily at Gao Yiye's carriage.
Surely the Saintess will find this place unbearable…
Before the thought finished forming, the curtain flew open.
Gao Yiye jumped down.
No hesitation. No disgust. Her eyes sparkled instead.
"So this is what a coal mine looks like?"
She ran straight toward the miners.
"Uncle," she asked a soot-covered man brightly, "how do you make coal? Is it refined after digging, or treated with some special craft?"
The miner nearly dropped his tool.
A richly dressed woman—clearly someone important—asking him questions? He bowed hastily.
"Madam, coal comes out of the ground as coal. No special process."
"So simple?" Gao Yiye's eyes widened. "Then I can dig too!"
She squatted down, picked up a fist-sized lump, and turned it in her hands. In seconds, her palms and sleeves were blackened.
"When I was little, this thing was so expensive we couldn't afford it. Turns out it's just… there." She laughed. "I'll take two pieces home to play with."
The miner broke into a sweat.
"Madam… that one is mine…"
"I know, I know." She returned it cheerfully, then spotted an unattended iron pickaxe. "Whose is this? I'll borrow it!"
The resting miner dared not refuse.
"Madam, please—go ahead."
Gao Yiye hopped into the pit and swung the pickaxe hard at a dark stone.
Clang.
The pick rebounded violently. She fell straight onto the ground.
Her skirt was instantly ruined.
Rubbing her numbed hands, she gasped,
"Wow. This is harder than it looks."
The miner smiled helplessly.
"Madam, that wasn't coal. Just hard rock. Coal isn't usually that tough."
Gao Yiye stared.
Qiu Ju and Dong Xue rushed over immediately, hauling her back toward the carriage.
"Saintess, you're filthy!"
"Quick, back inside!"
The three disappeared behind the curtain.
Feng Jun stood there, stunned.
So the Saintess… was this kind of person?
Shansier coughed lightly.
"Please excuse her, Magistrate Feng. Our Lady is still quite young."
Feng Jun coughed back.
"Ah… yes. Youthful liveliness is… good."
He straightened.
Business first.
Stepping forward, he raised his voice.
"Listen carefully! From today onward, Jinshui Gully is no longer managed by the county. It is entrusted to the Li family of Gao Family Village."
He gestured.
"The lady you saw earlier is the Li family's principal wife. This gentleman beside me is the Third Steward—his surname is San. You will obey their orders from this day forth. Understood?"
The miners bowed mechanically.
To them, digging coal for officials or digging coal for nobles was the same misery under a different name.
"Very well," Feng Jun said.
"Steward San, say a few words."
He stepped aside.
Shansier walked forward, smiling.
He surveyed the miners' lifeless expressions and felt no surprise. Years as a clerk had taught him one rule above all others when dealing with laborers.
Skip the speeches.
Drop the bomb.
"From today on," Shansier said lightly, "you work for the Li family. And the Li family does not mistreat its workers."
He paused.
"Your monthly wages will be raised to three taels of silver."
The mine went silent.
Not just the miners—Feng Jun froze as well.
Three taels?
These were hereditary mining laborers, bound to the lowest rung of society. Three taels a month was the income of commoners in wealthy southern counties.
And then Shansier added calmly:
"Food is included."
The miners finally found their voices.
"A—A—AH?!"
Trivia
Hereditary Mining Labor
Many Ming-era miners were bound laborers, often descended from defeated soldiers or penal households. Their status rarely changed, regardless of skill or years worked.
Wages as Authority
Raising wages was not merely economic—it redefined loyalty. Paying well shifted allegiance faster than proclamations or punishments ever could.