"Prepare to ignite!"
Even before the words had finished echoing, Bai Gongzi's voice cut through the winter air — crisp, confident, and full of the reckless energy only youth can carry. His eyes gleamed with the thrill of creation, his every gesture sharp and decisive, as if command itself had chosen to reside in his bones.
From a short distance away, Madam Bai watched her son, heart swelling with pride and something softer — nostalgia, perhaps. Once upon a time, she could discipline that boy with a flick of her wrist. Ever since he'd slipped away from her legendary "big smack" years ago, however, the era of maternal authority had quietly ended. Her son had grown into someone she no longer needed to guide — perhaps even someone who now guided her. The proud mother had become the humble follower.
Li Daoxuan — or rather, Dao Xuan Tianzun to those who worshipped him — observed the scene from outside the great mechanical box. He smiled faintly. To his eyes, Bai Gongzi was more than one boy with a clever invention; he was the bright spark of Gao Family Village's future — the living proof that the next generation might step beyond the shadows of feudal limits.
The elders, bound by habit and circumstance, had built the world they knew. But this boy — and the ones like him — they might just reinvent it.
Then came the roar.
The steam engine thundered to life, as two bare-chested stokers — muscles glistening under a layer of coal dust — shoveled pitch-black coal into the hungry furnace.
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
The whistle shrieked — long, full, and alive. It wasn't the frail imitation of a toy train, but the voice of industry itself, echoing through the valley. The villagers gasped. But the one who trembled most was not the crowd — it was Dao Xuan Tianzun himself.
When he was a boy, he had often visited his grandmother in the old Huangjueshu village near Shuangqing City. There had been an ancient rail line that cut through the fields. He could still remember the sound of coal trains roaring past, a thunder that filled both sky and chest. Years later, the old woman passed away, the village was razed, the rails torn up, the trains gone. Electric rails came, sterile and efficient — but their whistles were hollow things, lacking the soul of smoke and fire.
Now, as the iron creature screamed once more, something in him stirred. Tears welled up, unbidden, as memory and present intertwined.
"The train… it's moving!" someone shouted.
And indeed, the great iron beast began to lurch forward — slowly, like an awakening god.
"It's moving! It's really moving!"
The people of Gao Family Village erupted in cheers. "A mountain of iron — heavier than a hundred oxen — and it moves just by boiling water!"
Madam Bai threw her hands into the air, laughing so loudly that even the sky might have blushed.
"My son succeeded! Hahaha! He really did it! Girls — you know what to do!"
A group of hired maidens began to scatter paper confetti, chanting with gleeful rhythm:
"General Bai is mighty!"
"General Bai is awe-inspiring!"
"General Bai's invention is divine!"
Bai Gongzi grimaced, waving them off. "Divine, my foot! Who's going to clean this mess up? Do you know how hard paper is to sweep off wet ground?"
The little locomotive rumbled forward, its pace sluggish but determined — perhaps eight kilometers per hour, no faster than a trotting mule. Yet in that moment, it wasn't about speed. It was about history.
Humanity had just taken another step into the age of steam.
Dao Xuan Tianzun, filled with joy, reached into his sleeve and pulled out a golden bracelet. Snapping a small ring from it, he stretched forth a colossal hand — shimmering like dawn light — and set it before Bai Gongzi.
A hush fell.
Inside the box, everyone stared, mouths agape.
The divine hand of Dao Xuan Tianzun descended, holding a golden ring half the height of a man. The villagers whispered — a ring of pure gold! How many taels would that be? How much divine favor had just landed before them?
Then came the decree.
Gao Yiye, the village herald, stepped forward and bellowed,
"Dao Xuan Tianzun commands! Bai Gongzi, who has brought forth an invention for the benefit of all under heaven, is to be rewarded with this golden ring! Let all take him as an example — and strive to create wonders that uplift humanity!"
The valley shook with cheers.
"Congratulations, General Bai!"
Another decree followed:
"Dao Xuan Tianzun commands: from this day forth, Gao Family Village shall enter an age of railway construction! Workers are to be gathered in great number, to lay track across the land and bind every corner of our domain. The Qichuan Ferry, a place of vital trade, shall be connected first — by iron and steam! And hear this well: the celestial toy trains gifted by Tianzun shall be recalled, no longer for mortal amusement."
A collective sigh swept through the onlookers — half regret, half understanding. Those with education, like San Shier, Bai Yuan, and Liang Shixian, had long expected this. Celestial tools were never meant to linger among mortals forever. Dao Xuan Tianzun's generosity had merely given them a head start — now it was time for humankind to earn their own future.
Before long, Liang Shixian, San Shier, and Feng Jun gathered together, their faces serious.
"The three of us," Liang Shixian said, "must decide who will oversee each section of the railway."
Feng Jun wiped a thin trickle of blood from his nose — a side effect of sheer excitement. "My department's short on workers," he muttered. "But I'll take the thirty-li stretch from Heyang County to Qichuan Ferry."
San Shier nodded thoughtfully. "Labor's tight in Gao Family Village too. But fine — I'll handle the segment between Gao Family and Heyang."
Liang Shixian sighed. "Then I'll take Chengcheng County to Gao Family Village. But I'm short-handed as well."
Every man nodded grimly. It was the same story everywhere.
Too much work. Not enough hands.
In the past, they'd worried about too many mouths to feed. Now, they worried about too few hands to build. Gao Family Village, Chengcheng County, Heyang County — everywhere, construction sites had sprung up like mushrooms after rain. The problem was no longer iron or wood, but people.
San Shier shot Liang a teasing glance. "Didn't you go 'borrowing' workers from Baishui and Dali Counties a while back? How many did you end up stealing?"
Liang scratched his head sheepishly. "Quite a few, actually. But then we found a massive iron deposit in Yaotou Town — so they're all down in the mines now. Digging iron takes more men than farming!"
No one laughed at that. They all knew what it meant. Iron — real, earthly iron — was now the bloodline of their progress. Every rail, every gear, every furnace demanded it. If they wanted independence from divine supply, the mines had to thrive.
The men exchanged long, weary looks.
"Once, we complained there were too many people to feed," one muttered. "Now we don't have enough to work."
From somewhere off to the side, Gao Sanwa popped his head up like an overeager gopher and yelled, "Thirty years east, thirty years west!"
Everyone groaned in unison. "Don't just shout random proverbs, you fool!"
Laughter broke through the weariness — brief but sincere. And beneath that laughter, steam continued to rise, the scent of coal mingling with ambition. The train chugged on, slow but unstoppable, carrying the dreams of a village — and perhaps, of a nation — toward an iron-clad dawn.