Zhao Sheng made a round trip back to Gao Family Village.
When he returned by boat, the scene at Yongji Ancient Ferry Dock immediately felt different.
More people.
More baggage.
More crates.
More serious-looking faces.
Among the arrivals was one person who surprised almost everyone—
Xu Dafu, head of the Gao Family Village Ordnance Bureau, personally present.
When Zhao Sheng had first proposed building a front-line bullet factory at Yongji—specifically to supply the expeditionary forces pushing into Shanxi—Xu Dafu had nearly jumped out of his chair.
"A bullet factory?!" he'd shouted back then. "Do you have any idea what that means? Gunpowder moving around constantly! One careless spark and the whole place goes up! You think I'd dare hand something like this to an apprentice?"
He had slapped the table so hard his teacup rattled.
"No. Absolutely not. If this is being built, I will oversee it."
And so he did.
Under Xu Dafu's management, the Ordnance Bureau had become an almost obsessive institution. Safety regulations were engraved into bone. Even in his absence, his apprentices could handle gunpowder strictly by protocol, blindfolded if necessary.
Still, he didn't trust distance.
Before leaving Gao Family Village, he gave instructions so long and detailed that three apprentices nearly cried. Only then did he gather a group of senior technicians and follow Zhao Sheng to Yongji.
As for construction?
That part was easy.
Yongji Ancient Ferry Dock had already gone through extensive development. Cement buildings were no longer a novelty. The Blue Hats who arrived earlier had trained a whole wave of Yellow Hat apprentices, all capable of mixing, pouring, curing, and reinforcing concrete structures.
With Zhao Sheng's order, a large cement factory rose almost effortlessly.
Walls. Roof. Ventilation shafts. Storage rooms.
Solid.
The real problem wasn't the building.
It was people.
Xu Dafu stood at the site, hands clasped behind his back, brows knitted.
"Anyone allowed to handle gunpowder must undergo long-term observation. Their character must be spotless. And ideally—women."
Zhao Sheng looked at him.
Xu Dafu explained patiently, as if lecturing an apprentice.
"Women are meticulous. They can sit indoors all day doing repetitive work without losing focus. Men?" He snorted. "Full of wild thoughts. Always wanting to run outside, conquer the world, fight bandits, or prove they're heroes."
He gestured toward the empty rooms.
"I need people who can sit here, all day, wrapping cartridges without distraction. Do you have such people at Yongji?"
Zhao Sheng didn't answer immediately.
He thought.
Then nodded.
"Yes. We do."
Yongji Ancient Ferry Dock had been growing for over a year.
Back in the third year of Chongzhen, when Xing Honglang first arrived by boat, Shaanxi rebels were surging into Shanxi. Even then, more than a thousand commoners had already gathered at the dock seeking work.
As months passed, villagers from surrounding counties flowed in. Even residents from Puzhou City came.
Now, the civilian quarter housed two to three thousand people.
Men typically worked construction, transport, or militia logistics. Women cooked, stoked fires, cleaned, hauled water, and handled chores across the worksites.
One of them even made fried dough twists that Lao Nanfeng loved so much he'd once threatened to promote her on the spot.
Their wages?
Low.
Sometimes nonexistent—just meals.
And yet, none complained.
After all, this was how women had lived for thousands of years.
Zhao Sheng said slowly, "We can recruit the earliest group of women who came here to cook for us. They've worked steadily for over a year. Their character is proven."
Xu Dafu listened closely.
"We move them into the bullet factory," Zhao Sheng continued. "Then recruit new women from outer counties to take over cooking."
Xu Dafu nodded firmly.
"That will do."
And so—
The recruitment assembly began.
At the crossroads in the center of the residential area, a large notice was posted:
RECRUITING WORKERS
Men and Women Accepted
Highly Confidential Work
Wages and Treatment Equal to Skilled Workers
Zhao Sheng even stationed a literate subordinate beside it to read aloud for those who couldn't read.
The effect was immediate.
Men gathered, squinting at the notice, scratching heads.
"Women too?"
"Same pay as skilled workers?"
"Is this a joke?"
They'd heard from the illustrated booklet Gao Piao that Gao Family Village used women in industry—but seeing it happen here felt unreal.
Meanwhile—
The women exploded with excitement.
"Sisters, look!"
"Same pay as skilled workers!"
"Our cooking barely earns anything!"
"If we get this job, we earn the same as the men!"
Applicants surged forward.
Out of just over two thousand residents, more than eight hundred showed up.
Half men. Half women.
At the registration platform, Xu Dafu sat stern-faced, gripping a tin megaphone.
"Listen carefully," he said. "This job is not pleasant."
The crowd quieted.
"You will spend all day indoors. No sunlight. Small, dry rooms. Repeating the same motions from morning to night."
Some men's expressions immediately cooled.
A real man's ambition stretched in all directions—who wanted to rot indoors?
The women, however, showed no reaction.
Indoors all day?
Protected from wind and rain?
What blessing is this?
Xu Dafu raised a paper cartridge.
"This tiny thing. You must wrap three materials inside. All day. Every day. Harder than wrapping zongzi."
Another wave of men backed away.
The women remained unmoved.
Harder than embroidery? Than sewing?
Please.
"One last requirement," Xu Dafu said. "Strict secrecy. No discussing work methods. No leaks. No gossip."
The men perked up.
The women gasped.
"No gossip?!"
Xu Dafu waved dismissively.
"Only about work. You may still gossip about whether a coworker gave birth to a son or daughter, or whether someone talked in her sleep about loving Zheng Daniu from the next village—"
"What?!" Zheng Daniu shouted from the crowd. "I protest!"
Zao Ying, beside him, pointed angrily.
"I protest too! Why make him sound popular?!"
Xu Dafu didn't even look at them.
The women immediately smiled again.
"That's fine!"
"We're signing up!"
Registration went fast.
In the end—
Four hundred women.
Two hundred men.
The Yongji Bullet Factory stood ready.
Silent.
Sealed.
Waiting to feed the war.
And somewhere far away, two sticks of incense continued to burn.