After the river channel was widened, cargo ships began arriving in Jishan County, Jiangzhou, without pause.
They came one after another, sliding into the docks as if the river itself had finally remembered its duty.
At the same time, waterwheels were being erected along both banks of the river.
Not delicately.
Not patiently.
But urgently.
For several days straight, rain had fallen without rest. The sky showed no intention of stopping; if anything, it looked offended that no one was praising it for its diligence.
Yet the carpenters worked on.
Their clothes were soaked through, their hair plastered to their foreheads, sleeves heavy with water. Hammer blows rang out beneath the rain, dull but relentless. Nobody complained. Nobody slowed down.
Jishan County was the agricultural backbone of Jiangzhou. Everyone knew this. If Jishan prospered, Jiangzhou would follow. If Jishan failed, then no amount of clever governance or emergency measures would matter.
So the waterwheels had to be built.
And they had to be built now.
Mo Xiaopin stood by the riverbank, hands clasped behind his back, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
As Baojia head, militia instructor, and—through sheer accumulation of duties—the actual administrator of Jiangzhou, he had been living inside a constant state of worry.
For days now, he had been organizing farmers, assigning labor, checking progress, calculating how much time remained before spring plowing, then recalculating it again because the first number was never reassuring enough.
It was already the winter of Chongzhen's fourth year.
The New Year was close.
Spring plowing would follow immediately after.
Time wasn't just tight. It was actively hostile.
Just as Mo Xiaopin was mentally sorting through another list of unresolved issues, a vessel appeared upstream.
"…Eh?"
He turned his head.
That ship was wrong.
It wasn't a cargo vessel. No stacked crates, no familiar silhouette.
It was a pleasure boat.
The kind used by high officials to drink wine, listen to music, and recite poems about rivers they didn't actually manage.
On the Yellow River, of all places.
Mo Xiaopin felt his scalp tighten.
Sailing such a boat here was reckless at best, suicidal at worst. The Yellow River didn't care about elegance. It ate boats and reputations with equal enthusiasm.
Then he noticed something else.
No sails.
No oars.
"…Ah."
Understanding clicked into place.
One of those boats.
One of Mr. Bai's.
Which meant—
Important people.
Very important people.
Mo Xiaopin immediately abandoned his previous task and hurried toward the dock, straightening his clothes as best he could while running.
The cabin door opened.
A young lady stepped out first.
She looked delicate and reserved, her posture careful, her movements hesitant. At a glance, she appeared no more than sixteen or seventeen—a proper young miss who had likely grown up in courtyards, not riverbanks.
Behind her followed several young men.
Not servants.
Students.
Their clothing was plain, but their bearing was unmistakable. Straight-backed, alert, eyes sharp with the confidence of people who had been educated properly and knew it.
Mo Xiaopin's heart sank.
Children of high-ranking families.
The kind whose fathers might smile politely while filing memorials that destroyed careers.
He stepped forward quickly and bowed deeply.
"Esteemed young sirs, young madam—welcome to Jiangzhou. I am Mo Xiaopin. You may call me Overseer Mo. May I inquire—"
Before he could finish, the young lady startled visibly and took half a step back, slipping behind the group as if she'd been caught doing something wrong.
Mo Xiaopin nearly bit his tongue.
Too loud. Too sudden. I frightened her.
The young men, however, showed no displeasure. They returned his salute properly, without arrogance or disdain.
One of them spoke clearly, "Overseer Mo, we are from Gao Family Village, Chengcheng County, Shaanxi. We are chemistry interns."
"…Chemistry?"
"…Interns?"
Mo Xiaopin blinked.
He didn't understand the words, but he understood the danger. Any title that sounded scholarly—and especially one associated with Gao Family Village—was not something to treat lightly.
He bowed again. "Honored guests, if you are unfamiliar with the area, I would be honored to guide you around Jiangzhou."
At that moment, all the young men turned their heads in unison.
They looked behind them.
At the young lady.
Mo Xiaopin froze.
She's the one in charge?
Then the young men spoke together, voices respectful:
"Teacher San, please decide."
Teacher.
Mo Xiaopin felt his brain stumble.
This timid girl was—
San Shier's daughter.
Miss San.
A chemistry teacher at Gao Family Village School.
Director of the Gao Family Village Chemical Factory.
A name he had heard more than once, always with reverence.
Unfortunately, also someone painfully shy.
Under everyone's gaze, Miss San forced herself to step forward. She cleared her throat softly, hands clenched at her sides.
"We… um… we are unfamiliar with this place," she said quietly. "Having Overseer Mo guide us would be… very helpful. Shouldn't you all thank him?"
The interns immediately bowed.
"Thank you, Overseer Mo."
Miss San visibly relaxed, though only slightly—as if she'd loosened a knot by one finger-width.
Mo Xiaopin, meanwhile, was deeply confused.
If she were simply a noble's daughter, the deference would make sense. But teacher?
He asked cautiously, "Teacher San… may I ask what brings you to Jishan County?"
Miss San's face flushed.
"Ji—Jishan County is… an important agricultural region," she began, then hesitated. "Since ancient times… it has relied on farming… the Fen River… good irrigation…"
She paused, swallowed, and forced herself onward.
"This area will require large quantities of celestial fertilizer in the future. Transport alone won't be sufficient. A large chemical fertilizer factory must be built locally."
Mo Xiaopin stared.
His mind attempted to process the sentence.
It failed, retreated, and tried again.
She turned to her students.
"Your primary task here is to learn how to build a fertilizer factory from nothing."
"Yes, Teacher San!" the interns replied in unison.
Mo Xiaopin opened his mouth. Closed it. Then tried again.
"Uh… so… what exactly… should I—"
Miss San's face turned red.
"I—I didn't explain clearly… um… it's just…"
She stalled again.
After struggling through three incomplete sentences, she waved her hand weakly.
"Interns… please explain."
The students immediately surrounded Mo Xiaopin, talking excitedly about celestial fertilizer, yields, soil exhaustion, production, factories, and future expansion.
Mo Xiaopin listened carefully.
He nodded at appropriate moments.
He smiled when they smiled.
After a long while, he understood one thing clearly:
This "celestial fertilizer" could dramatically increase crop yields.
Everything else… he'd leave to Dao Xuan Tianzun.
In his heart, Mo Xiaopin had already decided.
These people were clearly trusted by Dao Xuan Tianzun. Their parents were undoubtedly core members of the Daoist Sect. Whether this venture made money or not no longer mattered.
Goodwill was priceless.
Even a loss would be worth it.
He straightened his back and smiled broadly.
"Teacher San! If this celestial fertilizer truly benefits agriculture and increases yields, then it is a great blessing to the people and the nation!"
He clenched his fist.
"As an administrator of Jiangzhou, I cannot hesitate. I will go all in—even if I must sell everything I own. Count me in!"
Miss San blinked.
The interns froze.
Then, very quietly, she smiled.
And somewhere beyond the rain, Dao Xuan Tianzun's will continued to move—patiently, relentlessly—like water turning a wheel.