Unable to find a warrior strong enough to take on ten alone, Pei Zhu had no choice but to assign the courthouse’s own clerks to the task. Four of Cheng Si’s men, who had originally guarded the granary, were reassigned to the patrol team since the granary was now completely empty.
However, this created a shortage of personnel at the courthouse. Sun Huan and the others had already complained earlier that they were overworked, but Pei Zhu had ignored them and pressed on with inspections. Now that the workload had increased further, they began to grumble again.
After discussing it among themselves, they unanimously decided to ask Lord Zheng to speak on their behalf.
But Lord Zheng, who always liked to oppose County Magistrate Pei, only scowled and refused to take a stance.
“This won’t do!” Sun Huan and the others felt as if the sky had collapsed. “Lord, why won’t you stand up for us? Magistrate Pei is exploiting us—this is a disgrace to you!”
Zheng Xingcheng remained unmoved. What a joke—his own prospects were ruined, so why should he care about these people? He had once tried to curry favor with Sun Huan and the others to build his own influence, but now that he understood Lord Liu Dai’s attitude and realized that the prefecture officials looked down on him, he had completely given up. No matter how hard he tried, he could never catch the eye of someone powerful and would only be mocked. So he decided to let things slide.
Turning his back, he ignored them entirely. Sun Huan panicked and hurriedly said, “Lord, are you afraid of Magistrate Pei? Yesterday, Lord Liu praised you highly; even he regards you specially. Why fear mere Pei Zhu?”
“Silence!” Zheng Xingcheng spun around sharply, eyes narrowing with a terrifying aura.
At this moment, the one thing he could not tolerate was anyone mentioning these matters. Each word reminded him of his past foolishness. “If I hear Liu Dai’s name one more time, I’ll have you all killed!”
Sun Huan retreated in fright, saying no more, helplessly watching as Lord Zheng left.
Patting his chest in relief, Sun Huan felt lucky to have survived the encounter but remained puzzled. “Lord Zheng so respected Lord Liu, yet now he calls him by name—why is that?”
Since Lord Liu had left, Lord Zheng had behaved strangely, making him difficult to read.
Without Zheng’s support, Sun Huan and the others lacked the courage to confront Pei Zhu. Reluctantly, they returned to work.
Seeing them quieted down, Pei Zhu promised to raise their monthly wages in the near future.
Sun Huan and the others only smiled awkwardly. County Magistrate Pei liked to placate them with vague promises; if he truly intended to raise their pay, he would have done so immediately.
In truth, Pei Zhu did not plan to give the raise. When investigating Zheng Xingcheng’s embezzlement, he had discovered that many courthouse staff colluded with him. Pei Zhu had chosen not to punish them immediately, as he still needed Zheng to cover up the tax discrepancies. Pei Zhu valued integrity; he could not bring himself to like schemers like Sun Huan.
If he had sufficient replacements, he would have fired them outright. But with a shortage of personnel, he had to make do.
The next day, the Xiangyi Workshop officially began operations.
It was a day chosen according to auspicious astrology, down to the exact hour. The fortune teller had promised that starting the workshop at this time would turn misfortune into blessing.
Pei Zhu approved immediately, though County Officer Chen from neighboring Anping County muttered that it wasn’t ideal. “Better that things go smoothly than to try and avoid misfortune.” But the fortune teller had examined all other hours and found none suitable, leaving only this option.
At the first quarter of the si hour, Pei Zhu and County Magistrate Zhang had already gathered everyone at the workshop. In addition to courthouse staff and newly recruited female workers, there were family members and neighbors.
Knowing Pei Zhu, he wanted a lively opening. With limited funds—his savings spent and courthouse funds untouchable—Zhang, ever pragmatic, discarded any unnecessary extravagance. Without a proper sign unveiling, he wouldn’t even contribute the red silk for the plaque. So Pei Zhu improvised, burning bamboo sticks to create a crackling, firework-like effect.
The people of Yongning County were delighted, cheering enthusiastically, their voices echoing for a long while.
Neighbors from Anping County, seeing this, were driven by competition—if they did not cheer as loudly, it would undermine County Magistrate Zhang’s prestige. So they shouted even harder.
Pei Zhu chuckled. “Looks like everyone is very excited.”
Zhang was baffled by their enthusiasm but reminded him, “Hurry and unveil the plaque—do not miss the auspicious time.”
Pei Zhu solemnly stepped forward with Zhang, surrounded by the crowd, standing on either side of the workshop entrance. He pulled the red silk, revealing a wooden plaque: Zeng Chun Workshop, inspired by a line of poetry he liked: “Though Jiangnan has nothing, I present a branch of spring.”
Rarely indulging his literary side, Pei Zhu insisted on this name despite Zhang’s protests, eventually forcing him to concede.
The townspeople didn’t understand the reference but found it pleasing once explained. Some of Yongning’s locals felt it somewhat refined compared to their usual lives, though fortunately it was the women working inside, so it wasn’t out of place.
When Pei Zhu allowed the female workers to bring their families to help set up, mostly mothers, elder sisters, and grandmothers entered while others waited outside. Some were actual workshop workers, but most knew nothing of the inside. Allowing family members in helped reassure the women.
The female supervisors, brought in by Zhang from Anping County, guided them. Literate women were rare at this time.
After two days of training, the workers quickly learned the ropes. One, Madame Mei Yannian, strong-willed and efficient, had quickly won the respect of the others.
She temporarily served as workshop manager; if she performed well over two months, Pei Zhu would officially appoint her.
Dressed in blue and composed, Mei Yannian and her supervisors commanded authority.
Walking through Zeng Chun Workshop, everyone admired the orderly and spacious environment, which exceeded their expectations.
In the kitchen, people were already cooking. A sign outside listed the daily menu. Mei Yannian explained, “The workshop is not yet profitable, so meals are simple: steamed buns, plain porridge, small side dishes, and half a bowl of egg custard per person. Once the workshop earns profit, meals will be more varied.”
“Simple? This is better than home,” someone whispered.
“Indeed. In our poor county, few can eat steamed buns daily, let alone egg custard.”
The dormitories were two large shared rooms, later partitioned for privacy. Each small room accommodated two people with new tables, chairs, and cabinets.
“Come forward when your name is called. You’ll have forty-five minutes to set up your beds and tidy yourselves, then assemble on the front porch in groups for formal Xiangyi production training,” Mei Yannian instructed, immediately calling names without waiting for responses.
Those whose names were called were nervous but grateful someone guided them in. Strict rules and timed activities were unfamiliar but necessary—earning money required efficiency, intelligence, and discipline.
The women entered one by one, relieved to see partitions. Rooms were assigned according to numbered tags. Luo Ye’er was lucky to share a room with a girl from her village.
After making their beds, Luo Ye’er’s mother said, “Seeing everything so well arranged, I’m at ease. Your father is waiting outside, and the workshop can’t keep you here too long to avoid interfering with the supervisors.”
By now, the women understood that literate and capable supervisors like Mei Yannian were meant to manage them efficiently.
Pei Zhu and County Magistrate Zhang observed the enthusiastic discussion, proud that their workshop had not disappointed anyone.
Under Mei Yannian’s strict guidance, the women quickly learned the workflow and became proficient.
Producing Xiangyi was simple once the work was divided—each person handled their assigned tasks. Performance would be recorded for future reference when paying wages.
The women, though initially nervous, worked hard to earn their full monthly pay.
Within five days, thousands of Xiangyi had been produced and stored, limited only by available raw materials.
Pei Zhu checked his system panel, noting only one day remained to complete the mission. Once the pre-ordered wooden boxes arrived and the Xiangyi were packed, the task would be complete.
Closing the panel, Pei Zhu felt elated. Even when Zheng Xingcheng, who maintained a “keep away” demeanor, ignored him, Pei Zhu cheerfully greeted him.
Even if Lord Zheng didn’t respond, Pei Zhu remained in high spirits, feeling nothing could dampen his mood.
Until evening, a sweaty clerk burst in, kneeling immediately before Pei Zhu.
His heart sank, sensing something ominous. “What is it?” he asked anxiously.
“Sir, there’s trouble at Zeng Xiang Workshop!”