The greenware shop remained quiet for several days. Wang Sheng and Zhang Neng were busy preparing for the peak maritime trade season, while Wu Youcai was away on business. Shao Shuyi tried to help where he could, but Wang Sheng wouldn't let him intervene, insisting he stick to the accounts.
The bustle at the establishment was easily explained: Chuzhou was about to ship another ten thousand pieces of porcelain, creating an endless stream of tasks.
On the evening of the nineteenth, Shao Shuyi was overjoyed to learn that a Zheng family ship transporting silk and cotton cloth was passing the Old Locust Tree and would return to Taicang that night. He immediately asked Manager Wang Sheng for leave to visit his old home in Zhangjing.
Strictly speaking, he didn't need to ask; the twentieth was a rest day, and his time was his own. Wang Sheng, seemingly preoccupied with some heavy, undecided matter, relaxed his furrowed brows at the request. He agreed readily and sent someone to contact the ship’s supervisor to arrange a ride for Shao.
The journey passed without incident. When Shao Shuyi pushed open the gate to his courtyard, the night was deep, and the moon hung high.
Wang Huadu stood there, shouldering a gleaming anchor axe, his face solemn. Realizing it was Shao Shuyi, he relaxed into a smile. "I thought it was a petty thief. I was just about to test my axe."
Shao Shuyi gave him a sour look. "Don't go injuring yourself."
Wang Huadu yawned indifferently. "Cheng Ji is here, sound asleep. I'm turning in, too. Make yourself at home."
Shao Shuyi smiled silently. The fellow certainly didn't treat himself as an outsider, acting like the master while treating Shao as the guest. Wang and Cheng occupied the west room, where sundries were piled, while Shao Shuyi returned to the bedroom in the east. After briefly reflecting on the recent days—weighing his gains and losses—he drifted into a groggy sleep.
…Early the next morning, he opened his eyes to the sound of laughter in the courtyard. Draping his clothes over his shoulders, he went out to look and found Yu Yuan had arrived. He called out a greeting.
"Brother Shao." Yu Yuan bowed.
Shao Shuyi returned the bow, surprised. Hadn't Yu Yuan followed the others in calling him "Little Hu" last time? Why the change? "Brother" carried not only intimacy but a touch of respect.
Wang Huadu was in the courtyard executing postured strikes with the anchor axe. Surprisingly, there was method to his movements; he wasn't swinging wildly like a beginner. Whether he had learned this from Cheng Ji or possessed some prior foundation was unclear, though Shao Shuyi leaned toward the latter. Wang Huadu’s skill wasn't exceptionally high—he was a qualified axeman, but merely an axeman.
Cheng Ji sat cross-legged on the ground. He nodded to Shao Shuyi and went back to fiddling with his bow.
Yu Yuan held a copper tube-like object, examining it repeatedly. Catching Shao Shuyi’s gaze, he said, "Brother Cheng brought it."
He handed over the tube. Shao Shuyi took it and exclaimed, "A fire lance?"
"A bronze hand cannon." Cheng Ji stood up, looking somewhat sheepish. "I heard it was made over ten years ago. The Crossroads Force was equipped with several dozen, but no one liked using them. They've been rotting in the armory ever since."
Shao Shuyi’s expression was a mix of joy and concern.
A primitive firearm.
He examined it carefully. It was roughly thirty to forty centimeters long, with a touch hole at the rear leading directly to the powder chamber. He wasn't sure if it used a slow match for ignition. A socket at the base allowed for a wooden handle. The muzzle was fitted with a rusty iron hoop—undoubtedly to reinforce the barrel against explosion, suggesting poor craftsmanship.
It was, in short, a muzzle-loading smoothbore pistol. Extremely crude, yet it possessed the embryonic form of a firearm. Its accuracy would be negligible, its range unsatisfactory. As for power? It was hard to say, but Shao Shuyi doubted it could penetrate iron armor—or even the cotton armor common in the Yuan dynasty.
This hand cannon was a classic "chicken rib"—tasteless to eat, yet wasteful to discard. No wonder the soldiers of the Crossroads Force left them to gather dust.
Cheng Ji seemed aware of this. "Copper is still worth money," he said awkwardly, "so I can't sell it cheap."
"Why sell me a hand cannon?" Shao Shuyi asked. "Wouldn't anchor axes, sickle-axes, ring-pommel sabers, iron swords, great spears, infantry bows, or even armor be more useful and easier to move?"
Cheng Ji was silent for a moment before speaking the truth. "No one checks for hand cannons."
"Does your Thousand-Household Garrison have copper cannons?"
"Yes." Cheng Ji nodded. "Three in total, called Bowl-Mouth Cannons, made in the third year of Zhishun (1332). One exploded, one went missing, and now only one remains. They say it’s for city defense, but it’s never been used."
"Do other units have firearms?"
"Very few, as far as I know."
Shao Shuyi understood. To say the Yuan army ignored firearms would be unjust, but to claim they were a conventional tactic would be an exaggeration. They were still fumbling in the dark, possessing no dazzling muskets or cannons. The bronze hand cannon he held was less a weapon than a toy; its utility was negligible. The Bowl-Mouth Cannon was likely just an enlarged version with worrisome range and accuracy, fit only for static defense. In the field, it would be a laughingstock. Yet war was a catalyst for technology; who knew what the future held?
"I have no money on hand." Shao Shuyi regretfully pushed the cannon back to Cheng Ji. "If you can wait until next month, I'll buy it."
Cheng Ji pushed it back. "Keep it. It’s useless to me, and no one checks. Just give me thirty strings next month; there's no rush."
Thirty strings?! Shao Shuyi was startled. Then again, it was solid bronze. Still, he probably should haggle...
Cheng Ji ignored his hesitation. "Last time I spoke of bow maintenance. Today, I’ll test you. After unstringing a bow, how do you prevent moisture?"
"Coat the body with sheep fat or cow oil; raw lacquer or tung oil also works," Shao Shuyi answered.
"And after coating?"
"Place it in a bow bag containing anti-insect herbs."
"If the bow is strung, how should it hang?"
"Vertically."
"Unstrung?"
"Reversed."
"Rain implies danger for bows, but battle forces their use. How do you treat the string after use in the rain?"
"Unstring immediately and dry over a low fire."
"In winter, the body becomes brittle. How do you handle it?"
"Coat and soak it in hot sesame oil."
The two traded questions and answers until a dozen had passed.
Wang Huadu leaned on his anchor axe, dumbstruck. "Little Hu, since when did your brain work so well?"
Yu Yuan looked on with admiration. As a scholar, he prided himself on his memory and believed he learned faster than Wang Huadu, but absorbing so much at once was no small feat. Brother Shao was impressive.
Cheng Ji’s surprise was even greater. The questions seemed simple, but he knew how thick-headed people could be. Teach them once, and they forget it the next moment; even if they remember, they jumble the details. Cheng Ji often suspected that the illiteracy of the army regulars made them slow to learn even basic maintenance.
But he remembered everything after a single lesson. Such intelligence was rare. No wonder he was a bookkeeper for the Zheng family.
"I brought some maintenance supplies today. You try." Cheng Ji opened a bundle and laid out the items.
Shao Shuyi acknowledged him, then walked quickly to Wang Huadu and whispered, "How much of the money from last time is left?"
"Long gone," Wang Huadu said carelessly. Seeing Shao Shuyi's face fall, he laughed. "Relax, I borrowed five strings yesterday for rice and flour."
"From whom?"
Wang Huadu pointed at Yu Yuan. "Him, of course."
Yu Yuan, unaware of the topic, smiled foolishly from a distance.
"I'll pay you back shortly," Shao Shuyi said with a nod.
"Pay back what?" Wang Huadu looked unhappy. "Just use it. If I run out of food one day, I'll come find you. We're brothers; you wouldn't turn me away, right?"
Shao Shuyi broke into a smile. "I was being petty. You're right. Brothers need not keep score."
"That's the spirit." Wang Huadu patted Shao Shuyi's shoulder, then glanced at Yu Yuan. "Young Master Yu is a brother, too."
Shao Shuyi nodded solemnly.
Remembering something, he leaned close to Wang Huadu and whispered, "If you have time, go to the Liu Family Port docks. Ask around about a broker named Sun Chuan. See who he mixes with."
"An enemy?" Wang Huadu tightened his grip on his axe.
"Don't do anything rash; just gather information," Shao Shuyi said quickly. "If you can't find anything, we can discuss it later."
"I'm heading to the docks for hired labor anyway; there should be an opportunity," Wang Huadu said. "Brokers can't sit still. They run around all day—easy to spot."
Shao Shuyi nodded. Yu Yuan had already run to Cheng Ji's side to help arrange the items on the ground. The practical lesson was about to begin.