On the fifteenth of the fourth month, under a somewhat gloomy sky, Shao Shuyi walked aimlessly along the ridge of a field.
He had actually started out lucky last night, having encountered a vegetable farmer living out in the fields. The farmer was kind-hearted, allowing him to stay in his shed and even offering a few bundles of dry straw to spread on the ground so he could make do for the night.
In the latter half of the night, when his stomach began to rumble with hunger, Shao Shuyi realized that in his haste to escape the previous day, he hadn’t even brought a fire tube. The grain he carried was too heavy and had drained too much of his strength; it had already become a burden.
After borrowing a fire and a steaming basket from the farmer, he cooked a pot of dry rice and hastily swallowed it down.
However, his luck ended there. Just before dawn, the distant main road became as busy as a marketplace with the noise of carts and horses.
Not long after Shao Shuyi had fallen asleep, he was rudely awakened. He stumbled out to check the situation, only to have an arrow whistle straight toward his head, landing seven or eight steps in front of him with a shrill hiss.
“Run! It’s the soldiers from the Dadu Garrison,” the farmer shouted, giving him a shove.
Shao Shuyi did not hesitate. “The grain is yours!” he yelled and took to his heels.
Several soldiers chased after him, cursing loudly. Some held infantry bows, others carried spears, anchor axes, sickle axes, or ring-pommel sabers. They only stopped pursuing once they reached the vegetable farmer’s place.
Shao Shuyi didn’t dare look back, running straight ahead until he physically could run no further. Only then did he slow his pace, gasping for breath as he walked.By then, he had realized what had happened.
The "Dadu Garrison " was likely the Dadu Thousand-Household Garrison. Searching his memories of his original self, he discovered that there were indeed Yuan troops stationed in Taicang, which the locals called the "Dadu Garrison."
If nothing was amiss, there were military institutions above the Dadu Garrison spanning more than one level, though he didn't know if it was a Guard or a Myriad Commander. In any case, his original self had little experience and didn't know much about these things; knowing even this much from hearsay was already impressive.
He had likely violated a marching taboo earlier and was perceived to be spying on the troops, which was why the soldiers had come to drive him away—yes, just drive him away. Those soldiers hadn’t really intended to kill him, just to scare him, as this was Taicang, not enemy territory.
But it was useless to say anything now.
Shao Shuyi felt very dejected. A trace of sorrow uncontrollably rose from the bottom of his heart, accompanied by a bit of anger. He was a transmigrator, yet he was fleeing everywhere like a stray dog, with nowhere to go and no one to rely on. He wasn't even sure if he could survive until the next day.
If he had known he would end up this wretched, he might as well have steeled his heart and gone to sea with Kong Tie; at least death wasn't a certainty there.
He fiercely reflected on his actions, telling himself he couldn't forget the lessons learned. This was the Yuan dynasty (1271–1368), not 21st-century China. His current margin for error was extremely small; one careless move, and he might die in some corner where no one would care.
As he walked, a river suddenly appeared ahead, its surface packed with moored ships. Shao Shuyi looked out and recognized it as the Yantietang River, a waterway flowing out from within Taicang city and merging southward into the Lou River.
There was a bridge over the river, with pedestrians constantly coming and going. After tidying his appearance slightly, Shao Shuyi lowered his head, ignored the strange looks from bystanders, stepped across the wooden bridge, and arrived at the west bank.
He had been to this place before.
“What are you doing here?” Inside the Zheng family shipyard, Li Zhuang stood with wood shavings sticking to his hair bun and oil stains covering his hemp short jacket. He was currently using an ink marker to draw a line on a wooden plank.
His son, Li Yu, stood to the side, watching carefully.
When Shao Shuyi approached, the little guy’s attention was drawn away, and he tilted his small head, making faces at him.
Yes, Shao Shuyi had come to the Zheng clan shipyard. This was the only place he could think of in the short term to try his luck. If this didn't work, he would likely have to find a wealthy family to seek refuge with and sell himself as a bondservant —provided they dared to take him in.
Hearing Li Zhuang’s question, he took a deep breath and said, “I came to see if Big Brother Li has any work here.”
“Go back.” After snapping the line, Li Zhuang waved his hand. “The shipyard does have some rough and heavy work, but the Master has bondservants and no longer recruits outside hired laborers.”
Shao Shuyi was somewhat disappointed.
No one’s money came from the wind. It was normal to hire outsiders temporarily when busy, but continuing to hire them after the labor shortage passed would be foolish. The family’s bondservants only needed to be fed, not given banknotes; wasn't that cheaper than using outsiders?
However, he had no retreat now. After a moment of silence, he asked again, “Big Brother Li, this shipyard looks quite large, doesn't it? Does it have a storehouse?”
“It is indeed not small, but not that large either. Currently, we mostly build river boats sent to Gaoyou for service,” Li Zhuang said. “There is a storehouse. One warehouse officer and several storehouse clerks, all Zheng family servants.”
“Is there no one managing the accounts?” Shao Shuyi asked with a slight hint of urgency.
At these words, Li Zhuang couldn't help but size him up carefully. As if realizing something, he said, “Naturally, there is. For the first few days of every month, the old residence sends an accountant over. He comes again for one day in the middle of the month, and another two days at the end of the month to reconcile the books. The rest of the time, the warehouse officer issues materials according to the ledger.”
So it was a part-time accountant! Shao Shuyi understood.
It was likely an old accountant the Zheng family had used for years and trusted deeply, shouldering both cashier and accounting duties, while the warehouse officer acted as the administrator of materials and money, also a trusted aide of the Zheng clan.
Thinking of this, he suddenly felt a bit pessimistic. Unless the Zheng family’s business suddenly expanded massively and the original manpower became insufficient, it would be hard to get an opportunity.
“Little Hu, don’t let your mind wander.” Li Zhuang beckoned for an apprentice to step forward and saw the wood, asking casually, “Can you calculate?”
“Yes,” Shao Shuyi said without hesitation.
Are you kidding? How could I not know how to calculate? I don’t even need an abacus or counting rods—I can do addition and subtraction in my head. I can also handle simple multiplication and division mentally, and even for more complex problems, I can work them out quickly using written vertical calculations—fast and accurate.
Furthermore, he could organize the existing messy accounting methods, ensuring they were clear, error-free, and easy to read at a glance.
The only problem was who would give him this chance—perhaps his only chance to survive.
Hearing this, Li Zhuang looked skeptical. Although they both lived in Taicang, he was from an artisan household, while Shao Shuyi was from a maritime ship household. He only had a bit of friendship with Shao's deceased parents; they didn't interact much, usually.
Shao Shuyi might have eavesdropped at some village school for a while, but accounting? Village schools didn't teach that. Therefore, he didn't quite believe it, but he didn't want to expose him on the spot. He just smiled and said, “Little Hu, I built a 300-liao river boat here. It used twenty-four bottom boards and twenty-two side boards... how many boards were used in total?”
Shao Shuyi calculated mentally and immediately had the answer. But he didn't answer rashly. Instead, he verified it again in his mind. After confirming it was correct, he replied, “Two hundred and twenty-three pieces.”
After answering, he felt a little apprehensive. The reason was simple: he currently had zero margin for error and had to cherish every opportunity, even if Li Zhuang’s question didn't seem to offer any obvious chance.
Li Zhuang, however, froze directly upon hearing the answer Shao Shuyi called out.
To be honest, he didn't really know how to calculate, but having participated in building 300-liao river boats for years, he knew how many boards were used. It was indeed two hundred and twenty-three pieces, without a doubt.
He didn't give up and asked again, “For the same ship, we used twelve waist beams, twenty ground poles, twenty-four wall pillars...”
“A total of one hundred and six long timbers,” Shao Shuyi replied.
Li Zhuang’s expression became much more solemn.
He had briefly thought Shao Shuyi might have learned the labor and material requirements for these ships from some loose-lipped craftsman. So, he decided to change the question to achieve a surprise effect. He said, “The people of the Song dynasty (960–1279) considered the weight of one hu of round-grained rice to be one shi. Generally, for a shi, ninety-two and a half jin is the standard. Back then, there were giant ships with large oars carrying twelve thousand shi of rice. How many jin is that in total?”
This time, Shao Shuyi didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stood there frowning, one hand writing and drawing in the empty air, muttering words like “split twelve into ten and two” and “ten to the third power,” leaving one completely confused.
For some reason, Li Zhuang suddenly became a little nervous.
In the Song dynasty, there was a man named Zhang Shunmin who once visited a ten-thousand-shi ship. “The ship’s form was round and short, like a large three-bay house... carrying twenty million strings of copper coins (wen) and twelve thousand shi of rice.”
When chatting about this matter, someone had asked how many jin twelve thousand shi of rice was. Li Zhuang didn't know, but an accountant, acting on a whim, had calculated it to be—
“One million, one hundred and ten thousand jin!” Shao Shuyi looked at him and said, confident yet apprehensive.
Li Zhuang remained silent for a long time.
He really calculated it! He truly knew how to calculate! And without an abacus, calculating silently in his heart, fast and accurate!
A child prodigy? Or had the Heavenly Consort sent down grace to enlighten his mind? Li Zhuang was unsure; he just felt that something significant had happened to this child.
“It depends on your luck.” Recovering his senses, he looked at Shao Shuyi with complex emotions and said, “Today is the fifteenth. This afternoon or evening, Master Zheng will come over. He comes often recently; this batch of ships is too important, and the Imperial Court is pressing urgently.”
“It depends on your luck,” Li Zhuang repeated.
After saying that, he paid no more attention to Shao Shuyi and turned back to work.
Shao Shuyi breathed a sigh of relief. Although there was still no definite word, he had at least seen a glimmer of hope.