The sorrow from the previous day vanished completely after a good night’s sleep. Zhao Xuwan stood with her hands on her hips, determined to rely on herself and stand strong, refusing to bow to the oppressive forces (001:).
It would take about a week for the sweet potato seedlings to grow. During this time, Zhao Xuwan wanted to improve her current living conditions.
First and foremost, she needed to get rid of the low table and the cushion for kneeling. She simply couldn’t bear kneeling day after day.
She hadn’t explored Handan City much and didn’t know where to find someone to make a table. After asking Ze, she finally learned where to go.
“Elder, can you make a new set of furniture here?” Zhao Xuwan asked cautiously from outside the shop.
The shop was very small, barely large enough for two people. It was filled with various wooden items, all seemingly unfinished or half-completed.
An old man was bent over, polishing something. Hearing the noise, he didn’t look up but asked, “What kind do you want?”
Zhao Xuwan hesitated for a long time before picking up a stick. “Can I draw it for you?”
She had initially thought of drawing on paper but then remembered that paper didn’t exist at this time. There were bamboo slips and silk, but she wasn’t skilled at using bamboo slips, and silk was too expensive. Most of the books the Prince read were on bamboo slips, with very few on silk. Zhao Xuwan didn’t want to waste resources, so after much thought, she picked up a stick to draw on the ground.
“The table legs should be tall—not a low table, but a high one. All four legs should be the same height, and the four sides should be equal in length. Also, four stools—the kind people sit on. The stool legs should be half the height of the table legs, and all four legs should be the same length.” Zhao Xuwan rambled on, her stick tracing abstract lines on the ground.
The old man suddenly became interested. “That’s quite intriguing. Where did you learn about this?”
Zhao Xuwan felt a pang of guilt. Where did she learn it? Of course, from different ancient people.
“Just something I came up with on my own,” she replied vaguely.
Fortunately, the old man didn’t press further. Instead, he said briskly, “Come back in half a month to pick it up.”
After paying the deposit, Zhao Xuwan slowly made her way home.
Perhaps she should learn how to write? But bamboo slips were just too difficult.
“You could consider making paper,” 001 floated out again.
“…As if it’s something you can just make if you want to?” Zhao Xuwan scoffed. Who didn’t know about the three essentials for time travelers—soap, paper, and cement?
The problem was, did she know how to make them? Before her transmigration, she was a humanities student. Her math and science skills had been weak since middle school, and in high school, she had fully embraced the humanities stream. How could she possibly know the manufacturing processes for paper or cement?
If she had been well-versed in history, it might have been easier. But Zhao Xuwan hadn’t studied history in university either. The history she learned for the college entrance exams had pitifully little content about the pre-Qin period. Exam-oriented education was just that unreasonable. Her lack of expertise in both humanities and sciences made it nearly impossible for her to thrive in the Warring States period.
There’s an old saying: “If you haven’t eaten pork, have you at least seen a pig run?” But her knowledge of paper and soap manufacturing was only a vague idea. She had no practical skills to execute it. In the Warring States period, if she tried to make paper, she estimated it would take thousands of experiments to produce anything decent.
Most importantly, she had previously been just a Shuren (commoner), struggling to secure three meals a day. She simply had no time to conduct experiments to see if she could make paper or soap.
"There are still guides for making paper and soap in the mall," 001 took several deep breaths, telling itself to be the most perfect system and not abandon the essential qualities of a perfect system just because of a human's minor flaws.
Zhao Xuwan remained silent for a few seconds, then quickly opened the mall to take a look.
"So you never paid attention to the mall before?" 001 asked, suppressing its anger.
Zhao Xuwan rubbed her nose. "You only said you were responsible for farming. How was I supposed to know you had these things?"
She would never admit that she hadn’t properly checked the mall or the user manual.
The human and the system returned home in this awkward state.
Originally, the servants at home wanted to accompany Zhao Xuwan, but she refused. After all, it was just a short walk, and now that the child was past three months, there shouldn’t be any issues.
The household was already short on people, with everyone barely managing their own duties. If someone had to accompany her, there would be even fewer hands to get things done.
The first thing she did upon returning home was to search for any old hemp, straw, or bamboo. She also peeled some bark from trees along the roadside and soaked everything in a jar.
Not wanting to use cooking utensils for this or fill the kitchen with smoke, Zhao Xuwan struggled for a long time to move everything to the back door, where she began her journey as the "first person in ancient times to make paper."
"110, do you think if I succeed, it would count as changing the course of history?" Zhao Xuwan thought about how paper was first traced back to the Eastern Han Dynasty. But if she succeeded in making it during the Warring States period, wouldn’t that be altering history?
"It’s 001," 001 replied weakly. This host was quite different from others. Other hosts, upon learning they had a system, would either be as thrilled as if they’d won the lottery or would strongly resist, believing it was unfair for an ordinary person to be forced into completing tasks.
But this host, when she first learned of its existence, felt more sorrow than joy. Later, when she realized it was a golden finger, she still wasn’t particularly excited and often forgot about its existence. As for the tasks, she couldn’t exactly be said to reject them—she did complete them—but she couldn’t be said to embrace them either, as her performance was indescribably poor.
Unaware of how 001 was judging her, Zhao Xuwan continued to think to herself that this 110 was still somewhat useful. The paper-making manual only cost one point—heh, she still had one point left.
Once she finished making this paper, she’d just have to wait for the points from changing history.
After soaking the materials, Zhao Xuwan sealed the jar and waited to process them a week later.
The Prince was not home again at noon, leaving Zhao Xuwan to eat alone. However, she was quite content with this arrangement—no need to serve anyone or tread carefully. Wasn’t that a joy?
Finding solace in her circumstances, Zhao Xuwan thought that if her mother knew she had such "treasonous" thoughts, she’d probably lecture her for three days and three nights. But now, with only Zhao Xuwan around, no one could scold her.
Zhao Xuwan didn’t have to wait until evening for the Prince to return, as he was helped down from the carriage by Ze in the afternoon, clutching his stomach.
"What happened?" At the time, Zhao Xuwan was discussing with the Mute servant whether they could have grilled meat for dinner. Seeing the Prince clutching his stomach in apparent discomfort, she hurried over to "show concern" and ask.
"Zhufu seems to have a stomachache," Ze said vaguely, as he didn’t know exactly what was wrong with the master.
"Go call a physician," Zhao Xuwan said to Ze while supporting the Prince.
"Don’t go," the Prince said, frowning as he clutched his stomach.
Faced with such an uncooperative patient, especially the master of the house, Ze truly felt powerless despite his best intentions and could only look to the mistress for help.
Zhao Xuwan, however, believed that if the Prince persistently refused to see a physician, he must have his own unspeakable reasons. As a dutiful wife, she simply listened without pressing further.
Seeing that the master was unwilling and the mistress showed no concern, Ze had no choice but to enlist the help of servants to carry him to the bed in his room.
While Zhao Xuwan was still pondering what kind of shameful illness the Prince might have, she heard gurgling sounds coming from his stomach shortly after he lay down. She glanced at the bed, where the Prince had buried his head under the covers, making it impossible to discern his expression, but an unmistakable air of awkwardness filled the room.
Suddenly, Zhao Xuwan remembered something. Over the past two days, sweet potatoes had been served frequently—almost at every meal—and the Prince seemed to enjoy sweet flavors, as she often noticed him eating them during shared meals.
At this realization, Zhao Xuwan stifled a laugh. Modern people knew that while sweet potatoes, as coarse grains, could fill the stomach, eating too much could lead to indigestion and… flatulence.
Considering that the Prince might have been holding it in all day without understanding what was happening, Zhao Xuwan felt both amused and guilty. She turned and went to the kitchen to search. During her last visit home, A Yue had brought her a good amount of hawthorn, saying it was very sour and could help with nausea.
Although Zhao Xuwan felt some fear about her pregnancy, she had to admit that the child had been very well-behaved, causing her no discomfort over the past three months.
Hawthorn was known to aid digestion—perfect for someone suffering from stomach pain and bloating after overindulging in sweet potatoes.
"Prince, drink some hawthorn water. It can help relieve the bloating," Zhao Xuwan said carefully as she approached with a wooden bowl.
The Prince seemed truly miserable. Without asking how Zhao Xuwan knew or understood his condition, he took the bowl and drank it all in one go.
After about half an hour, the Prince appeared to feel better and was able to move. The first thing he did upon getting up was head to the outhouse in the backyard.
During the Warring States period, some households placed their outhouses next to pigsties, with excrement often fed to the pigs. As a result, pork from such places tasted terrible. There was no practice of castrating pigs here, so the meat was both foul and fishy. If not for the lack of other meat options and the need for strength, Zhao Xuwan would rather starve than eat such pork.
It seemed that time travel wasn’t without its benefits. At least now, Zhao Xuwan was not picky about food and would eat any kind of meat. During famine years, she had even gone with her siblings to catch field mice and snakes in the fields.
Unfortunately, during those famine years, field mice and snakes had grown thin, and after catching a few, even the mice disappeared.
Fortunately, Zhao Xuwan’s current home had no pigsty, so the smell wasn’t too unpleasant—perhaps also because the Prince disliked it.
In the evening, considering the Prince’s condition, Zhao Xuwan thoughtfully prepared a pot of porridge for him while she happily enjoyed roasted lamb.
"This was sent by a Shangren," Zhao Xuwan said, feeling somewhat guilty under the Prince’s gaze. Her demeanor resembled that of a high-ranking official’s wife secretly accepting a house from someone behind her husband’s back.
"…Don’t eat too much. It might cause internal heat," the Prince said, surprisingly showing concern for her health at this moment. Touched, Zhao Xuwan finished all the meat the mute servant had roasted for her.
Strangely enough, just two days ago, she had little appetite, but today she felt ravenous. Pregnancy truly was a mysterious thing.
"That's because the baby needs nutrition too," 001 cheerfully chimed in again, seeking attention.
"Heh," Zhao Xuwan replied inwardly, "That's because I've passed the first three months and don't feel sick anymore."
Zhao Xuwan had initially thought the Prince might feel embarrassed, but she discovered he was mentally resilient and didn’t overthink things at all. Instead, it was Zhao Xuwan who had judged a gentleman’s heart with her own petty measure.
The Prince faced his awkward situation of eating too many sweet potatoes with complete composure. Was this the tacit understanding?