“How is it? Not bad, right?”
Zhao Nuan felt rather pleased with herself. The rabbit was plump, and its pelt was large.
Once she found time to tan it properly, she could make a set of earmuffs, a scarf, and gloves for each of the three children.
“Hmm… you’re quite strong.”
While Zhao Nuan was handling the rabbit skin, Shen Mingqing had already finished cleaning the rabbit meat.
Returning to the campfire, the air was filled with a sweet aroma.
Chestnuts burst open in the fire, sending up sparks like a miniature fireworks display, drawing exclamations of delight from Yan’er.
The whole rabbit was skewered and roasting over the fire, making everyone secretly swallow their saliva.
Zhao Nuan preserved the other rabbit with salt, planning to stew it with potatoes or something tomorrow.
While waiting for the rabbit meat to cook, the young men weren’t idle either.
Each held a section of wood, carving something with their daggers.
It wasn’t until mealtime that Zhao Nuan realized they were carving wooden bowls.
Though not fully shaped yet, they would serve well enough for temporary use.
“Eh, your daggers all look the same?” Zhao Nuan’s attention was caught by their tools. “Can I take a look?”
Shen Mingqing handed his over. “These are cheap, but the downside is they break easily.”
It felt heavy in her hand, the blade nearly pure black without any reflective shine.
Zhao Nuan raised an eyebrow. “I’m guessing someone sold these to you secretly?”
“How did you know?” Shen Mingqing looked genuinely surprised.
Iron was a controlled commodity by the court, but the more something was restricted, the more demand it created.
In Suizhou, there was an underground black market selling these lower-quality daggers.
Zhao Nuan gave him a meaningful look and changed the subject.
With over ten people, even a plump wild rabbit only provided a small portion for each.
Duan Zheng wanted to give his share of meat to Yan’er, but Zhao Nuan stopped him.
“What’s wrong with letting the child eat more?” Duan Zheng grumbled discontentedly, frowning at Zhao Nuan.
Zhao Nuan smiled. “I know you dote on her, but the more you care for her, the more you shouldn’t spoil her. Food should be shared by everyone. We mustn’t let her develop the idea that all the good things should be hers.”
Being overly saintly wasn’t good, but selfishness wasn’t right either.
Hearing her words, Shen Mingqing looked at the meat in his hand and popped it into his mouth.
Zhou Ningyu smacked his lips contentedly, finishing a whole bowl of chestnut puree goat milk before letting out a milky burp.
With winter approaching, Zhao Nuan shared her thoughts.
Duan Zheng frowned. “You want to fire bricks and build houses? Not only is that a huge project, but we don’t know how to do it.”
Yes, the Da Hong Dynasty had always implemented policies to keep the people ignorant.
So even industries with relatively low technical requirements like brick firing were tightly controlled by the nobility. Commoners, even if they knew how, weren’t allowed to fire bricks privately.
This was also why Zhao Nuan, having just arrived in this world, didn’t dare easily use simple modern techniques for personal gain.
Because these methods wouldn’t bring benefits but could instead cost her her life.
“The Hou Estate used to have a brick kiln. I caught a glimpse or two when running errands for the Marquise. We might not be able to produce very sturdy or uniform bricks, but they’d still be stronger than wood for building houses.”
With dangerous beasts in these mountains, she didn’t feel secure about wooden houses no matter how she looked at it.
“You really know how?” Shen Mingqing opened his mouth, though for some reason, he found it hard to voice his doubts.
“Let’s give it a try. The autumn weather is clear and crisp now – perfect for drying brick blanks.”
After all, they were already exiled. There was nothing surprising about people from the Hou Estate firing some bricks, and it certainly wasn’t a capital offense.
After the meal, Zhao Nuan had the youths dig several foot-deep pits in the ground.
They built campfires in these pits so everyone could sleep warmly.
“Sister Zhao, why do we build the fire in pits?” asked a fifteen or sixteen-year-old youth called Xiao Si.
Shen Mingqing wasn’t creative with names either – he simply numbered all the youths he picked up in order. Zhao Nuan was curious how high the numbering went now.
“For isolation,” Zhao Nuan explained. “There are too many fallen leaves on the ground. A single spark could start a major fire.”
“Heh, you’re right. I can’t believe I didn’t think of such a simple reason.”
Zhao Nuan couldn’t resist ruffling his hair. “I didn’t know either until someone told me.”
After finishing these preparations, she took out a roll of oilcloth and gave each person a piece.
“Spread this on the ground to keep from catching cold.”
When Yan’er and Zhou Ningyu in the shack had fallen asleep,
Zhao Nuan placed the two children together, covered them with her own padded jacket, and quietly went outside.
Outside, Duan Zheng and Shen Mingqing were sitting by the fire, keeping their distance from the sleeping children.
“Are they asleep?”
Zhao Nuan nodded. “Fast asleep.”
Duan Zheng sighed. “Both children are so well-behaved. That’s quite rare.”
“Indeed.” Zhao Nuan showed a relieved smile. “All the way from the capital, these two have been exceptionally easy to care for.”
Shen Mingqing took two daggers from his waist and handed them to her. “Do you understand these?”
Zhao Nuan didn’t need to examine them closely – just by feel she could tell the two daggers were different.
“Look at this one – the blade has been forged through repeated hammering. This is wrought iron, which can be hammered into various shapes when heated red-hot.”
Duan Zheng took it and examined it against the firelight. “Yes, I know this type. The military’s broadswords are tempered the same way.”
Zhao Nuan picked up the other black dagger. “See how this one doesn’t reflect light? This is called pig iron, or cast iron.”
“It contains many impurities and is brittle. It can only be cast using molds. This dagger was first cast, then ground to create the edge.”
Shen Mingqing held both daggers, still comparing them.
Duan Zheng, having seen more, immediately said: “Military arrowheads are cast this way!”
Then he exclaimed in surprise: “You understand iron smelting!”
At these words, Shen Mingqing’s expression turned grave.
All iron-smelting craftsmen working for the imperial court were government slaves. They could die, but never gain freedom.
Zhao Nuan neither admitted nor denied it.
She said to Shen Mingqing: “So you should stop contacting the dagger seller. This person must have discovered iron ore, which is a capital offense.”
Shen Mingqing stood and bowed to her. “Thank you!”
Then he very efficiently confiscated all the daggers from the youths without any hesitation.
After collecting them, Zhao Nuan had him temporarily bury them nearby, saying they might prove useful later.
But all three of them now shared an unspoken understanding – there was iron ore in these mountains.
The next day, Shen Mingqing took seven or eight youths down the mountain again, as there were still some items left to transport.
Zhao Nuan had discussed with him about employing these dozen-plus youths to work, helping fire bricks and build houses.
Before leaving, she gave him twenty taels of silver to buy each of the youths a dagger. In these mountains, it was dangerous to have nothing for self-defense.
Moreover, if the person selling pig iron daggers was exposed, they could still deny any involvement.
Zhao Nuan also had her own motives—with daggers, the youths could work more efficiently.
Duan Zheng wove a simple cradle from thin branches so Yan’er could help look after Zhou Ningyu without distracting Zhao Nuan from her nearby tasks.
She marked out the area for the courtyard, planning to clear all the trees within this boundary in the coming days.
Fortunately, with saws, the work went quickly.
The real challenge lay in controlling the direction of the falling trees and ensuring the safety of the youths.
Zhao Nuan watched intently, her heart in her throat, as they brought down each large tree.
After felling the trees, she hadn’t anticipated that digging out the roots would be the most time-consuming part.
The trees were too large, their roots too deep, forcing them to slowly chip away at them with chisels.
Yet these massive stumps could be polished smooth, lacquered, and repurposed as stools or tables—carrying a distinct Zen aesthetic.