Having been thoroughly flattened—morally, intellectually, and spiritually—by Gao Yiye, Shi Kefa wandered into Gao Family Village's commercial district like a scholar who had just lost a poetry duel to a butcher.
His chest was tight. His pride bruised. His loyalty had taken several direct hits.
He needed comfort.
Preferably the kind that involved wine, music, and questionable life choices.
"Hm?"
Ahead of him stood a building whose silhouette was deeply familiar.
Red lanterns. Wide doors. Lively chatter drifting out.
Shi Kefa's eyes narrowed.
Is that… a brothel?
His wounded scholar's heart fluttered.
Perhaps, he reasoned solemnly, only the gentle singing of a courtesan can soothe a man whose worldview has just been dismantled by steam engines.
With that dignified justification, he turned and headed straight toward it—
—and stopped dead.
No silk-clad beauties.
No flirtatious laughter.
No tragic poetry about fleeting youth.
Instead—
The unmistakable smell of food.
Not refined banquet food. Not ritual food.
Just brutally honest, stomach-punching food.
A signboard hung above the door:
Fresh Heluo Noodles — Rice Noodles — Stir-Fries — Snacks
Shi Kefa blinked.
"…Huh?"
He stepped inside.
And blinked again.
Behind the counter were two chefs.
One man.
One woman.
The man was pulling heluo noodles with practiced ease, arms moving like he was wrestling flour into submission.
The woman?
The woman was everywhere.
Stirring, frying, chopping, plating—calling orders, greeting customers, laughing, moving like the absolute center of the operation. Apron tied tight. Headscarf neat. Zero trace of shame or hesitation.
She worked like someone who belonged there.
Shi Kefa stood frozen, his scholar-brain buffering.
He finally turned to the man. "…The head chef is your wife?"
The man laughed loudly. "That's right! Capable, isn't she?"
"That's not what I meant," Shi Kefa said stiffly. "I mean—what is the meaning of this?"
The man scratched his head, still smiling. "Meaning? Oh, that's simple."
He leaned closer, clearly enjoying this.
"We're from Heyang County. I used to sell only heluo noodles. Barely scraped by. Then my wife went to the Women's Vocational School."
Shi Kefa twitched.
There's a WHAT?
"She learned cooking. All kinds. When she came back, she said, 'Our shop's too big. Selling only noodles is wasting space.' So we expanded."
He gestured grandly.
"Upstairs, downstairs—everything's in use now. And just like that, boom—we're the biggest restaurant in Gao Family Village."
Shi Kefa frowned deeply. "But… allowing a woman to work openly like this—won't people criticize?"
The man burst out laughing.
"Criticize?" he said, as if Shi Kefa had just asked whether water was afraid of fish. "Here? In Gao Family Village?"
He lowered his voice dramatically.
"Women hold up half the sky."
Shi Kefa stiffened.
"Textiles? All women. Men can't even get hired. Spinning, weaving, dyeing—if you're not a woman, don't bother lining up."
Shi Kefa felt his brain crack audibly.
Half the sky…
If all women were mobilized into production—
He sucked in a sharp breath.
Productivity wouldn't double.
It would explode.
Suddenly, another thought slammed into him.
The thirty thousand elderly, weak, women, and children.
What are they doing with them?
His feet moved before his brain finished panicking.
He nearly ran back to the main keep.
When he reached Gao Yiye, he didn't bother with pleasantries.
"Saintess," he said urgently, "I wish to see the thirty thousand dependents I sent."
She smiled. "Officer Shi, your timing is impeccable. I was just about to go myself."
As it turned out, the thousand people previously sent by train had already been forwarded to Bai Family Fortress. The remaining twenty-nine thousand had since arrived and were being transferred in batches.
While Shi Kefa had been wandering around Gao Family Village in a daze for days, the logistics machine had been running relentlessly.
All thirty thousand were now assembled near Bai Family Fortress.
Awaiting labor reform.
For an operation of this scale, Gao Yiye needed to personally oversee the ideological education work.
After all—labor was only half the project.
Reform was the real objective.
"Officer Shi," she said, "let us go together."
"…Very well."
They boarded a small train at the North Railway Station.
Shi Kefa stared out the window, silent.
When they arrived, he was immediately startled.
"They're going into Huanglong Mountain?!" he exclaimed. "That place is uninhabitable! Bandits, rebels—it's infamous!"
Gao Yiye waved her hand calmly.
"Those bandits were cleared out long ago. The mountain is safe now. We built a large prison there. Ten thousand former rebels are already housed inside."
She added casually, "Imperial Censor Wu Shen and Governor Hong Chengchou are both aware."
Shi Kefa relaxed instantly.
"Oh. Good. If they know, then it's fine."
The magical healing power of official endorsement.
He followed them inside.
At first, the elderly, weak, women, and children were terrified. Mountains meant hardship. Exile. Death.
Then—
They noticed the roads.
Wide. Smooth. Cement.
Not steep. Not broken. Gently winding upward like the mountain itself had decided to be cooperative.
People who had walked a thousand li over shattered paths stared in disbelief.
This was Huanglong Mountain?
The den of villains?
Shi Kefa was equally stunned.
Why build roads like this… here?
The answer arrived soon enough.
They entered a valley.
And stopped.
Before them—
Factories.
Large ones.
Outside, endless bolts of cloth moved like waves. Dyed fabric hung everywhere, fluttering in the breeze.
The valley looked less like a prison—
And more like the wardrobe of a very ambitious god.
A bullock cart rolled out, stacked high with pristine cotton cloth.
A woman who knew weaving couldn't help herself. She reached out, fingers trembling.
"This… this can't be woven by hand," she whispered. "Every thread is identical."
The carter laughed. "Hey! Don't touch without permission! Wash your hands first!"
He grinned.
"It's machine-made. That's why it's perfect. You'll get it once you're inside."
He flicked the reins.
"Make way! If the ox hits you, I'm not paying compensation!"
People scattered instantly.
As the cart rolled toward the railway station, murmurs spread.
A few sharp-eyed women whispered to the militia, "Will we weave cloth here?"
"No," the soldier said cheerfully. "This valley's full. Dao Xuan Tianzun is preparing a new one for you."
At the name—
Dao Xuan Tianzun—
The crowd fell silent.
They remembered the bridge at Dragon Gate Ferry.
Awe swelled.
Reverence followed.
Thirty thousand lives, standing at the threshold of something terrifying—
And something vast.
Shi Kefa watched it all.
And for the first time, he didn't know whether to be relieved—
Or afraid.