Li Shu understood her father's excitement well enough.
To her, however, it was nothing more than teaching people how to recognize characters—hardly worth making such a fuss over. Only someone like Lecturer Zhuge, she felt, truly possessed great learning. Besides—
"Teaching literacy also comes with a monthly stipend," she added. "Four hundred coins a month."
Old Man Li waved his hand magnanimously.
"Four hundred coins is nothing. We can do without it. What matters is that my daughter gets to be a lecturer!"
Li Shu face warmed slightly. She did not dare admit that at the time she had not thought so far ahead at all—she had merely seen Hu Du sign up, and in a moment of impulsive enthusiasm, written her own name down as well.
After the excitement subsided, Old Man Li suddenly remembered something.
"What day does my girl start teaching? When the time comes, your father will go support you."
Li Shu looked a little embarrassed, then smiled.
"Lecturer Zhuge assigned me to teach characters to the women papermakers at the paper workshop. Father won't be able to go there."
"The paper workshop?" Old Man Li murmured.
His gaze shifted to the side. Li Family's second son hurriedly swallowed the mouthful of food he had been chewing and said:
"I heard the steward say that starting next year, the papermaking process and standards will all be written into manuals."
"When the time comes, literacy will also be included in evaluations. Only those who can read the standard manuals will be rated as craftsmen, and only those who can recite them will qualify as foremen and supervisors."
"That's probably why little sister is going into the paper workshop as a lecturer."
The eldest son nodded from the side.
"The sugar workshop is the same."
This regulation actually benefited him. He already knew some characters, and after his sister entered the Little Academy, he often studied with her at night, lighting a lamp to practice writing.
Their family had some modest means to begin with—thin fields of their own, and both elder and second sons working in workshops—so they did not begrudge the cost of lamp oil in the evenings.
Old Man Li stroked his beard, feeling quietly fortunate for his foresight.
Good thing he had not hesitated back then, sending his daughter to study the moment he heard there was a chance.
Down the southern street, Old Granny Sun bragged every day about how much her daughter earned as an embroiderer. What use was that now?
If one wanted to truly get ahead, in the end, one still had to study!
Li Family's second son also leaned in.
"Little sister, teach me a few more characters in the evenings too?"
Before Li Xian could answer, Old Man Li frowned.
"With your lazy disposition, what good would knowing two hundred more characters do? Would you just become a foreman and bring trouble to the workshop?"
"You'd be better off marrying that Widow Qian sooner and continuing the Li family line—that's the proper path!"
Faced with his father's scolding, the second son shrank his neck and shot his elder brother and sister a helpless look.
The eldest son, on the other hand, felt a trace of envy. He wanted to marry as well.
But unfortunately, his father had firmly turned away every matchmaker, planning to find him a good match only after he became a foreman.
Who could have imagined that now even workers had to be tested on literacy?
So this was truly "books contain beauties like jade"?
With the doors closed, the Li family ate while discussing how the new regulations would affect their lives.
Meanwhile, in the Chengdu prefectural office, Kongming placed several sugar cubes in front of Liu Bei.
Liu Shan's eyes lit up. He reached out to grab one, but halfway there his hand was stopped by Kongming.
"A-Dou," Kongming said calmly, "what differences do you see among these pieces of sugar?"
Pouting, A-Dou knew at once that his teacher would not be so kind for no reason.
He licked his lips, then examined them carefully.
"Some are darker, some more reddish. Some are clear inside, others opaque."
Kongming nodded and continued.
"These sugars all come from Chengdu's sugar workshops. Why do they differ?"
A-Dou leaned over the table, peering closely.
"Perhaps the sugarcane was different?"
Kongming had taken him to see the sugar workshops before, so A-Dou knew how sugar was made.
Kongming shook his head.
"This batch was all made from Nanguang sugarcane. There is no difference."
"Then… perhaps the workshops themselves were different in size?"
Kongming shook his head again.
"The size of the workshop and the number of craftsmen only affect output. How could they produce such different sugar?"
Liu Shan understood.
"Then someone didn't make the sugar properly."
Kongming nodded.
"The sugar-making method is exactly the same throughout Chengdu. The tools are the same. The sugarcane is the same. Even the water all comes from the Min River. Thus, the sugar produced should be the same or nearly so. Is that not correct?"
Liu Shan nodded, listening intently.
"Therefore, the difference lies with the people. Some sugar workers feel that boiling the syrup for four hours is too long, that adding water every quarter-hour is too tiring. So they boil it a quarter-hour less, add a bucket of water later—and on the surface, no difference is apparent."
A-Dou straightened and clasped his hands respectfully.
"A tiny difference leads to a vast error. Liu Shan has learned. I shall remember that a gentleman must be cautious at the beginning."
Kongming nodded, then asked:
"Then, A-Dou, how do you think they should be punished?"
A-Dou frowned. He glanced cautiously at Kongming and then at his father, who stood silent to the side. After hesitating, he finally steeled himself.
"I think… they should not be punished."
"Oh?" Kongming's voice betrayed neither approval nor displeasure. "Explain."
A-Dou hurried on.
"Teacher once took me to see the sugar workshop. Making sugar is hard work—this is one reason."
"And teacher also said that the sugar workers did not know the finished product would differ so greatly—this is the second."
"Therefore, Liu Shan believes that rather than punishing them, it would be better to let the workers understand that a minute difference can lead to a vast error."
Having poured out his thoughts in one breath, Liu Shan looked up nervously at Kongming.
Kongming exchanged a glance with Liu Bei. Liu Bei smiled faintly.
"A-Dou, pick two pieces of sugar and go play outside."
A-Dou was immediately a little disappointed.
"Can't I take them all?"
Seeing the smile at his father's lips beginning to fade, A-Dou wisely stopped pushing his luck. He selected the two finest-looking pieces and dashed off in a flash.
Kongming finally shook his head and laughed aloud, while Liu Bei looked helpless.
After laughing, Kongming turned serious.
"This is precisely why craftsmen must be literate."
Liu Bei now understood as well, nodding with feeling.
"A-Dou is right. The path of craftsmanship, if transmitted only by word of mouth, inevitably breeds errors."
"In peaceful times, it is already so. In chaotic ages, when great craftsmen die side by side in ditches and their skills are lost—how lamentable that would be!"
Kongming nodded silently. The age of chaos was not yet over, and his lord's sigh resonated deeply with him.
"In that case," Liu Bei added, recalling something else, "those students of the Little Academy who voluntarily teach the common people to read should be rewarded. It comforts the people's hearts and helps the students support their households."
"Indeed—and moreover…" Kongming nodded, then remembered another matter. "Ziqiao mentioned that Hu Du of the Little Academy is quite outstanding."
"Though not yet capped, he speaks confidently when teaching, without the slightest timidity. He could become fine talent."
Hearing this, Liu Bei was pleased.
"If so, tomorrow when I meet his grandfather, I must praise him properly."
Hu Du's grandfather lived in straitened circumstances, yet upheld ritual propriety and moral restraint, possessing the air of a true gentleman. Liu Bei greatly admired him.
Previously, he had only heard that Hu Du stood out at the Little Academy. Now, hearing of such bearing, he was genuinely happy for the grandfather and grandson alike.
At the same time, he began to consider that in another two years, when Hu Du was a bit older, he could be given some duties in the prefectural office.
In times of chaos, there was no need to rigidly wait until talents had undergone the capping ceremony before employing them.
Wasn't the Marquis of Champions an example?
After settling matters of Yizhou's workshops with Kongming, Liu Bei glanced at the empty seat beside him and found himself missing someone.
"I wonder how Zilong is doing now?"
At that very moment, Zhao Yun was not particularly thinking of his lord. All his attention was focused on the fierce blue roan beneath him.
The fine horse lashed out again, trying to throw the man from its back.
But to Zhao Yun, it was useless.
Even without a saddle, relying only on the strength of his waist and hips, he sat as steady as if cast from iron upon the horse's back.
After struggling violently a few more times, the horse finally settled down.
Seeing Zhao Yun lean forward, hugging the horse's neck and smoothing its mane, Zhang Fei could not help feeling envious.
"That's it? That simple?"
A nearby soldier from Zhao Yun's personal guard laughed.
"General Zhang, don't be fooled by this beast. It's just resting."
After arriving in the northern lands, Zhao Yun's personal troops had grown much livelier. Someone even took the initiative to explain horse-breaking techniques to Zhang Fei.
He heard that with especially fierce horses, just this kind of bareback riding and struggling had to be done for half a day, every day.
Sure enough, even though Zhao Yun tried to bond with the blue roan, the horse paid him no mind. Once it had rested enough, it launched into another round of violent bucking.
Zhang Fei clicked his tongue. He looked at the seemingly crazed steed, then at Zhao Yun, who remained as steady as a mountain without a saddle, and sighed:
"Now I understand why Brother Zilong always wears three layers of trousers when breaking horses."
At once, loud laughter erupted around him.
Someone even shared a personal anecdote.
"Didn't we see one back in Liaodong who didn't know his own limits? Not even eight chi tall, yet he tried to break a dragon horse. Got thrown so hard his family jewels were smashed—ended his lineage right there."
Zhang Fei knew of dragon horses. According to the Rites of Zhou, a horse six chi tall was called a horse, seven chi a lai, and eight chi a dragon.
He had not expected horse-breaking to be truly that dangerous, and immediately felt some concern.
"Then Brother Zilong—"
Zhao Yun's guard burst out laughing.
"General Zhang, rest easy. Our general hasn't even used his full strength yet."
As he spoke, Zhang Fei saw Zhao Yun's shoulders tremble. His legs clamped tight, his body twisted slightly, applying force precisely countering the horse's struggle. The fine steed was forced down, letting out a pained whinny.
After several such exchanges, half an hour passed. The horse finally ceased struggling even after resting, clearly subdued.
This time, Zhang Fei was truly envious.
This horse was the finest among a batch sent by Han Sui. Among the Liangzhou horses were over a hundred wild horses captured near Qinghai. Zhao Yun's mount was one of them—and that was why its temperament was so ferocious.
Han Sui's attentiveness naturally came with conditions. Liangzhou was bitterly cold; without Liu Bei's support, it would be difficult to endure.
Grain, coal briquettes, sugar, weapons, and armor—Han Sui needed all of them, and the more the better.
Not far from Zhang Fei and Zhao Yun, Pang Tong stood side by side with Cheng Gongying.
"I have an agreement with the General Who Conquers the West," Pang Tong said calmly. "I will not break my word."
With Hanzhong and Chengdu in hand, and a year of careful management behind them, they were already in a state of surplus grain. Using grain to trade for horses, in Pang Tong's view, was no different from giving it away.
"But," Pang Tong continued, "does the General Who Conquers the West truly intend to let Yan Xing be?"
This was Pang Tong's greatest concern. Yan Xing's rebellious intent was practically written on his face.
Grain, weapons, sugar—these could all be given to Han Sui, since the man himself had only a few years left to live, and his son was unimpressive. His forces would ultimately return to Han.
But if Yan Xing harbored evil intentions, struck Han Sui down, seized his troops, and raised Cao's banner, that would be trouble.
Cheng Gongying replied solemnly:
"Our lord says that if one is to act, one should first win the hearts of capable men. Thus, last month he married his daughter to Yan Xing and entrusted him with heavy responsibilities."
Pang Tong's eyes widened, and he blurted out:
"Han Wenyue is old!"