Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life
C41: Papermaking


"Xiao Ming, have you gone mad from all that reading?" Mrs. Chen put down her bowl, looking at him with concern. "Making paper is work for the big workshops in the city, it's the skilled craftsmen's livelihood. How could we farmers know how to do that?"


Su Shan still didn't speak, but the motion of smoking his pipe paused. He looked at Su Ming, his turbid eyes revealing a scrutinizing gaze.


Su Ming ignored the others' astonishment. His gaze was fixed directly on his father. He knew that in this household, only if his father nodded could things possibly proceed.


"Father, I'm not talking nonsense." Su Ming forced himself to calm down. "Last time I went to town, while browsing an old book in that bookshop, I found a damaged page tucked inside. On it... on it was recorded a simple method for making paper."


He had rehearsed this excuse countless times in his mind. No evidence, perfectly reasonable. A book-loving child discovering something strange and curious in an old book was nothing out of the ordinary.


"A recipe from an old book?" Su Yang finally caught his breath, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Really? What did it say?"


"It said to use tender bamboo from the back hill, pound it to a pulp, then soak it in water boiled from our cooking stove's wood ash. It needs to soak for many days, then be boiled again to make paper pulp, and only then can paper be made." Su Ming explained, half-truthfully, according to Lin Yu's simplified version, deliberately emphasizing the need for longer processing time.


"Nonsense!"


Su Shan finally spoke, his voice low and powerful. He knocked his pipe heavily against the table leg, making the bowls and chopsticks jump.

"Has all that reading addled your brain? You take a few scribbled, ghostly words seriously? If making paper were that easy, would paper in town still be so expensive? Wouldn't everyone in the world go to the back hill to cut bamboo and get rich? And it needs to soak for several days? Where would we find that kind of idle time!"
His words were like a bucket of cold water, dousing the flame Su Ming had just ignited.


"Your proper business is to study your lessons diligently and prepare for the County School entrance exam! Don't spend all day thinking about these unrealistic, far-fetched things!" Su Shan's voice carried an unquestionable sternness.


Su Ming's heart sank. He had expected his father to oppose it, but not so decisively.


"Father!" Su Yang couldn't help but speak up for his younger brother. "Xiao Ming just wants to give it a try, why are you so angry? The bamboo on the back hill is free anyway, and the wood ash from the stove is readily available. Even if it doesn't work, we haven't lost anything, right? We can always squeeze out some time!"


"What do you know!" Su Shan glared at Su Yang. "Full of energy with nowhere to use it all day! With that time, it's better to hoe two more rows of weeds in the field or cut two more bundles of firewood on the mountain! Soaking for several days?"


The atmosphere in the courtyard instantly dropped to freezing point.


Su Ming clenched his fists, his nails digging deeply into his palms. He knew that if he gave up today, this opportunity might be lost forever.


He took a deep breath, raised his head, met his father's stern gaze, and said word by word, "Father, last time you bought me those few sheets of hemp paper, it cost a hundred wen, right?"


Su Shan was stunned, seemingly not expecting him to bring this up.


"That hundred wen, Second Brother chased a wild boar in the mountains for a day and a night before he could trade it for that money." Su Ming's voice wasn't loud, but it clearly reached everyone's ears.


Su Yang's expression also became complicated.


"Father, I don't want to use money my brothers risked their lives for to buy such expensive paper anymore." Su Ming's eyes were slightly red, but his tone was exceptionally firm.


"That recipe might be fake, or someone might have written it carelessly. But, just like Second Brother said, what do we lose by trying? The bamboo grows wild in the mountains for free. The wood ash is burned in the stove for free. All we're investing is a bit of effort and a few days' time."


"If we succeed, even if the paper we make is just the lowest quality straw paper, only good for wrapping things, or... or for use as toilet paper, it can still be sold for money! Then the paper I need for studying won't cost the family any more money! My brothers won't have to work so hard for me anymore!"


"If we fail," Su Ming paused, looking into his father's eyes, "then I'll completely give up on this idea, study diligently, and never mention it again!"


After his speech, the entire courtyard fell silent.


Mrs. Chen looked at her youngest son, her eyes moist. She didn't understand anything about papermaking; she only knew that her son had grown up, knew to care for his brothers, and cared for this family.


Su Yang, even more excited, stood up, walked to Su Ming's side, and patted his shoulder heavily. "Father! Just let Xiao Ming try! I'll help him! All the heavy work, I'll do it! Xiao Ming doesn't need to lift a finger! Even if it doesn't work, just think of it as me keeping my little brother company while he tinkers with something new!"


Su Shan fell silent.


He lowered his head, refilled his pipe with tobacco shreds, lit it with a flint, and took a hard, deep drag.


Thick smoke completely enveloped his face; no one could see his expression.


After a long while, he finally took the pipe from his lips, exhaled a long smoke ring, and said in a hoarse voice, "Seven days."


"Starting tomorrow, I'll give you seven days. You two brothers, tinker in the corner of the backyard. Don't get in the way of proper work."


"If after seven days, I don't see this 'paper' you're talking about, no one is allowed to mention this matter ever again."


After speaking, he stood up, put his hands behind his back, hunched his body, and walked out of the courtyard, heading towards the field ridge.


Su Ming and Su Yang exchanged a glance, both seeing wild joy in each other's eyes!


Success!


"That's great, Xiao Ming!" Su Yang excitedly hugged Su Ming, almost squeezing the breath out of him. "Let's go cut bamboo right now!"


Su Ming was shaken until dizzy, but he smiled brilliantly.


Lin Yu thought to himself, "Done! Step one, 'project approval' passed! The timeline was even extended to a week! This kid, not bad, didn't waste all my talking. Knows how to play the emotional card, knows how to calculate costs, knows how to make a military pledge. Hmm, has the flavor of my project proposals back in the day. The student is teachable, the student is teachable indeed!"


Lin Yu, in Su Ming's mind, contentedly "stroked" his non-existent beard.


...


Action followed words immediately.


Su Yang shouldered the firewood knife, Su Ming carried a worn-out bamboo basket, and the two brothers quietly headed straight for the back hill.


The bamboo grove on the back hill was communal land for the village. Usually, if any family needed bamboo to make a fence or weave a basket, they would come here to cut. The bamboo grew fast and thick, seemingly inexhaustible.


"Xiao Ming, what kind of bamboo does that book say to use? Old or tender?" Su Yang asked as they walked, full of enthusiasm.


"Tender, newly grown bamboo from this year is best." Su Ming answered. This was what his mentor had specifically instructed. Tender bamboo had finer fibers, less woodiness, and was easier to process.


The two quickly found a patch of newly sprouted bamboo. The bamboo stalks were only as thick as a wrist, lush and green. Su Yang raised his knife and brought it down. With a "crack," a tender bamboo stalk fell. He was quick and nimble; in no time, he had cut over a dozen stalks, cutting them into sections about a person's height.


"Is that enough? I can cut more if it's not!" Su Yang wiped his sweat, his face full of smiles.


"Enough, enough, Second Brother. Let's try with this first."


Each brother dragged several bamboo stalks. Taking advantage of the afternoon when most villagers were either in the fields or resting, they quietly returned home and moved everything directly to the corner of the backyard.


For the next few days, the corner of the Su family's backyard became the brothers' secret workshop.


On the first day, the brothers found a large stone slab and two wooden mallets, laboriously pounding all the bamboo into loose fibers. The "thump thump" sounds of pounding were masked by the backyard's high wall and the rustling of bamboo leaves in the wind, not attracting outside attention.


On the second day, Su Ming directed Su Yang to stuff the pounded bamboo fibers into a large wooden bucket, weigh them down with stones, then fill it with strong alkaline water boiled from wood ash, covering it with a wooden plank to soak. A faint, slightly sour, rotting smell similar to composting fertilizer began to permeate the air, but confined to the backyard corner, mixed with the scents of earth and vegetation, it wasn't too conspicuous. Occasionally, neighbors passing behind the house just assumed the Su family was making ordinary farm compost.


On the third and fourth days, the wooden bucket just sat there soaking quietly, occasionally bubbling. Su Yang would curiously lift the cover to look every day; the color of the bamboo fibers inside gradually deepened and turned yellow. Su Ming strictly followed his "mentor's" instructions, patiently waiting. During these days, the brothers went to the fields and cut firewood as usual, not arousing any suspicion.


On the fifth day, Su Ming felt the soaking was about right. The brothers then fished out the bamboo material, which had turned deep brown and felt soft and mushy to the touch. They rinsed it repeatedly with clean water, trying to remove as much of the alkaline liquid and impurities as possible. The wastewater from rinsing was directly poured onto the vegetable plot in the backyard, leaving no trace.


On the sixth day, the brothers set up the largest iron pot in the backyard corner. The washed bamboo material was poured into the pot, water was added, and it was simmered over low heat for an entire day until the bamboo material completely dissolved into a pot of yellowish-brown, viscous paper pulp paste. The faint steam and the smell of boiling plants dissipated with the wind, not attracting any inquiry.


The seventh day, evening. The setting sun dyed the sky a shade of orange-red.


The paper pulp, after settling and being rinsed again, was placed in a wooden basin. Su Yang was carefully scooping something out of a wooden basin using a sieve with a hole in it. And Su Ming was using his hands to spread out what Su Yang scooped, bit by bit, flattening it on a door plank.


It was a thin, wet, yellowish-brown layer of fibers.


Su Shan returned at this moment. Pushing open the courtyard gate, he didn't hear the usual noise, only seeing Mrs. Chen busy in the kitchen and Wang Chuntao sewing under the eaves. He paused, as if remembering something, and silently walked around to the backyard.


He saw the mess in the corner at a glance, and his two sons who looked like mud-covered monkeys.


He stood there, not speaking, just watching quietly.


"Father, you're back." Su Yang saw his father and called out nervously.


Su Ming also looked up, his face smeared with paper pulp, but his eyes were astonishingly bright.


"Father, this is paper pulp. Spread it flat, let it dry, and it becomes paper." He pointed at the few palm-sized, uneven, mud-colored wet paper membranes on the door plank.


The courtyard was very quiet, only the faint sound of the evening wind rustling through leaves. No onlookers, no mocking laughter.


Su Shan seemed not to notice the surrounding silence. He just stared fixedly at the yellowish-brown thing on the door plank. He extended a rough finger and gently touched the wet "mud cake."


His fingertip felt a peculiar, soft yet resilient texture of interwoven fibers.


He slowly withdrew his hand, walked into the house without a word, brought out his pipe tobacco pouch, squatted in the corner of the courtyard, and smoked one puff after another, his eyes never leaving that door plank.


The sun slowly set behind the mountain. The moisture on the door plank gradually evaporated in the evening breeze. The few yellowish-brown "mud cakes" dried, hardened, their color becoming lighter, turning into an earthy yellow.


When the last bit of afterglow disappeared, Su Shan stood up. He walked to the door plank and carefully used his fingernail to peel off one piece of the "paper" that had completely dried.


"Rip—"


A soft sound.


 
Contact - ToS Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life
C42: It's a pity he's a bit too old.

That rough, thick, perforated, earthen-yellow piece of hard paper was completely peeled off.


Su Shan held it up to his eyes, examining it against the dimming daylight.


The courtyard remained quiet, only a few distant barks of dogs could be heard.


After a long while, he, staring at the paper in his palm, a kind of unprecedented brilliance erupted in his muddy eyes!


He suddenly raised his head, his gaze sharp as lightning, shooting towards Su Ming, his voice hoarse, squeezed out from between his teeth:


"Xiao Ming... tell your father the truth."


"This recipe... where on earth did you get it?!"


Su Shan's voice sounded like two stones grinding together, each word hammering onto Su Ming's heart.


The courtyard was deathly silent.

The evening breeze blew past, carrying the fresh scent of soil and vegetation from the fields, yet it couldn't disperse the solidified, tense air in this corner.
Su Yang looked at his father, then at his younger brother, not daring to even breathe heavily. He had never seen his father with such a look in his eyes. It wasn't the usual sternness, but a mixture of shock, suspicion, and a sharp glint he couldn't quite understand.


Mrs. Chen and Wang Chuntao also sensed something unusual in the backyard and quietly walked to the doorway, not daring to get closer.


"Here it comes, the ultimate pressure test!" Lin Yu's voice rang in Su Ming's mind, tinged with the excitement of someone enjoying the show without worrying about the trouble. "Disciple, steady! Remember the script we rehearsed! Your expression must be innocent, your eyes sincere, your tone carrying a hint of that 'I'm not entirely sure but that's how it is' kind of confusion! The Oscar is yours for the taking with this performance!"


Su Ming took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing his heart that was pounding like a drum.


He met his father's gaze that seemed almost capable of seeing right through him, clenched his fists, letting the stinging pain in his palms keep him alert.


"Dad... I..." he began, his voice carrying the slight tremor expected of a young boy, yet not panicked. "Everything I said is true."


"That recipe, I really found it in that bookshop in town."


Su Shan didn't speak, just stared at him, the embers in his pipe flickering, reflecting in his unfathomable pupils.


Su Ming knew simple repetition wouldn't pass muster. He had to fill in the details, use countless seemingly real details to construct a lie that couldn't be disproven.


"In the very back of that bookshop, in the corner by the wall, there was a pile of unwanted old books, covered in dust, some with their covers rotting away. The shopkeeper said those books were thirty wen each, pick any you like."


"I was rummaging through that pile of books. There was one without a cover, its pages yellowed and brittle, crumbling at a touch. When I opened it, a folded piece of paper fell out from between the pages."


As he spoke, he recalled the details Lin Yu had taught him.


"That piece of paper was even more worn than the jute paper we buy, its color similar to... similar to the dried paper on this door panel. The writing on it was in charcoal, very faded. I was just curious at the time, thought the material of the paper was strange, so I took a closer look."


"It had some little figures drawn on it, cutting bamboo, smashing things, boiling in a big pot... I couldn't even read all the characters, so I guessed and pieced things together, remembering a few key words, like 'tender bamboo', 'plant ash', 'pounding', 'retting and boiling'..."


Hearing this, Su Yang couldn't help but interject: "Yes, yes, yes! Dad, that's exactly how Xiao Ming has been directing me these past few days! First cut tender bamboo, then smash it with the wooden mallet, then soak it in plant ash water!"


Su Yang's corroboration made Su Ming's account even more credible.


The sharpness in Su Shan's eyes slowly receded somewhat, but his suspicion did not dissipate. He was a farmer who had dug his livelihood from the earth his whole life. He believed in sweat, he believed in the land, he did not believe in such windfalls.


"Which book?" he asked hoarsely.


"Don't know the name, Dad. That book didn't even have a cover, the handwriting inside was mostly blurred too, seemed like some kind of travelogue or miscellany." Su Ming's reply was flawless, an answer that left no evidence to trace.


Su Shan fell silent.


He turned the rough, earthen-yellow paper scrap over and over in his hand.


The paper was uneven in thickness, its surface so rough it could scrape off a layer of skin, with tiny holes and lumps of undispersed bamboo fiber.


But it was indeed a piece of "paper."


It could bear ink and brush, it could record words, it could turn intangible thoughts into something tangible, something that could be passed on.


He knew his youngest son had always loved pondering strange and unusual things since he was little. Finding some odd recipe left by predecessors in a worthless, tattered old book... this matter... sounded bizarre, yet seemed to have a sliver of possibility.


Most crucially, a thirteen-year-old child, no matter how clever, how could he possibly fabricate a method for making paper out of thin air? This was the proprietary skill that the big workshops in the city relied on for their survival!


Thinking of this, the shock and suspicion in Su Shan's heart began to be rapidly replaced by another, heavier, colder emotion.


It was fear.


He abruptly stood up, grabbing both Su Ming and Su Yang.


"Come, inside to talk!"


His voice was very low, but his movements were urgent, as if wolves were chasing him from behind.


Once inside, he immediately closed the door with a "creak" and bolted it.


Under the dim oil lamp, Su Shan's weathered face appeared exceptionally grave. He scanned his family—his wife Mrs. Chen, his eldest son Su Feng and his wife, his second son Su Yang—and finally his gaze settled on his youngest son, Su Ming.


"What happened today," he said, word by word, his voice pressed as if squeezed from his throat, "from now on, not a single word of it is to be spoken to anyone outside! Act as if it never happened! Those things in the backyard, burn them tomorrow morning! Bury them!"


"Dad! Why?!" Su Yang was frantic. "We finally managed to make it..."


"Shut up!" Su Shan growled in a low voice, making Su Yang shrink his neck in fright.


"Do you know what this is?" Su Shan raised the piece of paper in his hand. "This is something that can cost our whole family our lives!"


He panted heavily, as if he had been working a bellows for a long time.


"Don't you understand the principle that 'a man's wealth is his own ruin'? A recipe like this that can turn worthless bamboo into money, if outsiders find out, do you think our family will ever have a peaceful day again?"


"The Village Chief in the village, the rich people in town, aren't they all seemingly amiable, yet their hands are darker than anyone's? If they knew we had this skill, would they politely come to discuss it with us, or would they sneak into our house in the middle of the night, steal the recipe, and then throw our whole family, young and old, down a well?"


Su Shan's words were like a basin of ice water, pouring down from head to toe, making everyone shiver.


The excitement on Su Yang's face instantly faded, replaced by belated fear. Mrs. Chen was even more frightened, her face pale, tightly clutching Wang Chuntao's hand.


Su Ming's heart also sank. His father's reaction was even more intense than he had anticipated. He had considered risks, but his father was thinking of the catastrophe of extermination.


"Not bad, not bad," Lin Yu's voice sounded again, carrying a note of shrewd approval. "Your father's political awareness is quite good. Not blinded by profit, thinking about risk control and crisis management first thing. He's a qualified seedling for the 'Way of Survival', it's just a pity he's a bit old, otherwise he wouldn't be bad to recruit as a protector."


 
Contact - ToS Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life
C43: Persuasion

Su Ming knew the time had come.


He raised his head, looking at his terrified family, looking at his father who was plunged into immense anxiety.


"Father, you are right."


His calm voice sounded exceptionally clear in the oppressive room.


"This formula is a hot potato. If our family keeps it to ourselves, disaster will inevitably be drawn to us sooner or later. So..."


He paused, meeting his father's gaze, and spoke the words he had long calculated in his heart.


"So, we cannot keep it to ourselves."


Su Shan was stunned. "Not keep it? Then what do you intend to do? Give it away?"


"Not give it away." Su Ming shook his head. "Father, think, in this village, whose word carries the most weight? Who least wants the village to fall into chaos?"

Su Shan answered almost without thinking. "The Village Chief."
The Village Chief, the head of the village. Though his official rank wasn't high, within this small patch of land, he was the sky. Village taxes, corvée labor, disputes—all were decided by him. More importantly, only if the village remained stable would his position be secure.


"Right, the Village Chief." Su Ming's eyes sparkled under the oil lamp. "Father, we will present this formula to the village!"


"What?!"


This time, not only Su Yang, but even the previously silent Su Feng cried out in shock.


"Xiao Ming, are you crazy? Our family's hard-earned treasure, given freely to the village?" Su Yang couldn't comprehend it.


"Not for free!" Su Ming emphasized his tone. "This is called 'technology shares'!"


This term was taught to him by Lin Yu, and he had learned it perfectly.


Seeing his family's bewildered expressions, he switched to a more common way of speaking.


"Father, Eldest Brother, Second Brother, think about it. The formula is our family's. How to make it, only we know. We take out the formula, saying it's so the whole village can live a better life. Who wouldn't give us a thumbs-up for that reputation?"


"We go find the Village Chief, hand the formula over for him to lead. Let him take charge, organize the village's manpower, and establish a village-run papermaking workshop."


"When the time comes, the Village Chief acts as the general manager. He has connections, prestige. If any local ruffians from the town come looking for trouble, he'll be the one to handle it. This is called making him shoulder the risk."


"The uncles and elders in the village have strength but nowhere to earn hard-earned coppers. We give them a path, let them chop bamboo, make paper pulp, and receive solid copper coins every day. What will they think of our family? Living Bodhisattvas!"


Su Ming's words were like pushing open a window in a dark room.


The shock and doubt in Su Shan's eyes gradually gave way to deep contemplation. He released his tightly gripped tobacco pipe, leaning forward slightly, clearly captivated by his son's words.


"Then... what about our family?" Su Feng couldn't help but ask. "Our family provides the formula, the technique. What do we get?"


"We sit back and share the profits." Su Ming stated decisively.


"Share profits?"


"Yes!" Su Ming held up three fingers. "Our family, as the owners of the formula, as the only ones who understand the technique, don't need to do any manual labor. For every hundred wen the workshop sells, our family takes thirty wen! Not a single percent less!"


Thirty wen!


Thirty percent!


This number made everyone in the room gasp sharply.


This was practically... getting something for nothing!


"Will... will this work?" Mrs. Chen asked worriedly. "Will the Village Chief and the villagers agree? We do nothing and take thirty percent. It's too much."


"Not too much!" Su Ming immediately refuted. He and Lin Yu had rehearsed these arguments countless times. "Mother, think, without our family's formula, bamboo is just bamboo, plant ash is just garbage, not worth a single wen. It's us who turned these worthless things into paper that can be sold! We provided the pot that allows the whole village to eat meat. Taking thirty percent of the broth is perfectly justified!"


He looked at his father and continued. "The Village Chief shoulders the risk, manages everything inside and out. He takes twenty percent. That's his rightful management fee. The remaining fifty percent is distributed among all the villagers who contribute labor. This distribution, no one can find fault with it! Who dares say our Su family is greedy?"


Lin Yu was applauding wildly in Su Ming's mind.


"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! Disciple, with your eloquence, it's a waste of talent not to go into multi-level marketing! Transferring risk to authority, distributing benefits to the masses, keeping the core technology firmly in your own hands! You've truly grasped the essence of my 'Way of Survival'! Your master is very pleased, very pleased indeed!"


Su Ming ignored his master's antics. He watched his father nervously, awaiting the final verdict.


Su Shan's breathing became heavy.


His head, imprisoned by yellow earth and sweat for a lifetime, was now operating at an unprecedented speed.


He could almost see the scene.


A village-run workshop, built under the Village Chief's command.


The village idlers and laborers all had work, happily receiving wages every day. When they saw his family, they would bow and scrape, calling them "Gods of Wealth."


And his Su family needed to do nothing. They only needed his son Su Ming to occasionally "guide" the technique, and gleaming copper coins would flow continuously into their pockets.


Most importantly, this enormous secret was no longer shouldered by his Su family alone.


The entire village would shoulder it!


Anyone who dared to try and steal the formula would be making an enemy of the entire Su Family Village! The Village Chief would be the first to refuse!


This... this was practically turning a treasure that could invite fatal disaster into an impregnable fortress of protection!


How could his usually bookish, frail youngest son come up with such a thorough, such a shrewd plan?


Could reading books really open one's mind so much?


Su Shan couldn't understand, but he knew this method was feasible!


He raised his head. A light, unprecedented in its intensity, burst forth from his turbid eyes. He looked at Su Ming as if looking at a stranger.


After a long while, he knocked the tobacco ash from his pipe onto the ground and straightened up again.


His back, bent for a lifetime, seemed to straighten a little at this moment.


"Good."


He said only one word.


Then he looked at Su Feng and Su Yang, then at Mrs. Chen and Wang Chuntao.


"Household matters, continue as usual. Keep your mouths tightly shut. If anyone leaks even half a word, they are no longer a member of my Su family!"


Finally, his gaze returned to Su Ming. His tone carried a gravity even he himself hadn't noticed before.


"Xiao Ming, tomorrow morning, before dawn, you come with me."


"Where to, Father?" Su Ming asked, already knowing the answer.


Su Shan took a deep breath, as if wanting to exhale decades of poverty and repression all at once.


"To the Village Chief's house!"


 
Contact - ToS Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life
C44: We'll Share the Blame

Just after the fifth watch, the sky was still a murky bluish-gray.


Thick fog covered the entire Su Family Village. Beyond five paces, human figures were indistinct, leaving only a few scattered rooster crows piercing through the mist, sounding especially distant.


Su Shan didn't light a lamp. By the faint light seeping through the window, he carefully fastened his short jacket, which had been starched until it was whitish and had the fewest patches. His movements weren't fast, but they were steady.


Su Ming was already fully dressed, standing quietly in the shadows by the doorway.


"Let's go." Su Shan's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a determined, deliberate weight.


Father and son, one after the other, melted into the morning fog. The mist hit their faces with a damp, cold scent of earth and vegetation. Su Shan's back was ahead, his steps heavy, each one measured as if with a ruler, no longer the slightly weary stride of his usual trips to the fields.


Su Ming followed behind, communicating with his master in his mind.


"Master, I'm a bit nervous."


"Nervous is good," Lin Yu's voice held a trace of lazy amusement. "It means your mind is clear, knowing this matter concerns life and limb. Don't be afraid, follow the plan we rehearsed last night. Remember, your father is the ballast stone, you are the pole-man. He steadies the boat, you find the right direction to set the pole."

"My father... he seems different today." Su Ming looked at his father's back, straighter than usual by a few degrees.
"Hmph, even a clay figurine has a bit of earth's temper. Your father just doesn't like to fight, not that he lacks substance. This is how he is when he's carrying something heavy in his heart."


Village Chief Zhao Dequan's house was in the eastern part of the village, with blue brick walls and a courtyard nearly twice the size of the Su family's. Su Shan stopped at the courtyard gate, pondered for a moment, then raised his hand and knocked three times on the sturdy wooden door—not too lightly, not too heavily. The sound was clear, showing neither impatience nor timidity.


"Who is it? Knocking before the sky's even fully light." A bleary-eyed woman pulled open the door; it was the Village Chief's wife.


"Sister-in-law, sorry to disturb your early morning. I'm Su Shan. There's an urgent matter, I'd like to ask Brother Dequan to help deliberate on it." Su Shan gave a slight nod, his tone calm, his face showing no extra expression.


The woman looked the father and son up and down. Seeing they were damp with morning dew but their expressions were composed and serious, not like they were panicked or had caused trouble, she stepped aside to let them into the courtyard.


"Wait in the main room, he'll be right out."


The main room was brighter than the Su family's. In the center was a cleanly wiped Eight Immortals table with four long benches. A faded New Year's painting of the Gods of Wealth was pasted on the wall. The air held a faint scent of tobacco.


Zhao Dequan shuffled out from the inner room in cloth shoes, draped in an outer coat. He was in his forties, not tall in stature, but his back was straight, a neat short beard on his chin, his eyes holding their usual shrewdness. Seeing the Su father and son, he was somewhat surprised, but didn't show much on his face.


"Shanzi? So early, what's the matter?" He walked to the table, casually picking up a coarse ceramic teacup.


Su Shan didn't reply immediately. He walked to the table and gently placed the tobacco pipe he had been clutching in his hand onto the table with a soft *thump*. He looked up at Zhao Dequan, his gaze steady.


"Brother Dequan," he began, his voice not loud, but each word clear, "I've run into a matter, too big, my family can't shoulder it alone, my mind can't untangle it. You're the backbone of our whole village, I must ask you to help judge it."


His words were steady, and heavy, like a weighty stone thrown into calm water.


Zhao Dequan's hand holding the teacup stopped. He narrowed his eyes, carefully examining Su Shan's expression. That weathered face held no fear, only a heavy, solemn resolve. This made him shed some of his casualness.


"What matter could make you, Su Shan, utter the words 'can't shoulder it'?" He put down the teacup, leaning forward slightly.


Su Shan didn't answer directly. Instead, he turned his head and gestured to Su Ming. "Xiao Ming, show the thing to your Uncle Zhao."


Su Ming took out the palm-sized, coarse-textured piece of paper from his robe, smoothed it flat, placed it on the Eight Immortals table, and pushed it toward Zhao Dequan.


Su Shan extended a rough finger, tapping the paper scrap, but his gaze remained fixed on Zhao Dequan. "Brother Dequan, you've seen much of the world, please take a look. Tell us, this thing, in the hands of us farming folk, is it truly food that can keep people alive, or... a root of disaster that can take lives?"


Zhao Dequan's brows completely furrowed. He picked up the paper scrap. The rough texture and unique resilience transmitted through his fingertips made his expression change slightly. He carefully examined the grain, brought it close to his nose to smell it, even following an old habit, pinched a tiny corner, put it in his mouth to chew, then spat it out.


"This... is paper?" He looked up sharply, his eyes sweeping back and forth between Su Shan and Su Ming. "Shanzi, you father and son, what kind of play are you performing?"


"Master, my turn," Su Ming silently recited in his mind.


"Uncle Zhao," Su Ming stepped forward half a pace, standing at his father's side, his tone respectful yet unafraid, "This thing wasn't bought from outside, nor given by someone else. I found an ancient recipe in an old book about miscellaneous studies, saying you could try to make paper using the tender bamboo from the back mountain and the plant ash from the stove hearth."


He paused, meeting Zhao Dequan's scrutinizing gaze, and continued clearly, "I was young and reckless, so I actually tried tinkering with it for a few days. My skill is crude, the technique is far off, I only barely managed to produce this rough, crude thing. But it... it truly worked."


"What?!"


The paper scrap in Zhao Dequan's hand trembled violently. He abruptly stood up, eyes wide, his body leaning forward in shock, grabbing Su Ming's arm. "What did you say? Made from bamboo? This... you made this?!"


His grip was strong. Su Ming felt a slight pain, but didn't struggle, just nodded affirmatively.


Zhao Dequan's breathing instantly became heavy. He was the Village Chief, he had been to the town, seen the government offices. He knew all too well the value of paper! That was silver! It was the dignity of scholars! It was wealth that could flow!


Using the bamboo covering the mountains? Using the ash left over from burning firewood?


If this was true... that stretch of green on the back mountain of Su Family Village instantly transformed into a dazzling mountain of gold and silver in his eyes!


The immense impact made his mind buzz, but the caution cultivated from years of handling village affairs immediately suppressed the wild joy. He slowly sat back down, his eyes becoming unfathomably deep, staring intently at Su Ming as if trying to see right through him.


"Boy, words spoken are nails hammered. Do you know the consequences of toying with the Village Chief over such a serious matter?"


Su Shan now took half a step forward, his broad shoulders slightly blocking Su Ming. He looked at Zhao Dequan, his voice still deliberate, yet carrying an undeniable seriousness. "Brother Dequan, you know what kind of man I, Su Shan, am. I wouldn't bring a baseless matter before you. Precisely because this matter is truly too big, big enough to overturn the heavens, and my single household simply cannot bear it, I must come to you to make this major decision."


Su Ming knew the critical moment had arrived. He had to pierce the most vital joint.


"Uncle Zhao," he took over from his father, his tone even more grave, "What my father says is true. The moment this thing was made, my father and I were first stunned, then terrified."


He looked directly into Zhao Dequan's sharp, probing eyes, each word dropping like a hammer in the quiet main room. "This recipe is a mountain of gold, it can keep countless people alive; but it's also a basin of red-hot charcoal! Whoever holds it can be burned to ashes! With the meager foundation of our Su family, we simply cannot keep this treasure hidden. If even a hint of the news leaks out, what awaits us won't be fortune, but likely a calamitous disaster that will destroy our family and take our lives!"


"So, my father pondered it all night. Before dawn, he brought me here."


"This fortune, our family cannot swallow it alone. This disaster, we cannot shoulder it alone either. After much thought, the only way is to place it in your hands, for you, the head of the household, to take charge. That is its only proper path, and also the possible... lifeline for our entire village!"


 
Contact - ToS Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life
C45: An Appetite Bigger Than the Sky

The air in the main room seemed to have solidified.


The morning mist outside the window hadn't dispersed yet, and the light filtering in was gray and murky, casting an indistinct shadow on everyone's face in the room.


Only that piece of rough yellow paper lying quietly on the table seemed like the still center of a vortex capable of swallowing everything.


Zhao Dequan did not sit down.


He paced back and forth in the small open space with his hands clasped behind his back. His cloth shoes made almost no sound on the compacted earth floor, yet with each of his footsteps, Su Shan's heartbeat thumped heavily against his chest, once, then again.


Su Shan's hand, without him realizing, had once again gripped the tobacco pipe on the table, his knuckles turning white from the force. He had never been this nervous in his entire life, not even when facing the county yamen's tax collectors.


Su Ming stood ramrod straight, breathing slowly and deliberately, his eyes fixed on the tip of his nose, his mind focused inward.


"Steady, disciple." Lin Yu's voice rang in his mind, carrying a hint of leisurely observation. "Don't be intimidated by this old fox's aura. Right now, his mind is more chaotic than yours. Half of him sees a gold mountain, the other half sees a pit of fire. He's weighing whether he has the capability to hold this bowl of rice. Every step he takes is a calculation of gain and loss."


Su Ming understood in his heart. His master was right. Whoever spoke first now would lose the upper hand.

Zhao Dequan paced about seven or eight times back and forth before finally stopping.
He didn't look at the Su father and son; his gaze remained fixed on the piece of paper on the table, as if trying to bore a hole through it with his stare.


"This method," he spoke, his voice hoarse as if rubbed by sandpaper, "is it easy for others to learn?"


This was the first question, striking directly at the core.


Su Shan's heart leaped into his throat.


Su Ming took a step forward and replied respectfully, "Uncle Zhao, it's not easy. That old book I found mentioned this is called 'Heavenly Craft and the Creation of Things.' It looks simple, but in reality, each step is intricately linked. When to cut the bamboo, what heat to use for boiling, how to filter the plant ash, what proportion to dilute the filtered lye, and finally how to scoop and form the paper pulp—every step has its intricacies. If you're off by even a hair, what comes out won't be paper, but a puddle of mud. I was just a blind cat stumbling upon a dead mouse; it took me dozens of attempts to barely produce this one passable sheet."


His words were nine parts truth and one part fabrication, packaging all the chemical principles Lin Yu had taught into the mysterious and profound "ancient method intricacies."


"Well said!" Lin Yu praised. "Keep the key information vague, exaggerate the technical barriers! Let him know this technology is our family's unique secret skill, something others can't steal or learn! You are the indispensable pillar of this workshop!"


Zhao Dequan turned around, his sharp eyes finally looking directly at Su Ming. "Kid, you've thought this through thoroughly."


He walked to the table and began tapping his fingers lightly on its surface, producing a "tock, tock" sound.


"Second question. If we really do this, how many people, how much money, and how much land will we need?"


This was assessing feasibility.


Su Ming felt a wave of relief in his heart, knowing the other party was already interested. He immediately answered, his speech not fast but clear and logical, obviously the result of deep prior consideration.


"Answering Uncle Zhao, the money, the initial investment isn't large. Mainly, we need to build a few sheds, construct a few large stoves and lime pits. Our village has plenty of strong laborers and masons; it won't cost many copper coins. For land, that barren riverside area is most suitable, convenient for fetching water and doesn't occupy good farmland. For people, cutting bamboo, burning lime, pounding paper pulp—these are all labor-intensive tasks. The uncles, brothers, and idle men in the village can all do it; we can pay them daily wages."


With each sentence he spoke, Zhao Dequan's eyes grew brighter.


Not occupying good land, using the village's idle labor force, the startup cost shockingly low. This business seemed tailor-made for Su Family Village!


Zhao Dequan's breathing noticeably grew heavier. He stared at Su Ming, his gaze no longer scrutinizing a half-grown child, but examining a treasure capable of turning stone into gold.


He remained silent for a moment before finally asking the most crucial question.


"So, you father and son... how exactly do you want to do this?"


As these words left his mouth, the atmosphere in the room instantly tightened again.


Su Shan looked at his son.


Su Ming took a deep breath. He knew success or failure hinged on this moment.


"Uncle Zhao," his voice grew steady, devoid of any adolescent timidity, "this formula belongs to my Su family. But this immense fortune, my Su family dare not and cannot swallow it alone."


He paused, looking sincerely at Zhao Dequan, and spoke word by word, "So my idea is, this can't be just the Su family's business. It must be the business of 'Su Family Village'!"


The three words "Su Family Village" struck Zhao Dequan's heart like a heavy hammer.


He jolted violently, an incredulous light bursting forth in his eyes.


Su Ming didn't give him much time to think, pressing his advantage while the iron was hot, laying out the plan he had long since memorized.


"You are the backbone of our village. This matter must be spearheaded by you! You will be the face, organizing the manpower, handling official matters. In the future, if any fool dares to cause trouble, you'll be the one to deal with it. This is called the stabilizing pillar. The workshop's net profit—you get a twenty percent share!"


Zhao Dequan's fingers stopped moving.


Twenty percent! Without contributing anything, just based on his status and prestige, he gets twenty percent!


"The uncles and brothers in the village who contribute labor shouldn't toil for nothing. Cutting bamboo, carrying water, tending fires, pounding pulp—pay them according to their work, daily wages. Besides that, from the remaining net profit of the workshop, take out another fifty percent to distribute among all the fellow villagers who participate in the workshop's work! Year-end dividends based on work contribution!"


Zhao Dequan's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, his eyes becoming incredibly complex. He understood now. Su Ming was trying to tie the entire village's interests to this venture!


"And what about my Su family?" Su Ming straightened his chest, his voice not loud but carrying an undeniable confidence. "My family provides the formula. I am responsible for teaching everyone this paper-making craft exactly as it is, ensuring the workshop can be established and produce paper that can be sold for money. Our family gets thirty percent of the profit."


Thirty percent!


Doing nothing, just based on a formula, moving their lips, they want to take thirty percent? This appetite is bigger than the sky!


Zhao Dequan narrowed his eyes. The temperature in the room seemed to drop instantly.


He stared at Su Ming for a long time before slowly speaking, his tone carrying a dangerous edge. "Thirty percent? Kid, do you know how much thirty percent is? I, as the Village Chief, bearing immense responsibility, only get twenty percent. The entire village, over a hundred people working themselves to the bone, only split fifty percent. Your Su family, just moving your lips, wants to take thirty percent?"


Pressure, like a mountain, pressed down.


Sweat beaded on Su Shan's forehead. He instinctively wanted to say, "That's too much, we can take less."


"Hold firm, disciple! This is a negotiation! You retreat one step, he'll advance ten! This thirty percent is the value of the technology, not a single coin less!" Lin Yu's voice shouted sternly in his mind.


Su Ming clenched his fists, his fingernails digging deep into his palms. He met Zhao Dequan's gaze without retreating.


"Uncle Zhao, you can't calculate it that way."


"Without my family's formula, the bamboo on the back mountain will forever remain just bamboo, worthless."


"It is my family that provides this pot that can turn bamboo into gleaming silver! We provide the opportunity for the entire village to get a taste of meat soup! We take thirty percent, leaving the remaining seventy percent entirely for the village, for you! Isn't that fair?"


He took a step forward, his voice suddenly rising. "Furthermore, I am the only one who understands this technology! Once the workshop is up and running, how do we improve the paper's quality? How do we increase production? What do we do if defective or waste products appear in the future? All of that falls on me! My thirty percent is payment for the technology, payment for peace of mind! Tell me, should this money be taken or not?"


His words, resounding and forceful, left Zhao Dequan speechless.


Yes, the technology was the core! Without Su Ming, this "Technical Director," all of this was a mirage!


Su Shan stared dumbfounded at his younger son, mouth slightly agape, his face full of shock. Was this still his son, who usually only knew to bury his head in books and was somewhat shy around people? These words, this boldness—he could probably say them even to the county magistrate!


Zhao Dequan's chest heaved violently.


His shrewd, calculating mind raced.


Twenty percent management shares, thirty percent technology shares, fifty percent labor shares.


This distribution plan, on the surface, seemed to give the Su family the lion's share, but in reality, he, Zhao Dequan, was the biggest winner! Not only did he gain twenty percent profit out of thin air, more importantly, he turned the entire village into his "supporters" and firmly controlled the Su family, this treasure holding the core technology, in his grasp!


This political achievement, this prestige, this tangible benefit...


This was immense wealth falling from the heavens!


Having thought through all the connections, the last trace of doubt in his heart vanished, replaced by an uncontrollable surge of wild joy and excitement!


*SLAM!*


A loud crash echoed as Zhao Dequan slammed his palm heavily onto the Eight Immortals table, causing the teacups on it to jump.


Su Shan was startled by this, his whole body trembling.


"Good!" Zhao Dequan's eyes widened, his face erupting into a booming laugh that pierced through the house, startling the old hen in the yard into frantic clucking. "Good! What a great 'business of Su Family Village'! What a great 'technology shares'!"


He grabbed Su Shan's shoulders and shook them vigorously, his face flushed. "Shanzi! You, Su Shan, quiet and unassuming, actually raised such a fine son! Courageous! Strategic! I, Zhao Dequan, am impressed!"


As the laughter subsided, his face instantly regained the Village Chief's stern authority.


He swept his gaze around the room, sharp as a knife, passing over Su Shan's face before finally settling on Su Ming.


"This matter is settled!"


"But, let's be clear from the start!" His voice suddenly turned icy. "From today, until the first sheet of paper from the workshop is sold and turned into money, this matter is known only to heaven, earth, you, and me! If anyone dares to leak even half a word, no matter who it is, they become my, Zhao Dequan's, mortal enemy! The public enemy of our entire Su Family Village!"


"Shanzi, Xiao Ming, do you understand?!"


These words, spoken by him as the Village Chief, carried weight heavier than Mount Tai.


It was no longer just the Su family's secret; it was an iron law established by the core power of the entire Su Family Village.


Su Shan nodded heavily, his voice hoarse. "Understood!"


Su Ming also bowed respectfully. "Your nephew understands!"


Zhao Dequan looked at Su Ming, his eyes filled with appreciation and a trace of barely perceptible wariness.


This thirteen-year-old youth could no longer be viewed with the eyes one uses for a child.


He waved his hand, his tone brooking no argument.


"Go back. Starting tomorrow, do what you normally do, don't let anyone notice anything unusual. I'll handle the rest!"


Father and son walked out of Zhao Dequan's gate. The morning mist had mostly dissipated, golden sunlight piercing through the clouds, coating the entire Su Family Village in a layer of warm light.


Su Shan walked ahead. The back that had been perpetually hunched under the weight of life now stood straight and tall.


 
Contact - ToS Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life
C46: Blood Oath

The night was as dark as ink. The village had long since extinguished its lights, leaving only a few scattered barks that sounded especially clear in the silence.


The main hall of Zhao Dequan's house, however, was unusually lit by an oil lamp, its dim, yellowish light seeping through the paper window.


Shadows flickered inside. Besides Su Shan and Su Ming, father and son, there were five others. Three were the clan elders of the Su, Zhao, and Wang surnames in the village, their hair and beards white, their expressions solemn. The other two were Zhao Dequan's nephews from his own family, Zhao Dazhuang and Zhao Eryong, around thirty years old, with sturdy builds, standing to Zhao Dequan's left and right like door gods.


The air was so thick it was suffocating.


Zhao Dequan was not sitting. Clutching the piece of coarse paper Su Ming had made, he paced back and forth in the not-so-spacious main hall. His footsteps were heavy, each step seeming to land on the very heartstrings of those present. Su Shan hung his head low, staring at his old cloth shoes where his toes peeked through. With each step Zhao Dequan took closer, his gaunt shoulders involuntarily tightened a fraction more.


"See that? That's the old fox for you." Lin Yu's voice sounded in his mind, carrying its usual lazy mockery. "Knowing a single plank can't support a bridge, he swiftly roped in the most influential old-timers in the village. Once they're on the boat, there's no getting off. Shared interests, shared risks. If this ever comes to light in the future, it'll be the disaster of the entire Su Family Village's core, not just Zhao Dequan's fault alone. Your father's little schemes are as transparent as paper in front of him."


Zhao Dequan finally stopped walking.


He slapped the piece of coarse yellowish paper onto the Eight Immortals table with a soft 'thwack'. The sound wasn't loud, but it startled everyone's hearts. His gaze was like a knife tempered with ice, slowly sweeping over every face present.


"Three great-uncles, two worthy nephews, Shanzi."

His voice was low, yet each word was clear, hammering into the silent air.
"The reason I've troubled you all to come here in the dead of night is precisely for this object on the table."


The three clan elders' murky gazes all focused on that unremarkable piece of yellow paper, filled with doubt and scrutiny.


"Su Shan's third son, Su Ming, by chance, obtained a fragmentary recipe from an old, tattered book. Using those unwanted young bamboos from the back mountain, he actually managed to concoct this thing."


Zhao Dequan's words were concise, without embellishment.


"Paper! Paper that can be written on to record things!"


"Buzz—"


It was as if a thunderclap had exploded beside the elders' ears. Their withered hands trembled violently, their eyes suddenly widening, staring fixedly at that piece of paper as if trying to see through it. Their deep wrinkles were filled with utter disbelief.


"De… Dequan, is this… is this true?" The Su clan elder's voice trembled. His bony finger pointed at the paper, almost touching it before jerking back sharply, as if it were a hot potato.


"This… this really came from bamboo? I've lived over sixty years, never heard of such a marvel!" The Wang clan elder leaned forward, his murky eyes erupting with a terrifying gleam.


Zhao Dequan didn't answer, only turned his gaze to Su Ming. "Xiao Ming, repeat what you told me this afternoon for these great-uncles. Make it clear."


Su Ming stepped forward, bowed deeply to the three clan elders with proper etiquette.


Then, he recounted the story he had already memorized, steady and clear. From how he accidentally obtained the fragmentary recipe, to the numerous failed attempts, until the final success, and then to the immense wealth and catastrophic disaster hidden within it.


Finally, his voice, though not loud, was exceptionally firm as he laid out the distribution plan for that "Su Family Village business".


"...Our Su family provides the recipe and the technique, taking thirty percent of the profit. Uncle Dequan and the three clan elders will oversee the core, steer the ship, set the rules, and quell disturbances, taking twenty percent as silent partners. The remaining fifty percent will be distributed among the fellow villagers who contribute labor, according to their work."


As his words fell, the hall was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.


Only the occasional faint "crackle" of the oil lamp's wick breaking.


The shock on the three clan elders' faces had transformed into complete horror. They looked at each other, each seeing a stormy sea of shock in the other's eyes. Pulling the entire village into a business? And rewarding based on merit? This child's thinking is simply… appalling!


Zhao Dequan watched their reactions coldly, the corner of his mouth lifting almost imperceptibly.


He cleared his throat heavily, shattering the dead silence. His voice was grave and solemn, delivering the final, decisive blow for this earth-shattering plan.


"Three great-uncles, Xiao Ming's words are my, Zhao Dequan's, meaning."


"This object is a heaven-sent cornucopia for the descendants of our Su Family Village to turn our lives around and establish ourselves! However, it is also something that can invite a bloody disaster!"


His tone suddenly rose sharply, his gaze sharp as a hawk's, scraping over each person's doubtful, unsettled face.


"If even a whisper of this leaks, forget about getting rich. I fear our Su Family Village could face the danger of a nest overturned in an instant! By then, everyone present here will be the village's eternal sinners!"


The murderously cold words made the clan elders shudder all over, the last trace of color draining from their faces. With the earth already at their necks, they understood all too well the bloodiness behind the eight words: "A common man's only crime is possessing a treasure."


"Therefore, if we proceed with this, your mouths must be sealed shut with molten iron! Your hearts must be weighed down with giant boulders!"


Zhao Dequan suddenly drew a gleaming dagger from the small of his back. With a sharp "clang!", he drove it fiercely into the tabletop. The blade vibrated, emitting a low hum, casting his face in a cold, severe light.


"Today, right here, right now! We shall swear a blood oath!"


He grabbed a coarse pottery wine bowl from the table, broke the clay seal on a jar of strong liquor, and poured it full with a gurgle.


Then, he pulled out the dagger and, without hesitation, drew it across the thumb of his left hand.


Crimson blood beads immediately welled up, dripping down, rapidly spreading in the clear liquor like a bizarre, blooming flower.


"I, Zhao Dequan, swear to heaven today!"


He lifted the wine bowl with both hands, his voice like muffled thunder, vibrating within the cramped space.


"If a single word of the papermaking secret leaks from my mouth, may I be struck dead by heavenly lightning, torn apart by five horses! May I not be buried in the ancestral graves after death, my soul scattered to the winds, never to be reincarnated for all eternity! May my descendants, men become thieves, women become prostitutes, generation after generation of base and lowly status!"



The venomous oath was utterly ruthless, each word piercing the heart, sending chills down everyone's spine and cold sweat trickling down.


"Your turn!" Zhao Dequan's gaze was like a torch, pressing upon the three clan elders.


The three elders' faces were deathly pale, their breathing rapid. Exchanging glances, they saw the resolve within them. From the moment they stepped into this room and heard Zhao Dequan lay out the plan, there had been no way back.


"This old man… is in!" The Su clan elder gritted his teeth, reached out a trembling hand, took the dagger, and drew it harshly across his bony, age-spotted finger.


"Count me in!"


"Me too!"


The Wang and Zhao clan elders also gritted their teeth and followed suit.


Blood, drop by drop, merged into the wine, dyeing the bowl of strong liquor an unsettling pale red.


It was Su Shan's turn. He looked at that bowl of blood wine, his hands shaking terribly. A lifetime of honest simplicity, when had he ever witnessed such a scene?


Su Ming quietly reached out, steadying his father's arm. He could feel the stiffness and faint trembling beneath that thin arm.


Su Shan looked up, met his son's gaze for a moment, then met Zhao Dequan's icy, unyielding stare. He took the dagger, closed his eyes, and drew it forcefully across his own rough fingertip.


Blood dripped into the bowl.


Zhao Dazhuang and Zhao Eryong didn't even blink, cleanly slicing their fingers and squeezing out blood.


A bowl of wine, infused with the blood of seven men.


"Drink!"


Zhao Dequan barked the command, leading the way by lifting the large bowl and drinking deeply.


The others also picked up the wine bowls distributed to them, pouring the spicy liquid mixed with blood and oaths down their throats.


The fiery heat and faint metallic taste intertwined, burning a path down, as if hammering a heavy brand directly into their very organs.


After drinking the blood wine, everyone looked up. Their eyes now held a touch more ferocity and the connection of co-conspirators.


From this moment on, the seven of them were truly grasshoppers tied to the same rope, sharing glory and disgrace, rising and falling together.


 
Contact - ToS Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life
C47: Technical Challenges
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"Good!" Zhao Dequan slammed the empty bowl heavily onto the table.


"From this moment on, this matter stops with the seven of us! Heaven knows, earth knows!"


He spoke with extreme speed, his reasoning clear, and began assigning tasks.


"Three esteemed elders, keeping the village stable depends entirely on you venerable gentlemen. Starting tomorrow, spread the word that I, Zhao Dequan, intend to lead the establishment of a 'bamboo ware workshop' on the riverbank, weaving some bamboo baskets and crates for sale, to give the villagers an extra source of income. This matter is perfectly reasonable, no one will suspect a thing."


"Dazhuang, Eryong!"


"Here, Uncle Dequan!" The two men straightened their chests and responded like soldiers.


"At first light tomorrow, you two immediately take trustworthy clansmen to the most remote section of the riverbank east of the village and mark out the boundary for me! Remember, be discreet! Surround the area tightly with bamboo and thatch grass, don't even let a stray dog in! Also, you two hurry to town and quietly buy up all the large iron pots and stone mortars you can find! I'll provide the silver!"


"Yes!"


Finally, his gaze fell upon Su Shan and his son.

"Shanzi, Xiao Ming. The heaviest burden rests on your father and son's shoulders. Starting tomorrow, you two will be the 'master craftsmen' of this workshop! How to proceed, who and what you need, report directly to me! I have only one demand!"
He paused, his gaze burning, enunciating each word clearly: "Within one month, I want to see paper that can be exchanged for copper coins!"


The night grew deeper. Su Shan and his son returned home in silence.


The soft thud of the courtyard gate closing shut out the outside world. Without a word, Su Shan squatted by the stone mill in the corner of the yard, pulled out his pipe, his hands trembling as he stuffed in the tobacco shreds, striking the flint several times before it ignited. He took a fierce drag, the pungent smoke filling his lungs, seeming to reclaim a shred of his soul. The pipe bowl glowed bright then dim, illuminating his deeply lined face, now heavy with gloom.


Su Ming stood quietly behind him. As the night wind blew, he was startled to realize the inner garment on his back was already soaked through with cold sweat, clinging icily to his skin.


His heart still pounded wildly in his chest, not just for the grand endeavor about to unfold, but for a weighty, almost back-breaking responsibility that had already firmly bound itself to him.


...


Zhao Dequan acted with thunderous speed and decisive action.


The very next day, news about the Village Chief wanting to organize the villagers to open a "bamboo ware workshop" spread through the village like the wind. The villagers were initially skeptical, but seeing the three highly respected clan elders all step forward to corroborate it, speaking with much anticipation about the matter, their doubts gradually dissipated, turning instead to discussions about how much tangible benefit this workshop could bring them.


At the same time, Zhao Dazhuang and Zhao Eryong, leading over a dozen sturdy clansmen, appeared on that long-abandoned stretch of riverbank east of the village. These men were all carefully selected by Zhao Dequan and the clan elders for their tight-lipped reliability. They felled bamboo and moved earth, working with fiery enthusiasm. In just two or three days, several crude but sufficiently spacious work sheds sprang up from the ground. The perimeter was further enclosed with a fence nearly twice a man's height made of sharpened bamboo poles and thick thatch grass, leaving only one narrow entrance-exit point, guarded day and night in shifts by Zhao clansmen. Ordinary people couldn't possibly peek inside to see what was happening.


A few more days later, several large iron pots requiring two men to embrace, along with over a dozen heavy, coarse stone mortars, were quietly transported in by ox-cart.


A rudimentary, secretive factory had quietly taken shape on this desolate bank.


Su Ming and Su Yang became the most special presences in this workshop.


Su Ming was the "technical supervisor," responsible for guiding the process flow.


Su Yang was the "foreman," leading everyone in the practical operations.


The first batch of over a dozen selected villagers only knew they were here to work and earn some hard-earned money. As for the specific nature of the work, strict orders from above forbade inquiry, and they dared not ask.


Everything seemed to be progressing secretly and in an orderly fashion.


Felling tender bamboo from the current year, cutting it into foot-long sections, repeatedly pounding it into loose bamboo fibers with heavy wooden mallets... These tasks, while labor-intensive, weren't particularly difficult.


Inside the work sheds, the "thump, thump" sound of pounding continued day and night, like a vigorous drumbeat for this secretive enterprise.


Several days later, the pounded bamboo fibers were thrown into newly built lime pits to soak and ret in the prepared strong alkaline water.


A unique odor, a mix of rotting bamboo and alkaline pungency, began to permeate the workshop area.


Everything seemed no different from Su Ming's earlier small-scale trial.


The anticipation in everyone's hearts gradually grew.


Zhao Dequan came almost every day, hands clasped behind his back as he inspected, watching the color of the bamboo material in the pits grow darker day by day. A hint of a barely perceptible smile even appeared on his usually stern face.


Another seven or eight days passed. Su Ming estimated the retting was about done.


At his command, everyone fished out the now softened and rotten bamboo material, carried it to the river, and repeatedly rinsed it with clear river water, trying their best to wash away the alkaline liquid and impurities.


The final step, also the most crucial step—steaming and boiling into pulp.


A giant iron pot had long been set up on a newly built earthen stove. The rinsed bamboo material was poured into it, and water was added.


"Light the fire!" Su Yang's booming voice echoed in the workshop.


Dry firewood was fed into the stove chamber. Flames instantly leaped up, greedily licking the blackened bottom of the pot.


Everyone gathered around the stove and pot, craning their necks, their gazes burning, tension and anticipation interwoven on every face. What churned in that pot seemed not like murky yellow bamboo material, but molten, gleaming gold.


"Hey? Something's not right!" a man squatting by the stove mouth, responsible for adding firewood, suddenly cried out. "Why is this pot bubbling and boiling fiercely in some spots, but lifeless and still in others?"


Hearing this, Su Yang took a swift stride to the side of the pot, peering intently.


Indeed! Due to the pot's massive size, the heat distribution was extremely uneven. The pulp directly above the stove's heart was boiling violently, foam churning, while the areas near the edges of the pot were merely lukewarm, the bamboo material settled at the bottom, showing no reaction.


"Quick! Get wooden poles! Stir! Stir hard!" Su Yang urgently shouted.


Two men nearby immediately grabbed the prepared long wooden poles and thrust them into the pot, stirring with all their might.


But the retted bamboo material was exceptionally viscous, offering great resistance. The poles sank deep into it, stirring was extremely strenuous, and it was utterly impossible to stir evenly. The pot of paste was inconsistent in thickness, mottled in color. The situation was clearly about to spiral out of control.


Zhao Dequan hurried over upon hearing the news. Seeing this scene, his face instantly darkened like water. His gaze swept towards Su Ming. "Xiao Ming, what's going on here?"


Su Ming's brow had long been tightly furrowed. He too hadn't anticipated that the method successful in small-scale trials would encounter such problems when scaled up.


"Master?" He urgently called out in his heart.


Lin Yu's voice carried undisguised disdain. "Isn't it obvious? The pot is big, the bottom thick, the fire only burns the center of the pot, heat distribution is uneven! The manpower stirring isn't enough, the force insufficient, purely a waste of effort! Furthermore, the plant ash water you used for your small-scale tinkering before was carefully filtered. This time, with large-batch retting, the concentration is bound to have deviations. The alkaline water ratio is simply wrong!"


"What should we do?"


"What can we do? Reduce the fire! Add people! As for the alkaline water concentration... I'll teach you a rustic method. Next time, put a fresh egg into the ash water, see how much of it floats, and you can estimate roughly. Tsk, I have to point out everything for you, how clumsy!"


Su Ming felt slightly reassured.


Pretending to carefully circle the large pot twice, he scooped up a little paper pulp with a long-handled wooden ladle to examine it closely, then suddenly slapped his forehead, acting as if he had a sudden realization.


"Uncle Zhao! Everyone! I understand now!" he shouted, immediately drawing everyone's attention.


"What is it?" Zhao Dequan asked urgently.


Su Ming's tone was resolute. "The fire needs to be gentle, even, it needs to heat slowly, absolutely cannot be rushed! And this pulp needs to be stirred non-stop, to ensure even heating, only then can the bamboo fibers be completely broken down to achieve good paper pulp!"


He then pointed to the unused alkaline water pit beside them.


"And this ash water needs to be tested for its concentration using the 'egg floatation method'! Take a fresh egg and place it in the ash water. Observe how much of it floats to determine if the concentration is suitable!"


This seemingly mysterious explanation, mixed with unfamiliar terms like "egg floatation method," left the group of simple farmers dumbfounded. Though they didn't understand the principle, they immediately felt it was profound and esoteric, surely some incredible secret ancient method.


Zhao Dequan was half-convinced, half-doubting. "Will that really work?"


"This method seems simplest, yet is most difficult! Heat control, stirring force, concentration—none can be lacking!" Su Ming stated with conviction.


However, the atmosphere in the workshop inevitably grew tense.


"Can a pot of mushy mess really turn into something special?"


Murmurs of complaint and questioning quietly spread among the crowd. The movements of several men noticeably slowed, their faces filled with slackness and doubt.


Zhao Dequan's face was like iron. His gaze swept over the crowd, his heart sinking continuously. He knew well that once morale scattered, this workshop that had just been set up could collapse and vanish in an instant!


Just as morale was wavering, a furious roar suddenly erupted. "Shut the hell up, all of you!" Su Yang slammed the wooden pole in his hand heavily onto the ground with a dull "thud," drowning out all other noises.


He yanked off his short jacket, already soaked through with sweat, his eyes wide as he scanned each of the men whispering among themselves. "The method Third Son speaks of is the iron rule! Everyone listen to him! Whoever dares utter half a word of gossip again, don't blame my fists for not recognizing you!"


With that, he said no more, dragged over a sturdy wooden stump, and stepped onto it with one foot.


He grabbed that wooden pole, took a deep breath of the scorching, hot air, thrust the pole fiercely into the pot of scalding, viscous, nearly solidified paper pulp, and with all his might, began to stir violently!


"Shuanzi! Reduce the fire! Take out most of it!" he roared through gritted teeth, battling the stubborn pot of pulp.


"Tiedan! You damn fool, standing there dumbstruck waiting for a feast? Come here! Take over for me! Take turns stirring! No one is allowed to stop! No one rests!"


The men who had originally felt like giving up, looking at the bare-chested figure struggling fiercely amidst the swirling steam, expressions of shame appeared on their faces one after another.


"Brother Yang! I'll do it!"


"And me!"


Zhao Dazhuang and Zhao Eryong were the first to react. Blood surging, they roared, grabbed wooden poles, leaped onto the high ground beside the stove, stood shoulder to shoulder with Su Yang, thrust the poles deep into the pulp, and stirred with all their might.


The strength of one person might be insignificant, but three, four, five... more and more people were infected by this fierce, relentless momentum and joined in.


That pot of originally dead, gloomy paper pulp finally began to rotate—difficultly, slowly at first, then gradually more smoothly—forming a huge, whirlpool-like vortex.


Su Ming stood quietly to the side, silently watching his Second Brother's life-and-death struggle.


 
Contact - ToS 
Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life
C48: Opening up sales channels

A wave of heat, carrying the strange odor of lye and fermented bamboo, rushed over, making people dizzy and nauseous.


That large cauldron was like a greedy giant beast, the thick, churning slurry within its belly its very guts.


Su Yang gritted his teeth, pouring all the strength in his body into his arms, then transmitting it through that heavy wooden pole into the pot of seemingly congealed paste.


"Huff... huff..."


Beast-like gasps escaped his throat. Every stir felt like dragging a heavy demon up from hell.


Zhao Dazhuang and Zhao Eryong weren't faring much better. They took turns, joining several other men whose fighting spirit had been roused, stubbornly wrestling with this pot of bamboo pulp.


The wooden poles stirred the slurry, producing muffled sounds of "gurgle... plop," slow yet resolute.


That massive vortex, under the life-or-death efforts of everyone, finally began to rotate steadily.


Su Ming stood a little further away, his gaze tightly locked onto the figure of his Second Brother, Su Yang.

Lin Yu chuckled softly. "Brute force alone isn't enough. The timing is about right."
Su Ming immediately understood. He stepped forward and raised his voice. "Second Brother! Uncles and brothers! The timing is right! You can rest now!"


Su Yang and the others heard this as if it were heavenly music. They almost simultaneously let go of the wooden poles in their hands, collapsing to the ground one by one like fish out of water, gasping for air in great heaves.


The next step in the process was paper forming.


This was delicate work, requiring patience and skillful hands. Su Ming took charge personally. Holding a wooden frame strung with a fine bamboo screen, he dipped it into the slightly cooled paper pulp, gave it a gentle shake and a sweep, then lifted it steadily.


A thin, damp, unevenly colored yellowish-brown layer of fibers evenly adhered to the bamboo screen.


He carefully flipped the screen over, laying it onto a flat wooden board, then gently peeled it away.


A damp, coarse, even slightly tattered-edged piece of paper was born.


The workshop fell deathly silent.


Everyone's gaze was fixed on that thin, damp, ugly thing.


One of the men, who had just been half-dead from exhaustion, struggled to get up, craned his neck, rubbed his eyes in disbelief, and stammered, "This... this is... paper?"


No one answered him.


Because everyone was stunned by the sight before them.


Those worthless, abundant tender bamboo shoots from the mountains, after being pounded, fermented, and steamed and boiled, had actually transformed into paper that could be written on!


This was even more incredible than the ghost stories passed around the countryside!


"It's done..." Su Shan was the first to regain his senses. His lips trembled as he stretched out his hands, calloused and cracked, wanting to touch it, but stopped mid-air as if it were some sacred creation.


"It's done! It's really done!"


Someone shouted first, and the long-suppressed excitement erupted instantly like a mountain torrent.


"Hahaha! My goodness! Bamboo really can turn into paper!"


"We made it! We made it!"


The men forgot their exhaustion, jumping up one after another, pounding each other's shoulders, laughing and shouting like a bunch of madmen.


Zhao Dequan happened to walk into the workshop at that moment, hands clasped behind his back.


He saw the damp paper on the wooden board and the ecstatic faces of the men at a glance. He didn't smile, his face still wearing that inscrutable, authoritative expression, but a distinct flame burned fiercely within his shrewd eyes.


He walked to the wooden board, crouched down, reached out a finger, and gently, carefully, rubbed the edge of the damp paper.


Feeling the coarse yet resilient texture of the fibers.


"Shut up, all of you!" he said without looking up, his voice not loud but like a heavy hammer, instantly smashing all the clamor to pieces.


The workshop fell silent again, not a sound to be heard.


Zhao Dequan slowly stood up, his gaze sharp as a knife, sweeping over every face.


"Remember! From today on, if any of you dares to let a single word slip, don't blame Zhao Dequan for not caring about fellow villagers! I'll have you thrown in the river!"


A chill ran through everyone's hearts. The wild joy on their faces quickly faded, replaced by deep awe and fear.


"Xiao Ming." Zhao Dequan turned to Su Ming. "How long does this thing need to dry?"


"It needs to be pressed to remove water, then each sheet pasted onto a heated wall for baking. Fastest, one day; slowest, two days."


"Good!" Zhao Dequan waved a hand decisively. "Su Yang! You take some men and build that wall immediately! Su Ming, you're responsible for teaching them how to press and bake! In three days, I want to see dry paper we can take to town to sell!"


...


Three days passed in the blink of an eye.


Under Su Ming's guidance, the first batch of nearly a thousand sheets of bamboo paper was finally fresh out of the oven.


These papers were far from exquisite. Their color was a dull, earthy yellow, the surface was coarse, and one could even see tiny bamboo fibers that hadn't completely dissolved. But they had one huge advantage—they were thick and tough!


Zhao Dequan took one sheet, pulled it hard with both hands. The paper only stretched and deformed, making a "crack" sound, but did not tear.


"Good! Good!" Zhao Dequan's eyes shone with a brilliant light as he said "good" twice.


He carefully selected the best-looking hundred or so sheets from this batch and wrapped them meticulously in oilcloth.


"Dazhuang, Eryong, guard this place well! No one is to come near!"


"Shanzi, Xiao Ming, you two, father and son, come with me."


Zhao Dequan didn't bring anyone else, only calling Su Shan and his son. He personally drove the ox cart, taking advantage of the dim, pre-dawn light, heading straight for Qingshi Town.


Lin Yu commented in Su Ming's mind, "See that, disciple? This is the way of an old fox. Core technology must be kept in his own hands, and sales channels must be personally established. Bringing you is so you, the 'technical supervisor,' can answer questions at critical moments. Bringing your father is to let this honest man witness with his own eyes how this immense wealth comes about, so he'll be utterly devoted from now on."


Su Ming remained silent but mentally noted down everything his master said.


Arriving at Qingshi Town, Zhao Dequan habitually started driving the ox cart towards the general goods market area. Su Ming suddenly spoke up, "Uncle Zhao, wait."


"Hmm?" Zhao Dequan reined in the ox and looked back, puzzled.


Su Ming took a deep breath, his gaze firm as he looked towards the direction of the County School. "Uncle Zhao, we... should go to the Xu family bookstall first."


Zhao Dequan's brow furrowed slightly, clearly somewhat unconvinced. "Old Xu? How much can his little stall take? Thirty, fifty sheets at most. Better to go to the general goods market first; the volume there is larger."


"Uncle Zhao," Su Ming's tone was sincere yet insistent, "the bookstall might not take a large quantity, but its significance is extraordinary. Think about it. Xu Qing is a County School student; his classmates are also scholars. If our paper gains their approval, it means we've established a reputation within the scholar community. This is a long-term business."


He paused, then continued, "Moreover, Mr. Xu is an upright person. Dealing with scholars is always better than haggling with those shrewd merchants. Although our paper is sturdy and durable, it's ultimately coarse. Using it for scholars to write on better reflects its value than selling it to general stores for wrapping things or pasting windows."


Zhao Dequan narrowed his eyes, his fingers unconsciously tapping the cart shaft, clearly weighing the pros and cons.


Seeing this, Su Ming added more fuel to the fire. "Uncle Zhao, as long as Xu Qing and the others use it and say it's good, are we afraid big buyers won't come knocking in the future? We need to establish this reputation first!"


Su Shan, who had been silent all along, also cautiously spoke up, "Brother Zhao, Third Son makes sense... The approval of scholars is precious indeed."


Zhao Dequan's gaze lingered on Su Ming's determined young face for a moment. Suddenly, he laughed heartily and turned the ox cart around. "Fine! I'll listen to you this once, kid! Let's go meet that Old Mr. Xu first!"


The ox cart creaked as it turned, heading towards the County School.


 
Contact - ToS 
Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life
C49: Money's Path

The alley near the County School was noticeably quieter. Xu Qing’s father’s stall remained simple—just a few books, several inkstones, and some worn brushes—and business was slow. He was holding an old book, lost in concentration.


Zhao Dequan straightened his collar, making an effort to look like an honest, plain farmer instead of a shrewd businessman. He bent slightly at the waist, wearing a sincere smile tinged with a hint of reverence.


“Mr. Xu, I am the Village Chief of Su Family Village.”


Old Xu lifted his head and looked at the unfamiliar farmer and the father-and-son behind him with some puzzlement.


Zhao Dequan carefully took out the one hundred sheets of the best-quality bamboo paper from the oilcloth bundle and presented them with both hands. “Old Mr. Xu, sorry to trouble you. This is a local paper our village worked on ourselves, made from the bamboo in the back mountain… very crude, really. I wouldn’t dare to dirty your eyes with it.”


Then his tone shifted, becoming more earnest. “But our Third Son—this boy here,” he pulled Su Ming forward, “he met your young master in town and came back saying Mr. Xu is learned and upright, a model for Qingshi Town’s scholars! He also said you sit here selling books out of pity for poor students…”


Su Ming stepped forward at the right moment and bowed respectfully. “Old Sir Xu, junior Su Ming. Although this paper is rough, it is thick and durable, not easy to tear. I thought—there must be many industrious but poor students at the County School like Brother Xu Qing. They copy books and practice calligraphy, which costs them a lot. If you don’t mind, could you sell it for us? The price is negotiable. We only hope to give poor students another option, and to earn our village a little money for oil and salt.”


Old Xu took the stack of paper and examined it carefully. The sheets were indeed coarse and yellowed, nothing like the snowy white xuan paper on his stall. But he pinched a corner with his finger and pulled hard; a flash of surprise crossed his eyes—the paper’s toughness was unexpectedly good.


He thought of his son studying by the dim oil lamp late into the night, and of students forced to practice on sand trays because paper was too expensive. His heart softened.

“This paper…indeed plain,” Old Xu said slowly, “but the texture is sturdy, and the price must be very cheap. For everyday copying and rough calculations, it will do.”
He looked up, his gaze passing over Zhao Dequan’s hopeful face and settling on Su Ming’s clear, intelligent eyes, before he sighed. “Ah, if we had this earlier, Qing wouldn’t have had to copy books into the late hours over a few sheets. Fine, old man will try selling it for you. How much a sheet?”


Zhao Dequan hurriedly replied, “You name the price. If it helps those students, we can earn less!”


Old Xu pondered for a moment. “The worst grass paper at Wenbao Zhai costs two copper coins. Though this is coarse, it is tough—three copper coins a sheet. I won’t add my fee; I’ll sell at original price just to make things easier for the students.”


“Deal! Deal! Thank you, Old Sir! You’re a living Bodhisattva!” Zhao Dequan was overjoyed and kept kowtowing. The price exceeded his expectations, and more importantly, it opened a rare channel.


In the end, Old Xu kept two hundred sheets, tucking them away carefully. Zhao Dequan took the heavy six hundred copper coins and felt as if the money itself smelled faintly of ink.


After leaving Old Xu, Zhao Dequan’s smile grew even more genuine. He patted Su Ming’s shoulder. “Third Son, you’ve got a sharp mind! This route you chose is right!”


They then loaded the ox cart and rode through the main street, turning into a narrow, crowded alley thick with fishy and sweat smells, until they reached the general store.


The shopkeeper still had that indifferent air. Zhao Dequan was brimming with confidence this time, but he kept on the same humble smile and presented the paper.


“Brother, business booming, hey.”


“Get out of here, Zhao Village Chief. What are you trying to trick me with this time?” The shopkeeper took the paper, frowning as he examined it. “What is this? Yellow and shabby, so rough you could scrub yourself with it.”


“Brother, don’t say that.” Zhao Dequan chuckled. “This is the real deal! Thick, with great toughness! Wrap things, patch windows, or even use it when you need to relieve yourself—far better than those flimsy grass papers! And it’s cheap! Wenbao Zhai’s worst grass paper is two copper coins; mine, I’ll give you two copper coins a sheet! You sell it for three, make a whole coin profit!”


The shopkeeper skeptically tore at it with force—it didn’t rip. His eyes lit up immediately. A one-coin margin! That was more than he earned selling daily odds and ends!


“Give me three hundred first!”


Then, with the same pitch and the same price, they sold two hundred more sheets to a shop that specialized in needles, thread, and sewing supplies.


The oilcloth bundle on the ox cart that had been bulging was now completely flattened.


And in Zhao Dequan’s arms, there was a heavy money bag. Inside were not only the neat six hundred copper coins from Old Xu, but also one thousand loose copper coins from the general and sewing shops.


On the way back to the village, Zhao Dequan was in high spirits, even humming off-key. He glanced at the silent Su Ming. “Third Son, you did us a favor today. Old Xu’s channel—brilliant! Sold goods, made money, and earned a name, all steady.”


Su Ming smiled faintly and said nothing. In his mind, Lin Yu would be quietly proud, saying: “Disciple, well done! This is what we call ‘differentiated marketing’ and ‘market segmentation’! Sell the right product in the safest way to those who need it most. Old Xu is a long-term investment, the general store is quick cash—cover both and both hands grow strong! Zhao Dequan understands straight away.”


...


Back at the village workshop, the scene of dividing the money was no different from before.


That pile of black, gleaming copper coins still made hands feel hot and hearts tremble.


But when Zhao Dequan placed the small extra silver ingot (from Old Xu’s exchanged money) into the portion due to the Su family, every man’s gaze toward Su Shan and his son carried more than the usual respect; it held solid conviction.


Su Shan took the heavy cloth bundle, smelling of ink and copper, his hand still trembling.


But there was something else mixed into that tremor—a different quality—a proven value, and a weighty hope that needed protecting.


At the Su family dinner table, the fried eggs were still oily, and the buns still plump and white.


Su Shan tapped his pipe, pushed the heavier cloth bundle toward Su Ming, and his tone was more decisive than before.


“Third Son, keep this money safe.”


“How our family walks the road from now on, you must think more. Think farther, farther than today.”


Su Ming clutched the bundle. The silver ingot’s edge still dug into his palm, but he held it steady.


He felt not only his family’s wager, but a heavy trust and a responsibility to guard.


 
Contact - ToS 
Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life
C50: Right and Wrong

The only tavern in Su Family Village was less of a tavern and more just the main room of Limping Wang's house at the east end of the village.


Two greasy square tables, a few long benches, and a wine jar half a person tall in the corner, emitting the distinctive sour smell of cheap, watered-down wine.


In the past, this place only saw a bit of life during the slack farming seasons or festival times.


But these past few days, as soon as dusk fell, Limping Wang's main room was packed.


"Limping Wang, another bowl!" A man with a flushed face slammed his coarse porcelain bowl heavily on the table.


"Coming right up!" Limping Wang's legs weren't agile, but his face was beaming with joy, his movements scooping the wine noticeably more deft than usual.


The man was Zhao Eryong, someone who usually would sniff a bowl of rice soup for ages before drinking it. Yet these past few days, he'd had wine with every meal, a barely containable smugness radiating from the corners of his eyes and brows.


Sitting opposite him was Su Yang.


Su Yang wasn't drinking. A small plate of stir-fried peanuts sat before him. He picked them up one by one, chewing them slowly and carefully, listening to the commotion around him.

"Brother Eryong, what exactly are you guys tinkering with in that workshop?" A man thin as a monkey sidled up, a smile plastered on his face. "Look at you, glowing with health, struck it rich, huh?"
Zhao Eryong let out a boozy belch, glancing at him sideways. "The Village Chief said, don't ask what you shouldn't."


"Hey, we're just curious," the monkey-thin man rubbed his hands together. "We're all from the same village. If there's good fortune, bring your brothers along too."


"Right, right. We see you guys leaving before dawn and coming back after dark every day, all secretive-like," someone immediately chimed in from the side.


"Look at Su Yang, and Zhao Dazhuang's family, and a few others. They've been seeing meat in their pots every meal these days. My wife has been grumbling about it for days."


Sour remarks, mixed with undisguised jealousy, spread through the small main room.


Su Yang put a peanut into his mouth, chewing it with a loud crunch, remaining silent the whole time.


He remembered Third Son's advice: "Second Brother, keep your mouth shut and your mind steady. The more others ask, the less you should say."


Zhao Eryong, buoyed by the crowd's flattery, was just about to brag a little when he suddenly caught sight of Su Yang's calm face. The words on the tip of his tongue were swallowed back.


He remembered Zhao Dequan's expressionless face and the warning, "Anyone who leaks a single word gets thrown straight into the river." A cold sweat instantly broke out on his back.


"Drink your damn wine!" Zhao Eryong shoved his bowl away, roaring gruffly. "If you want to make money, farm your land properly! Stop eyeing other people's pots all day!"


His roar stunned the crowd. They shrank back resentfully, but the probing and unwillingness in their eyes only grew more intense.


In a corner, a figure hunched in the shadows, almost merging with the darkness.


It was the village loafer, Su Lai.


He wasn't drinking, nor was he eating peanuts. A pair of shifty eyes were fixed intently on Zhao Eryong and Su Yang, taking in every word of everyone's conversation.


His fingernails were caked with black grime. His eyes flickered, and a sneer no one noticed curled at the corner of his mouth.


...


When Su Ming returned from town, he happened to run into Zhao Rui at the village entrance.


Zhao Rui was still wearing that half-new, half-old scholar's robe, holding a scroll of books. Seeing Su Ming, his gaze was somewhat complex—a trace of familiarity born from their shared brush with death, mixed with a lingering awkwardness.


"Su Ming, back?" He stopped, his tone somewhat milder than before.


Su Ming, holding the newly purchased writing materials in his arms, nodded. "Mm."


"I heard... you've been helping my father with the accounts lately?" Zhao Rui's tone held inquiry, but not the mockery of before. The experience in the broken temple that night was like an invisible thread that had briefly bound them together. Though not strong, it couldn't be completely ignored either.


Su Ming stopped walking, looking at him calmly. "The Village Chief thinks highly of me, letting me help with the calculations."


"Calculations?" Zhao Rui pursed his lips, seeming to want to say something, but in the end only said, "My father is a man of many rules. You... be careful." The words actually carried a hint of goodwill.


Su Ming gave a slight nod. "Thanks for the reminder."


Zhao Rui seemed to have completed some sort of task, letting out a relieved sigh. He couldn't help but lower his voice and ask, "That... the workshop business, is it really that important? My mother says the atmosphere at home has been very tense these past few days."


Su Ming's gaze swept over Zhao Rui's curious face, his tone still flat. "We just do as the Village Chief instructs. The rest is not for us to ask about."


Looking at Su Ming's utterly unyielding demeanor, and remembering his abnormal calm that night, that indescribable feeling rose in Zhao Rui's heart again. He waved a hand. "Fine, I was just asking casually. You... take care." With that, he turned and walked away, scroll in hand.


Su Ming watched his retreating back for a moment, then hugged his things and headed home.


Lin Yu: "Relationship subtly improved, downgraded from 'actively picking fights' to 'probing inquiries,' consistent with interpersonal changes after shared traumatic experiences. Disciple handled it appropriately. Continue maintaining the 'harmless and useless' persona."


With the first "huge sum" of money he earned himself, Su Ming bought a bag of fine rice for the family, a new tobacco pipe for his father, two feet of cotton cloth for his mother to make new clothes, and a new pair of straw sandals for each of his two older brothers.


He spent almost all the remaining money on writing materials.


Paper, ink, brushes, and a full jar of clear oil that could keep the lamp lit until dawn.


That night, in the Su family's earthen house, that small oil lamp burned brighter than ever before.


Su Shan puffed on his new tobacco pipe, *ba-da ba-da*. Amidst the swirling smoke, he looked at his youngest son studying earnestly under the lamp. A hint of pride flickered in his muddled eyes.


Mrs. Su Chen sat to the side, stitching shoe soles. The smile on her lips never faded.


Late into the night.


Su Ming blew out the oil lamp and lay on the bed, but his mind sank into that ancient ring.


In the courtyard, the chirping of insects rose and fell, like a symphony of summer night.


"Master."


"Hm." Lin Yu's voice carried a touch of laziness. "Disciple, your cultivation of the Aura Concealment Art must not be neglected. You have only initially grasped the gathering of Yang Energy. You are still far from the true meaning of 'concealment.'"


Following the instruction, Su Ming began circulating the *Aura Concealment Art* in his mind.


That familiar "warmth" surfaced again. This time, guiding it felt much smoother than before. The warm "mist" slowly contracted inward, condensing without dispersing, clinging to the surface of his body like an invisible, form-fitting garment.


"Good." Lin Yu's voice held a trace of satisfaction. "The Aura Concealment Art is the foundation, your guarantee for survival. But just knowing how to hide is not enough. True concealment is not becoming an unmoving rock, but becoming a drop of water that can blend into any stream."


"Then what should this disciple do?"


"Starting today, this master will teach you the method of refining the spirit." Lin Yu's voice grew serious.


 
Contact - ToS 
Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life
C51: Refining the Spirit

"Refining the Spirit?" Su Ming's heart stirred.


"Correct. The fundamental essence of a human lies in essence, energy, and spirit. The tempering of your body you are doing now is refining essence; drawing energy into the body is refining energy; and this Refining the Spirit is tempering your soul, your will, your perception."


Lin Yu's voice became ethereal: "A strong spirit leads to a firm will. A firm will leads to keen perception, photographic memory, and a mind as clear as a mirror. In battle, it allows you to foresee the enemy's moves. In cultivation, it doubles the results with half the effort."


(Inner thoughts: "Finally, we've reached my area of expertise—the mystical packaging class! Packaging modern meditation, concentration training, and sensory enhancement into the grand-sounding 'Refining the Spirit' method. I give myself a hundred points for this move!")


"Master, teach me!" Su Ming became excited.


"Don't rush." Lin Yu said leisurely, "The methods of Refining the Spirit are numerous and complex, but they all share the same core. Today, I will only teach you the first step—'Listening to Sounds' and 'Observing the Flame'."


He paused, then continued, "Right now, calm your heart and listen."


Su Ming immediately obeyed, pricking up his ears.


He could hear the faint snores coming from his parents' room, and the rustling of leaves as the night wind blew through the old locust tree outside the courtyard.

"Not enough." Lin Yu said lightly, "These sounds are too close, too noisy. Forget them. Listen for sounds that are farther away, more subtle. Listen... to the cricket chirping under the eaves of Limping Wang's house at the east end of the village. Its left third antenna just twitched."
Su Ming was stunned.


The east end of the village? That was separated from his house by seven or eight households, at least half a li away!


Hear a cricket's antenna? How is that possible?


(Inner thoughts: "Hehe, exaggeration, understand exaggeration? First set a small goal, like listening to a hundred million of them... ahem, first set an impossible goal to maximize the stimulation of his potential. This is called expectation management!")


"Focus your spirit. Don't listen with your ears, use your will to 'capture' it." Lin Yu guided, "Your spiritual sense is like an invisible net. Cast it out, covering the entire village. Then, on this net, search for the faintest vibration."


Su Ming took a deep breath, dismissed distracting thoughts, and tried to disperse his mental energy outward.


At first, his mind was a cacophony.


The sound of wind, the barking of dogs, the drunken sleep-talking of villagers in the distance... countless sounds mixed together like a pot of boiling porridge.


He simply couldn't distinguish any specific sound.


"Master, it's too chaotic."


"Then learn to find order within the chaos." Lin Yu's voice held not a trace of emotion, "On the battlefield, amidst thousands of troops and horses, can you fail to hear the enemy general's command just because the sounds are chaotic? Calm your heart. Filter out those useless noises. Keep only what you want."


Gritting his teeth, Su Ming tried again and again.


He imagined his will as a sieve, trying to sift out those "big" sounds, leaving behind the "small" ones.


Time passed bit by bit. Fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. The intense mental concentration brought waves of fatigue and dizziness.


He didn't know how long it had been. Just as he was about to give up, the cacophony of sounds in his mind suddenly seemed to be smoothed over by an invisible hand, gradually calming down.


In the ensuing silence, an extremely faint "chirp" abruptly jumped out.


The sound was so clear, as if it were right by his ear.


He could even "see" it—in the darkness under the eaves, a glossy black cricket was vibrating its wings, its two long antennae gently swaying in the air.


"I... heard it." Su Ming's voice trembled with disbelief.


"Good." Lin Yu praised, "This is 'Listening to Sounds'. Next is 'Observing the Flame'."


He had Su Ming relight the oil lamp.


"Look at it."


Su Ming opened his eyes, his gaze focusing on the bean-sized flame.


"What do you see?"


"A flickering flame, yellow, with a reddish top."


"Wrong." Lin Yu calmly negated, "What you see is merely the surface. You need to see its 'birth' and 'extinction'. Every instant, old lamp oil is vaporized, burned, turning into light and heat; meanwhile, new lamp oil climbs up the wick to replenish it. This is an unceasing cycle."


"You must use your will to feel the temperature of the flame, to 'see' clearly the tremor of every strand of light, to understand why it shines and why it dances. Immerse your mind completely into this bean-sized flame, until you feel... you have also become this flame."


(Inner thoughts: "Come, young man, feel the charm of micro-physics! Energy conversion, matter combustion, how wonderful! Much more interesting than memorizing those 'zhi hu zhe ye', right?")


Su Ming stared at the candle flame.


Gradually, in his eyes, that flame began to grow larger, clearer.


He saw the faint blue color in the flame's inner layer, saw each subtle sway of the outer flame caused by air currents.


He could almost feel that scorching temperature, not through his skin, but through his spirit.


In his world, only this one ball of light remained.


When Su Ming snapped out of that wondrous state, the sky outside the window was already turning pale with the dawn.


He only felt mentally exhausted, but his mind was unprecedentedly clear.


He picked up a copy of the Analects from the table and randomly opened a page.


Passages that in the past required reciting three to five times to memorize firmly, now, with just one glance, the words seemed to be branded, deeply engraved into his mind.


He closed his eyes. Every character appeared vividly and clearly.


He turned to the next page, looked again, memorized again.


A quarter of an hour later, he had memorized the entire chapter, word for word, without a single mistake!


"Master! This..." Su Ming was so overjoyed he almost jumped up.


"The effects of Refining the Spirit have only just begun." Lin Yu's voice carried a hint of amusement, "The Four Books and Five Classics are dry and dull. Finish memorizing them sooner, and your master can have some peace and quiet sooner too."


(Inner thoughts: "My goodness, finally I don't have to listen to these 'zhi hu zhe ye' anymore! For a soul from the 21st century, listening to this stuff every day is pure mental torture! Quick, disciple, use your photographic memory, hurry up and get all this nonsense sorted out.")


However, Su Ming took his master's "disdain" as motivation. He clenched his fist, his heart filled with unprecedented drive.


He not only wanted to earn money to give his family a good life.


He also wanted to use this extraordinary memory to cram all knowledge into his mind.


 
Contact - ToS Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life
C52: Undercurrents in the Deep Winter

The deep winter had arrived.


The north wind was like a whetted blade, scraping across the bare treetops, emitting mournful howls. The end of the year was approaching, yet Su Family Village was permeated with an oppressive atmosphere unlike any previous year.


The papermaking workshop at the village center, however, was bustling with activity. Its scale had doubled compared to three months ago. The newly built chimney spewed white steam all day long, and the smell of alkali water and bamboo pulp was so thick it enveloped most of the village, as if soaking the entire settlement in a kind of metallic-tinged vitality. As the year-end approached, the volume of goods shipped out had multiplied.


The over twenty newly hired men made the workshop shed feel cramped and overcrowded. They worked diligently, their clothes soaked with sweat, but their eyes lacked the reverence of the earliest batch of workers, replaced instead by poorly concealed calculation and ambition.


Su Ming walked through the workshop shed, carrying a stack of freshly calculated account books. Several of the new villagers huddled together, whispering in low voices. When they saw him pass by, they immediately fell silent, their gazes falling upon him in unison, as if weighing a valuable object. Su Ming's expression remained unchanged as he walked past with steady steps.


Lin Yu spoke lazily in his mind, "Disciple, see that? This is human nature. The first batch of people got to eat meat, and they were grateful. This second batch came smelling the meat. They'll only complain about getting too little, and might even wonder why they aren't the ones dividing up the pot of meat." His voice held a trace of weariness that was hard to detect. During this period, he had been desperately suppressing that latent Ghost Lantern power, and now he had finally achieved considerable success, able to relax a little.


"This disciple understands," Su Ming responded in his heart.


"Good that you understand. Don't meddle in matters that aren't your concern," Lin Yu advised. "Since Village Chief Zhao Dequan dares to hire so openly, he has his own methods. We just need to watch and wait."


When the account books were delivered to Zhao Dequan, he was leisurely polishing his ever-present pipe with a soft cloth. With the New Year approaching, he was dressed more formally than usual, his dark cotton robe starched and impeccable.

"Uncle Zhao, these are the accounts up to the twentieth day of the twelfth lunar month. A total of thirty-eight thousand sheets of paper were produced. As you instructed, fifteen thousand were sold piecemeal, and the remainder have been stored in the warehouse, waiting for the merchants to collect them after spring arrives," Su Ming reported.
Zhao Dequan gave a noncommittal "Hmm," took the account books, but didn't open them, casually setting them aside instead. He lifted his eyelids, his gaze pausing on Su Ming's face. Those deep-set eyes seemed capable of seeing through a person's heart. "There's been... quite a bit of idle talk in the village lately, hasn't there?"


Su Ming's heart tightened slightly. He replied, "There have been some discussions. Mostly about the workshop."


"Hmph, more than just discussions," Zhao Dequan snorted coldly, tapping his pipe against the corner of the table with deliberate force, producing a dull thud. "Some people have stretched their hands too far, and their hearts have grown too wild."


Su Ming recalled earlier at the village entrance, catching a glimpse of Su Lai huddled furtively with a few of the new villagers. They had scattered immediately upon seeing him approach. Su Lai's triangular eyes had been gleaming with malicious intent, like a venomous snake hiding in the shadows.


He hesitated for a moment, then spoke up, "Uncle Zhao, I saw Su Lai earlier..."


"No need to say more," Zhao Dequan interrupted with a wave of his hand, his tone flat yet bone-chillingly cold. "A stray dog that only knows how to scurry in the gutters, can it really overturn the heavens? The more he jumps around, the faster he'll die."


He picked up his pipe again, slowly packing it with tobacco shreds. His movements were steady, without a trace of agitation. "You're still young. Don't concern yourself with these matters. Your duty is to study the Sage's Books well, keep the accounts clear, and provide technical guidance. As for other matters, even if the sky falls, I'll be the one holding it up."


Su Ming acknowledged the instruction and left.


The cold wind hit his face, making him shiver, but the unease in his heart did not dissipate. The festive atmosphere of the New Year seemed unable to dispel the oppressive feeling of an impending storm.


At night, the small earthen house of the Su family exceptionally lit two oil lamps. The dim, yellowish halos added a touch of warmth to this impoverished home.


One lamp was in the main room, where Mrs. Su Chen was using the light to hurriedly sew new clothes for the family. She hummed a tuneless little ditty, and the movement of her needle and thread carried the anticipation of the approaching New Year—the simplest happiness of ordinary folk.


The other lamp was in Su Ming's room. The dim, yellowish halo illuminated his delicate profile, making its contours distinct. A book lay open before him, but his mind was no longer on its pages.


"Master, can Uncle Zhao... really suppress those people?" Su Ming asked in his heart. "The village is like a pot of boiling water right now. I'm afraid the lid will be forced off sooner or later."


"And if it is forced off, what does that have to do with you?" Lin Yu's tone was teasing. "Have you truly come to see yourself as the savior of Su Family Village?"


Su Ming was at a loss for words. "I..."


"Disciple, this master asks you, what has allowed Zhao Dequan to sit firmly in his position?"


Su Ming pondered for a moment before answering, "It's his prestige, and also... profit."


"Correct, it's profit," Lin Yu's voice turned more serious. "He can gather people's hearts with profit, and naturally, he also has harsher methods to deal with those who are restless. This is his ship, carrying the wealth and status of his Zhao family. He fears this ship capsizing more than anyone."


Su Ming fell silent.


"Therefore, what you need to learn is not to help him steer the ship, nor is it to think about patching it up," Lin Yu spoke word by word, imprinting them into Su Ming's mind like a seal. "What you need to learn is to find yourself a plank that can keep you afloat before this ship capsizes."


Su Ming closed his eyes and concentrated, thinking no more. Following the method taught by his master in the Aura Concealment Art, he gradually slowed his breathing, sinking his mind into the faint point of light within his body's dantian. Then, he extended his perception outward like a spider's web.


He tried to imagine himself as a drop of water, merging into the earthen bed beneath him; transforming into a wisp of smoke, dissipating into the air of the room.


He didn't know how much time had passed when a mysterious sensation surfaced.


He "heard."


Not with his ears, but a direct perception originating from his mind.


He "heard" the steady, long snores of his father, Su Shan, next door. They carried the rhythm of an old ox pulling a cart, as if he could feel the rise and fall of the airflow within his father's lungs.


He "heard" the faint, rustling sound of his mother threading a needle in the main room. He could even "feel" the slight resistance as the needle tip pierced the cotton cloth and the subtle friction of the fabric fibers.


He slowly spread his "web" further.


In the courtyard, the old yellow dog was curled up asleep in its kennel, its tail twitching unconsciously. Even the whimpering sounds from its dreams were clearly audible.


In Widow Li's house to the east, her son was mumbling incoherently in his sleep. The words were unclear, but they carried the childish nasal tone of a child.


At this moment, the entire Su Family Village seemed to transform into a world woven from countless subtle sounds and breaths, presenting itself clearly and three-dimensionally in his mind.


It was then that a furtive figure collided with his "web."


The footsteps were extremely light, deliberately slowed, each step landing in the shadows at the base of walls, avoiding the moonlight, like a rat moving at night.


It was Su Lai!


Su Ming's mind tightened.


He "saw" Su Lai creeping close to the wall like a gecko, sneaking all the way to the corner behind the workshop where waste materials were piled—indeed the most poorly guarded spot.


Su Lai stopped, looking around in all directions. Then, he pulled something from his bosom.


It was a fire starter.


He wanted to set a fire!


Just as Su Ming was about to act, he suddenly sensed another presence. Two burly men silently emerged from the shadows. Their movements were crisp and efficient. One covered Su Lai's mouth and twisted his arms behind his back, while the other swiftly snatched the fire starter away. The entire process took no more than a breath. Su Lai couldn't even utter a single whimper before being dragged into deeper darkness, vanishing without another sound.


A gust of cold wind swept by, stirring up a few dry leaves, as if nothing had ever happened. Only a faint trace of blood lingered in the air for an instant before disappearing.


Su Ming slowly opened his eyes, a chill running down his spine. He knew that Su Lai, that "stray dog," had already vanished without a trace. Zhao Dequan's methods were far more decisive, and far more ruthless, than he had imagined.


Beneath the festive joy of the New Year, the undercurrents in Su Family Village had never ceased. Instead, they grew more turbulent and unfathomable.


 
Contact - ToS 
Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life
C53: Killing the Chicken to Warn the Monkey

The snow fell without a sound.


Overnight, Su Family Village was wrapped in a thick layer of white. Roof eaves, withered branches, and field ridges—all their sharp edges were smoothed away. The world between heaven and earth was utterly silent, as if even sound had been swallowed up by this heavy snow.


Su Lai was like a cough in this snowy weather, arriving abruptly and then disappearing without a trace.


No one mentioned him. No one asked about him.


When villagers passed by the tightly closed wooden gate of his house with their heads lowered, they would unconsciously quicken their pace, as if some monster that devoured gazes lurked behind that door. His wife, who usually loved to curse and shout at the village entrance, had also fallen silent, staying behind closed doors all day long.


Su Lai, along with his malicious, triangular eyes, had been cleanly and decisively carved out of Su Family Village's memory.


This collective amnesia was more chilling to the heart than any hoarse, screaming invective.


Inside the workshop, the smell of caustic soda and paper pulp mingled with the warmth of the furnace fire, creating a world apart from the one outside.


Su Ming walked past rows of men toiling with their heads down, carrying a batch of newly produced straw paper samples.

The atmosphere had changed.
Those faces that just a few days ago were gathered together, eyes flickering, whispering and calculating something, now all looked like eggplants beaten by frost. They worked harder than ever before, their hands moving swiftly, yet each had become a silent gourd. Apart from the clatter of tools colliding, not a single word of idle chat could be heard.


A newly arrived man accidentally knocked over a bucket of clean water. The loud "clatter" of the wooden bucket rolling echoed with particular harshness in the workshop shed.


Instantly, everyone stopped their work. Dozens of pairs of eyes, like startled birds, shot towards him. The man's face turned deathly pale from fright, and he stood frozen on the spot, at a complete loss. Only when the foreman came over, cursing and shouting for him to clean it up quickly, did everyone seem to snap out of it. They silently lowered their heads again, but the force in their hands grew even heavier.


"See that?" Lin Yu's voice sounded in Su Ming's mind, carrying a hint of a lazy drawl. "Fear is the best bridle. More effective than money, less troublesome than reason."


(Inner thoughts: "Classic workplace PUA... no, it's classic gangster management. That old fellow Zhao Dequan, what a waste of talent not joining a gang.")


Su Ming remained silent and delivered the samples to Zhao Dequan's room.


Zhao Dequan was sitting by the charcoal brazier, still idly rubbing that glossy, oil-shined pipe tobacco holder in his hand. He seemed more leisurely than usual, just gazing at the snowy scenery outside the window, his eyes distant, lost in thought.


"Uncle Zhao, the paper samples are ready," Su Ming said, handing over the paper.


Zhao Dequan grunted an acknowledgment, took the paper, merely rubbed it with his fingertip, and then set it aside without even a careful look.


He raised his eyes to look at Su Ming. Those eyes, which always seemed somewhat turbid, were now frighteningly clear.


"The village has been very quiet lately," he said. It wasn't a question, but a statement.


"Yes, the New Year is almost here. Everyone is busy," Su Ming replied in a low voice.


A vague, ambiguous smile tugged at the corner of Zhao Dequan's mouth. He tapped out the pipe ashes unhurriedly and said, "Quiet is good. When people are quiet, their minds become clear, and their hands and feet become nimble. This work can then be done for a long time."


His voice wasn't loud, but it was like a cold stone thrown into Su Ming's heart.


Su Ming withdrew. The cold wind blew, and only then did he realize that a thin layer of sweat had seeped onto his back at some point.


Walking on the way home, the festive New Year atmosphere finally seemed to have broken through that invisible layer of oppression, stubbornly poking its head out.


Brand new red paper-cuttings were pasted on the windows of every household. The bright colors stood out starkly against the backdrop of white snow. From the eastern end of the village came the distinctive squeals of the New Year's pig being slaughtered, mixed with the cheers of children.


Everything looked no different from previous years.


But Su Ming felt that the red this year was a bit too glaring. The liveliness this year also felt hollow.


The smiles on people's faces seemed like masks hung up, polite yet distant. When neighbors met, their conversations were limited to the weather and the harvest. Mid-sentence, there would always be an unconscious pause, as if weighing which words shouldn't be spoken.


Under the old locust tree in the center of the village, Su Ming saw Zhao Dequan.


He was standing there casually, hands clasped behind his back, looking up at the snow piled on the withered branches. He did nothing. He said nothing. Yet everyone passing by him would unconsciously slow their steps, bow slightly, and respectfully call out, "Village Chief, sir."


That reverence came from the marrow of their bones.


"Master, the village... it's as if nothing happened, yet it feels like everything has changed," Su Ming whispered in his heart. "Su Lai is like a stone thrown into a pond, not even leaving a ripple."


"Who says it left no ripple?" Lin Yu's voice held a touch of mockery. "The 'quietness' you tread upon, see with your eyes, and hear with your ears—that's the biggest ripple."


He paused, his voice gaining a trace of cold severity. "This is called 'killing the chicken to scare the monkey.' That chicken was named Su Lai. Now, all the monkeys in the village have quieted down. Zhao Dequan didn't use a knife, yet he carved an invisible knife into everyone's heart. Masterful, my disciple. This is the real method."


Su Ming fell silent.


He remembered the words his master had said—"find yourself a plank that can keep you afloat."


Only now did he truly understand that this ship named Su Family Village was far more complex than he had imagined. The captain, Zhao Dequan, was also far colder than he appeared. On this ship, any disobedient sailor could be thrown into the sea on some windless, waveless night, without a sound.


And he, Su Ming, did not want to be the one thrown overboard.


Returning home, a rich aroma of meat greeted him.


Inside the small earthen house, it was warm and cozy.


Mrs. Su Chen was humming a little tune, bustling by the stove. A large pot of pork stewed in the pot, something the family had gritted their teeth to buy specially for the New Year. His father, Su Shan, was sitting on the threshold, unusually not working, puffing on his pipe tobacco with a satisfied smile on his face.


Eldest Brother Su Feng and his wife, Wang Chuntao, were also there, helping their mother. The family was rarely gathered together like this, chatting and laughing.


"Ming'er, you're back! Quick, wash your hands, we can eat soon!" Mrs. Su Chen's smile grew even brighter when she saw him.


"Third Brother, smell that, isn't it fragrant? Mother has brought out all her best cooking skills!" Sister-in-law Wang Chuntao teased cheerfully.


This warm, genuine, earthly aura instantly dispelled the chill Su Ming had brought back from the village.


He looked at the simple, genuine smiles on the faces of his parents, brother, and sister-in-law. They knew nothing of the undercurrents in the village, immersed only in the joy of the approaching New Year.


This fragile warmth was like a single candle flame in a snowstorm, needing someone to protect it with all their might.


Su Ming suddenly felt that merely finding a plank to keep him afloat might... not be enough.


What he wanted was to build a ship of his own.


A ship sturdy enough to carry his cherished family safely across any turbulent undercurrents.


Once this thought took root, it was like a maddening vine, instantly entwining his entire heart.


 
Contact - ToS Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life
C54: Village Chief Zhao's Red Envelope, Burning Hot!
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New Year's Eve.


Outside, the north wind whipped up snowflakes, battering against the window paper with a dry rustling sound.


Inside, an oil lamp was turned up to its brightest, its dim yellow halo making the small earthen main room feel warm and cozy.


In the stove, firewood crackled and popped, and the rich aroma of stewed meat from the pot aggressively seeped into every corner of the house. This was the most sumptuous New Year's Eve dinner the Su family had enjoyed in over a decade.


"Slow down, there's more in the pot!"


Mrs. Su Chen chided with her words, but her chopsticks never stopped moving, precisely picking up a piece of perfectly marbled meat and placing it into Su Ming's bowl. Looking at her three sons, her face blossomed into a wide smile.


Eldest Brother Su Feng buried his head in his food, the corners of his mouth glistening with grease. Sister-in-law Wang Chuntao, however, was more talkative. Chewing on meat, she chattered animatedly, "Mother, this New Year celebration of ours is even more comfortable than a landlord's family! It's all thanks to Little Uncle and Uncle Dequan's care."


"Yes, we owe it to the workshop's blessings." Su Shan, a man who had been silent most of his life, also, for the first time ever, raised his wine bowl. His cloudy eyes reflected the firelight as he actively clinked bowls with his eldest son.


"Father, don't drink too much." Second Brother Su Yang added more vegetables to his father's plate, then turned to Su Ming, lowering his voice, "You kid, why are you as quiet as a gourd today?"

Su Ming stirred the rice in his bowl. The rich meaty aroma seemed unable to dispel a thread of chill in his heart.
He smiled, "It's nothing. I just feel... it's really good."


It truly was good.


His mother's nagging, his father's rare smile, his eldest brother's simple honesty, his sister-in-law's straightforward cheerfulness, his second brother's concern. All of this was like the warm lamplight in the room—real, yet fragile.


However, his "Listening to Sounds" technique could not be turned off.


Amidst the backdrop of this joyous laughter, he could "hear" the deathly silence behind the perpetually closed wooden door of Su Lai's house deep in the village. No crying, no cursing, not even the faintest echo of wind passing through.


That silence was more unsettling than any sound.


"Disciple, thinking about that stray dog?" Lin Yu's voice lazily sounded in his mind.


Su Ming's heart tightened.


"The world of mortals is like this. Where there is light, the shadows are only deeper." Lin Yu's tone carried a hint of amusement. "What you see now is the light. That stray dog and the deathly silence in his home are the shadows."


(Inner thoughts: "Sigh, it's New Year's Eve, can't we just enjoy the meal properly? Must you be so profound? This braised pork smells amazing, too bad I can only smell it. In the old days... forget it, in the old days I was also working overtime eating instant noodles. Compared to that, being a ghost doesn't seem so bad after all?")


Looking at the white hairs at his parents' temples, at the wrinkles on their faces that had smoothed out slightly due to their improved circumstances, something deep in Su Ming's heart was profoundly touched.


He clenched his fist under the table.


What he wanted to protect was precisely this small, fragile light before him.


"Master," he whispered in his heart, "I understand. Power isn't just for keeping oneself alive."


"Oh?" Lin Yu seemed somewhat interested. "Then what is it for?"


"So that those who want to live, can live well."


Lin Yu was silent for a moment before leisurely saying, "That's quite an ambition. However, the road must be walked step by step. First, finish this meal properly. Then you'll have the strength to take the next step."


Su Ming took a deep breath, temporarily suppressing those distracting thoughts and unease. He raised his head and gave his mother a brilliant smile, "Mother, it's really delicious! I want another bowl!"


The wind and snow outside seemed to lessen a little.


The first day of the Lunar New Year, just as dawn was breaking.


Before the cooking smoke from every household had even risen, the village gong was struck, its *dang-dang* sound carrying far in the crisp, cold air.


"Come out, everyone! Come out! Village Chief Uncle is handing out red envelopes at the workshop entrance!"


The village's half-grown children shouted at the top of their lungs, going from house to house.


The Su family also stepped out.


On the newly cleared workshop square, a dense, dark mass of people had already gathered. Almost everyone from the village, men and women, young and old, was present.


In the center of the square, two large iron pots were set up, boiling with steaming hot meat broth, its aroma filling the air.


Zhao Dequan stood on a makeshift wooden platform, wearing a brand new deep blue silk-faced cotton robe. Behind him stood the two burly men Su Ming had secretly "seen" before. The two stood like iron pagodas, their eyes coldly sweeping over everyone below the stage.


The villagers huddled together, whispering to each other, their faces a mixture of anticipation, awe, and unease.


Su Ming noticed that in the crowd, the men newly recruited into the workshop stood furthest back, each with their heads bowed like quails. The shrewdness and ambition written on their faces just days ago had completely vanished, replaced only by obedience.


"Fellow villagers!" Zhao Dequan cleared his throat, his voice loud and clear, "Happy New Year!"


A sparse, scattered response came from below the stage.


"I know, everyone worked hard last year." Zhao Dequan wore a genial smile on his face. "Our Su Family Village, generation after generation with our faces to the earth and backs to the sky, has never held our heads as high as we have this year!"



He paused, raising his volume, "Who do we owe this to? To everyone working together! Therefore, on behalf of the workshop, I, Zhao Dequan, am giving everyone a red envelope to share in the festive spirit!"


As he spoke, he waved his hand.


The burly men behind him carried out two heavy wooden trays piled high with strings of coins wrapped in red paper.


"For all the old hands in the workshop, three hundred copper coins each! Newcomers, one hundred copper coins each! Those not working in the workshop, every household also gets a share, fifty copper coins! For good luck!"


The crowd instantly erupted into commotion.


Three hundred copper coins! That was nearly half a month's wages for a strong laborer!


"Thank you, Village Chief Uncle!"


"Village Chief Uncle is truly a Living Bodhisattva!"


For a moment, flattery and words of gratitude rose and fell, instantly dispersing the previously oppressive atmosphere.


The villagers lined up, stepping forward one by one to receive their money. Genuine joy beamed on every face.


Zhao Dequan watched all this with a smile. When the red envelopes were mostly distributed, he raised his hand again, signaling for everyone to quiet down.


"The money is a small matter." His voice grew serious, his smile fading. "What I want to talk about today is rules!"


The square instantly fell silent.


"It wasn't easy for our Su Family Village to reach today. What I hate most are those ingrates who eat the meat from the bowl, then curse the provider after putting it down, and even want to smash everyone else's rice bowl!"


His gaze swept over everyone below the stage like a knife, lingering especially long on the group of new workers.


"Some people have stretched their hands too far and their hearts are too wild. They always feel they got less than their share of the workshop's meat. But they never consider that without this workshop, you wouldn't even get a sip of broth!"


A cold wind blew past, swirling up snow powder from the ground. Everyone felt a chill rise from the soles of their feet.


"I, Zhao Dequan, will say this clearly. If anyone dares to play tricks behind the scenes, ruining the village's good fortune, don't blame me, Zhao Dequan, for being ruthless!" He pointed towards the direction of the village's east end not far away. "Su Lai is the example set before you! Where is he now? I tell you, he colluded with outsiders, tried to burn down the workshop, and I sent him to the county jail! He'll never come out in this lifetime!"


*Boom!*


A wave of suppressed gasps rose from the crowd.


Su Lai was sent to jail?


Su Ming's heart, however, was icy cold. He knew Zhao Dequan was lying. After that night, Su Lai's presence had completely vanished. It definitely wasn't as simple as being sent to jail.


This was a "story" told to everyone, a warning of "killing the chicken to scare the monkey."


"See that, disciple?" Lin Yu's voice chimed in appropriately. "After giving the carrot, the big stick must follow. First, tie people together with benefits, then use fear to knock out the troublemakers. This Zhao Dequan is quite skilled at playing power games."


(Inner thoughts: "Tsk tsk, this acting talent is wasted not going to film school. 'Sent to the county jail'? Trying to fool ghosts? Oh, I am a ghost... well, you can't fool me either. But the effect is really good. Look at those troublemakers, their faces have gone pale.")


Su Ming looked at the faces of the villagers below.


He saw gratitude, he saw awe, and beneath that gratitude and awe, he saw deep, profound fear.


Zhao Dequan was no longer just the Village Chief who needed to navigate between villagers and the government.


He had become the king of Su Family Village.


"Alright, it's the New Year, let's not talk about such depressing things." Zhao Dequan's expression softened again, as if the severity from moments ago was just an illusion. "Everyone, go get a bowl of meat broth to warm yourselves! When spring comes, the big merchants from the south will arrive. They're clamoring for our paper! When that time comes, everyone's share of the profits will only be greater!"


The word "merchants" was like a new seed planted in every villager's heart.


It represented more money, a better life.


The Su family also received their red envelopes. Su Shan and Mrs. Su Chen held the several heavy strings of copper coins, their hands trembling slightly.


Su Ming tucked his share of the red envelope into his robe. The copper coins wrapped in red paper felt somewhat burning hot to the touch.


It wasn't a kindness.


It was a shackle.


The crowd gradually dispersed, each holding bowls of meat broth, returning home with faces showing both satisfaction and complex emotions.


Su Ming walked at the very back. He turned and took one last look.


On the high platform, Zhao Dequan stood with his hands behind his back, looking down over the entire village. The two burly men still stood behind him like door gods.


A gust of wind blew, making Zhao Dequan's robe flutter and snap loudly.


Su Ming saw that at the easternmost end of the village, in front of the tightly closed courtyard gate of Su Lai's house, his wife was kneeling in the snow, silently kowtowing in the direction of Zhao Dequan.


Once, then again.


Her face held no tears, only an ashen, numb expression.


Su Ming withdrew his gaze, silently tightening his grip on the burning hot red envelope tucked inside his robe.


This New Year had ultimately not been spent in peace.


Would the so-called "big merchants" bring more wealth, or an even greater storm?



 
Contact - ToS 
Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life
C55: The House Is About to Collapse


The festive atmosphere of the New Year was like a piece of window paper pierced by a cold gust of wind; on the surface, it still held a semblance of celebration, but its warmth had long since vanished. The ice and snow melted, revealing the dark brown mud beneath. A single step sank into its soft, sticky muck, clinging to shoes. The air was a mix of earthy dampness, the lingering scent of last year's withered grass, and a faint, almost imperceptible sour, rotting odor of alkaline-soaked materials drifting from the direction of the workshop.


The workshop in Su Family Village started belching smoke earlier than usual this year, its chimney spewing pale gray plumes day and night. The once-clear rhythmic chants and pounding sounds were no longer crisp; they seemed drained of their spirit by the damp, cold air, thudding dully against people's hearts, carrying far into the distance.


Everything was different. Even the old locust tree at the village entrance seemed to sprout buds later this spring. Its branches, black and stark, pointed accusingly at the sky, exuding an indescribable desolation.


Su Ming stood on the uneven stone threshold of his family's courtyard gate, gazing at the lingering dust and smoke swirling above the distant workshop. It looked like a grimy rag, impossible to wipe clean. On the village paths, villagers carrying tools hurried along with bowed heads, their spines bent as if weighed down by something. The lazy, idle look they used to have while squatting against walls and gossiping was gone, replaced by a weary, sluggish demeanor, as if tightly reined by invisible ropes. The dark circles under their eyes were heavier than those from staying up late during the New Year celebrations. When they encountered Zhao Dequan's two burly, hawk-eyed confidants, their backs would instinctively bend a little more, their faces squeezing out careful, almost fawning smiles, mumbling vague greetings.


That kind of smile made one's heart ache with a sour bitterness, more choking than swallowing cold water.


The Su Lai family was like a spatter of hot oil on a stove—a brief sizzle, then wiped away with a rag, leaving no trace. His wife had kowtowed in the snow for three days, the bruises on her forehead not yet faded. On the morning of the fourth day, she too vanished. In hushed whispers, some villagers speculated she had thrown herself into the deep pond behind the village; others said she had run mad into the old forest and been eaten by wolves. Their voices were low, their eyes evasive, not daring to delve deeper.


No one mentioned the matter openly anymore, as if this household had never existed in Su Family Village.


Su Ming's "Listening to Sounds" technique grew more proficient by the day. The grumbles lodged in the villagers' throats, the tremors hidden in their hearts, even the anxieties that made them toss and turn at night, causing their bed boards to creak—all these subtle threads escaped his perception, weaving into an invisible, heavy net that hung oppressively over the village.


"...Another ten coppers docked, they said the material waste was high. Heaven knows whose pocket it went into..."

"...Manager Zhao's glare is like a knife scraping flesh. The back of my neck still feels cold..."
"...Endure it, just endure it a little longer. When spring comes and those big merchants from the south arrive, we'll get our share of the profits. Then it'll be better, it'll be fine..."


Desire and fear twisted into a thick rope, tethered to the heart of every person. The other end was firmly gripped in Zhao Dequan's hand. He didn't need to pull hard; a mere twitch of his finger could make people suffocate, yet they still had to force a smile.


"Disciple, smell that?" Lin Yu's voice abruptly cut through Su Ming's gloomy thoughts.


"Smell what, Master?" Su Ming gathered his focus, temporarily blocking out the cacophony of sounds.


"The smell of early spring." Lin Yu's tone was leisurely, yet it seemed to hide a hook. "The earth's energy is warming, the frozen ground is thawing. All the things that huddled through winter, whether burrowing in the earth or hiding in hearts, are about to poke their heads out."


(Inner thoughts: "Good grief, the resentment in this village is practically condensing into water. If it builds up any more, it might just ignite. Zhao Dequan plays the carrot-and-stick game well, but he can't stop the firewood piling up underneath. It just needs a single spark. This hornet's nest shouldn't be poked, but it's best to stay far away.")


"Master means, all things are sprouting and growing?" Su Ming sniffed the air. The wind did carry a hint of the fresh scent of budding grass and trees, but more prominent was the familiar, stifling heaviness.


"Sprouting and growing?" Lin Yu scoffed, his voice tinged with a worldly cynicism. "What's beneath that growth? Hunger. Starving beasts, the first thing they do upon waking is look for food, regardless of whether it's fodder or the leg meat of their own kind. Hearts suppressed all winter are the same. The longer they're pent up, the more violently they'll rebound. This village looks quiet, but it's a hornet's nest about to wake. It seems fine, but one poke and it'll explode."


Su Ming pressed his lips tightly together, his fingernails unconsciously digging into the rough wooden doorframe.


He understood. The peace Zhao Dequan bought with red envelopes and meaty soups couldn't fill empty bellies, let alone satiate the greedy beast deep within people's hearts. When the grand promises made by those "big merchants" were exposed as empty, or when Zhao Dequan loosened his grip on that rope even slightly, the current stagnant calm could capsize in an instant, drowning who knows how many people.


"And what about you?" Lin Yu shifted the topic, as if asking casually. "When do you plan to jump out of this shallow puddle, you little mudskipper? You can't just wait for the water to dry up and end up in the pot, can you?"



Su Ming curled his fingers, lowered his head, and looked at the cloth shoes his mother had newly made for him. The tips were stained with a bit of mud. His voice was somewhat muffled. "My family is all here. I... I have to watch over them."


"I know." Lin Yu cut him off, his tone lacking its usual teasing, replaced by a rare seriousness. "That's why you need to become even stronger. Strong enough to carve out another deep pond for them, one with flowing, living water teeming with fish and shrimp. Not trapped together in this lowland that will inevitably dry up, waiting for the rain to stop, waiting for others to scoop it dry, until we're all left staring wide-eyed, waiting for death."


(Inner thoughts: "Little ancestor, hurry up and move! If we dawdle any longer, both of us are going to be buried here with them! My old house is about to collapse!")


Just as he spoke, deep within Lin Yu's Soul Body, the spirit-concentrating array inscribed upon the ring's origin—the very thing sustaining his existence—emitted an extremely faint, almost inaudible, crisp sound without any warning.


*Crack.*


The sound was as light as grinding teeth in one's sleep, yet it pierced through Lin Yu's facade of composure like an ice spike, startling his soul flame into a violent flicker. The air of profound mastery he'd been maintaining instantly evaporated.


(Inner thoughts: "What the hell was that?! The foundation of my old home is loosening?! Don't scare me like this!")


All his "focus" instantly withdrew from the external world, locking dead onto the deepest part of the ring's space.


That ancient, complex spirit-concentrating array, his last hope, was still slowly rotating, like an old man struggling to breathe, laboriously drawing in the pitifully thin spiritual energy from the outside world and converting it into the meager sustenance that nourished his remnant soul.


But right at the formation core, a crack finer than a hair yet hideously vicious clung there like a cold, venomous snake, silently flicking its tongue.


With each arduous rotation of the array, the spiritual light around the crack flickered violently, painfully, its glow dimming, teetering on the brink, as if the next cycle would cause it to shatter completely, severing all life force!


A chill originating from the very essence of his soul, the most profound kind of cold, froze Lin Yu's thoughts nearly to a halt. His Soul Body felt as if it were about to congeal into ice.


This spirit-concentrating array was his life! It was the foundation upon which he had clung to existence for five hundred years! Without the trickle of spiritual energy it constantly provided, his remnant soul, which should have dissipated long ago, wouldn't just fail to recover; he'd struggle to even stay conscious. In just a few days, he'd be assimilated by the world, dispersing into nothingness without leaving a trace!



 
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C56: Persuading to Leave

"How could this be..."


His consciousness frantically swept over every detail of the formation patterns, like the most precise probe, instantly locking onto the source of the crack—an extremely faint yet viciously poisonous aura of resentment and filth, filled with hatred and curses, clung stubbornly to the most fragile part of the formation's structure like the most tenacious grime, continuously eroding and corrupting it.


It was the residual poison from that Wailing Woman Lantern!


Although he had used every means to seal and suppress that main soul, trapping it deep within his consciousness, during the process of devouring and refining it, he was ultimately inevitably contaminated by that trace of the most fundamental, most pure resentment and baleful energy. It had seeped in like a virus, even polluting this foundational Spirit Gathering Array!


This venomous resentment was like gangrene clinging to the bone, slowly yet unshakably destroying it, and worse, it was continuously absorbing the Spirit Gathering Array's own power to strengthen itself.


Even more dire, the shaking and weakening of the Spirit Gathering Array had severely affected the stability of the entire ring's internal space. The six bloody patterns on the inner wall, formed from the intense resentment and essence-blood condensed at the moment of the previous host's death, were now glowing with an eerie light. Like sharks that had caught the scent of blood, they faintly resonated with the crack, restless and stirring. Their power, filled with ferocious balefulness and ill omen, was seeping in strand by strand, taking advantage of the situation to accelerate the final collapse of this life-saving array!


(Inner thoughts: "This is utterly screwed! When it rains, it pours! The house is about to collapse, and there are termites living in the load-bearing walls! This damn ring is completely uninhabitable now! If I don't move out soon, I'll be buried alive! Not even a chance for reincarnation!")


Lin Yu's inner world was in utter turmoil, a tempest of shock and waves, but the voice transmitted to Su Ming's mind forcefully suppressed all panic and despair, leaving only a deliberately amplified, heavy and solemn gravity.


"Disciple."

"Your disciple is here." Su Ming keenly sensed that his Master's tone was different from usual; there seemed to be something in that voice that was being intensely suppressed.
"This Master asks you," Lin Yu's voice slowed, each word seeming to have been deeply considered, "Do you wish... to go and see beyond the mountains? To see what kind of world this vast land truly is?"


Su Ming was taken aback, completely pulled away from the village's troubles.


Beyond the mountains?


This thought had occasionally surfaced in his mind like bubbles from the water's depths, but he had never dared to dwell on it, always feeling it was a distant and hazy dream. The village elders often said over tea that beyond the mountains were county towns, prefectural cities, with high city walls, countless blue-brick and tile-roofed houses, bustling streets with endless traffic, and tales of those immortal masters from operas who could summon wind and rain, soar through the skies, and dive into the earth.


But he had never thought of going now. He was only just fourteen. His family's situation had just begun to improve. His parents and elder brother were all by his side. Leaving his hometown sounded like a fantasy.


"Master, why bring this up so suddenly?" he asked, puzzled, feeling deep down that his Master was exceptionally different today.


"The time is approaching." Lin Yu's voice grew heavy and slow, carrying an unquestionable certainty, as if stating an established fact. "You should know that the path of cultivation is like rowing a boat against the current; if you do not advance, you will retreat. The crucial barriers are none other than the four elements: Wealth, Companions, Methods, and Land. None can be easily lacking."


"Wealth is the sustenance for cultivation; without wealth, one cannot nurture the Dao. Companions are fellow practitioners for mutual support; walking alone easily leads one astray. Methods are the fundamental inheritance; without methods, one is like a blind man feeling an elephant. Land is the blessed land, the pocket dimension; without land, one is like duckweed without roots."


"Now, although you have just glimpsed the threshold, received the Aura Concealment Art, and your temperament has been tempered to a degree of steadiness, this place—" Lin Yu's voice deliberately paused here, emphasizing his tone, "Su Family Village, has become a deadlock, shackling your hands and feet."


"First, the spiritual energy here is thin and barren. For your cultivation, it is truly like trying to put out a cartload of burning firewood with a cup of water. You should have sensed it recently. Is the meager spiritual energy you absorb daily gradually feeling insufficient, unable to support the consumption of Refining the Spirit and tempering the body?"


Su Ming fell silent, instinctively looking inward at that faint glimmer in his Dantian. His Master's words precisely pinpointed the vague unease and confusion in his heart. Indeed, he felt his body was like a container almost full yet always lacking that final bit, becoming increasingly "hungry" for the thin spiritual energy of heaven and earth around him.


"Second," Lin Yu continued his analysis, his voice as calm as if discussing something unrelated to himself, "the hearts of the villagers are restless, undercurrents surge, interests are entangled, and killing intent lies hidden. Remaining long in such a quagmire and whirlpool is not only unbeneficial for cultivation but also easily entangles one in mundane trivialities, wearing down one's upward ambition and wasting precious time. You have witnessed with your own eyes the schemes and methods of Zhao Dequan. This is absolutely not a place for long-term residence."


(Inner thoughts: "Listen to reason, kid! This lousy place has nothing! The spiritual energy is so thin it's a joke, and there's a pile of messy affairs and rotten human relations! If you stay any longer, forget about your cultivation increasing, you'll be lucky to maintain what little you have now! The issue with Zhao Dequan will explode sooner or later, and when it does, you won't be able to leave even if you want to!")


Su Ming pressed his lips together. His Master's analysis was clear and logical, every point hitting the mark. He could feel the invisible crisis tightening around him like a net. But...


"Father and Mother, they..." Su Ming's throat tightened, the words that followed stuck in his throat. He couldn't imagine the expressions on his parents' weathered faces, which had just begun to hope for better days, if he proposed traveling far. In this land where people were deeply attached to their native soil, a son traveling far with an uncertain future was almost equivalent to a living separation. How worried and anxious it would make his elderly parents.


"Foolish!" Lin Yu's tone suddenly sharpened, like a stern warning blow to the head. "Do you want them to keep you tied to their apron strings forever, watching with fear and anxiety as you flounder and struggle for survival in this ever-deepening quagmire? Or do you want one day for them to stand tall and straight, receiving the respect of their fellow villagers, simply because their son is an extraordinary person, bringing glory to the family?"


"True filial piety is not about morning and evening greetings, being inseparable from their side, but about becoming their true pillar of support! Only by becoming a towering tree that can shelter them from wind and rain can you protect their safety and security. If you are just a vine that can only cling to others, when the storm comes, you yourself will be hard-pressed to survive, so how can you talk about protecting your family?"


Word by word, like heavy drumbeats, cold and hard, they struck Su Ming's heart, shaking his very soul. That hesitation born of familial affection was almost smashed to pieces.


Yes...


If he stayed here, could he truly protect his family? Facing the increasingly inscrutable and controlling Zhao Dequan, he still needed to tread carefully, as if walking on thin ice. If that evil cultivator who refined the Wailing Woman Lantern one day truly followed that bizarre tracking mark to his door, what could he do with his meager skills? Wouldn't that just bring greater disaster directly to his family's doorstep, implicating them in the calamity?


Seeing Su Ming's spirit violently shaken, the struggle on his face growing more intense, Lin Yu's tone subtly softened, even deliberately tinged with a trace of imperceptible weariness and helplessness.


"Furthermore, this Master... *sigh*... am ultimately just a remnant soul, in a very peculiar state. Many of the more profound and mysterious methods are not that I am unwilling to teach them to you, but rather, they truly cannot be performed without the assistance of specific external spiritual materials. Within a hundred miles of this place, the mountains and wilderness are barren; the required items simply cannot be found. Even the cleverest housewife can't cook without rice."


 
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C57: Reasons
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Lin Yu sighed, his voice growing even heavier. "Moreover, the karmic debt and evil retribution of that 'Wailing Woman Lantern' hang over us like a sword suspended above our heads, a constant threat. As long as its tracking mark remains unremoved for a single day, we will not have a day of peace. To completely resolve this calamity, holing up here is not the answer. We must venture out to find methods specifically designed to counter such evil entities, or... attain a level of cultivation power far surpassing that of the mastermind behind it. If we stubbornly confine ourselves here, how is it any different from sitting and waiting for the axe to fall, willingly offering our necks to the blade?"


(Inner thoughts: "Can't reveal everything, might scare the kid, but gotta lay on the hardship a bit, otherwise he won't budge! If this damn array truly collapses completely, we're both finished! That's a solid enough reason, right? Wake up already!")


Su Ming abruptly lifted his head. The last traces of hesitation and attachment in his eyes were completely severed, transforming into a resolute determination to charge forward. His master's words had peeled away the mist of sentimentality, laying bare the cold, hard reality before him.


His master was right. Staying was cowardice, was shortsightedness, was drawing a circle on the ground to imprison oneself!


Only by stepping out, by venturing into the wider world, to seek opportunities, to become strong enough, could he truly sever the roots of all trouble, could he genuinely, thoroughly protect those he wished to protect!


"Master," Su Ming took a deep breath, as if pressing all distracting thoughts deep into his heart. His voice was not loud, yet it was exceptionally firm, landing with a weighty thud. "This disciple understands."


He raised his gaze, looking past the low earthen wall towards his own familiar three-room earthen house, from which wisps of cooking smoke curled. It was as if he could smell the steaming aroma of the rice porridge his mother was simmering, could hear the steady, dull thuds of his father chopping firewood in the corner of the yard.


All of this was so warm it made his nose tingle, yet so fragile it made his heart clench.


"What should this disciple do?" he asked, the hesitation now gone from his tone.

"Not so fast." Lin Yu's voice returned to its calm steadiness, as if the heavy conversation just now, touching upon life, death, and the future, had been nothing more than a routine exchange. "A long journey is no small matter. How can one simply leave without a word, causing only worry and longing for one's parents? We need to plan carefully, have a safe and thorough strategy."
(Inner thoughts: "Finally got it! That effort wasn't wasted. Next is figuring out how to send you off smoothly and legitimately, and also settling your family affairs properly so you have no worries holding you back. Otherwise, you'll be too distracted on the road, unable to cultivate in peace.")


"First and foremost, we need a proper, convincing justification." Lin Yu began his meticulous "planning," his voice tinged with a flavor of shrewd calculation.


"Justification?" Su Ming was slightly puzzled.


"Correct." Lin Yu affirmed. "A justification that makes your parents, makes the whole village feel honored, that makes them eager for you to go, even proud of you. This way, you can leave with peace of mind, and they can wait at home with reassurance."


His tone carried a hint of understanding laughter as he pointed out, "For example... traveling to study, visiting renowned masters, seeking scholarly honors. This is the proper, glorious path that brings honor to one's ancestors."


"Travel to study? Seek scholarly honors?" Su Ming's eyes suddenly brightened, as if clouds had parted to reveal the sun!


"How could you forget? You are a scholar." Lin Yu reminded him. "You are the only scholarly seed in this Su Family Village. Think carefully. If you could advance in your studies, even if you only obtained the Xiucai degree, how much glory would that bring to your parents? How much prestige would it add to the face of Su Family Village? Even Zhao Dequan, a mere Village Chief, would have to show some respect when meeting a Xiucai who holds an official degree!"


As these words fell, Su Ming felt his vision suddenly clear, all his thoughts instantly connecting!


Right!


Studying! The Imperial Examinations!


This justification was proper, upright, and honorable! His parents had always taken pride in his studies, deeply believing that all other pursuits are inferior, only studying is supreme. If it was for the sake of advancing his education and seeking scholarly honors, no matter how reluctant they were, they would surely understand the greater principle and would definitely not forcefully stop him.


Furthermore, once he truly held an official degree, he would have an official status, protected by the laws of the court. Even Zhao Dequan would have to weigh the consequences before daring to move against the Su family again! This was not just a pass to leave home; it was a tangible, real-life protective talisman!


"Master's foresight is profound! This disciple was foolish, failing to think of this!" Su Ming was sincerely convinced, offering heartfelt praise.


(Inner thoughts: "Of course. Even if you haven't eaten pork, you've seen pigs run... Sigh, old matters from a past life, no need to mention them.")


"The effectiveness of the plan remains to be seen." Lin Yu's tone returned to its usual indifference, as if he had merely mentioned it in passing. "This matter requires meticulous arrangement; it cannot be rushed. What you need to do now is to make the posture of 'wholeheartedly devoted to study' and 'determined to achieve scholarly honors' utterly convincing and deeply ingrained in people's minds."


"This disciple understands!" Su Ming responded heavily, the gloom in his heart completely dispelled. A clear, challenging path forward had already unfolded before his eyes.


He took one last look at the still-bustling workshop in the distance. The dust and smoke that had once felt oppressive to him now held a different meaning in his eyes. It was no longer an invisible shackle, but the starting point from which he was about to embark, a point he must surpass.


He turned and walked towards his home with steady, firm steps, his back exuding a decisiveness that belied his age.


Deep within the ring, Lin Yu watched the young man's gradually firming and upright back and finally secretly released a breath he didn't physically possess.


(Inner thoughts: "First step, finally dragged this stubborn mule out of the mud pit! Next, need to carefully figure out how to get a more substantial travel fund, how to leave a safe and secure allowance for the family, and also think about how to plant a soft thorn for that old fox Zhao Dequan, so he doesn't dare to move against the Su family lightly... Sigh, being a master is like being both a father and a mother, worrying oneself sick. My dream retirement life is more tiring than going to work.")


However, he failed to notice.


Deep within the very core of his Soul Body, in that dark corner tightly bound and sealed by layer upon layer of powerful restraints.


That violently churning, tightly bound mass of resentful soul black energy—with every unstable, tearing throb of the Spirit Gathering Array—the surface of those shimmering, ghostly light sealing runes would, imperceptibly and extremely briefly, dim by a fraction.


It was as if the loosening foundation of that old house on the verge of collapse also allowed the terrifying evil ghost imprisoned in the deepest depths beneath the earth, amidst endless resentment and darkness, to faintly glimpse a sliver of light hinting at a chance to break its cage. The cracks were quietly widening.


 
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C58: Must Go Out

Night was as black as ink, wrapping the Su family’s small courtyard tightly. In the main room, a dim rapeseed oil lamp cast long shadows of the household on the mottled earthen wall, flickering unsteadily.


The dishes had long since been cleared from the table, yet no one rose to leave.


The air carried an unusual hush, oppressive enough to make it hard to breathe. Mrs. Chen’s eyes were rimmed red, she kept wiping at the corners with her sleeve. Eldest Brother Su Feng and his wife Wang Chuntao kept their heads down, lost in thought. Second Brother Su Yang sat close to Su Ming, their shoulders nearly touching, like a silent wall.


Su Shan sat in the head seat, taking one drag after another of pipe tobacco. The ember in the pipe glowed and dimmed, illuminating the ravines on his face, his expression murky and unreadable. The strong scent of smoke mixed with the after-warmth of the meal, composing the entire atmosphere of the Su family’s main room at that moment.


It was Su Ming who broke the silence.


He stood, walked to the center of the room, and before his parents, solemnly and deeply bowed in a formal salute.


“Father, Mother.”


His voice was clear, but carried a faint, barely noticeable tremor.


Mrs. Chen could no longer hold back her tears; they fell in a soft stream. “Child, what are you doing…?”

Su Shan knocked his pipe against something, and finally spoke; his voice was rough as if sandpaper had been rubbed over it: “Say what you have to say, or spit it out! Stand up straight!”
He paused mid-knock, his murky eyes lifting from behind the smoke to look at his youngest son.


Su Ming straightened, his gaze clear as he met his father’s eyes: “Father, Mother, Teacher Zhou at our village school is very learned, and I have learned nearly everything he can teach. I have thought this through carefully. I want to go to the County School to study, maybe even go to the prefectural city to seek schooling.”


“I want to take the imperial examinations.”


Those six words landed like a stone thrown into a still pond, instantly stirring thousands of ripples.


“What? To the prefectural city?” Wang Chuntao cried out in alarm, then realized she had spoken too loudly and quickly covered her mouth.


Su Feng lifted his head, his face full of astonishment: “Little brother, this… this is not something to joke about. From here to the prefectural city takes several days on foot, you won’t know anyone there…”


“Xiao Ming!” Mrs. Chen could no longer sit still. She hurried to his side and grabbed his arm, tearful-eyed. “Have you been listening to people outside and gone daft? Why leave a good home to go so far? You’re so young, your mother worries!”


Su Ming took his mother’s rough hand in his and could clearly feel it trembling. His heart twisted, but he forced himself to continue.


“Mother, I’m not acting on a whim. At the village school, the teacher has taught me nearly everything he can. If I stay, I’ll just be stuck, wasting time. I want to see a bigger world, visit better teachers. Only then can I possibly obtain a degree and bring honor to our family.”


He recited the set of arguments Lin Yu had taught him, using his most sincere tone, word by word.


“To take the imperial examinations… to take the imperial examinations…” Mrs. Chen murmured. For a peasant woman like her, the phrase was both sacred and distant. Of course she wanted her son to succeed, but the thought of him traveling far filled her pride with tidal waves of worry.


“Too easy to say!” Su Shan inhaled deeply again, smoke puffing out of his nostrils. “Do you know how much it costs to go to the prefectural city? Food, lodging, brushes, ink, paper, inkstone — which of those is free? Do you think official rank is like the cabbages in the field that you can just pick up?”


“Don’t worry about money, Father.” Su Yang suddenly said in a muffled voice. “Our paper-making brought in some money. At least let Xiao Ming try!”


Su Ming looked gratefully at his second brother.


He drew in a deep breath, then looked at his father again, his eyes filled with an unprecedented firmness: “Father, do you remember how things used to be for our family?”


Su Shan’s movement froze.


“Eldest Brother’s marriage drained the household. When I wanted to buy a few sheets of paper to study, Second Brother had to risk his life going up the mountain. For a year, we rarely had meat. Mother and Sister-in-law’s clothes were patches on top of patches.”


“Now, life is a bit better. But how did it happen? Because we learned how to make paper!”


“But the paper-making method was something I came across in a book by chance. What does that prove? It proves studying is useful! Books not only hold the sages’ teachings, they contain ways to make our family eat and dress warmly!”


“If I go out now, it’s not to seek comfort, it’s to learn more skills! If I can pass as a xiucai, even just a xiucai, our family will never have to bow to Village Chief Zhao again! I’ll be able to stand tall when meeting the county magistrate!”


“Then who would dare bully the Su family? That is real security!”


His words fell like a hammer, resonating through the small main room.


Everyone was stunned. They had never seen their youngest son like this; the usual naive tone was gone, replaced by a moving sense of responsibility and foresight.


The pipe in Su Shan’s hand had gone out without anyone noticing. His murky eyes stared hard at Su Ming, as if trying to see through him.


After a long while, he slammed the cold pipe down on the table, stood up, and wordlessly walked out the door.


“Father!” Mrs. Chen called anxiously.


Su Shan didn’t look back, leaving only a stiff sentence behind.


“You chose your path, then even if you crawl, finish walking it!”


With that he disappeared into the night beyond the doorway.


Silence filled the room.


A few seconds later, Su Yang suddenly slapped his thigh and let out an excited low roar: “It’s done! Father agreed!”


Mrs. Chen’s tears flowed again as she hugged Su Ming tightly, choking as she said, “My son has grown up… grown up…”


Su Ming’s eyes were wet too. He gently patted his mother’s back, feeling a huge weight lift from his chest.


(Inner thought: Nice! That combination punch was logical and moving. First calculate finances, then play the heart card, finally paint the big promise of “pass the exams, whole family turns their luck around.” Teachable child, teachable child!)


Lin Yu in the ring “nodded” with satisfaction, having finally gotten this kid out of the beginner village in his first successful step.


…


Over the next few days, the Su household was filled with a strange mix of excitement and melancholy.


Mrs. Chen and Wang Chuntao began preparing Su Ming’s travel bundle, sewing new clothes stitch by stitch, repeatedly frying long-lasting dried cakes for provisions. Su Feng and Su Yang worked harder than ever; one hunted in the mountains, the other labored in the fields, trying to save more for the family before their brother left.


Su Ming shut himself in a corner of the backyard.


He called Su Yang over alone.


 
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C59: Accepting the Whole Pocket
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"Second Brother, come over here."


In the corner of the backyard, the large cauldron was still set up, with a pile of processed bamboo materials stacked beside it. This was where the two brothers had started their paper-making journey.


"Xiao Ming, what's this about, so mysterious?" Su Yang wiped his sweat, asking curiously.


Su Ming didn't answer directly. Instead, he picked up a bundle of already pounded bamboo fibers and pointed at the large wooden barrel beside it. "Second Brother, let me ask you, why must the bamboo fibers be soaked in the plant ash water for a full three days?"


"Uh..." Su Yang was stumped. "Didn't you say that? That's what the recipe in the book said."


"Then why, when boiling the pulp, must the heat start high and then turn low, simmering slowly without rushing?"


"This... didn't you say that too?" Su Yang was even more confused.


Su Ming smiled and pulled out a piece of paper from his robe. This paper was made from the best quality he had produced himself, densely covered with symbols and characters.


"Second Brother, what I taught you before was just the method of paper-making. But I didn't tell you why we do it this way."

He handed the paper to Su Yang. "This contains the complete paper-making technique I saw in that old book."
Su Yang took the paper, looking utterly bewildered. He couldn't recognize all the characters, let alone those strange diagrams.


"Xiao Ming, you..."


"Second Brother, I'm going on a long journey, who knows when I'll return. This craft is the foundation of our Su family. I must leave it behind, complete and intact."


Su Ming's expression turned extremely serious.

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"Soaking is to use the alkaline water from the plant ash to corrode the useless lignin in the bamboo, leaving only the purest fibers. If the time is too short, the soaking is incomplete, and the paper becomes brittle. If too long, the fibers rot, and the paper loses its toughness."


"Boiling the pulp is to further separate and soften the fibers. If the fire is too strong, it's easy to scorch, ruining the pulp. If too weak, it won't cook properly, and the fibers won't become pulp."


"And about paper forming... I only taught you to use a broken sieve before. Actually, the real useful tool is called a 'paper mold,' woven from fine bamboo strips and horsetail hair. Paper formed with that comes out even in thickness..."


Su Ming explained the complete, improved paper-making process taught by Lin Yu to Su Yang without reservation, breaking down every detail from the principles to the specific operations, making it as clear as possible.


He explained meticulously, and Su Yang listened attentively.


From raw material selection, alkaline water ratio, soaking duration, boiling heat control, to how to make a proper paper-forming mold, how to press out the water, how to perform the final "paper drying"... A complete paper-making process far surpassing the level of ordinary small workshops of this era unfolded clearly between the two brothers through their questions and answers.


The more Su Yang listened, the more astonished he became, feeling the paper in his hand grow heavier by the thousand catties. Only now did he understand that what they had produced before was merely the most superficial layer of this craft!


"Xiao Ming... you... why didn't you tell me earlier..." Su Yang's voice was somewhat hoarse.


"Because the timing wasn't right." Su Ming looked into his second brother's eyes. "This craft is our family's heirloom, but also a potential death warrant. Revealing it earlier would only invite disaster. Now that I'm leaving, I must pass on this livelihood-sustaining skill to you. Second Brother, remember this: the complete craft must not be known by a fourth person! Even Father, Mother, and Eldest Brother should only know that we can make it better than before. There's no need to explain it this thoroughly."


Su Yang nodded heavily. He wasn't a fool and instantly understood the stakes involved.


"Don't worry!" He carefully folded the paper and tucked it close to his chest, as if carrying a monumental secret. "As long as I have breath in me, I will never let this recipe leak out! I will take good care of Father and Mother, guard this home, and wait for you... wait for you to pass the imperial examinations and return with honor!"


Su Ming smiled and patted his second brother's shoulder.


Lin Yu muttered to himself, "Hmm, the severance package and technology transfer are settled. Giving them a sustainable gold-egg-laying goose is much safer than leaving a pile of dead money. This way, the Su family's economic foundation is secure. That old fox Zhao Dequan will have to think twice before trying to manipulate them. My disciple finally shows some strategic vision."


Inside the ring, Lin Yu gave Su Ming's performance high praise.


"Master," Su Ming called out in his mind.


"What is it?"


"Why are we taking the imperial examination path? With your abilities, teaching me a couple of magical techniques would be faster than a decade of hard study, wouldn't it?" This had been Su Ming's lingering doubt.


Lin Yu's voice carried a hint of leisurely amusement. "Silly boy, what do you think cultivation is? Fighting, killing, indulging in personal vendettas? That's just storybook tales."


"True cultivation is contending with heaven, contending with earth, contending with others, and most of all, contending with yourself! Every step is like treading on thin ice. With your current meager skills, thrown out there, you wouldn't even make a splash."


"The imperial examinations are the best 'shield.'"


"Think about it. A scholar with an official title is protected by the dynasty's fortune. Ordinary demons, ghosts, evil cultivators, and the like wouldn't dare to easily taint such a person, or they would suffer the backlash of that fortune. That's the first layer of protection."


"Secondly, once you hold an official position, even if it's just a minor clerk, you gain the qualification to access local county records, prefecture records, even internal court archives. Do you think all those strange tales and legends are baseless? Many traces of ancient cultivators, their hidden dwellings, strange occurrences, are recorded as 'anomalies' in these old documents. This is our 'map' for seeking opportunities!"


"Thirdly, and most importantly. This path allows you to access the true upper echelons of this world. Do you think those high-ranking officials, nobles, princes, and generals really have no extraordinary individuals or immortal practitioners by their side? When you stand high enough, you'll naturally see vistas ordinary people never witness in their lifetime and access the circles we wish to enter."


"This is called 'cultivation within the mundane world.' Using the mortal realm as a springboard, the dynasty as a ladder, advancing steadily and securely. Compared to those wandering cultivators who practice bitterly in the mountains and forests, constantly getting chased down for their treasures, how much safer is this? A hundred times over, at least!"


(Inner thoughts: "Just kidding, I don't have the ability to directly teach you cultivation either! We definitely need to get you an identity that can access the cultivation circles first, then plan the next steps.")


Su Ming listened, his mind stirred, feeling as if a grand and magnificent scroll was unfurling before his eyes. So, the path of cultivation could involve such intricate and far-reaching planning!


"Your disciple has been enlightened," he said sincerely.


However, just as Su Ming was planning for the future and the Su family was fully preparing for his distant journey, an uninvited guest disrupted this peace.


That afternoon, while Su Ming was helping chop firewood in the yard, a familiar, robust cough came from outside the courtyard gate.


"Ahem! Brother Su Shan, are you home?"


 
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Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life
C60: Work Handover

Su Ming stacked the last batch of split firewood neatly and heard footsteps approaching from outside the courtyard gate, along with a somewhat awkward greeting.


"Su Ming."


Su Ming turned his head and saw Zhao Dequan with a beaming smile, and Zhao Rui trailing behind him with a face full of reluctance.


Zhao Dequan's laughter was booming and hearty, while Zhao Rui, following him, wore an expression of utter unwillingness.


Su Shan hurriedly wiped his hands on his clothes and went forward to greet them. "Village Chief, sir, what brings you here today? Please, come inside and sit. Chuntao, go pour some water!"


"Ah, don't trouble yourself!" Zhao Dequan waved his large hand, stopping Wang Chuntao who was about to head to the kitchen.


Zhao Dequan's gaze swept around the courtyard, from the drying vegetables to the firewood pile in the corner, and finally, landed precisely on that corner of the backyard.


There, a large pot, a stone mill, and wooden barrels were all arranged, with a few scraps of failed paper from experiments tossed beside them.


The afternoon sunlight was just right. One of the palm-sized paper scraps was flipped over by the wind, and its surface actually shimmered with a delicate, warm, and smooth luster.

That sheen was worlds apart from the rough, yellowish, even grass-fiber-laden paper produced in the workshop.
Zhao Dequan's steps paused for a moment, his eyes lingering on that scrap of paper for a full two breaths.


("Disciple, he saw the paper scrap you left behind from experimenting with the improved formula!")


Lin Yu's voice instantly exploded in Su Ming's mind, carrying a sense of urgency that reveled in watching the drama unfold.


("This old fox's eyes are sharper than an eagle's! He's definitely wondering in his heart why you're hiding such good stuff and not bringing it to the workshop. Steady, don't panic, don't panic even if the sky falls! The more flustered you are, the more he'll think you're up to something!")


Su Ming's heart gave a violent thump, but his expression remained unchanged. He just silently stepped to Su Yang's side, lowered his eyelids, and assumed the respectful posture of a junior listening attentively.


Zhao Dequan withdrew his gaze, his face still wearing a genial smile as if he had merely glanced casually a moment ago.


He looked at Su Shan, but his words were directed at Su Ming. "I heard Xiao Ming is going to study in town? That's wonderful! Our Su Family Village hasn't produced a proper scholar going to the County School in many years!"


Su Shan gave an honest smile, rubbing his hands together. "The child is just fooling around, insisting on going out to see the world."


"How is that fooling around?" Zhao Dequan's face turned stern. "Matters of scholars, can they be called fooling around? This is called ambition!"


He shifted the topic, asking seemingly casually, "However, with Xiao Ming leaving, our village's paper-making workshop won't run into any major problems, will it? After all, the formula was something you found, and you've been overseeing the work in the workshop. You're the backbone. What are we to do if you leave?"


Here it comes!


Su Ming's heart tightened.


("See? The fox's tail is showing," Lin Yu snorted. "This is both a warning and a probe. Disciple, use the script we rehearsed! Shift the blame... ahem, shift all the credit to your Second Brother!")


Before Su Shan could speak, Su Ming stepped forward, bowed, and replied, "Uncle Zhao, you jest. I'm just someone who reads books all day, what do I know about craftsmanship? All the intricacies of paper-making were figured out by my Second Brother through trial after trial. He's skillful with his hands, and a steady person, soaking in the workshop every day. He knows far better than I do when to add firewood and what color indicates the pulp is ready."


He scratched his head, revealing a hint of a young man's shyness. "Actually, everything I know, Second Brother knows. What I don't know, he's already figured out by now. With me gone and Second Brother in charge, the workshop will only run better than before. Moreover, my brother recently pulled me along to try and figure out if we could make even better paper at home. You can see the scraps of my brother's newly made paper over there, but we haven't pinpointed the exact reason for the improvement yet, so we haven't mentioned it to the village."


These words were flawlessly delivered, both elevating Su Yang and completely absolving himself, perfectly crafting the image of a bookworm who "only provides theory, knows nothing of practice."


Hearing his younger brother praise him like this, Su Yang's face flushed slightly red, and he quickly waved his hands. "No, no, it was all Xiao Ming who taught me..."


"Look at this, just look!" Zhao Dequan pointed at the Su brothers and laughed heartily at Su Shan. "Shanzi, your two sons, one has the brains, the other is willing to put in the effort, and both are so humble. You truly are blessed!"


Zhao Dequan nodded, the smile on his face growing even brighter as he cut straight to the main point. "Shanzi, Xiao Ming, I heard yesterday that Xiao Ming is going to study in town. I thought about it all night and decided I must support this!"


He shifted his tone, sighed, and pulled Zhao Rui from behind him forward. "My boy here, ever since going with Xiao Ming to town for the exam last time, seems to have changed when he came back. He knows to study hard now, and he's learned some fear. That's a good thing. But with his half-baked skills, I'm really not at ease letting him go to the County School by himself."


Being criticized by his father in front of everyone, Zhao Rui felt embarrassed and muttered, "Dad, I can manage..."


"Manage my foot!" Zhao Dequan glared, then switched back to a helpless tone as he addressed Su Shan. "See? That's his attitude. So, I was thinking, when Xiao Ming goes to town, he could take this useless thing along. They took the exam together, so they've shared hardship. Studying together, they can look out for each other, and I'd feel more at ease."


This time, Zhao Rui just awkwardly turned his head away and muttered quietly, "Who needs him to look out for me..." But the resistance in his tone was noticeably weaker, more an issue of a young man's pride.


"Shut your mouth!" Zhao Dequan turned and roared, scaring Zhao Rui into swallowing the rest of his words.


Zhao Dequan resumed his kindly demeanor, patted Su Ming on the shoulder, and said earnestly, "Xiao Ming, don't judge A Rui by his current behavior. He's not a bad kid, just spoiled. The town academy is a mixed bag. With his temperament, I'm afraid he'll be deceived or led astray. You're different. You're steady, sensible. With you by his side to watch over him and guide him, I'm at ease!"


With such high praise bestowed upon him, it was difficult for Su Ming to refuse.


Su Ming understood clearly. Zhao Dequan's move was partly to let Zhao Rui follow the "enlightened" Su Ming and catch some "scholarly aura." More deeply, it was probably to use his son to keep tabs on and observe him, ensuring the core "secret formula" of the paper-making technique wouldn't be compromised by his departure.


He stepped forward, his tone sincere. "With Uncle Zhao's trust, I dare not decline. Brother Zhao Rui has become much steadier after this experience, and his academic foundation is solid. Studying together, we can spar and motivate each other."


"Good! Good! With your word, I am at ease!" Zhao Dequan nodded with satisfaction.


 
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