novelraw Chapter 50 : Chapter 50
Chapter 50 : Chapter 50
Chapter 50: Hush Money
In the morning mist, a rooster crowed, and a carriage slowly stopped at the clinic door.
Princess Baili lifted the curtain and jumped down, stretching lazily.
She scanned the surroundings but didn’t see the slim figure sweeping the ground.
Strange—yesterday at this hour, he was sweeping out front. Where was he today?
Asleep?
At that moment, Liang Mao’er, carrying Liang Gou’er, slowly stepped off the carriage, heading into the clinic.
Liang Gou’er, tall and sturdy, seemed weightless on Liang Mao’er’s back. Normally, he could carry his brother ten miles without breaking a sweat.
Liang Mao’er smiled honestly, bidding farewell to the Heir and Princess Baili: “Heir, Princess, thanks for the hospitality. I’ll take my brother to sleep.”
The Heir waved casually: “Go, go.”
As Liang Mao’er reached the apprentice dormitory, Princess Baili tiptoed to peek inside, still not seeing Chen Ji: “Strange, where’s that blackhearted guy?”
I wasn’t at the clinic. I was walking on the bluestone path to East Market.
I walked below, while Dark Cloud leaped lightly along the eaves beside me.
Man and cat moved in tandem, the black cat on the rooftops like a silent guardian spirit.
East Market was already bustling, goods from north and south gathering here, muscular workers hauling sacks, coming and going ceaselessly.
I found a breakfast stall and sat at a small wooden table outside. Dark Cloud nimbly leaped into my lap, hiding in my clothes, only its head peeking from my collar.
“Chen Ji, buns!”
I smiled, waving to the waiter: “Waiter, two baskets of sauced meat buns, one bowl of hot soy milk!”
“Right away, sir! Buns coming up!”
When the buns arrived, I bit into one with my right hand, holding another with my left for Dark Cloud to nibble.
I ate slowly, waiting quietly.
As I finished my second bun, a middle-aged customer approached the nearby general store: “Boss, how much for saltpeter?”
The boss, lounging with legs crossed, said: “Three hundred wen per dou. We can deliver within three li… What do you need saltpeter for, sir?”
The customer smiled: “My family makes firecrackers; we need saltpeter daily. Usually, we buy from Old Li’s, but his shop didn’t open this morning. Boss, three hundred wen’s steep—any discount?”
The boss, cracking melon seeds, said: “Buy it or don’t.”
The customer’s face darkened, and he stormed off: “What kind of business is this? Can’t you talk properly? Plenty of saltpeter sellers in East Market—not like I need yours!”
The boss, still cracking seeds, didn’t care: “Go buy elsewhere then.”
I watched the customer leave. Then, a young man dressed as a porter at the breakfast stall dropped his chopsticks, abandoned his meal, and followed the customer.
They stayed ten paces apart, the young porter tracking the customer through the crowd.
As he passed me, I noticed thick calluses on his right hand’s tiger mouth—marks of long-term weapon handling.
I realized: Golden Pig had made his move.
This Golden Pig was smarter and subtler than I’d thought. Knowing the Jing Dynasty craved firearms, he laid low in Luocheng, closing shops, planting spies as merchants, and tracking everyone buying saltpeter!
Golden Pig lurked in Luocheng’s shadows like a spider, weaving a web while the Jing Dynasty’s Military Intelligence Division let its guard down.
The firearms Consort Yun handed over were likely stolen from the Crafts Supervisory’s inventory with inside help.
If Golden Pig was clever enough, he’d already be checking the inventory, tracking stolen goods… Could Consort Yun and the Liu Family withstand his scrutiny?
The Jing Dynasty’s Military Intelligence Division and Liu Family had finally met their match.
I kept my head down, eating buns calmly. Dark Cloud and I finished both baskets before leaving, both letting out a satisfied burp: “So full!”
I wandered East Market leisurely, passing a candy stall. I glanced around: the boss was earnestly selling red and white sugar, with nobles’ servants buying without anyone tailing them.
After observing for a while, I approached: “Boss, how much for red and white sugar?”
The boss smiled: “Sir, red sugar’s eighty wen per catty. The white sugar frost? Ten taels per catty.”
I was stunned—white sugar was outrageously expensive!
But I soon understood: in this era, most used red sugar, and white sugar’s production was a closely guarded secret, a true luxury for the elite.
I muttered to myself: Should I make white sugar?
Couldn’t do it.
The Craft of Nature recorded the yellow-mud water-leaching method, pouring muddy water over red sugar to make white sugar.
But in my old world, no one had successfully replicated the “yellow-mud leaching” method—it was a lost art.
I pulled out a silver piece: “Boss, one tael of sugar frost, just one.”
Carrying a kraft paper package, I bought a bamboo tube of burning-knife liquor. Now, the materials for gunpowder were complete.
I walked through the crowd, no longer an outsider but like a Luocheng native out for market day.
…
…
At night, the Heir and Princess Baili, perhaps tired of sneaking out, didn’t climb the wall.
I waited until everyone was asleep, then took the saltpeter-filled bamboo tube to the main hall.
The first step in making gunpowder wasn’t just mixing saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal in ratios—it was purifying the materials.
This was why I believed my gunpowder would outmatch Ning Dynasty’s: their chemistry was underdeveloped, likely unaware of purification, relying on crude methods.
I took a slightly larger clay bowl and carefully placed it over the oil lamp.
Dark Cloud squatted on the counter, tilting its head, meowing curiously: “Chen Ji, what’re you doing?”
I prepared materials, answering: “Before becoming a true Enforcer, I’m making some self-defense tools… Dark Cloud, your hearing’s sharp. If anyone approaches the main hall, tell me immediately.”
I knew this world likely had great Enforcers unafraid of gunpowder—like White Dragon, Heavenly Horse, or Sick Tiger Golden Pig mentioned. If they were fast enough, they could dodge before the explosion.
But I didn’t need to deal with them. Gunpowder was enough.
As I prepared to pour the saltpeter into the clay bowl, a crow flew into the main hall!
Dark Cloud and I froze, exchanging glances but understanding nothing.
Dark Cloud meowed: “Will it tell your Master?”
I quietly closed the bamboo tube, thinking fast. I was making gunpowder, a secret the Ning Dynasty’s Crafts Supervisory guarded with two thousand elite troops.
If anyone caught me collecting saltpeter, I’d be in deep trouble.
Dark Cloud looked at me: “Should I catch it? Kill the bird to silence it!”
The next moment, the crow pointed a wing at Dark Cloud, cawing mockingly.
Dark Cloud, indignant, leaped to grab it, but while Dark Cloud was fast, the crow was faster.
Two dark blurs darted around the main hall. With sixteen furnaces ignited, Dark Cloud moved so fast it was nearly invisible.
Yet even at that speed, it couldn’t touch a single crow feather!
This crow, trained with Old Man Yao for who knows how long, had become a spirit!
As I was about to call Dark Cloud back, an aged voice rang out: “Enough! It’s the middle of the night, no one’s sleeping, causing a ruckus?”
I froze, turning slowly to Old Man Yao: “Master…”
Old Man Yao glanced at me, then walked to the counter, curiously eyeing the oil lamp, bamboo tube, and clay bowl, sensing something odd.
But even with his vast experience, he couldn’t figure out what I was doing…
He frowned: “Why’d you bring a kitchen clay bowl here?”
I said: “Nothing, Master. I used the bowl to drink water.”
“Oh, is that so…”
As I exhaled in relief, Old Man Yao pulled six copper coins from his sleeve and tossed them on the table.
The coins clattered and settled.
My heart jumped. He might not see what I was doing, but he could divine!
Old Man Yao muttered, reading the hexagram. My heart pounded, like awaiting judgment, unsure what he’d uncover.
Moments later, he shook his head: “Strange, why can’t I see it?”
Then he went to the window, pushed it open, leaned on the frame, and looked at the starry night, chanting: “Great is the Qian origin, all things begin, uniting with heaven…”
The next moment, he spun to face me: “What is so vigorous and domineering!”
Me: Huh?
Old man, do you have a cheat code?!
I didn’t know what the hexagram meant, but “vigorous and domineering” perfectly described gunpowder!
Old Man Yao stared at me: “Didn’t expect you had such skill, making something like this. What’re you doing with it—planning a rebellion?!”
I hurriedly said: “No, no!”
But Old Man Yao said: “You know, if this gets out, you’ll die without a grave? I won’t protect you, and the Ning Dynasty won’t tolerate you.”
I fell silent, unsure of Old Man Yao’s stance. If he reported me, I’d have to flee.
What a pity—I’d just found a foothold in this clinic, thinking I could settle here.
I looked up: “Master, I didn’t mean…”
Old Man Yao cut me off: “Hush money, six taels.”
Me: “?”
…
…
The main hall was dim, cool autumn wind blowing through the window, making the oil lamp’s flame flicker, casting shifting shadows on my face.
“So all that talk was just for hush money?” I asked sharply.
“Not quite,” Old Man Yao said leisurely: “I’m not after money—I’m saving your life.”
I said, pained: “Do you know how much six taels can buy?”
Old Man Yao stroked his beard: “I know. It can buy you setting up a ladder for Princess Baili.”
Me: “…”
He knew everything, even matching the exact amount of two toll fees!
Old Man Yao sneered: “This is my clinic. The Heir and Princess pass through here—why shouldn’t the toll go to me?”
I said: “But I put in the work! I set up the ladder!”
Old Man Yao turned back to his room, dragging out a bamboo recliner, placing it in the corridor between the main hall and courtyard: “I’ll keep watch for you. That’s work too. Pay me six taels, and you can do your thing safely. With me guarding, no one will find out.”
The massive bamboo recliner, in the hands of the ninety-two-year-old, was light as a toy.
Me: “…It can work like that?!”
Old Man Yao ignored me, firmly extending his hand: “Silver peanuts.”
Reluctantly, I pulled six silver peanuts from my sleeve and slapped them into his hand.
Old Man Yao, chuckling, tucked them into his sleeve, humming a tune as he lay on the recliner, closing his eyes: “Follow the law, worry daily; defy it, sing nightly…”
I watched him in silence, at a loss for what to do with this old man.
Finally, I gritted my teeth: “Master, don’t say I didn’t warn you—take the money, and you’re an accomplice!”
Old Man Yao scoffed: “Threatening me? You’re still green. I’ll see what you can make.”
I said no more, adding white water to the clay bowl, heating it over the oil lamp until it reached about seventy-five degrees.
Without modern thermometers, I knew water at eighty degrees bubbled at the bottom. When bubbles appeared, I removed the lamp, waiting five minutes for the water to cool to my desired temperature.
I added saltpeter and wood ash in an 8:1 ratio to the bowl, stirring slowly with a bamboo stick for a quarter-hour, then filtering through rice paper.
Old Man Yao, unnoticed, stood beside me, watching intently.
I ignored him, boiling the saltpeter water again until only a third remained.
I removed the lamp, focusing as the thick liquid in the bowl cooled.
When it dropped below armpit temperature, I took a drop with the bamboo stick and dabbed it on the counter.
The drop met the cool counter and instantly formed a transparent crystal, like water turning to ice!
Old Man Yao’s eyes widened.
I let out a long breath: It worked!
…