Just as Clara was about to speak, Manager Wu quickly cut in, "Don't tell me you're counting on next spring again. Who knows if business will still be this good by then?"
"You're sitting on a massive order, you know," Manager Wu shot Clara a glare, clearly irritated. "Once that batch gets out, every corner will be building a watermill!"
Clara wasn't offended. She finished off the rest of her sweet fermented rice soup in one gulp, then beckoned to him mysteriously.
"What?" Manager Wu looked at her suspiciously. "A man and a woman shouldn't be so close—this is broad daylight and you…"
Clara couldn't take his fussiness anymore. She grabbed his head and yanked it toward her, whispering in his ear:
"That batch is headed south. It has nothing to do with Willowridge County. I can tell you with full confidence: right now, in all of Willowridge County, yours is the only privately owned watermill."
Manager Wu had been scowling, but the moment he heard that, a gleam lit up his eyes. He brushed off Clara's hand from his collar and asked with suppressed excitement, "Are you serious? You better not be bluffing!"
Clara nodded earnestly and began running the numbers for him.
"Look here, your location is excellent—accessible from all directions, right next to the main road. Sure, you're still lacking a bit in reputation, but give it two months and everyone in town will know about you. Those big families in the city have plenty of grain and carts…"
"Here's the plan: listen to me, place another seventeen sets to make it a nice round number. I promise to have them installed before the twelfth month. When spring comes next year and the flood of orders arrives—tsk tsk—you'll be raking it in!"
Manager Wu had to admit—he was tempted.
After all, his original goal was to get in early and cash in on the first wave.
Clara's lips curved slightly as she added another spark to the fire. "If you're aiming to build something big, you've got to move fast. Right now, my village has the exclusive. You place your order now, and the rest will have to wait till after the twelfth month. A mill of this scale, from site selection to full operation, just think about how long that takes."
"I'm headed to the other side of the county anyway. Just thought I'd stop here first as a courtesy to an old acquaintance."
She shrugged, the picture of someone with sales pouring in already.
Seeing Manager Wu hesitate, Clara waved her hand. "I'll leave you to it, then. Think it over."
She still needed to return the bowl.
"Where are you headed now, Clara?" Manager Wu called after her, a little anxious.
Clara casually pointed south. "Just wandering—seeing if anyone else wants to order a watermill."
Manager Wu snorted, clearly annoyed, and called her back.
He looked at the baskets lined up for queueing, gritted his teeth, and said, "I'll take it!"
Clara smiled and gestured for him to wait. She returned the bowl first, then came back.
Pulling out her homemade notebook, along with a small brush and inkstone she'd bought just for this, she added a drop of water, ground the ink, dipped the brush, and began writing rapidly. Seventeen sets of small watermill combinations, total cost, deposit, both parties' names and addresses—all neatly recorded.
"All done. If everything looks good, press your fingerprint here." Clara pulled out a pouch of red ink, stamped her own print first.
Seventeen sets, fifty-one taels total—Clara waived the extra coin, rounding it down to fifty. The deposit was thirty percent: fifteen taels.
Manager Wu glanced at it and winced from the pain.
Clara kept smiling. She knew he had money to spare.
That mill of his charged four coins an hour. Over the past two months, he'd earned more than five taels already.
And now with the autumn harvest underway, the mill was practically running day and night. In two more months, he'd recoup his investment.
Where else could you find a business that paid for itself in four months?
Clara made it sound like a goldmine, and Manager Wu was itching to grab it—but fifty taels in one go still wasn't something to take lightly.
Seeing him still frozen, Clara nudged him, "It's not like Willowridge County only has one river. You've got five or six sons and sons-in-law—why not open a chain?"
She was starting to get impatient. This was eating into her time when she could be finding new customers.
She had practically laid the path to riches in front of him—what was there to hesitate about?
Noticing Clara's growing irritation—and moved by that tantalizing phrase "chain store"—Manager Wu took a deep breath and pressed his fingerprint.
"Wait here, I'll go get the deposit." He took a few steps, then turned back. "You know what, come with me—it's too much hassle running back and forth."
"Sure." Clara packed away her tools and followed him to his home.
The fifteen taels were handed over ceremoniously. Manager Wu suddenly understood what gamblers must feel at the table: anxious, curious, worried—but also thrilled!
Clara reassured him she'd have the order delivered by the twelfth month, no matter what.
Now that the deal was done, Manager Wu had no choice but to trust her. But one glance at the busy mill by the river brought him some comfort.
Clara hadn't expected to land such a big order on her first outing. In high spirits, she bought 2.5kg of good meat and two big pork bones from the butcher to treat herself.
On the way back, she passed a fruit stall selling small greenish-yellow pears.
She'd had one at the clan head's house before—it was sandy, juicy, and sweet.
Without hesitation, she bought a kilogram to take home. It had been a long time since she'd had proper fruit.
Most native varieties these days tasted wildly different from the cultivated ones of the future.
Peaches were hard and bland. The dates—maybe it was the soil—weren't sweet either. The flesh was spongy, like chewing on wood chips.
Even bayberries were mostly sour. Don't even think about big black plums. Here, a bayberry the size of a fingernail was already considered good.
But villagers said that the peaches eaten by nobles in the capital came from heaven's Jade Pond—big and sweet.
Clara suddenly remembered that gourd of bitter melon seeds she had. They looked exactly like watermelon seeds—but she had no idea if they'd grow sweet and red.
She vaguely recalled a biology class from her past life: the big, sweet, red watermelons of today were all results of years of selective breeding.
The original watermelon? Not sweet, not red, not even particularly juicy.
But who cared? At this point, Clara's philosophy was simple—if it's edible, it's good enough!
She rode back home with her saddlebags full, slapped the order down in front of Carpenter Liew, startling the man.
Clara grinned. "Seventeen small sets. Deliver by the twelfth month."
She noted the fifteen taels of deposit into the account ledger and left two big bones for Doreen, who was cooking lunch. "Use these to give everyone a nice extra dish."
Then she took the rest of the meat and fruit home to spoil herself.
Being the boss meant she could do whatever she liked!
Carpenter Liew looked at the order, then at her retreating figure on horseback, and nearly wept with envy.
Woodworking was complicated. It wasn't like grinding stone, which was straightforward. His team leaders weren't even fully trained yet—who knew how long before he could be as free and easy as Clara?
Clara, oblivious to his envy, sat at her doorstep nibbling on a pear, enjoying the view and waiting for lunch.
Wait a second—what day was it again?
August 1st.
Wasn't it about time that layabout Lester got back?
(End of Chapter)
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