Song Yingxing slurped down a bowl of mi fen and felt his entire soul stabilize in place.
This journey had been long and punishing, filled with dry rations and northern flavors that never quite agreed with his tongue, and now, all of a sudden, in Gao Village Family of all places, he was eating proper southern rice noodles. The moment the broth hit his throat, he almost wanted to weep on the spot like a homesick scholar who had finally reunited with civilization.
For a brief moment, he spiraled into poetic melancholy, reminiscing about the south, about rivers and mist, about flavors that did not try to assault him with blunt force.
Just as he was halfway through this emotional detour, a mother and her son walked into the shop and sat down at the table beside him. It was Gao Sanniang and Gao Sanwa.
They ordered two bowls of mi fen.
Gao Laba quickly prepared the dishes and brought them over. However, instead of returning to the counter, he casually pulled up a stool and sat beside Gao Sanwa, leaning in with the kind of expression that suggested trouble.
"Sanwa, good timing. Help your Uncle Laba calculate the accounts for the past three days, will you?"
Gao Sanwa grinned without hesitation. "No problem at all."
Gao Laba handed over his account book.
The moment it opened, Song Yingxing, sitting nearby, sucked in a sharp breath.
This… this thing could even be called an account book?
There were no proper characters, no structured entries, no dates, no clear numbers. It was entirely composed of drawings.
Sell one bowl of noodles, draw a circle. Sell two bowls, draw two circles. Buy a sack of rice, draw an oval. Buy chopsticks, draw a bunch of lines. The entire page looked like a confused child's doodle after eating too much sugar.
Song Yingxing's scholar brain immediately issued a silent protest.
How in the world was anyone supposed to make sense of this chaos?
Meanwhile, Gao Sanwa had already taken a brush and begun writing calculations on a separate sheet of paper. Numbers and symbols flowed out in quick succession, addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, all lined up in a method that looked nothing like traditional abacus work.
In barely any time at all, he finished.
"Uncle Laba, over the past few days, your expenses were one thousand five hundred thirty two wen, and your income was three thousand two hundred thirty two wen. That means you made a profit of one thousand seven hundred wen."
Song Yingxing froze.
His eyes drifted, almost against his will, toward the sheet of paper Gao Sanwa had used.
What he saw there made his brows knit tightly together.
These symbols… he did not recognize them at all.
Yesterday in the county seat, he had already been ambushed by a child casually discussing things that sounded suspiciously like advanced natural philosophy. Now here in Gao Village Family, another child had just flexed a completely alien method of arithmetic right in front of him.
For the first time in a long while, Song Yingxing felt pressure.
Real pressure.
The kind that made a learned man question his entire educational foundation.
This place… this Gao Village Family… was not normal.
Not normal at all.
---
Early the next morning, Song Yingxing was rudely awakened by a strange rhythmic noise.
"Wuuu! Kuang chi kuang chi!"
He sat up abruptly from the plastic bed in the inn, stretched, and pushed open the window.
Then he saw it.
A massive, brightly colored vehicle, long like a crawling beast, rumbling away into the distance.
Song Yingxing's pupils contracted.
His two servants burst into the room from next door, faces pale with panic.
"Master, Master! A monstrous vehicle just passed by outside, making terrifying noises. It is extremely suspicious."
Song Yingxing steadied himself and frowned, though his voice carried forced calm.
"What are you panicking for? It must be some kind of machine built by Gao Village Family. Everything here follows principles. As long as we study it carefully, we will eventually understand how it works."
The two servants exchanged glances, then reluctantly suppressed their fear.
Song Yingxing stepped away from the window and stroked his chin.
"Today, I should visit the school and request a few books to study. But I cannot go empty-handed. What should I bring as a gift?"
The servants looked awkward.
"We have nearly exhausted our travel funds along the way. We cannot afford anything presentable as a gift."
Song Yingxing frowned deeply.
That was indeed a problem.
---
The three of them went downstairs. Song Yingxing intended to ask for directions to the school, and just then, he noticed a cloth shop beside the inn.
He stepped inside.
The moment he entered, he paused slightly.
The shopkeeper was a young woman.
She was not stunningly beautiful, but she carried a gentle and refined air. It was obvious she was educated, yet she did not have the reserved stiffness typical of official family daughters. Instead, she greeted customers openly and naturally.
"Sir, what do you need? We have high-quality cotton cloth, ready-made garments, and we can also tailor clothes to your measurements. The prices are very reasonable."
Song Yingxing narrowed his eyes slightly.
This woman… why did she give off the faint aura of a courtesan?
His instincts were sharp.
He was correct.
This woman was Chunhong, one of the four courtesans Li Dao Xuan had bought out in a decisive sweep. Under Gao Yiye's arrangement, she had been assigned to return to Gao Village Family and manage the cloth shop.
Under her management, the business had transformed.
Previously, everything had been chaotic, with messy accounts and inefficient operations. Now, everything was orderly and thriving. The women of the village would purchase cotton from the village warehouse, weave cloth at home, then bring it here to sell, or take custom tailoring orders.
Their income had increased significantly, and with it, their standing within their households had quietly risen.
Song Yingxing spoke politely, "My apologies, I am not here to buy clothes. I would like to ask, how do I get to the school?"
Chunhong smiled and pointed.
"Head in that direction. You will see a large five-story building with white walls, very neat and bright. That is the school."
Song Yingxing nodded. "Thank you, miss."
He turned to leave, but at that exact moment, another woman entered the shop.
It was Gao Sanniang, whom he had seen the previous night at the noodle shop.
Behind her, two workers carried in a battered, half-broken loom.
The moment she entered, she spoke anxiously.
"Shopkeeper Chunhong, something has gone wrong. My weaving machine broke down. I brought it here. Can you help me find someone to repair it?"
Chunhong nodded calmly.
"That is simple. I will contact the workshop and find a carpenter to take a look."
Before she could finish her sentence, Song Yingxing suddenly moved.
He stepped forward in two quick strides and arrived beside the loom, examining it closely from every angle. After a moment, he shook his head.
"This kind of loom is already outdated. There is no need to repair it."
Gao Sanniang blinked, caught off guard.
"No need to repair it?"
Song Yingxing nodded with certainty.
"The efficiency of this loom is too low. In the Jiangnan region, this design has already been phased out. If you can afford it, you should have a new one made."
Gao Sanniang hesitated. "Have a new one made?"
Song Yingxing's expression grew confident.
"Yes. I will draw you a design for an improved loom. Take it to a carpenter and have it built according to the diagram."
Without waiting for a response, he pulled out paper and brush on the spot and began drawing.
This move stunned both Gao Sanniang and Chunhong.
Who was this man?
Drawing a loom blueprint on the spot, just like that?
Was he bluffing?
Unfortunately for their skepticism, Song Yingxing was not bluffing at all.
He was the real deal.
Every component of the latest Jiangnan looms was already etched into his mind. Reproducing it was merely a matter of transferring memory onto paper.
The brush moved swiftly.
Lines formed structure. Structure formed mechanism. Mechanism formed an entire working design.
In a short while, a complete and advanced loom blueprint appeared on the paper.
Of course, using plain paper meant certain fine details could not be fully expressed, so he added written annotations to clarify the construction.
After blowing gently to dry the ink, he handed the paper to Gao Sanniang.
"Take this to a carpenter. If there is anything they do not understand, they can come ask me. Once it is built, if you do not know how to operate it, you may also come find me."
Gao Sanniang accepted the paper with both hands, still slightly dazed.
Who is this person?
Should I trust him or not?
At that moment, however, Song Yingxing's mind had already settled.
Earlier, he had been troubled about what gift to bring to the school.
Now he knew.
He would offer his knowledge.
He would give what he knew in exchange for what he did not.
A fair exchange. A proper scholar's etiquette.
His back straightened. His aura sharpened. Confidence surged back into place like a general reclaiming lost ground.
"School," he muttered softly.
"Here I come."
Trivia: Rice noodles, mǐfěn are a classic comfort food for southerners in China. In Jiangxi, Hunan, and Guangxi, each region has its own version. For someone like Song Yingxing, a Jiangxi native, this wasn't just food — it was nostalgia.
Trivia: In Ming-era etiquette, presenting a "meeting gift" jiànmiànlǐ , was an important show of respect. Scholars often offered books, essays, or crafted objects instead of money — symbolic of sharing intellect over wealth.