The idea of liberating women's productivity was not some empty slogan thrown out for effect. In Li DaoXuan's eyes, it was a practical necessity, something that had to be done sooner or later.
War had already taken its toll.
Men died faster than crops could grow, and in times like this, population imbalance was not some abstract statistic. It was something you could feel just by walking through a village. Fewer men in the fields, fewer men in workshops, fewer men everywhere that required strength and labor.
If women remained locked inside their homes, bound by old habits and expectations, then recovery would crawl at a miserable pace.
Li DaoXuan understood this clearly.
Right now, things still looked stable on the surface because he kept feeding the system from above. Grain, materials, tools, all of it dropped in like blessings from the heavens. It worked, but it was not sustainable in the long run.
If one day he stopped, even for a short while, the entire structure would immediately reveal its weaknesses.
After a large-scale war, how many able-bodied men were actually left?
Not enough.
Never enough.
Which meant one thing. If the world inside the box wanted to stand on its own two feet someday, then both men and women had to carry the weight together.
So instead of waiting for desperation to force change, Li DaoXuan chose to plant the idea early.
A little guidance here, a bit of encouragement there, and over time, the mindset would shift. People rarely changed overnight, but seeds, once planted, had a way of growing on their own.
"Yiye, come here."
Gao Yiye, who had just finished speaking with the women at the cloth shop, immediately sensed the call. She did not hesitate. Leaving the lively chatter behind, she stepped out and followed the direction in her mind.
Her path took her toward the school building.
Up the stairs, past the classrooms, and straight to the fifth floor.
The library.
The moment she pushed the door open, the familiar chaos greeted her.
Sheets of paper were scattered everywhere, some piled neatly, most not. Ink brushes lay abandoned in odd corners, as if their owner had been seized by sudden inspiration and forgot they existed. The place looked less like a library and more like the aftermath of a scholarly storm.
Bai Yuan was not here today.
These days, he had begun teaching physics to a group of children who had already finished their basic mathematics. For him, that meant less time tinkering in the library and more time pretending to be a proper teacher.
That left only one person inside.
Song Yingxing.
He was sprawled on the ground, completely absorbed in his work, one hand holding a brush while the other pressed down a massive sheet of paper. His brows were tightly furrowed, and his lips moved as he muttered to himself.
"This is not right… this cannot be right…"
He drew a line, paused, then shook his head.
"No, impossible. The structure would collapse under its own weight. It makes no sense."
Li DaoXuan glanced down from above and could not help but smile.
The thing Song Yingxing was struggling with was obvious.
An electric train.
Of course it made no sense to him. From his perspective, it might as well have been magic disguised as machinery.
"Tell him it runs on divine principles, not physical ones."
Gao Yiye blinked, then obediently relayed the message.
Song Yingxing froze.
For a brief moment, he simply stared at the drawing, as if trying to reconcile everything he knew with what he had just heard. Then, quite suddenly, his entire expression changed.
He slapped his thigh.
"Of course!"
He jumped to his feet, looking both relieved and slightly embarrassed.
"If it is divine, then naturally it does not need to follow the rules of physics. I was thinking too narrowly."
Problem solved.
Just like that.
Human beings had always been remarkably efficient at resolving contradictions when a higher power was involved. If something could not be explained, then the explanation itself could simply be elevated beyond questioning.
It was a very convenient system.
Song Yingxing quickly composed himself and bowed respectfully toward Gao Yiye.
"When did the Saintess arrive? And the Dao Xuan Tianzun as well, I presume?"
Gao Yiye smiled. "We have been here for a while. You were too focused to notice."
Song Yingxing coughed lightly, clearly a bit embarrassed. "I was… somewhat absorbed."
That was putting it mildly.
When he got into this state, the outside world might as well not exist.
"What instructions does the Dao Xuan Tianzun have for me?" he asked, straightening up.
Li DaoXuan did not bother with buildup.
"Do you know how to make Hongyi cannons?"
Song Yingxing paused, clearly surprised by the question.
"I do," he replied after a moment, "but I am not sure why we would need them. For dealing with bandits, our current weapons are already more than sufficient. Cannons are typically used in sieges or large-scale battles."
"Make them anyway," Li DaoXuan said casually. "Treat it as research."
If anyone else had said those words, it would have sounded absurd.
But coming from the Dao Xuan Tianzun, it felt… reasonable.
After all, Song Yingxing himself had spent countless hours building things that had no immediate use, purely out of curiosity.
Without further hesitation, he grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and began to draw.
His movements were swift and confident. Lines flowed across the page, forming structure, proportion, and detail. Before long, a complete design of a Hongyi cannon took shape.
Gao Yiye watched with wide eyes.
"Song Xiansheng… is there anything you cannot draw?"
Song Yingxing shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"These are not my inventions. I am only recording what already exists. There is nothing impressive about copying."
His brush slowed.
"For me, true satisfaction would come from creating something new. Something that did not exist before."
He glanced at the drawing of the train on the ground, his expression turning thoughtful.
"What I truly want to build is that."
"The train."
"If I could recreate it using human methods instead of divine power, that would be… extraordinary."
There was a pause.
"But I cannot find a way," he admitted quietly. "I do not know how to generate enough force to move something so large."
That line caught Li DaoXuan's attention immediately.
So this was where his thoughts had been heading.
Truthfully, the ambition was far ahead of its time.
Even if Song Yingxing grasped the principle, the supporting systems alone would be a nightmare. Rails required iron, and iron required mining on a scale the late Ming simply could not sustain.
But Li DaoXuan was not bound by such limitations.
If iron was needed, he could provide it.
The real challenge was not feasibility.
It was guidance.
If he handed over everything, then Song Yingxing would only become a craftsman who followed instructions. The spark of invention would never truly ignite.
So instead, Li DaoXuan chose a different approach.
He would give him just enough.
A single key.
The rest would be up to him.
Rummaging through his collection, Li DaoXuan quickly found what he was looking for.
A miniature steam engine.
To him, it was just a small toy, something bought casually online. But to the people inside the box, it might as well have been a revelation.
He placed it on the rooftop of the school building.
"Yiye, bring him up."
Song Yingxing followed without question.
The moment he stepped onto the rooftop, his gaze locked onto the object.
To his eyes, it was not small at all. It was a massive, intricate device, complete with pipes, chambers, and a wheel connected in a way he had never seen before.
He walked closer, almost cautiously, as if afraid the thing might disappear if he blinked too hard.
Li DaoXuan poured water into the chamber.
Then he lit the alcohol burner beneath it.
A small flame flickered to life.
Time passed.
The water began to heat, then boil. Steam formed, building pressure within the confined space before rushing through the pipes.
The wheel moved.
At first slowly, then faster, until it spun with a steady, powerful rhythm.
Song Yingxing's breathing grew heavier.
He did not speak immediately. His eyes traced every detail, every movement, as if trying to burn the entire mechanism into his mind.
Finally, he spoke.
"I understand…"
His voice was low, almost reverent.
"When water is heated, it turns into vapor. The vapor expands within a confined space, creating force. That force… drives the wheel."
"Exactly," Li DaoXuan replied.
"And if the steam is stronger, the force becomes greater. If gears are added, that force can be amplified further."
Song Yingxing's eyes lit up.
"That means… it can move something far heavier than any human could."
Li DaoXuan smiled.
"Now you are getting it."
The realization hit like a wave.
Song Yingxing clenched his fists, excitement surging through him in a way he had not felt in a long time.
"I understand," he said again, this time with certainty. "I truly understand."
For the first time, he was not copying.
He was thinking.
Standing at the edge of something new.
Li DaoXuan did not say anything more.
He did not need to.
Sometimes, knowledge was not something you handed over.
Sometimes, all you had to do was open the door.
Whether the person stepped through it… that was up to them.
Chapter Trivia:
County Authority in Late Ming: Local magistrates relied more on influence than force; open suppression often backfired.
"Educational" Projects: Historically, many dangerous technologies entered society labeled as teaching tools to avoid scrutiny.
Women in Skilled Trades: Once women controlled production chains, household authority shifted quietly and permanently.
Bureaucratic Strategy: Praise was often the first move before restriction—not kindness, but positioning.