Chapter Twelve: The Weaving Workshop

For ordinary villagers wishing to join the chicken farm, all that was required was a bit of their time. Only eighteen households volunteered to dig for earthworms; the lackluster enthusiasm stemmed from the fact that there was no pay for this work at the outset. To them, it seemed more worthwhile to spend their time gathering wild vegetables instead.

As for the eighteen who did sign up, their true motive was to curry favor with Zhao Hengyi in hopes of joining the hunting team; they saw their labor as an investment in goodwill, even if it meant working for free. Zhao Hengyi hadn’t even told the old village chief yet, but once the chicken farm was up and running, these eighteen families would hold a forty percent share in it.

However, when it came to digging the worm pit, the able-bodied men of the village were eager to get involved—after all, they were promised a meal and a copper coin for each day’s work. Zhao Hengyi decided to have a huge pit dug directly on the chosen plot; the bottom and sides were lined with stone, and then he filled it with rich, leaf-mulched earth, completing the task in one go.

The hunting party had sold their mountain haul for a handsome price, so Zhao Hengyi pocketed a good sum of money and grain, enough to comfortably cover the chicken farm’s initial investment.

“Husband, Sixth Aunt wants her loom modified too. I didn’t dare give her an answer,” Miao Xiaoyu mentioned casually over dinner. While Zhao Hengyi was up in the mountains, Sixth Aunt had been keeping her company and had long coveted the improved loom.

“Go ahead and help her,” Zhao Hengyi agreed after a moment’s thought. He knew that once Sixth Aunt learned something, it would only be a matter of time before everyone in Yushu Bay knew as well. There was no point in trying to deceive oneself.

This loom incident taught Zhao Hengyi a valuable lesson: whatever one does, do it thoroughly—or not at all.

From that day forward, Zhao Hengyi became busier than ever. By day, he worked with Zhang Daniu making new hand crossbows; by night, he labored over the new looms with his less-than-skilled hands, trying to build models with four spindles. He couldn’t yet manage the eight-spindle design.

Since news of the new loom had already leaked, Zhao Hengyi figured he might as well make several, hoping to bring all the women of Yushu Bay into his enterprise. If everyone was tied together by common interests, even the threat of villains would be less terrifying than simply waiting for disaster.

His home soon bustled with activity. He had underestimated the passionate drive of ordinary Dayan folk to improve their lives. Each loom clattered away day and night, and the village women threw themselves into learning, eager not to be outdone by their neighbors.

Eventually, when regular work began, the women organized themselves into shifts—three rotations day and night, fully committed to a booming textile production.

For each loom, Zhao Hengyi paid only six copper coins a day in wages, letting the loom-users decide how to split the earnings. By the standards of his previous life, such a paltry sum would have earned him the title of “Zhao the Skinflint.” But in the Dayan Kingdom, it cemented his reputation as “Simple Hengyi.”

Each shift, Zhao Hengyi provided a proper meal: half rice, half sorghum, and wild vegetables boiled with sesame oil—better fare than most families ate at New Year. Three women to a loom meant each could eat her fill and still earn two copper coins a day, more than the men digging the worm pit. This wasn’t work at all—it was an opportunity!

Soon, nearly every woman in the village was crowding into Zhao Hengyi’s home, clamoring for him to build more looms, nearly driving him mad. In desperation, he enlisted a few villagers with basic carpentry skills to handle the simpler parts, reserving the crucial components and final assembly for himself. Division of labor at last allowed him a moment’s respite.

“Husband, it’s my fault—letting Sixth Aunt see the improved loom. If the Liang family finds out…” Miao Xiaoyu fretted over Zhao Hengyi’s bold leap into textile manufacturing, her family’s past misfortunes never far from her mind.

“Don’t worry, I have a plan,” Zhao Hengyi reassured her. The Liang family weren’t locals—they were among the major cloth merchants from Jiangling Prefecture. They’d learned of the Miao family’s loom improvements only because most of the Miao cloth was sold to them. Yet, since the Liang family had little presence in Dangyang County and hadn’t shown up for over two years, Yushu Bay’s secret was safe for now.

Zhao Hengyi had already devised a plan for selling cloth. The old village chief would personally lead a group to town, selling the fabrics to various merchants and claiming the goods were purchased from other villages, pocketing a tidy profit in the process. Such practices were common in the trade; even if every woman in Yushu Bay used a new loom, their collective output wouldn’t attract undue attention.

Loom parts could be produced by many hands, but not so the hand crossbows.

Except for the crucial iron bar, every other part was crafted solely by Zhang Daniu. Zhao Hengyi suggested he take on two apprentices to help, but Zhang Daniu stubbornly refused, insisting the craft entrusted to him by his master could not be shared with outsiders. Zhao Hengyi could only yield; Zhang Daniu now lived in the smithy, working day and night, determined to equip every member of the hunting team with a hand crossbow before their next foray into the mountains.

With a rare bit of free time, Zhao Hengyi finally managed to build a large bed. Miao Xiaoyu and the six children slept on the new bed while Zhao Hengyi took the old one—but at least he no longer had to sleep on a doorboard!

In the open yard before their thatched hut, several straw sheds were erected to house the looms, lit by oil lamps and torches, running through the night. A new stove was built nearby to ensure hot water was always available, and three people were hired solely for cooking—almost like a factory canteen from Zhao Hengyi’s memories.

“Master, after my shift this morning, I ran into Liu Shuang on my way home. He said… he said…” Liu Shuang’s wife, Sun Xiuying, was a simple, honest woman who’d suffered greatly at the hands of that scoundrel Liu Shuang. Miao Xiaoyu had specially invited her to cook at the workshop.

“Don’t be afraid, Xiuying. Take your time. Has Liu Shuang been beating you again?” Zhao Hengyi, so busy he’d nearly forgotten about that ruffian, felt a surge of anger at the bruises on Sun Xiuying’s face. “From now on, you’ll sleep with Xiaoyu and the others. Don’t leave the workshop. I’d like to see Liu Shuang try to bully you here!”

Perhaps emboldened by Zhao Hengyi’s words, or simply comforted by his kindness, Sun Xiuying lowered her voice and confessed, “I overheard Liu Shuang say… he met some bandits at the gambling den, and he plans to join them in robbing your money and provisions!”

Bandits!

Zhao Hengyi reassured Sun Xiuying, instructing her not to mention this to anyone else, then immediately sought out Old Wu.

With bandits involved, things had just gotten complicated. Those men were cold-blooded killers.

How should he deal with such bloodthirsty wolves? Could he prevail against them?