Chapter Fifty-Five: Scheming and Strategizing

“This essay, ‘The Words of Youth,’ is something you must remember always. If you wish to be strong and independent, you must start now—do not wait, do not rely on others. The opportunity is already in your hands. You hold the key to changing your own fate. The elderly often dwell on the past; the young are always thinking of the future. Do not let your youth slip by idly, only to regret it in vain! ‘If the young do not strive, in old age they will have only sorrow.’ I hope you will come to understand these truths in time. That’s all for now—dismissed!”

Unconsciously, Zhen Qian felt as if he had returned to those days standing on a sales platform, delivering passionate speeches that even moved himself. Yet, seeing the bewildered faces of the children before him, he truly wondered how much of his words would take root—only heaven could know.

“Zhen Er…” He could not help but want to laugh each time he said the name. Forcing himself to keep a straight face, he said, “You’ll stay here for some time. You’re responsible for security, and you’ll train these children in archery every day. If any display a real knack for it, teach them closely. But most importantly, make a habit of scouting the surrounding area. Get to know the terrain well, just in case. Do you understand?”

Aye Naye replied awkwardly, “Understood… Godfather.”

Being called “godfather” by someone older than himself made both Aye Naye and Zhen Qian feel awkward. Zhen Qian hurriedly found an excuse, “I’m going to the Qin family, and will be there all day. I may not see you off, so I’m entrusting things here to you.”

“Alright,” Aye Naye replied, this time omitting “godfather.”

Zhen Qian turned and saw Wang Qun standing in the distance. Smiling, he walked over. “Let’s go find Carpenter Lu.”

Carpenter Lu’s family lived in a separate bamboo house and was very satisfied with the environment and conditions. Upon hearing Zhen Qian planned to build two waterwheels here, he and his son had risen early to search for timber. Seeing Zhen Qian and Wang Qun approach, he greeted them, “Building waterwheels will require some iron and copper. Shouldn’t you prepare some in advance, Zhen Lang?”

“Whatever iron and copper you need, write a list for the Wang family here—they’ll help you procure everything.” As Zhen Qian spoke, he drew several sheets of paper from his chest, spreading them on a nearby stone. “This is a four-wheeled carriage design I drew last night. Previously, we brought goods in using two-wheeled carts, which not only had a low capacity but were also dangerous on these mountain roads. So I’ve narrowed the carriage, reducing the turning radius and increasing maneuverability. Carpenter Lu, do you see any issues?”

Without drafting tools, Zhen Qian had sketched a passable diagram of the four-wheeled carriage—more like a pencil study, with cross-sections of crucial parts. The rough sketch had a strange charm.

“This is…?”

“A four-wheeled carriage—unlike the usual carts, it has two extra wheels. The weight is distributed through shock absorbers to all four wheels, and a steering mechanism is added to the front axle, so there’s no risk of tumbling down the cliffs on sharp mountain bends…”

Zhen Qian had expected his blueprint to shock Carpenter Lu, but seeing only thoughtful contemplation on his face, he realized things might not be so simple.

Carpenter Lu asked stiffly, “You drew this design, Zhen Lang?”

“Is something wrong?” Zhen Qian felt a bit dissatisfied at the lack of praise and the odd tone.

“It’s nothing, only I find it curious that you could draw such a blueprint.” Carpenter Lu eyed him oddly, then said slowly, “Four-wheeled carriages have existed since ancient times, but the designs have long been lost. The shock absorber and steering mechanism you mention are indeed clever. Did you see these in some lost ancient scroll?”

Zhen Qian was taken aback. So Carpenter Lu knew of four-wheeled carriages too. In his memory, such things were rare in ancient China—far more common in ancient Europe. Even in murals or scrolls—like Along the River During the Qingming Festival—four-wheeled carriages were just modified two-wheeled carts, able only to move forward and back, barely able to turn, and with no shock absorbers.

There were many reasons for this, but one was inescapable: the low status of craftsmen. Passenger carriages were barely valued.

It occurred to Zhen Qian that perhaps he had misunderstood four-wheeled carriages. Historians had often noted that, with rough roads, four wheels were not always more convenient than two. With stagnant technology, many good things were lost to time; the real reasons are lost to history.

“But is there any difficulty?” he asked.

Carpenter Lu shook his head, then nodded, “Building a four-wheeled carriage isn’t hard. But have you considered the cost and future maintenance?”

This, of course, had not occurred to Zhen Qian. “What do you mean?”

Carpenter Lu gazed at the diagram. “This carriage looks simple and compact, but it’s actually quite complex—especially the shock absorbers and steering system, which are the key. If you really want to build it, the cost will be three times that of an ordinary two-wheeled cart. Are you sure you want to proceed?”

If he hadn’t known the history of carriages, Zhen Qian might have abandoned the idea then and there. Building a four-wheeled carriage at triple the cost of a two-wheeler—when two-wheeled carts are simple, easy to maintain, and can even be pulled by people in the absence of horses—made it clear why four-wheeled carriages had never become widespread.

Yet Zhen Qian knew their advantages—greater speed and capacity—and on these winding mountain roads, his own experience with the Qin family proved their worth. A two-wheeled cart could haul five or six hundred catties at most, with crowds straining to push and pull. Only in an age of cheap labor did this make sense. A four-wheeled carriage could carry four or five times as much. With two or three such carriages, transport between the Qin family and Zhendin would be more than sufficient. Fewer people involved, fewer leaks of information.

If a problem can be solved with money, it’s not a problem.

Having listened to Carpenter Lu’s objections and warnings about the cost, Zhen Qian realized it wouldn’t be easy, but he was resolute. “Don’t worry about the price. Just tell me—can you make it or not?”

Carpenter Lu grinned, “If you insist, then of course it can be built. But you should be aware: driving a four-wheeled carriage is different from a two-wheeler. The driver should be specially trained.”

Seeing Carpenter Lu so confident, Zhen Qian was momentarily stunned. He’d expected resistance or harsh demands, but Carpenter Lu agreed at once. He had underestimated the man.

This first encounter ended in Zhen Qian’s defeat. His all-night effort on the blueprint had only surprised Carpenter Lu for a moment; the shock absorber and steering system were no obstacle. Whether or not he’d seen their like before, they posed little difficulty for him.

“I hope to see the prototype of the first four-wheeled carriage in a month. Now, come with me to the Qin family—they may need your help with something.”

The three of them went together to Qin Hao’s bamboo house. Qin Hao greeted them with a broad smile and immediately summoned his weaving and woodworking masters. He got straight to the point: “This is Zhen Lang, an honored guest of the Qin family. He has some tasks for you, which are also Qin family business. His words are as good as mine.”

Zhen Qian looked up at the two craftsmen, whom Qin Hao introduced as Master Yan and Master He. One was around forty, the other past fifty. Both regarded him with solemn faces and a hint of puzzlement, but asked nothing—their curiosity piqued by his youth and Qin Hao’s respect.

Zhen Qian wasted no words. “Master Yan, you’re the weaving artisan. I’ll skip the pleasantries—you know why you’re here. The bamboo groves around the Qin family are too valuable to waste. I’d like you to make some products for me. Here are the designs I’ve drawn—please take a look and ask whatever you wish.”

Master Yan, his hands covered in scars, took the papers. Master He and Carpenter Lu leaned in curiously. Each, after a glance, looked at Zhen Qian with a different expression—Carpenter Lu nodded and stroked his beard, muttering under his breath; Master He appeared bewildered, eyes clouded, lost in thought.

The more Master Yan read, the more excited he became, finally standing up, mouth agape, voice trembling, “You came up with all these, Zhen Lang?”

“They’re nothing special—though I fear they’ll be difficult to craft. I’ve also designed some simple tools to help with the work, and will need Master He’s assistance to make them.” He handed more pages to Master He. “Handwork is slow. These tools will speed things up. See if you have any questions.”

Qin Hao, not knowing what was being discussed, hurried over to look. He saw product names written on the pages: bamboo mats, bamboo chairs, bamboo trays, bamboo baskets—all familiar, yet clearly different from the usual items, more refined and intricate. He couldn’t help but ask, “Zhen Lang, why are these bamboo mats made from little squares? And these chairs—each one looks so strange. Will anyone buy them?”

Zhen Qian was about to reply when Carpenter Lu interjected, “These ideas are certainly extraordinary, Zhen Lang, but don’t worry about finding buyers. If they can be made, the wealthy will surely compete to own them. The real concern is the difficulty of manufacture—who knows how many can be produced in a year?”