Zhao Hanzhang held her head and cooed, "Uncle, we still haven’t found the craftsmen to build the book office and the book office itself..."
Zhao Ming said, "I have already sent a letter to Luoyang, so wait for news."
He continued, "Impatience can spoil things. If it comes, it’s our good fortune; if not, it’s our fate. Let’s not force it."
Zhao Hanzhang: "Then I’ll have someone research how to print books. It’s a pity I don’t have many craftsmen on hand..."
Zhao Ming: "The clan doesn’t have any artisans who can print books either, but I can give you two carpenters."
Zhao Hanzhang knew when to stop.
After handing over the papermaking workshop to Zhao Qing, Zhao Hanzhang became a hands-off shopkeeper, while Fu Tinghan stayed behind to work with the craftsmen to refine the papermaking process and experiment with more formulas.
Initially, he had no intention of getting involved again. He already knew the steps of papermaking, and it was just a matter of trying different things one by one.
Yet, after seeing that the craftsmen were adding materials based on intuition during their experiments, Fu Tinghan couldn’t stand it and had to stay to help them with calculations.
Then analyze the reasons for the differences in the paper produced and adjust the formulas based on the data.
However, since making pulp takes time, he wasn’t very busy. He just needed to calculate the data and hand it to the craftsmen to experiment according to the formula.
Once finished, he returned to the county government, walking habitually along the road outside the city.
It was winter now, and there were almost no people outside, making it very quiet. The snow on the ground began to slowly collapse, not looking as nice as it did before.
On such a silent road, he liked walking back as if he was taking a stroll. In such moments, his mind would be very clear, allowing him to think of many problems he couldn’t solve while sitting down.
They ranged from mathematical issues, life problems, to certain information about this era.
Fu Tinghan walked slowly back, and Fu An and the coachman had become quite used to following him around these days, dutifully trailing behind.
It wasn’t until he reached the city gate that he got on the carriage and returned to the county government.
Fu Tinghan went to the backyard of the county government but was stopped by the approaching Chang Ning, "Mr. Fu, someone from Wushan has arrived."
Only then did Fu Tinghan turn into the county government, "Is Hanzhang not in the county government?"
"Miss Zhao has gone to train the soldiers."
Only then did Fu Tinghan remember it was an odd-numbered day, and she went to train soldiers every odd-numbered day.
Fu Tinghan went to see the person from Wushan.
The ones who came were soldiers from a centurion, tasked with escorting iron blocks to the county city. In addition to the iron blocks, there were also two long boxes.
The centurion insisted on seeing Zhao Hanzhang or Fu Tinghan and refused to hand them over.
Chang Ning did not push and waited for either of them to return.
As soon as Fu Tinghan arrived, the centurion knelt on one knee and presented the two boxes, "The item you requested has been completed."
Fu Tinghan took it, feeling its weight almost cause him to drop the box.
He placed the box on the table and opened the longest one; inside was that familiar sword, with the sheath unchanged.
Fu Tinghan picked it up, feeling its slight weight. As he drew a part of it out, the cold gleam of the blade was apparent, and even if he didn’t know much about swords, he could tell this was a fine sword.
Chang Ning saw it and was amazed, "Is this the sword of Miss Zhao?"
Fu Tinghan nodded, and seeing Chang Ning eagerly looking over, he drew the sword for him to see.
Chang Ning carefully took it and admired it, exclaiming, "What a fine sword! But its luster doesn’t seem like ordinary iron. What was added?"
"Steel," Fu Tinghan pondered and then slashed it towards the corner of the table, slicing through the hard tabletop as if it were tofu.
Chang Ning’s eyes immediately widened, and even Fu Tinghan was somewhat surprised as he hadn’t exerted much force.
Chang Ning clutched his chest, saying, "This, this is a divine weapon."
Fu Tinghan leaned closer to inspect the blade and after a moment, smiled, "Lu Tiejiang truly deserves his reputation as the best blacksmith in Xiping. This sword is crafted excellently."
He instructed Fu An, "Go fetch some money to reward Lu Tiejiang."
Only then did Fu Tinghan sheath the sword and proceed to open the other box.
Inside were two spearheads, both flashing with a cold light, and their luster alone revealed they were made of the same material as the sword.
Fu Tinghan reached out to take a spearhead, only for his fingertip to get cut as soon as it made contact.
He pulled his hand back quickly, and Fu An exclaimed, "Sir, you are injured."
"How did you get injured?" Zhao Hanzhang walked in briskly, looking efficient.
Fu Tinghan pressed his finger, "It’s nothing, just a small cut by accident."
Zhao Hanzhang took his hand to look and saw the blood slowly oozing out, frowning slightly. She pulled out a handkerchief to press on it, "Doesn’t it hurt? How did it get cut?"
Fu Tinghan glanced at the spearhead in the box, "This spearhead is very sharp. You should be careful when you use it in the future."
Zhao Hanzhang looked down and saw the spearhead shaped like a prism, its cold silver light reflecting. She instantly liked it.
"Did you design this?"
Fu Tinghan nodded, "It still lacks a spear shaft. I’ve asked Mr. Ji to procure chestnut wood. Having watched you practice martial arts, I have a preliminary understanding of your strength points. Later, you can find some people to test it, and I’ll watch and create a spear tailored for you."
Zhao Hanzhang hadn’t expected him to be so thoughtful. She thought he would have left everything to the blacksmiths.
She opened her mouth, paused, then asked, "Wouldn’t that be too much trouble?"
Zhao Hanzhang looked at his hand, wrapped in the handkerchief, and closed the box, tossing it into Fu An’s arms. She clasped her hands over his to apply pressure to the wound, "Come, I’ll take you to see the doctor."
Fu Tinghan quipped, "But there’s a sword..."
Zhao Hanzhang freed a hand to grab it, pulling him along to find the doctor.
The doctor opened the handkerchief under Zhao Hanzhang’s worried gaze, staring blankly at the wound.
Seeing no response, Zhao Hanzhang leaned over to look, "How is it? Is it severe?"
The doctor, expressionless, said, "It’s quite severe. If Miss Zhao had brought Mr. Fu Dalang over any later, the wound would have healed."
Fu Tinghan felt a bit embarrassed.
Zhao Hanzhang looked and saw that the wound was already not bleeding but still red. She hurriedly asked, "Don’t you have any ointment? The kind that makes him heal faster, Mr. Fu Dalang needs to write, and the wound is exactly on his forefinger. It hurts to hold a pen."
The doctor wanted to throw the couple out of the clinic but dared not; Zhao Hanzhang was the biggest authority in Xiping County now. He reluctantly took out a porcelain bottle and handed it to Zhao Hanzhang, "Just apply a little. Actually, if you don’t, it shouldn’t hurt after a while either."
Zhao Hanzhang didn’t believe it, "This finger isn’t like other places; it’s more sensitive. Plus, writing is a delicate task, and with the injury there, how could it not hurt?"
Fu Tinghan no longer wanted to stay and stood, urging her, "Let’s go back quickly."
Zhao Hanzhang had to help him and let Fu An pay the bill.
He felt helpless. Miss Zhao usually never calls for a doctor when she falls or gets hit, never complains. Why, then, was she so anxious when Mr. Fu merely got a small cut?
He, as a servant, was only slightly surprised initially, but compared to her, he felt he was much more collected.