Uncle Liu and Liu Xiaowen were busy buying sweet potatoes, while Aunt Liu and Zhou Ger handled the training on how to make the sweet potato noodles.
All the hired workers had pressed their thumbprints to an agreement. Making sweet potato noodles wasn't hard—after watching once, they'd understand most of it, and they could easily make it themselves at home afterward.
But if everyone started making their own once they saw the profits, what then?
The factory would have been built for nothing.
With the thumbprints in place, if anyone leaked the method and got caught, not only would they have to pay compensation—their whole family would be thrown in jail.
That was a harsh punishment—who would dare?
If it were just a fine, that wouldn't work, because later, if sweet potato noodles proved to be profitable, a fine of a thousand or so taels wouldn't mean much to anyone—they could just make it themselves and earn that much in a few years.
But the whole family thrown in jail—that was severe. Even if the sweet potato noodles ended up making a fortune, no one would dare harbor any shady ideas.
When it came time to press their thumbprints, some people hesitated.
They wanted to go home and discuss it first. But others from the same village pressed theirs without a second thought.
What was there to discuss? If a person worked honestly and didn't harbor any crooked ideas, pressing that thumbprint was no different from not pressing it at all—nothing would come of it. But if someone did have ill intentions...
Everyone pressed quickly and cleanly. They just wanted to work honestly, earn some money, and make life easier for their families. They didn't want any of those other schemes.
No matter how profitable it was, they wouldn't do anything bad. They had this good life now because of the prefect—it was his factory. They couldn't do anything to betray him.
Besides, going against an official—they wouldn't have dared even if they'd borrowed ten times a dog's courage.
Everyone pressed their thumbprints, and even those who'd wanted to go home and think it over ended up pressing theirs too.
Everything was going smoothly on that end—Zhao Ger didn't have to worry about a thing.
---
Over at the paper mill, stockpiles had been building up. A third of the warehouse was now full, and most of it was toilet paper—there was hardly any writing paper to speak of.
Since the factory was built, not a single sheet of paper had been sold, and not a single copper coin had found its way into anyone's pocket. The workers were getting anxious, and Zhang Fan felt the same. He went to find Fang Zichen.
"My lord," he said, "when are we going to ship our paper out and start selling it?"
Others didn't know, but Zhang Fan did — that toilet paper would sell. He liked it himself. It made for such a clean, comfortable wipe that people would definitely be willing to buy it.
But the prefect hadn't put any of it on the market yet, just kept telling them to keep making more and more. The workers were worried.
What if it doesn't sell?
If no money comes in, this job probably won't last much longer.
Sell?
Sell what, exactly?
Everyone around here was poor. Right now, the villagers could barely fill their bellies. A cleaning stick cost nothing—they could just pick one up from the mountain for free. But toilet paper cost money. Who would spend their hard-earned coins on that?
They could take it to the county town to sell, and surely some people would buy it, but probably not many. Fang Zichen had other plans.
"Just keep the workers going and don't worry about anything else. If anyone should be worried, it's me! What are you getting all worked up for?"
Seeing that Zhang Fan still seemed to want to argue, Fang Zichen patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry. Once I get the word out about this stuff, the little bit we have in the warehouse won't be nearly enough to meet demand. Your top priority right now is making paper—make paper, make lots and lots of paper."
Zhang Fan: "······"
"Alright," Fang Zichen shooed him off, "if there's nothing else, hurry on back. I've got to go take the kids out for some fun!"
Zhang Fan took the hint and left.
Fang Zichen took the three children out to pick flowers.
It was just the beginning of spring, but the hillsides and field ridges were already turning lush green—a scene full of spring vitality. Some flowers had already burst open impatiently, tiny little blossoms dotting the sea of green grass. The early-spring swallows had also flown back.
Gungun and Dandan spotted the swallows darting through the air and started chirping and chattering along with them.
Zhao Ger walked beside them, feeling a rare moment of peace.
Fang Zichen was fooling around with Guaizai, holding up a woven basket as if he was about to catch him, while Guaizai ran off laughing, totally carefree and full of joy.
Gungun and Dandan bounced and skipped ahead, following Black Whirlwind. The breeze blowing toward them carried the scent of fresh grass, and Zhao Ger felt that in this moment, life was simply serene.
Gungun picked a flower and ran back hand-in-hand with Dandan. "Daddy, Daddy, here's a flower for you!"
Zhao Ger touched their chubby little faces. "You're such good kids."
Beaming with pride, Gungun and Dandan giggled.
The men working in the fields heard the laughter and looked over. A family of five, chatting and laughing together—it was enough to make anyone envious.
The men envied Fang Zicheng—he had power, influence, and money, his husband was capable, and his children were well-behaved. For a man to live like that, he'd truly lived a full life.
The women and gers, on the other hand, envied Zhao Ger. After all, which wealthy official didn't take three wives and four concubines? But their prefect had only one fulang. It wasn't that no one had entertained improper thoughts—it was impossible not to. Fang Zichen had everything. Even setting everything else aside, just his looks alone were enough to drive anyone crazy.
Lately, everyone had been troubled. At first, they'd all been happy that the prefect had settled in their village—it gave them a strange sense of pride.
But later, they'd wanted him gone. Why? Because recently, the village's young women and gers had stopped wanting to get married.
A matchmaker would come to the door. The mother would ask about the young man, and the matchmaker would say, "Oh, he's so hardworking! Such an honest fellow! His family has thirteen mu of land, only one brother, four big thatched rooms in the yard, and three hens out back. A real catch! Sister, I wouldn't lie to you—go ask around about Niu Family's eldest son. Everyone gives him a thumbs-up. It's only because we're close that I came to you first with this match."
Not bad at all.
After the matchmaker left, the mother went inside and told her daughter. The daughter frowned and pouted. "Mother, don't listen to the matchmaker's nonsense. They can talk the dead into living and the living into dead. You know Ge Dan from our village? The matchmaker went to the next village to find him a match and told them he was drop-dead gorgeous. But look at Ge Dan—is he handsome?"
"Oh, but this Niu Family's eldest son really is good. I've heard people say so too."
"How good? As good as Lord Fang? If he were like Lord Fang, then I'd marry him."
"You don't know how the world works yet. Right now you're just taken by looks. Can a handsome face put food on the table?"
"Handsome is handsome, no matter what. If he's good-looking, I'd even live in a thatched hut with him."
Every time a match was discussed, Fang Zichen got brought up.
At first, the mothers would scold their daughters and gers for saying such things. But then one day, they ran into Fang Zichen on the road. They'd always known he was an extraordinarily handsome young man—striking to the eye. But now, for some reason—maybe because spring had arrived—they took a closer look, and good heavens, even their old faces flushed.
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