Mythical Version of Three Kingdom

”Small glass items can be handled by Lord Xuande’s small glass kiln. The proper glass materials should be produced in the official kiln. This way, we avoid giving the scholars any leverage,” Chen Xi suggested.

What exactly are these scholars? In the past, this group indulged in a life of luxury, discussing philosophy, playing music today, and drinking wine tomorrow. But ever since Chen Xi realized that these scholars were indeed capable—albeit more concerned with reputation than holding office—he decided to give them something to do.

He assigned them the task of criticizing and pointing out issues in governance. They were to speak up for the common people who didn’t dare to voice their concerns. After all, these scholars had good moral conduct, though their behavior was sometimes eccentric.

Because of this, they were given the authority to provide suggestions and supervise the government. The result was that, when they couldn’t find any major issues among the people or when their problems were minor and resolved quickly, they would turn their focus to the ruling class and create sensational news.

The last time these scholars had nothing to do, they stirred up a major scandal against Yuan Shao, leaving him in an embarrassing position. Chen Xi didn’t want the same kind of scandal to occur on their side.

Chen Xi’s words made Liu Bei feel a bit awkward, as the distinction between public and private kilns wasn’t clearly defined when the glass kilns were first established. Only now, with Chen Xi’s reminder, did Liu Bei realize that this was no longer an unregulated environment.

”Then I’ll use my private kiln for making round mirrors. Zichuan, I seem to recall that you had a glass kiln as well. Which one was it?” Liu Bei asked, tilting his head.

”Did I?” Chen Xi looked up at the ceiling.

Who would remember such small details? But when Liu Bei mentioned it, Chen Xi vaguely recalled that he probably did have one back when the first batch of kilns was constructed. After all, some of the kilns back then were privately owned, though there were no formal documents or land deeds. In those days, who paid attention to such things? Of course, even now, no one would question whether Chen Xi had one or not.

”I remember you had one in the first batch of kilns. Do you recall which number kiln it was?” Liu Bei pondered aloud.”It was the first batch that produced tea trays, cups, and teapots. There were only a few finished products, and we went together to check them out,” Liu Bei reminisced, with Chen Xi nodding in agreement.

”I remember now. It was kiln number two. During the first firing, the whole batch turned out to be waste. I recall you even saying, ‘Good thing it wasn’t my glass kiln, or I’d have lost all my investment,’ only for the workers to later report that your number two kiln was also full of waste.” Liu Bei laughed heartily.

”Yeah, that did happen...” Chen Xi admitted, somewhat unsure. After all, he had often delighted in others’ misfortune. ”Well, let’s use kiln number two to make large glass sheets, turn them into mirrors, and sell them all to cover household expenses.”

”I’ll purchase them then, and you can rest assured about the price, Zichuan. Unfortunately, the defect rate is just too high,” Mi Zhu sighed. While these products were easy to sell, especially mirrors—after Mi Zhen saw one, she never wanted a bronze mirror again—the problem was the high defect rate.

”There’s nothing we can do about it. The technique isn’t advanced enough. For now, we just rely on the artisans’ instincts. As long as we can still make a profit, we should keep going. These things are made from sand, after all. Selling one round mirror can cover all the production costs,” Chen Xi said nonchalantly.

”White porcelain is also made from clay, but it’s the technique that turns something ordinary into something valuable. No one says, ‘Since it’s made of clay, sell it at the price of mud,’” Mi Zhu retorted, dissatisfied. ”We’ll need to fire more of them.”

”That’s your domain, so you can decide how much to produce, Zizhong. Just don’t let the market collapse under pressure. Also, get the artisans to work on different colors. We’re not ready to mass-produce this yet, but we should be preparing the technology for when the time comes,” Chen Xi added, giving a few more instructions. Although they knew this was a monopolized business, they weren’t in a rush to profit from it at the moment.

After discussing some other matters, everyone dispersed. Chen Xi and the others were already used to the opulence of Liu Bei’s new mansion. It no longer felt like when it was first built, and they didn’t know where to settle. Habit, indeed, is a powerful force.

As Chen Xi arrived at the entrance of his own home, a white blur darted out from the door, and he quickly sidestepped to avoid it.

”Woof woof~” The little white dog barked a few times at Chen Xi, then darted back inside at an incredible speed.

In that brief moment, Chen Xi noticed something unusual. The normally all-white fur of his dog, Hum-Hum, had a few streaks of blood, and there was even a patch where the fur was missing. But recalling that the dog had likely fought off some bandits last night, Chen Xi didn’t think too much of it. He was about to call Hum-Hum over for a bath, but the dog had already run back inside, clearly in a hurry.

Ever since being taken in by the Chen family, Hum-Hum had become more controlled, although there were still occasional incidents like running through walls by accident. It had also learned to ingratiate itself with those it needed to.

”Uncle Chen, nothing unusual happened today, right?” Chen Xi asked as he entered, greeted by his steward, who was waiting as usual.

”Master, the tree you planted was knocked down by Hum-Hum just a while ago,” the steward said, bowing his head so that his expression couldn’t be seen, though it probably wasn’t a pleasant one.

”Was anyone hurt?” Chen Xi asked, puzzled. ”It’s been a while since this sort of thing happened. Did fighting last night get it all worked up?”

”A chicken from General Hua’s next door became sentient and flew over. Hum-Hum spent the whole morning chasing it, and the tree was knocked down during that time. No one was injured, but Madam was startled. General Hua’s steward already came by to apologize,” the steward explained, still bowing his head.

”Cook that chicken for soup at lunch,” Chen Xi said indifferently. ”It’s just a chicken. Taishan has tens of thousands of them. When you have that many, it’s inevitable some will develop internal energy. But it dared to fly into my courtyard?”

”Master, that chicken is quite formidable. It scratched Hum-Hum’s back, drawing blood, and even pecked off a chunk of flesh, which is why Hum-Hum was so persistent,” the steward replied helplessly.

”Get an archer to take it down, and we’ll have it for soup at lunch for Lan’er,” Chen Xi said, pausing for a moment before realizing that, with over a million chickens, it wasn’t a big deal if one or two reached the Refining Qi into Steel stage.

”Woof woof woof~” ”Cluck cluck cluck~” The sounds of a chicken and dog fight drew closer, and then both animals suddenly appeared in front of Chen Xi.

”...” Chen Xi glanced at the steward beside him, feeling awkward. ”Why didn’t you tell me the chicken was this big?”

Previous Chapter | | Next Chapter