Chapter 343: The Threshold of Industrialization

The Cen clan of Tianzhou and the Cen clan of Sichengzhou were of the same lineage. About twenty generations ago, they had been one family, but later split into two branches, each governing independently. Tianzhou and Sichengzhou sat right next to each other, and since the split, the two branches had been in conflict for over twenty generations, constantly vying with each other at every level.

Now, at this critical moment when they were vying for the Xia King's favor, naturally each side wanted to trip the other up.

Cen Maoren's face flushed red, and he hastily roared: "Don't you dare slander me! Are your own hands clean? While Pu Mingsheng raised his troops, you overstepped your authority and seized three village stockades in Guangnan Prefecture—did you think I wouldn't find out?"

Cen Yunhan roared back in fury: "I was settling displaced refugees and sharing the court's burdens!"

"Hah, whether you were sharing burdens or grabbing territory, you know best in your own heart!"

Cen Yunhan stepped forward and said through gritted teeth: "Truly the thief crying 'stop thief'! Do you think I'm weak and easily bullied?"

Cen Maoren also stepped forward and said: "What? You want a one-on-one duel, or shall we line up our armies and settle it? I'll oblige either way!"

Cen Yunhan was the chieftain in Guangxi most deeply influenced by Confucian learning, and his level of culture was not far off from that of a degree-holding scholar. He first glared viciously at Cen Maoren, as if he wanted to slice him into ten thousand pieces.

Then his gaze gradually softened, and a smile crept onto his lips: "Borderland barbarians love to slaughter wantonly, treating the court's laws as nothing! Under Ming rule, no one could rein you in. But now under Great Xia rule, with the King himself present, you won't get away with your insolence. Once the King arrives, I will report your shameful deeds in full!"

Cen Maoren sneered: "The King is wise and discerning, seeing through everything—how could he fall for your poisonous words? We'll await the Xia King's judgment!" The minor chieftains in the hall had expected to see a bloody feud between the great clans, but instead it had turned into mutual threats and accusations. They all exchanged bewildered looks, utterly stunned. If chieftains were this law-abiding, they would never have earned the reputation of being unruly and untamable.

Just then, a squad of personal guards surged into the hall, and Lin Qian entered and took his seat.

All the chieftains rose and, according to the size of their power, automatically arranged themselves into two rows on left and right, then knelt and performed the ritual kowtow.

Kneeling rites were extremely common in the Ming dynasty. As officially court-appointed officials, chieftains had to kneel not only before princes and kings, but even before governors-general and grand coordinators, or any ordinary superior officer.

It was only toward the end of the Ming that the court's power waned and it lost control over the chieftains, and the kneeling rites began to relax—some chieftains would perform perfunctory salutes before their superiors, or even refuse to kneel at all.

However, the kneeling rites had their own gradations. The simplest was one kneel without a kowtow; the more formal was one kneel with three kowtows; for major occasions it was three kneels with five kowtows; and the most solemn—the rite for an audience with the Emperor—was three kneels with nine kowtows.

Most chieftains performed one kneel with three kowtows and then rose. Only Cen Yunhan knelt down again and meticulously performed another three kowtows, seemingly determined to complete the full three kneels and nine kowtows.

Lin Qian helplessly pressed his forehead and said: "Please rise. Great Xia does not practice the kneeling rite. After this, you may all simply salute with clasped hands."

Unexpectedly, Cen Yunhan remained unmoved, kneeling as he said: "The King is the sovereign, and I am his subject. Three kneels and nine kowtows are proper ritual—ritual must not be lightly abandoned." Having said this, he solemnly completed all three kneels and nine kowtows before slowly rising, his expression grave and reverent.

Back when Zhu Xieyuan had sent men to summon him, this Chieftain Cen had refused to meet the messenger and answered with arrogance, insufferably haughty. Now here he was, more meticulous in ritual observance than a Han pedant. The other chieftains who witnessed this all secretly thought it a truly bizarre sight.

Seeing this, Cen Maoren cursed inwardly: bootlicker, hypocrite, base scoundrel, social climber!

At the same time, he steeled himself and knelt down as well, intending to make up the missing two kneels and six kowtows.

Seeing this, the other chieftains followed suit, kneeling down in a straggling fashion. The scene was momentarily quite comical.

Lin Qian said impatiently: "All of you, rise!"

"Yes!" Hearing the displeasure in the King's voice, the chieftains all rose crisply and stood at attention with bowed heads.

This was the ritual for an audience with the Emperor. From Lin Qian's position, he could only see a mass of topknots, unable to tell who was who.

Lin Qian said again: "All of you, raise your heads."

Some chieftains obeyed. Cen Yunhan, who knew more of these matters, remained bowed and said: "Your subject dare not look directly upon the royal countenance."

The chieftains who had raised their heads silently thought "oh no" and lowered their heads again.

Lin Qian said, half laughing and half crying: "Great Xia has no such rules. Raise your heads."

Hearing this, Cen Yunhan and the rest of the chieftains finally raised their heads together.

Lin Qian's gaze swept across them one by one. He saw that the chieftains standing closer to the front were the more Sinicized ones. Cen Yunhan at the very front wore a Ming-style official robe, indistinguishable from an ordinary Han civil official.

"You are of the Cen clan of Sichengzhou?" Lin Qian asked.

"Your subject Cen Yunhan pays respects to the King!" Cen Yunhan clasped his hands and spoke with righteous vigor. In his every gesture and bearing, he actually displayed more of the scholar-official's demeanor and spirit than Scholar Zhou.

Lin Qian then asked the names of several more chieftains. Though their ritual forms were imperfect, every one of them had bright, piercing eyes with a look of utter sincerity beneath.

Lin Qian asked the chieftains why they had come.

Cen Yunhan stepped out of the ranks, clasped his hands, and said: "I report to the King: now that the court is deploying troops in Yunnan and Dian, we, as court-appointed officials and subjects of Great Xia, are precisely at the time when we should exert ourselves for the court. We beg the court to permit us to join the army and go into battle!"

Lin Qian said: "I appreciate the good intent, but the southwestern forces are already sufficient."

Cen Yunhan was just about to speak when Cen Maoren cut in: "Your Majesty, I... if your subject goes to battle, I will supply my own provisions and pay, adding not a single coin of burden to the court, nor would I dare ask for rewards. I seek only to repay the nation. I beg the King to grant this!"

Lin Qian could not help but chuckle softly. Everyone said chieftains were unruly and untamable, but looking at them now, these men were almost too tame—every one of them loyal and praiseworthy. Cen Yunhan gave a cold laugh and said: "You want to send troops? I wonder whether you'd be suppressing the rebellion or aiding it. Your Majesty, this Cen Maoren harbors treacherous designs. From the very beginning of Pu Mingsheng's uprising, he used the Youjiang waterway to ship large quantities of weapons and supplies to Pu Mingsheng. I beg the King to investigate!"

Cen Maoren said: "Indeed, that is true. But your subject did it to weaken the Ming court. After Pu Mingsheng wrought havoc in Guangxi, your subject cut off all contact with him.

Your subject has also brought the illicit funds from dealings with Pu Mingsheng—a total of over twenty-three thousand taels of silver—along with the account ledgers of our transactions, not a single entry missing. I beg the King to verify." Having said this, Cen Maoren actually pulled an account book from his bosom and handed it to a guard, who passed it to Lin Qian.

In this era, silver in the southwestern region was extremely valuable. Over twenty thousand taels was a small sum to Lin Qian and to Great Xia, but to the southwestern chieftains it was an astronomical price.

Back in the day, when the Yongzheng Emperor bought back chieftain powers, the one-time massive compensation had been only a few thousand taels per chieftain.

Lin Qian was casually flipping through the pages when he heard Cen Maoren say: "Your subject also wishes to report to the King that Cen Yunhan secretly harbors seditious ambitions. While the court was fighting the Yunnan rebels, he sent troops to occupy three village stockades in Guangnan Prefecture, expanding his power with treacherous intent!"

"Your Majesty! Your subject has long since handed over the three villages of Duoshui, Zhehelong, and Linjinli to General Qin, withdrawing all stationed troops."

Cen Yunhan said with complete self-righteousness.

"These three places are villages along the Yunnan-Guangxi border. When the war broke out, many Yunnan refugees flooded into Guangxi through these three villages, causing unrest within Guangxi. Your subject, to stabilize the border, sent troops to occupy these three villages—only to pacify the people, not to seize territory. The moment the court's main army arrived, I handed them over. Your subject's sincere loyalty, I beg the King to see clearly."

"Hah." Lin Qian let out a light laugh.

The two chieftains who had been arguing fiercely both stopped, not understanding what Lin Qian meant.

Lin Qian understood perfectly well in his heart: these chieftains had done bad things, and they had certainly prepared these speeches long in advance.

When the court pressed them, they would spit out their gains and claim they had been loyal to the nation.

When the court did not press them, they would line their own pockets and quietly rake in fortunes.

In the final analysis, whether a chieftain was loyal or treacherous depended entirely on how strong the court was.

Great Xia had now deployed heavy forces in Guangxi, so the chieftains all came to play the humble grandson. But once the Yunnan campaign was over, they would immediately revert to being local emperors. Even if they did not openly rebel, secretly breaking laws and defying regulations would be unavoidable.

To settle the matter once and for all and pacify the region completely, the court would have to implement the policy of replacing native chieftains with regular officials.

And that policy required both an exchange of interests and a show of overwhelming force, working in tandem.

Thinking of this, Lin Qian smiled with an inscrutable air and said: "You have all done different things, but you are all loyal ministers—there are no treacherous ones here." The chieftains were startled for a moment, then clasped their hands together and said in unison: "The King is sagacious."

Lin Qian rose and walked out the door, saying: "Follow me."

Lin Qian left the government compound and walked all the way to the riverbank, with the chieftains following behind in utter bewilderment. Even after boarding a boat on the Yu River, the chieftains still did not know where they were going, nor did they dare ask—they could only follow in silence.

The boat sailed downstream for about a dozen li until it reached Pumiao Town, under the jurisdiction of Yongning County. This town had a tributary of the Yu River flowing from south to north, named the Bachijiang River.

The river flowed at a steady rate with a large volume of water, and the difference between the dry and wet seasons was minimal—it was precisely the kind of river best suited for waterwheel power.

Before they even reached the town, everyone could see two enormous waterwheels over a zhang tall standing by the banks of the Eight-Chi River, driven ceaselessly by the current. Their low, rumbling roar was clearly audible within three li.

Beside the waterwheels, a continuous line of earth-yellow stretched along the riverbank—a low rammed-earth city wall.

The waterwheels connected through wooden axles to the workshops and the wall, running all the way into the city.

On his entire journey to Nanning, Cen Maoren had seen many such waterwheel-powered workshops, but one wrapped in a rammed-earth wall was a first for him, and he was deeply curious.

Drawing closer, they could see the workshops had their own dedicated dock, densely packed with small wooden boats and rafts, most of them loaded with sun-dried tea seeds.

Combined with the extremely rich aroma of tea oil near the factory complex, it was clear this was an oil-pressing workshop.

Nanning's climate and soil were well-suited for growing oil-tea trees, and the trees were not picky about terrain—they could grow even on hillsides. Moreover, once mature, an oil-tea tree could bear fruit for over eighty years, requiring only simple care each year to harvest, earning them the reputation of "iron-rice-crop" plants. Thus every household had a few mu of oil-tea groves. Every year after Frost's Descent came the golden harvest period for oil-tea trees; the trees ripened across the mountains and fields, tea seeds piled up like mountains in the markets, and it was also the best season for oil-pressing workshops' business.

Frost's Descent had just passed not long ago, so the boats were carrying this year's first batch of tea seeds.

Presumably, the Xia King had seized the right moment to establish this oil-pressing factory.

The chieftains exchanged glances, unable to hide the smiles in their eyes.

They had thought the Xia King's secrecy meant he would display military might, or show off some remarkable jewels or ceremonial vessels—they never expected just an oil-pressing factory. Greatly disappointed, the chieftains secretly mocked the Xia King as no better than a country bumpkin from the southeastern coast, thinking the oil-pressing trade was something impressive. In reality, oil pressing was pure hard labor with razor-thin profits. Nanning's vicinity produced tea oil and tung oil in abundance, driving oil prices extremely low, and the wages oil farmers paid to pressing workshops were pitifully small.

Moreover, tea seeds did not store well—if harvested before Frost's Descent, they had to be fully pressed into oil by March of the following year, or they would go moldy. So oil-pressing workshops could only operate for half the year in practice.

Tea oil also did not keep well; it had to be hot-pressed, sealed in jars, and stored in cellars to survive.

Therefore, if pressing prices were too high, oil farmers would rather let their tea seeds rot than take them to be pressed.

The Xia King wanting to squeeze money from oil pressing and compete with the common folk for profit—he truly had lost his sight and blackened his heart.

At the dock, soldiers came forward to question them before allowing the party to disembark. The factory gates opened, and Song Yingxing was waiting at the entrance.

His official post in Great Xia was Observing Clerk of the Construction Directorate—in plain terms, he had no fixed position and was moved wherever he was needed.

Over the past half year, Great Xia had invested most heavily in research on mechanical transmission devices. Coincidentally, the campaign into Yunnan had greatly increased demand for rear-area production capacity, so Song Yingxing had been stationed in Nanning, responsible for this workshop's design, and was now the perfect guide.

Lin Qian led everyone inside, with the chieftains following behind in a mood of watching a good show.

The moment they entered the factory complex, they could hear tremendous clanging sounds—the impact of stone hammers against wooden wedges, the signature noise of an oil-pressing workshop.

Between the different workshops, workers pushed wheelbarrows carrying dried tea seeds, and the ground was covered in oil footprints of varying depth. In areas with dense footprints, the ground had been trampled black and shiny.

Everything was exactly like any oil-pressing workshop—just larger in scale, with more workers, and those two conspicuous waterwheels. Cen Yunhan remarked as he walked: "Since ancient times, oil pressing has been bitter labor. Your Majesty's use of waterpower to replace manpower is an innovation of boundless merit." His blatant flattery made Cen Maoren roll his eyes.

Waterpower for oil pressing—what kind of innovation was that? Pressing oil required men to strike the wedges with force; waterpower was too weak, only good for crushing the oil cakes. The final pressing step still needed human labor—not even oxen or mules could replace it.

A less sinicized minor chieftain directly sneered: "Relying on waterpower to press oil—if one dan of tea seeds yields eight jin of oil, we should thank heaven and earth." Normally, one dan of tea seeds should yield fifteen jin of oil; eight jin was less than half. The implication was that relying purely on waterpower would bleed them dry.

Cen Yunhan turned and rebuked: "Short-sighted! The oil cakes can feed war horses—the more oil left in them, the fatter and stronger the horses. His Majesty is planning for the long term!"

This gave Cen Maoren a new angle for flattery, so he immediately added: "The oil cakes can also fertilize fields—truly killing two birds with one stone." "Hahaha..." Lin Qian walked at the front, amused to hear the two "great scholars" arguing over apologetics on his behalf.

As they spoke, Lin Qian led everyone into the oil-pressing workshop, from which the tremendous clanging originated.

The moment the chieftains saw the interior, their heated debate instantly fell to dead silence. Everyone wore expressions of having seen a ghost, eyes wide, unable to utter a word for a long time.

Inside the workshop, four horizontal wedge-type hydraulic oil presses stood in a row.

Their structure was identical to ancient pressing methods: a thick hardwood log about two zhang long was hollowed out in the middle, tea seed cakes placed inside, with a stop plate and wooden wedges at the other end. A suspended stone block served as the ram, striking the wedges to squeeze out the oil.

The terrifying part was that no one stood at the ram—only a few workers were responsible for adjusting the machinery, placing wedges, and aligning the ram's angle. No burly men wielded hammers, no human arms exerted force—the ram moved entirely on its own.

"Thump—thump thump"

The rhythm of the strikes never faltered. The ram's blows landed with heavy force, shaking the thick hardwood log slightly as the wedges were driven in inch by inch. The tightly packed round tea seed cakes inside the log contracted slightly under the immense pressure.

Clear tea oil seeped out slowly, flowing along collection channels into thin streams, dripping without a single drop lost into iron buckets below. The oil in the buckets accumulated higher and higher, glowing with translucent gold, the nutty fragrance of tea oil filling the air.

The ram struck back and forth, and tea oil flowed without end.

All four presses operated together in steady rhythm, the entire process flowing like water—no breaks, no drinking water, no wiping sweat—filled with the orderly beauty of industrial production.

"Th-this, this... this..." A minor chieftain looked at the presses, then at the others, unable to form a coherent sentence for a long while.

Cen Maoren was also startled into a cold sweat. He stole glances at Lin Qian, wondering privately whether this Xia King possessed some kind of magical power.

Cen Yunhan, however, stared at the gears, bearings, and connecting rods in the workshop for a long time, discerned the mechanism, and said in disbelief: "This is... driven by waterpower? Water has that much force?"

Lin Qian smiled and said: "Clerk Song, please introduce it."

Song Yingxing stepped forward with a beaming smile: "Yes, Your Majesty. Ahem... As you gentlemen can see, the Eight-Chi River oil-pressing workshop harnesses water as power, transmitted through gears, connecting rods, and eccentric wheels to drive the hammer's motion. The principle is the same as the barbarians' hydraulic forging hammers—except our mechanical system far surpasses theirs!"

After saying "far surpasses theirs," Song Yingxing's face was full of pride, and he paused with theatrical effect.

Then he explained in detail: "Just now this chieftain asked where water gets such great force—an excellent question.

As you all know, in mechanical operation, total power is constant; the lower the rotational speed, the greater the torque. So through our gear system, we reduce speed and increase torque. The gear system has three stages in total, with the specific transmission ratios being..."

"Ahem, ahem..." Lin Qian coughed dryly twice and shot Song Yingxing a glare, saying, "You're being too academic. Just give the production figures." Song Yingxing suddenly understood—this mechanical transmission system was top secret and could not be casually revealed. This was the first time the workshop had received foreign guests since its completion, and he had no experience with it.

Fortunately, Song Yingxing was academic enough that everything he said was professional terminology—and these terms had all been coined by Lin Qian himself. Anyone not trained in his system couldn't understand them, so there was no risk of leaking secrets.

Just then, one press finished a batch, and the workers stopped the hammer.

Song Yingxing asked for a piece of oil cake, held it in his hand, and explained: "We've done calculations—with a press this size, using human labor to press oil takes four hours, with an oil yield of twelve percent.

In other words, one dan of tea seeds yields fourteen and a half jin of oil, or fifteen jin at best.

With our hydraulic press, the pressure is even and the strikes continuous—it takes only two hours, with an oil yield of fifteen percent.

That means the same one dan of tea seeds yields eighteen jin of oil.

Faster pressing, higher yield!"

As he spoke, he opened the gauze wrapping around the oil cake. The tea seeds inside were extremely compact, looking dry and shriveled—when he broke it apart with his hands, it crumbled into pieces.

Cen Maoren took the broken cake fragments, rubbed them between his fingers, and said in surprise: "Truly dry and shriveled—no residual oil left."

Cen Yunhan snorted coldly and jabbed: "Too bad its fertilizing ability is somewhat weak."

Cen Maoren refused to back down: "Then war horses eating this won't gain much fat either."

Cen Yunhan countered: "War horses can also eat the oil sediment—the more oil pressed, the more sediment there is, and the horses can still grow fat and strong."

Oil sediment was the residue that settled at the bottom of the oil buckets after pressing.

Seeing the two about to continue arguing, one chieftain changed the subject: "Then how much tea oil can this place produce in a day?"

Song Yingxing said, "With four oil presses running simultaneously, we can produce eight hundred and sixty catties of oil in a single day.

Ancient manual oil-pressing workshops can't operate all day—people need rest—but water-powered oil workshops require little manpower and can run in three shifts. Factoring that in, daily output efficiency is a full ten times that of ancient workshops!

If the raw materials never run out, from Frost's Descent to the end of March next year, we can produce a total of one hundred and thirty thousand catties of oil. Per-capita output is nearly a hundred times that of ancient workshops." All the chieftains were already stunned by these heaven-defying figures.

This output had already reached thirty percent of Guangxi's total tea oil production, equivalent to the combined tea oil output of three Nanning Prefectures.

Lin Qian continued, "The eighty-thousand-catty output is limited by raw materials, not by machinery, manpower, or power.

In other words, as long as there are enough tea seeds, we can keep adding oil presses—ten, a hundred, a thousand. However much oil you want, that's how much we can press. From now on, on this land, every single oil-tea tree, every single oil-tea seed on it, must be pressed clean and dry!"

Lin Qian was clearly talking about oil-tea seeds, yet his gaze swept across the chieftains, and his tone carried a chilling coldness.

The chieftains all caught the implication and were so frightened they didn't dare breathe too loudly.

A court's strength could broadly be divided into two kinds—one was military, the other economic.

Great Xia pacified all of Guangxi in three months, then annihilated the entire Huang clan of Siming Prefecture, and in less than half a month after entering Yunnan, made the generation's overlord Pu Mingsheng lose his head. Such military power was already unprecedented and unmatched, leaving the chieftains afraid to make any move.

Now, having witnessed the prosperity of Nanning's commerce and the ingenuity of its water-power applications, they were even more sincerely convinced.

Unfortunately, these chieftains' horizons were too narrow—they hadn't seen the true power of Great Xia's mechanical transmission systems.

Gears existed as early as the Spring and Autumn period, and dragon-bone waterwheels appeared in the Eastern Han. Using water power for labor was hardly a Great Xia original invention.

Since the Wei and Jin dynasties, inventions like linked water mills, water-powered grinders, water-powered pestles, water-driven square-pallet pumps, and water-driven tube wheels had emerged in an endless stream.

Why did most of these inventions get lost as history progressed?

Because the vast majority of them weren't practical.

Those ancient gears were mostly pure wood structures—low hardness, poor impact resistance, prone to deformation when damp, extremely fast wear—and they were all handmade. Replacing one small gear meant inviting a craftsman over for half a day of repairs. After a year of such trouble, maintaining the waterwheel cost more than just using livestock.

Moreover, ancient gear tooth precision had enormous errors, no unified standards, and huge transmission losses. Hand-carved straight teeth were rough, lacked scientific tooth profiles, had large meshing gaps between gears, and suffered severe impact and wobbling during rotation, wasting sixty to seventy percent of energy. So they could only handle simple tasks that didn't rely much on gear transmission, like waterwheel supply.

There were also fine gears, but most could only handle light loads of a few dozen catties—pretty to look at but weak, usable only for astronomy and delicate instruments, not heavy work. Great Xia's gears had long ago unified their tooth profile parameters, with an approximate involute curve that reduced transmission losses while also decreasing gear wear. Behind this was theoretical support from Civilization University, material technology from Fo Ye, and tolerance standards and precision measuring tools from the Standard Workshop. Simply put, this entire system—though it still looked like wooden gears creaking and groaning—was actually propped up by an industrial foundation, built on a mountain of manpower and resources.

To build such a workshop, all the previous arrangements were indispensable.

Never mind letting these chieftains see it with their own eyes—even if you took every craftsman in the entire factory and dropped them into another era, they couldn't replicate it.

After years of accumulation, Great Xia's technology had reduced transmission system energy loss to thirty-five percent, controlled minimum tolerances to within 0.5 millimeters, incorporated embedded circulating lubrication oil channels, and made gears and bearing shells standard parts that could be interchanged with one another.

This mechanical system was replicable, mass-producible, had unified standards, could run continuously, and had complete supporting equipment. If a steam engine actually existed right now, they could modify the waterwheel and hook it right up.

This was the truly heaven-defying part of the entire transmission system.

Comparing Great Ming's crude machinery with Great Xia's was like comparing handicrafts with industrial products.

Unfortunately, the chieftains couldn't see the true value of the mechanical system, and even if explained, they wouldn't understand. Considering the risk of leaking secrets, it couldn't be discussed in too much detail either.

The chieftains merely marveled that the oil pressing produced so much, could save plenty of labor costs, and that the river water was really powerful.

Only Lin Qian sighed inwardly—starting from this workshop, Great Xia had truly touched the threshold of industrialization.

No one else could understand this feeling. He supposed this was the loneliness of a king.

After an awkward moment of silence among the chieftains, Cen Yunhan spoke up: "Your Majesty, with this oil-pressing workshop, tea oil can be sold far away in Fujian and Guangdong along the Yu River and the Pearl River. The national treasury gains yet another new source of revenue. Truly cause for celebration."

This was another stiffly forced piece of flattery.

But Lin Qian said with a puzzled look, "Who told you this is an oil-pressing workshop?"

Yahei

Pink Round

Pen