Chapter 343: The Second Woman Who Knew Zhao Yu Was a Transmigrator

…

The Imperial Academy of Sciences sits at the northwest corner of Genyue Your Majesty Mountain, built along a tributary of the Jinshui River, retaining the traditional Song palace style of upturned eaves and bracket sets, yet infused with elements from the early Industrial Revolution.

Within the vermilion palace walls, iron-framed corridors weave through, copper weather vanes hang beneath glazed tiles, and beside the stone lions at the gate stand two brass gears, each as tall as a man.

Inside the compound, the most prominent feature is the central brick-and-stone chimney, emitting pale gray smoke twenty-four hours a day; inside it are three horizontal steam engines, their brass cylinders wrapped in wooden casings for insulation, piston rods connected to massive gears that turn the Academy's main power shaft, whose transmission devices link to every workshop—the clanking of machinery blending with the hiss of escaping steam.

Besides the chimney, the next most striking sight is the nearby observatory, which preserves the traditional Song-era elevated platform structure, but atop it no longer rests only the Hun Tian Yi—instead, over a dozen high-magnification telescopes are mounted, and below the platform hangs a giant mechanical clock made of gear assemblies, also serving as the morning bell.

On the Jinshui River, the Academy's experimental steamship is moored, its ebony hull fitted with an iron chimney; the crew no longer row, but adjust steam output by turning brass valves, and as the propeller at the stern spins, it stirs up splashes that send yellow orioles fluttering wildly from the riverside willows.

The compound also contains a giant workshop, where craftsmen gather in groups of three or five, each busy with their own tasks.

On the inner shelves sit models of steamships; beside them, shelves hold train models of various shapes; and on a dusty shelf rest models of several airplanes.

At this moment, many craftsmen are clustered around a "car," its body crafted from elm wood, exceptionally large—yet even so, apart from the space for one person to sit, every other inch is occupied by the steam engine.

After Zhao Yu's party entered the Imperial Academy of Sciences, they saw that in the main hall, paved with blue bricks, dozens of redwood tables stood arranged—not with inkstones, brushes, paper, and ink, but with glass beakers, brass balances, and precisely calibrated wooden rulers. Researchers in round-collared lan shirts were manually winding coils around magnets to build the simplest electric motors; beside them, numerous DC motors of varying shapes had already piled up, driven by steam-powered rotating magnets, their copper wires connected to incandescent bulbs beginning to glow and heat.

In the center of the hall hung a brush-written inscription: "Ge Wu Zhi Zhi."

These four characters were written in Zhao Yu's own hand.

Soldiers armed with crossbows or Li Lin's guns lined both inside and outside the compound; their guard was as tight as that of the imperial palace itself, revealing Zhao Yu's high regard for this place.

Upon seeing Zhao Yu arrive, every soldier saluted him immediately.

The researchers who had been frowning at spinning gears and steaming metal devices also hurried to salute him—though some, lost in their work, failed to notice Zhao Yu or didn't react in time; Zhao Yu did not punish them.

Zhao Yu walked straight to the top floor of the main building.

Before even entering, the mingled scent of pine oil and metal rust hit him.

On the top floor, blueprints sprawled across tables and floors: disassembled diagrams of trains, of cars, even rough sketches of airplanes.

In the corner stood three precision machine tools, their cast-iron frames gleaming with freshly cut edges; guide rails still held unpolished brass connecting rods; beside them lay iron filings and broken wooden gears, and stacks of saw blades in coarse porcelain jars reached half a man's height. The metallic hum of lathes rose and fell with the sounds of eunuch craftsmen machining parts.

Some palace attendants held hemp paper to record data, using abacuses to verify steam pressure values, the clack of beads blending with the ticking of brass pressure gauges.

By the window, a long elm table was completely covered: one side held porcelain bowls from the official Song kilns, inside which tweezers and chisels were stuck; the other side held rough calculations scribbled on abacus-derived formulas, dense as celestial script.

In a separate glass room at the center, Ma Xiao Jiao was personally assembling an internal combustion engine—it had reached its final stage.

Inside the glass room, Ma Xiao Jiao, whose chest swelled like two watermelons, crouched half-kneeling before a cast-iron workbench; her gray work pants showed pale wear at the knees, accentuating her sharp waistline. She wore no elaborate hairpin, only loosely tying her black hair with a brass pin, a few strands clinging damply to her forehead, dusted with iron filings, unaware.

Though over thirty, her eyebrows and eyes still held a trace of unshed innocence; as she leaned forward to adjust the engine's piston, her nose wrinkled slightly, like a focused little beast—who could guess she was already a mother of five children, her eldest son sixteen or seventeen?

When she wiped sweat from her cheek, revealing the thin calluses on her wrists from years of gripping tools, a spirit of strength emerged—unfindable in powdered courtesans—this pair of hands could perform delicate experiments and precisely turn wrenches to tighten gleaming brass bolts with perfect precision.

Her work pants pockets bulged, revealing half a scrap of hemp paper covered in parameters; at her feet lay a pair of soft-soled embroidered shoes with scrolling vine patterns, which she had kicked aside as inconvenient, instead stepping into a pair of thousand-layer cloth shoes easy to slip on and off.

At this moment, she tilted her head to listen to the exhaust sound from the cylinder, a faint smile on her lips—not the gentle grace of palace women, but the bright-eyed joy of a child solving a hard puzzle, her eyes shining as if reflecting sparks from the turning engine.

Zhao Yu walked behind Ma Xiao Jiao, unbothered by her greasy filth, and scooped her up in his arms.

Ma Xiao Jiao panicked, shouting: "Wait! My internal combustion engine is about to succeed—just give me a little more time!"

"Work is never finished; you can continue tomorrow."

As he spoke, Zhao Yu slung Ma Xiao Jiao over his shoulder and carried her out.

Ma Xiao Jiao pleaded: "Just give me an hour—even half an hour—I'll succeed for sure!"

But Zhao Yu ignored her entirely and carried her off without pause.

Those in the Imperial Academy of Sciences were used to this sight; whenever Ma Xiao Jiao worked overtime, lost in her research, Zhao Yu would come personally to take her away and force her to rest, never letting her exhaust herself.

In truth, on the way back, Ma Xiao Jiao had already resigned herself—but Zhao Yu made no move to put her down, carrying her all the way to her palace.

Seeing Ma Xiao Jiao carried back again, Xi Duo hurried to arrange her bathwater, prepare dinner, and ready the palace for Zhao Yu to spend the night.

When the bathwater was ready, Zhao Yu himself carried Ma Xiao Jiao into the bathroom and even helped the palace attendants wash her.

Even now, Ma Xiao Jiao complained: "Your Majesty, just give me a little more time—I will surely develop the internal combustion engine. Your Majesty knows, once we have it, our Song's mechanical power will leap forward, no longer limited by the massive size and cumbersome setup of steam engines. The internal combustion engine can be fitted into cars, trains, even airplanes, revolutionizing our transportation with speed and efficiency. Moreover, it can drive all manner of machinery, aiding agriculture and boosting industrial production…"

Zhao Yu listened quietly, washing the grease and iron filings from her body and hair himself.

When Ma Xiao Jiao finished complaining, Zhao Yu said: "A little time won't matter. Eat well, sleep well, and continue tomorrow—it's not too late."

Now that she had been brought back, no amount of pleading would make Zhao Yu let her return to her work.