Chapter 439: Ripples in the Ministry of Works

False Song, Bianjing, Ministry of Works office.

Zhou Huaian sat in his duty room, a scroll about canal maintenance lay open before him, but his gaze drifted.

Outside the window was the Ministry of Works compound, where a few old craftsmen were slowly repairing a damaged official sedan chair, the clinking of their tools lending the office an ever deeper air of decline.

In his mind, he repeatedly recalled that strange encounter several months ago.

The mysterious man who called himself Mr. Wen, an overseas traveling merchant, had left behind an improved curved‑axle plow design whose ingenuity left him in awe.

He built a prototype according to the drawing, and its performance far surpassed that of the old plows.

He never publicized it; within his authority he quietly slipped the drawing to a familiar clerk in the Works Supervision Bureau who was open to novelty, hoping to spread it discreetly.

But the result was like a stone sinking into the sea.

The Works Supervision Bureau replied that although the drawing was good, the change involved the mold for casting the plow sidewall, and the prefectural and county government workshops might not want to invest extra; since the old plows had been used for a long time, a sudden change could invite criticism.

In the end, the matter came to nothing.

A hard‑to‑describe feeling of frustration clogged Zhou Huaian's chest.

He had held the post of Assistant Secretary for a while, his duties had grown, and he more deeply felt the stagnation of this vast bureaucratic system.

A good idea might not be seen;

even if seen, it might not be adopted;

even if adopted, it might not be carried out smoothly.

Layer upon layer of rules, tangled interests, and the habit of clinging to the old were like an invisible mire, binding any attempt to change.

He found himself thinking again of Mr. Wen.

The casual drawing he produced showed such ingenuity—what astonishing skill lay behind it? Where did he come from? Was he truly a survivor from overseas, or… something else?

This thought sprouted like a weed in his heart, bringing a stubborn curiosity and a faint, barely noticed dissatisfaction with the status quo.

"Assistant Secretary Zhou,"

A clerk poked his head in at the doorway.

"The Waterworks Bureau has sent a document concerning a section of embankment protection on the Bian River; please review and approve."

Zhou Huaian gathered his focus and took the document.

It was a routine request for funding stone and conscripting laborers to reinforce the embankment.

He read it carefully, his brow gradually furrowing.

This embankment, long neglected, posed serious hidden dangers; the materials and manpower requested by the Waterworks Bureau would barely suffice, and a modest flood could overwhelm it.

He picked up his pen, intending to annotate the document with a few lines suggesting a budget increase for thorough repair.

But the pen tip hovered in midair, unable to descend.

He knew well that a comment from an Assistant Secretary carried too little weight.

Increasing the budget would require layer upon layer of reports, wrangling with the Ministry of Revenue and the Three Departments, and would most likely leave the original plan unchanged, merely offending the Waterworks Bureau colleagues who just wanted a quiet life and shunned trouble.

In the end he merely sighed, wrote on the document "Verified correct, tentatively approved," and signed his name and title.

A sense of powerlessness spread once again.

He handed the approved document to the clerk, his gaze unintentionally sweeping over the few old craftsmen in the yard; watching their deliberate motions, a thought suddenly arose in his mind:

"If Mr. Wen were here, how would he deal with this embankment issue? What clever method might he propose for reinforcing it?"

The thought made his heart jump, then he shook his head with a self‑deprecating chuckle.

He was overthinking.

That mysterious figure had probably vanished like a divine dragon, leaving no trace.

Yet he did not know that his frustration and curiosity, together with the faint "sharpness" he showed in his routine work at the Ministry of Works—standing out from his surroundings—had already been recorded by a pair of unseen eyes.

Chen Dynasty, a private villa.

Qian Gui presented a confidential report on Zhou Huaian's recent situation to Chen Wen.

"Your Majesty, after Zhou Huaian became an Assistant Secretary in the Ministry of Works, he seemed eager to display his ambitions; he once tried to promote the improved plow he had obtained, but was blocked by precedent and failed. Recently, while handling documents from the Waterworks Bureau concerning a risky embankment, he could only give a routine approval, feeling resentful yet powerless to change it. His curiosity about Mr. Wen has only grown."

Chen Wen listened quietly, his fingers lightly tapping the chair back.

"An Assistant Secretary in the Ministry of Works may hold a low rank, yet he can already engage with substantial affairs; he is eager to act but constrained by his environment—exactly the sort of malleable talent."

He glanced at Zhao Lao Nian standing aside.

"Lord Zhao, do you think we might now give him a bit of inspiration?"

Zhao Lao Nian grinned, revealing his yellow teeth.

"Your Majesty, I think the timing is about right. This lad has a fire in his heart, suppressed by the False Song bureaucracy; if we add a bit of fuel, it might catch. But this time we must use a more covert method—we can't again pose as an overseas traveling merchant."

"Hmm."

Chen Wen nodded.

"According to you, what should we use as a lure this time?"

Zhao Lao Nian had long been prepared; he produced a folded rough sketch from his lapel.

"I have been thinking, I can give him this—a simple concept sketch of a 'self‑cleaning water gate' that uses the water's own force to automatically clear silt from the gate. It involves no major military equipment, yet it can genuinely solve some minor headaches in canal transport and water conservancy, exactly suiting his inclinations. The drawing is kept rough, outlining only the principle; leaving the details for him to work out makes it seem more like a legacy from the ancients or folk wisdom."

Chen Wen took the rough sketch, glanced at it, and nodded in approval.

"Very well. You will arrange it; through a third party, make sure the drawing 'accidentally' falls into his hands. Cover your tracks, and be certain not to implicate the South Wind Chronicle or any of our existing bases."

"I understand!"

Zhao Lao Nian put away the sketch, his eyes glittering with the excitement of successful scheming.

Qian Gui added:

"The Jing'an Bureau will cooperate, ensuring this happens naturally, and will closely monitor Zhou Huaian's every reaction after receiving the drawing, as well as any movements within the False Song Ministry of Works."

With the arrangements made, Qian Gui and Zhao Lao Nian withdrew.

Chen Wen stood alone before the window of the quiet chamber, his gaze seeming to cross the space and land upon the Ministry of Works office of the False Song.

He could vaguely feel that the patch representing the Fortune Momentum of the False Song Ministry of Works system was stagnant, with many blockages.

And the point where Zhou Huai'an stood was like a tiny whirlpool unwilling to stay still, trying to stir the surrounding dead water.

"Ministry of Works ripple..."

He muttered to himself.

This time, what he invested would no longer be a stone, but a wisp of breeze.

He was curious whether that wisp of breeze could, in that pond of dead water, blow open a true, lasting ripple.

Several days later.

On his duty shift, Zhou Huai'an aimlessly flipped through some neglected old book fragments in an antique shop in Bianjing that sold old books and miscellaneous items.

In the lining of the cover of a nearly falling-apart book of previous‑dynasty water conservancy notes, he happened upon a folded, yellowed draft diagram.

He had thought it was scrap paper, but when he casually unfolded it, his gaze was instantly caught.

The diagram showed a water gate structure he had never seen before, with a few scribbled notes explaining how the change in water flow when the gate opens and closes automatically flushes away silt in front of the gate.

The design was ingenious; though only a rough sketch, it seemed to open a new window for him.

Zhou Huai'an's heart began to pound.

He suppressed his excitement, calmly refolded the drawing, slipped it into his sleeve, and left the antique shop quickly as if nothing had happened.

Back home, he shut the door and, under the lamp, repeatedly studied this sudden drawing, growing more astonished and delighted the longer he looked.

This idea, like his earlier improved curved‑axle plow, secretly shared the wonder of different means achieving the same end!

Could it be…?

An unstoppable thought welled up.

He suddenly stood up and paced the room.

"Could that 'Mr. Wen' not have truly left? Or perhaps there are other hidden masters in the mundane world, leaving behind fragments of wisdom?"

He looked at the drawing in his hand and also recalled the piled‑up documents in the government office and the reforms that were hard to push forward.

A long‑absent surge of heat welled up in his chest.

This time, he was determined to think of a way, not letting this clever idea be buried again in the heap of waste paper!

He did not realize that his slight determination and action had already dropped a new stone into the deep waters of the False Song Ministry of Works.

The ripple began quietly from that small drawing in his sleeve and spread silently.