Chapter 195: Broken

They earned a huge amount of money today, all in whole bills; Pan Yun, Miao Zhen, and Miao He spread out every silver note and grouped those of equal value together.

There were six notes of one hundred taels alone; the rest were mostly fifty, twenty, and ten taels.

Especially the twenty- and ten-tael notes—don't have too many of those.

After counting the money in her hands, Miao Zhen said, "I have one thousand eight hundred and eighty taels."

Miao He said, "I have one thousand six hundred and twenty taels."

Pan Yun's eyes lit up with joy: "I have two thousand three hundred and sixty taels; adding these six hundred, it's a total of six thousand four hundred and sixty taels."

Pan Yun herself was startled: "Looks like Daoists aren't that poor after all."

Miao Zhen said, "Sharpening the axe doesn't delay chopping wood; with good talismans, you'll always earn it back."

With money in hand, Pan Yun grew generous and pulled out two one-hundred-tael notes, shoving them into the two girls' hands: "Here's one hundred taels each—your wages!"

The two instantly widened their eyes, unable to believe their junior mistress was so generous: "Really? One hundred taels for a day's work?"

Pan Yun had been so generous, but their question made her wince: "If you don't want them, then I…"

Miao Zhen: "We want them, we want them!"

Miao Zhen and Miao He immediately tucked them away.

Only then did Pan Yun stop feeling pained and bent to count the remaining money.

She knew she couldn't keep all this money on her—otherwise she wouldn't sleep a wink tonight. After thinking, she set aside the two hundred and sixty taels as her personal spending money, divided the rest in half, and handed three thousand taels to Miao Zhen: "This is for the Daoist temple; keep it. If expenses run short, take from this. Take the rest back to the temple—this year, our nephew's busy with the imperial exams, and times are hard."

Miao Zhen accepted and took the three thousand taels.

Pan Yun looked at the remaining three thousand taels and said: "I'll need these three thousand taels later, but I can't carry them—I'm lending them to you. Each of you borrow one thousand five hundred from me?"

Miao Zhen and Miao He were used to it; they knew "borrowing" meant she was just using them as her vault, storing money for her.

Both had no objections, so each took one thousand five hundred taels on her behalf—no, they were borrowing it from her.

Pan Yun, now free of money, felt cheerful again, picked up Pan Xiao He, who had been dozing nearby, and hugged and rubbed him: "Now we have money, we can run experiments more easily."

With money, she could run this washing machine experiment however she wanted, no longer constrained by materials.

Miao Zhen: "As long as you're happy."

Miao Zhen and Miao He's punishment period had ended; Pan Yun resumed her joyful tinkering with her washing machine project.

After a period of study and research, she learned that water power alone was insufficient for scrubbing stains—you needed to increase friction and water impact.

Just like when we wash clothes by hand—we always prefer rubbing them against slightly abrasive stones, right? That's how stains come off quickly.

Drawing inspiration from the washboard and the laundry bat, Pan Yun replicated the design: inside the large wooden tub, she built a smaller wooden tub, connecting the two together, making it resemble a modern washing machine—except that while modern ones hide the outer layer, hers was visible.

Inside the small wooden tub, she drilled four holes and installed short rods like laundry bats, capable of agitating the clothes.

Because the tub was large enough, she dumped both buckets of laundry she'd been assigned into it, chanted a spell, added water, and confidently told the two girls and the cat: "This time, it'll definitely work."

Miao Zhen, Miao He, and Pan Xiao He didn't care whether it would work—they just nodded.

After all, Pan Yun always said this before every experiment, and every time it ended in failure.

Pan Yun activated the talisman, listened to the washing machine's clanking start, sat beside Miao He, pulled out several fruits from her spiritual realm, handed one each to the two girls and the cat, bit into one herself, and said: "Experiments are like this—failure is common, success rare—but we must have faith in this one and the next, or else life becomes too bitter."

Miao Zhen asked thoughtfully: "Should we live our lives this way too?"

Pan Yun smiled: "Do you think your life has more suffering or more joy?"

Miao Zhen: "Of course, more joy."

Pan Yun smiled: "I hope it stays that way. But if one day suffering outweighs joy, think like this again."

Miao Zhen lowered her gaze, thought for a long while, then nodded.

The three sat on a large rock, feet dangling, swinging gently as they listened to the washing machine spin.

Because this washing machine's noise was different from before, Miao Zhen and Miao He heard it with renewed confidence: "It actually sounds like it might work."

When the washing machine stopped and the dirty water drained, Pan Yun rushed forward, peering over the tub's edge.

Miao Zhen and Miao He followed closely, squinting hard to help her spot any remaining stains.

The clothes were tangled together, some wrapped directly around the four laundry bats; Miao Zhen pulled up a sleeve and exclaimed happily: "Junior mistress, it really worked—the sleeve isn't dirty!"

Pan Yun's eyes sparkled; she immediately untangled two garments, picked one up to unfold and examine closely.

As she shook it open, the smiles on all three faces froze.

Through the large tear in the garment, Pan Yun saw Miao Zhen and Miao He's stunned faces on the other side.

Pan Yun: …

Pan Xiao He burst into loud meows of laughter, lost his balance, and plopped straight into the tub.

Pan Yun's face darkened; she dropped the garment and reached for another, unfolded it—the sleeve tore apart.

Pan Yun opened her mouth wide.

Pan Xiao He, just climbing out of the tub, saw this and laughed again, wobbled, and fell back in.

Pan Yun's hands trembled as she hung the garment on the tub's edge, staring in shock at the clothes inside: "The rest won't all be…"

Miao Zhen and Miao He rushed over, pulling out all the clothes from the tub and unfolding them.

Together, they unfolded each garment—one was missing sleeves, another had torn limbs, or split open in jagged holes.

One garment, inexplicably washed, burst into five pieces when unfolded; two pieces were still wrapped in a strip of cloth as thick as a finger, the rest had to be found and stitched back together from among other clothes.

Pan Yun plopped onto the rock, muttering: "How much will I have to pay? Is it because I have too much money and bad luck, or is the washing machine just flawed?"

Miao Zhen: "It must be the washing machine's fault. Junior mistress, you have less than three hundred taels now—if you were cursed, you'd have been unlucky since last night, not wait till today."

Miao He was relieved: "Thank goodness junior mistress earned so much money the day before—we can afford to pay compensation."

Pan Xiao He laughed until tears streamed down his face: "Still going to do this exhausting, fruitless thing?" Pan Yun gritted her teeth: "Yes! Just a few failures—I won't believe I can't make it work!"

Pan Xiao He didn't understand, but didn't interfere—he decided to just watch the show.

The three retrieved all the clothes and found only six were intact.

After careful inspection, Pan Yun sighed: "This time, they're clean enough—but they're all damaged. Looks like I still need to improve it."

Miao Zhen and Miao He nodded, not thinking of giving up. After hearing Pan Xiao He mock their junior mistress, Miao He hugged him: "Don't discourage junior mistress—this thing she made is great, impressive. I never imagined something could help wash clothes."

"If we really can make this, someday we could build another to light fires, chop vegetables, cook meals—if such a wonderful device existed, wouldn't we never have to do chores again?"

Miao Zhen: "Sounds lovely, but it's not that no such things exist—you just can't afford them."

Not only Miao He, but Pan Yun turned to look: "There are such things?"

"Of course," Miao Zhen said. "Puppets are exactly that."

Pan Yun snapped back to reality: "Oh," she nodded. "Puppets are indeed like robots—but they require a soul to be installed, which is a form of dark art, isn't it? Even if we could afford them, we'd dare not keep one—bring one back to Mount Sanqing, wouldn't the mountain spirit strike us down?"

Miao Zhen: "What if the soul enters the puppet willingly?"

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"Aren't books clear that souls placed in puppets usually need to be refined, their three souls and seven spirits incomplete, so they forget their past lives and lack wisdom? Who would willingly do that?"

"I would," Miao Zhen said. "I really want to try becoming a puppet. Junior mistress, when I die, turn me into one. I feel I'll remember my past even as a puppet."

Pan Yun: "So confident I'll outlive you? What if I die first?"

Miao Zhen and Pan Yun both turned to look at Miao He.

Miao He blinked, then said: "Then… I'll do it? But I don't know how to make puppets."

Pan Yun: "It's fine—I can teach you."

Miao Zhen: "I'll find you books and materials. Miao He, you're a healer—you must live a long life. Whether I become a puppet someday depends on you."

Pan Yun nodded beside her.

Miao He nodded too: "No problem, junior mistress. Do you want to become a puppet?"

"I won't become a puppet. When I die, I'll become a ghost—a ghost cultivator."

Miao Zhen and Miao He: "There are ghost cultivators?"

"Of course. Where else would the vengeful ghosts come from?"

Miao Zhen looked troubled: "Junior mistress, don't become a ghost cultivator—become a puppet like me. Vengeful ghosts form only after harming people and spirits. Ghost cultivators sound no better. If you die before me and turn evil, will I collect you or not?"

"If I don't collect you, my conscience torments me, my Dao heart destabilizes. If I do, we're fellow disciples—I can't bear to."

Miao He nodded vigorously in agreement: "Exactly, junior mistress, be a puppet like Miao Zhen—you can carve your own puppet body, make it as beautiful as you like. As a ghost cultivator, what if you turn creepy and ghastly?"

Pan Yun: "…Thank you for thinking so far ahead."

Pan Xiao He lazily reminded: "If you don't leave now, you'll be late for class."

Pan Yun's shoulders slumped; she picked up the two buckets of ruined clothes: "Fine, come with me to face Master Zhang's storm."

But when they reached the laundry bureau, they learned Master Zhang had finished today's tasks and gone down the mountain—apparently things were busy below, and he wouldn't return today.

The others asked Pan Yun: "Sister, do you have something to report to the manager?"

These were laborers from the academy; they called anyone in Daoist robes "elder brother" if male, "elder sister" if female, regardless of age.

It was said that when the academy first opened, these laborers had called each other "young master," "madam," "husband," "wife"—chaotic. Then Master Zhang ordered a unified form of address.

This was to remind all students in the academy: in Daoism, all are equal. Though they are laborers, they are merely working here—their status is no lower than yours.

It warned everyone in the academy not to look down on any being.

That's why Yin Song's disciple called them "elder sister" and "junior mistress"—he hadn't taken Yin Song as his master.

Pan Yun knew the laundry bureau's clothes had always been entrusted to them; now that she'd ruined them, she wondered if it would affect the laborers.

She paused, then picked up a garment and shook it open: "Look."

The laborers stared in shock at the large tear: "How… how did this happen?"

One laborer leaned close, examined it, then said: "Looks like it was torn—good heavens, how much force? Daoists' clothes are always sturdy, made of durable Songjiang cloth—how could it tear like this?"

Hearing she knew so much, Pan Yun immediately asked: "How much does a garment like this cost?"

"If just the cloth, not much—twenty cash buys enough to make a full set."

Pan Yun: "What about the tailor's labor?"

About thirty cash.

Pan Yun immediately said: "Kind souls, please help me. I ruined my clothes and must pay compensation. I originally planned to go straight to Mistress Zhang for payment, but she's not here. If the senior sisters and brothers whose clothes I ruined come knocking tomorrow when she returns, what will I say to them?"

"Please help me make a set of clothes matching these sizes, so I can return them to their owners."

The helpers exchanged glances—they were happy to take the job. Their calculation was correct: twenty cash could buy enough cloth for one garment, and ten cash for labor was a good profit; a skilled, swift seamstress could finish one in a single night plus half a morning.

But…

Would Mistress Zhang recognize the clothes they made?

Seeing they were persuaded, Pan Yun immediately pulled out a string of cash from her sleeve. "I can pay a deposit upfront—fifteen cash? Once you finish and bring them to me, and I confirm they're correct, I'll pay the remaining fifteen cash right away."

"Senior sister, it's not that we don't want to do it—we're just afraid Mistress Zhang won't accept them. What then?"

Pan Yun: "That's my problem. Whether she accepts them or not, I'll pay you anyway."

Hearing this, the helpers immediately agreed.

Everyone crowded forward to collect their money and pick out the garments they wanted to make, planning to take them home to measure and copy precisely, ensuring no mistakes.

(End of chapter)