Leaving the Zhou Residence, the autumn wind blew, and only then did Su Ming feel a chill on his back.

That conversation with his teacher, seemingly calm and uneventful on the surface, had actually been extremely perilous. The mental energy it consumed was no less than writing a policy discussion essay in the examination hall.

“So, how was it, disciple? Was your teacher’s tactic of retreating in order to advance effective?” Lin Yu’s voice, tinged with laughter, rang out in his mind.

“Master’s calculations are divine,” Su Ming said sincerely, recalling Zhou Wenhai’s solemn and earnest final instructions. A great weight lifted from his heart. With his teacher’s full support, his journey to the capital would no longer be a solitary one.

“However, the matter back home isn’t finished yet,” Lin Yu shifted the topic, his tone carrying a hint of watching a spectacle. “That Village Chief Zhao in the village is no simple character. Now that you, the carp, have leaped over the dragon gate, in his eyes, you are an auspicious sign, but also a variable. Think about that paper-making workshop.”

Su Ming’s gaze sharpened. His master’s reminder was apt. Zhao Dequan viewed the workshop as his exclusive domain. Now that Su Ming had returned as a Provincial Graduate, in Zhao’s eyes, it probably wasn’t a glory but a threat that might come to snatch away benefits.

The last rays of the setting sun, like a warm bolt of orange silk, spread across the entire Su Family Village.

Cooking smoke curled up from the rooftops of every household, mingling with the fragrance of earth and vegetation, diffusing in the evening breeze.

Under the old locust tree at the village entrance stood several figures with their shadows stretched extremely long.

There was no clamorous gongs and drums, no glaring red silk. Only Mother Chen, standing on tiptoe again and again, craning her neck to look toward the end of the road.

Father Su Shan squatted under the tree, puffing on his pipe tobacco, the smoke swirling, obscuring his expression.

Eldest Brother Su Feng and Second Brother Su Yang stood side by side, their gazes likewise fixed on the far end of the small path, like two silent “gazing-husband stones.”

When a small figure in blue finally appeared at the bend in the road, Mrs. Chen recognized him almost instantly.

She rushed forward with a speed that belied her age.

No crying, no questioning.

She grabbed Su Ming’s arm, her bloodshot eyes scanning his face and body over and over, as if checking to see if he was missing any piece of flesh.

“Coming back is good enough…”

She repeated these four words, her voice hoarse, her eyes instantly reddening.

“Coming back is good enough…”

Su Shan walked over. His large, rough palm slapped Su Ming’s shoulder heavily twice.

The force was heavy, carrying the strength of mountain rocks.

He stared at his son’s face, which had grown considerably thinner, his lips moving slightly. In the end, he only managed to squeeze out two words from his throat.

“You’ve lost weight.”

Su Feng stepped forward with a simple, honest smile, silently taking the simple luggage bundle from Su Ming’s hands.

Su Yang strode forward, opened his arms, and gave Su Ming a solid bear hug, squeezing him tightly for a moment.

“Let’s go, home!” He grinned, smiling like a child. “Mother made your favorite braised pork!”

Warmth, like the evening cooking smoke, tightly enveloped Su Ming.

This simple, unadorned warmth washed away all the noise and scheming of the prefectural city, finally relaxing the nerves that had been taut all along.

This place was his roots.

Lin Yu’s Soul Body stretched lazily inside the ring.

Tsk, this familiar scent of everyday life still smells most comfortable. What fine wines and jade liquors of the Deer Cry Banquet could compare to the substance of this bowl of braised pork? Disciple, remember, this is your anchor point, so you won’t forget who you are when you’re drifting outside.

Just as the family stepped through the familiar courtyard gate, before the bowls and chopsticks could even be set on the table.

A hearty, almost gratingly cheerful laugh came from outside the door without warning.

“Hahaha! I wondered who had returned! So it’s the Literary Star of our Su Family Village, Provincial Graduate Su returning in glory! Bringing honor to one’s ancestors, bringing honor to one’s ancestors!”

Before the words faded, the ruddy, beaming face of Village Chief Zhao Dequan appeared at the entrance.

Behind him followed three village elders, all dressed in respectable clothes, wearing standardized smiles on their faces.

This formation seemed as if they had timed it perfectly, waiting here specifically.

The smile on Mrs. Chen’s face stiffened slightly. Su Shan silently straightened his posture, tucking his tobacco pipe back at his waist.

“Uncle Zhao, esteemed uncles.” Su Ming stepped forward, neither subservient nor arrogant, and cupped his hands in a respectful salute.

“Aiyo, no need for that, no need for that!” Zhao Dequan quickly waved his hands, his face smiling like a blooming chrysanthemum. “You are a Provincial Graduate Master now. We country bumpkins don’t deserve your courtesy!”

His mouth spoke polite words, but his eyes were darting over Su Ming.

“Provincial Graduate Su, you’ve really brought great honor to our Su Family Village, to our Qingshi Town this time!”

He slapped Su Ming’s shoulder heavily, then shifted his tone.

“Although… well, regarding the ranking, there is a slight, tiny bit of regret. But it doesn’t matter! A Provincial Graduate is still a Provincial Graduate, a Literary Star fallen from the heavens, truly remarkable!”

His words were cleverly spoken, first praising highly, then gently lowering, showing closeness while also highlighting the gap between that “seventy-third place” and the “Second Top Scorer.”

Su Ming merely smiled and did not respond.

Seeing him unmoved, Zhao Dequan ushered everyone into the main room and sat down by the main seat as if it were his place.

He picked up the bowl of coarse tea Su Yang had just poured, blew on the floating foam, his gaze sweeping over the Su family’s obviously renovated earthen houses before finally settling back on Su Ming.

“Su Ming, you are now a carp that has leaped over the dragon gate. It seems you are about to soar to great heights, going to the capital to become a high official.”

He took a sip of tea, speaking slowly.

“Our village’s little paper-making workshop, surely someone of your great stature wouldn’t even glance at it.”

He deliberately drew out his tone, his eyes becoming meaningful.

“Don’t you worry! You just focus on taking your top scholar exams. This family business, I, your uncle, and these elders will watch over it firmly for you, and for the whole village! This is the rice bowl for over a hundred old and young mouths in our entire village!”

He emphasized the words “entire village” heavily.

These words were like invisible ropes, attempting to completely sever Su Ming’s connection to the workshop under the banner of “the greater good of the entire village.”

Here it comes, here it comes. The old fox’s tea ceremony performance begins. First, he puts a tall hat on you, then cries poverty and hardship, and finally wraps it all up with the banner of morality, pocketing the workshop’s control for himself. A whole set of combos, played really smoothly.

Lin Yu complained internally, “The dagger is drawn from the scroll! Disciple, if you completely tear up with Zhao Dequan over a workshop, it will cause your parents and brothers to find it difficult to take a single step in the village. The loss outweighs the gain.”

“Disciple understands,” Su Ming responded inwardly.

Zhao Dequan seemed to feel the timing wasn’t quite right yet. He put down the tea bowl, his face revealing an extremely earnest and caring expression.

“In the future, you just focus on steadily climbing higher in the capital. If… I’m just saying if,” he paused, his tone sounding especially considerate, “matters in the official circles, they’re hard to predict. If one day things don’t go smoothly, if you miss home, if you want to come back…”

He pointed in the direction of the workshop outside.

“There will always be a manager’s position for you in our workshop! I, your uncle, will keep it for you!”

These words sounded like offering charcoal in snowy weather, but in reality, they were like removing the firewood from under the cauldron.

He was telling Su Ming: Your retreat path is now under my control.

The expressions of the Su family members all changed slightly.

Mrs. Chen’s lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but Su Shan stopped her with a look.

Su Ming’s face still wore that same humble, gentle smile.

He stood up, personally picked up the coarse ceramic teapot on the table, walked over to Zhao Dequan, and refilled his tea.

The scalding hot tea poured into the bowl, sending up curling steam.

“Uncle Zhao, your words are too serious.”

His voice was very calm, like the surface of the old well in the courtyard.

“This junior was only able to luckily pass the provincial exam entirely due to my teacher’s guidance and the support of the villagers. These three words, ‘Literary Star,’ this junior absolutely does not deserve.”

He pushed the tea bowl in front of Zhao Dequan, his posture extremely deferential.

“As for the workshop,” he shifted the topic, his gaze meeting Zhao Dequan’s frankly, “just as Uncle Zhao said, this is the foundation of our Su Family Village, the rice bowl for the entire village.”

He smiled slightly and said something that made Zhao Dequan’s eyelids twitch.

“This junior’s meager scholarly honor was earned through studying. My future thoughts will only be on the examination halls, in the books, with single-minded focus. I would never dare, for personal gain, to abandon the greater good of the entire village.”

He bowed deeply once more to Zhao Dequan and the three elders.

“All matters concerning the workshop in the future shall be decided by Uncle Zhao and the esteemed elders. This junior is young, with shallow experience. I dare not speak recklessly and will absolutely have no objections.”

These words were like a reassurance pill, hitting exactly what Zhao Dequan wanted.

He clearly, in front of everyone, renounced any management rights or say over the workshop.

The biggest stone in Zhao Dequan’s heart finally landed.

The smile on his face instantly became much more sincere.

He was just about to utter a few polite words when he saw Su Ming straighten up, his face wearing a kind of aspiration for the future unique to youth.

“Of course,” Su Ming’s gaze looked beyond the door, as if seeing the distant capital, “if in the future, this junior can truly achieve some small success outside, I will certainly not forget that it was the land and water of my hometown that nurtured me.”

“At that time, if I can do something for the elders and fellow villagers of my hometown, that would truly be this junior’s good fortune.”

These words were spoken with genuine feeling and were flawlessly crafted.

They expressed the sentiment of not forgetting one’s roots and also, like a seed, gently planted an idea in the hearts of Zhao Dequan and the elders.

If I truly become successful, I won’t forget my hometown, and naturally, I won’t forget you all.

But the premise is, you also shouldn’t push things to the extreme, making this “successful” person feel unhappy when returning home.

Zhao Dequan was a smart man. He understood.

He laughed heartily, stood up, and patted Su Ming’s arm forcefully.

“Good! Good! With those words, I, your uncle, am reassured! The Su family producing an outstanding talent like you is the good fortune of our entire village!”

He exchanged a few more pleasantries, urged Su Ming to rest well, and then, with a satisfied smile, led the three elders away in farewell.

The courtyard returned to tranquility.

On the dinner table, the bowl of braised pork was stewed until glossy and shiny, its aroma tantalizing.

Mrs. Chen kept putting meat into Su Ming’s bowl, muttering, “Eat more, look how thin you are. You definitely didn’t eat well outside.”

She absolutely did not mention any rankings or regrets.

In her eyes, her son returning safely was more important than anything.

Su Shan silently poured a bowl of wine, picked it up, and raised it toward Su Ming.

“Have a drink.”

Su Ming picked up his bowl and clinked it with his father’s. The pungent liquor went down his throat, burning a fiery path in his chest.

Su Shan put down the wine bowl, looked at his son, and slowly spoke, his voice hoarse.

“Your father knows you have your own ideas in your heart, your own great path to walk.”

“Family matters, leave them to me, to your two brothers. You don’t need to worry about anything.”

This unconditional trust and support flowed through Su Ming’s entire body like a warm current.

His eyes grew hot, and he nodded heavily.

“Father, I understand.”

Late at night.

The family had already gone to sleep. In Su Ming’s room, a single bean of lamplight still burned.

He called Second Brother Su Yang in alone and carefully closed the door.

Seeing his younger brother’s solemn manner, Su Yang felt a bit uneasy.

“Third Son, what’s the matter? So mysterious.”

Su Ming didn’t speak. He carefully took out a few sheets of paper from his personal travel bag.

These weren’t the exquisite paper bought in the prefectural city, but the slightly rough bamboo paper produced by their own workshop.

On the paper, drawn with fine charcoal, were some diagrams Su Yang couldn’t understand, with densely packed small characters annotated beside them.

“Second Brother, sit.”

Su Ming spread the papers out on the table.

Under the lamplight, the diagram on the first sheet was clearly a flowchart, from the piling of bamboo material to the large stove for steaming and boiling, to the final paper pulp pool. Each step was connected with arrows, with strange terms like “segmented heating,” “alkaline water circulation,” and “waste heat utilization” annotated beside them.

“This is… an improved steaming and boiling method,” Su Ming pointed at the diagram, explaining in a low voice. “Following this method can save half the firewood, and the pulp production speed can increase by thirty percent.”

Su Yang’s eyes instantly widened.

Su Ming pulled out the second sheet of paper.

There was no diagram, only a few lines of text, like a medicinal formula.

“There’s a wild grass on the mountain called ‘cow tendon grass.’ Its leaves are very tough. Mash it, extract the juice, and add it to the paper pulp according to this ratio. The paper produced will have double the toughness and won’t tear easily when wet.”

Su Yang’s breathing became heavy.

Su Ming finally took out the third sheet of paper.

“Those bits of pulp that can’t be scooped up in the workshop, and the scrap paper edges from cutting, don’t throw them away. Crush them again, press them into thick cardboard, and you can sell it to shops in town for packaging boxes. Or, make it into rougher, softer toilet paper. The price is cheap, but the volume is large. It’s also a considerable source of income.”

“Also, don’t plant only grain on those few acres of slope land on the back mountain. I’ve drawn a diagram. We can try grafting some fruit trees we don’t have here, like pears, like peaches. In three to five years, it will be another steady source of wealth.”

Su Yang stared blankly at the three sheets of paper on the table, feeling they were heavier than gold.

Any one of these things, if taken out, would be enough for an ordinary family to live comfortably for a lifetime.

And his younger brother had placed them all in front of him so lightly and casually.

“Third Son, you…” Su Yang’s voice trembled slightly.

“Second Brother,” Su Ming interrupted him, his eyes becoming extremely solemn. “Keep these safe. Then, remember the three things I tell you.”

Su Yang immediately sat up straight, his expression focused.

“First, proceed gradually, do not advance recklessly. First master this improved steaming and boiling method thoroughly. The others, wait until the time is ripe, then bring them out bit by bit. Remember, don’t reveal everything at once. That will invite disaster.”

“Second, the core technology must be kept firmly in our own family’s hands. Memorize these formulas, then burn the papers. Besides you, at most, only Eldest Brother can know. Don’t even tell Father and Mother. This is our family’s true trump card.”

Su Yang nodded heavily, carefully folding those papers and hiding them inside his clothes, close to his body.

“Third,” Su Ming lowered his voice, almost to a whisper, “also the most important point.”

He leaned close to Su Yang’s ear and spoke word by word.

“Remember, Zhao Dequan is not to be trusted. If in the future, the family encounters a big trouble even he cannot solve, or… someone wants to deal our family a fatal blow.”

“Don’t worry about anything else. Immediately take Father, Mother, and Eldest Brother’s family to Qingshi Town, to the County School’s Zhou Wenhai.”

“Just say that I, Su Ming, sent you. For my sake, he will definitely protect you and ensure your safety.”

Su Yang’s heart sank heavily.

He finally understood the deeper meaning behind his younger brother’s arrangements.

This wasn’t just planning a path to wealth for the family; it was also laying out a retreat path sufficient to protect the entire family’s lives in a crisis.

Looking at this younger brother, several years his junior, whose shoulders were already carrying the future of the entire family, Su Yang’s eyes grew hot. He couldn’t speak.

He could only extend his calloused hands and grip Su Ming’s shoulders tightly and firmly.

“Third Son, your second brother… has remembered it all.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep