Two of the plantain slices really had burned. He Yi had no choice but to set them aside and roast some fresh ones. He arranged the unburned slices on a plate and offered it to Wu Yundi.
If Wu Yundi accepted the plate, he would no longer have a free hand to hold down the letter. He considered the problem for a few breaths, then decisively handed the letter to He Yi and took the plate of roasted fruit.
“Here. If you want to write back, come find me at the Patrol Inspector’s Office,” he said.
He Yi wiped his fingertips against his clothes before accepting the letter. His coarse-cloth work jacket had no sewn pockets, and after searching for somewhere suitable, he finally slipped the letter inside his overlapping collar, close to his heart.
“When I reach the Patrol Inspector’s Office, what should I say to make the officers announce my arrival?” He Yi asked.
Wu Yundi finished the roasted plantain slices in two or three bites, licked his lips with lingering satisfaction, and replied, “I’ll tell them when I get back. You can simply give your name. They won’t turn you away next time.”
“Thank you for your trouble, sir.”
Host and guest had both enjoyed the simple refreshment. Not long afterward, Wu Yundi said it was time to leave, and He Yi escorted him to his driver.
Before they departed, He Yi even went by the chicken coop to catch a black-boned chicken for the inspector, but Wu Yundi stopped him.
“It’s very nourishing when made into soup,” He Yi said.
“I’m strong as an ox. I don’t need nourishing. Besides, a government official can’t casually accept gifts like that. Keep it for yourself, and don’t try to persuade me.”
He Yi had been ready to argue, but the inspector had anticipated him, so he gave up.
After watching Wu Yundi’s carriage drive away, He Yi had barely turned around before he impatiently drew the letter, warmed by his own body, from inside his collar.
He slowed his steps so that he could read carefully, yet even as he walked toward the house he could not pull his eyes away from the first letter Xue Ci had ever written to him.
Xue Ci apparently did not know the conventions for writing a letter. He had written neither an opening greeting nor a form of address, plunging straight into a description of life at the military camp.
【Every day is the same training again and again: practicing with spears, drilling in formation, sometimes chopping firewood and sweeping horse dung. I’ve only had two archery lessons. Some people even train in mounted archery, but they won’t let me. We usually take turns on night watch. Sometimes the squad leader makes a mistake with the roster, and we end up standing guard the whole day.】
Xue Ci’s handwriting was as enormous as ever. The letter was written on a plain sheet of yellow paper of uncertain origin, without any ruled lines. The characters ran from top to bottom, right to left, and that one paragraph filled almost half the page.
He Yi frowned. Xue Ci had written little detail, only a list of his daily duties, but even reading that was enough to see how exhausting they were. He Yi knew Xue Ci was extraordinarily strong and had stamina far beyond most people. The letter did not contain a single complaint, yet he still worried for him.
On the next line Xue Ci abruptly changed the subject.
【The food tastes terrible. We only eat once a day. Sometimes at night I sneak into the sandy fields to look for mogu. That’s what the locals call it; I don’t know how to write the two characters. I roast it, and it doesn’t taste good either, but at least I am less hungry. I miss the food you cook. I want to eat it.】
Reading that Xue Ci missed his cooking brought a little sweetness to He Yi’s heart, followed by a much stronger ache. Was the northwest really that desolate? There were even… ‘mushrooms’ in the sand? That must be what mogu meant. How were the soldiers supposed to have the strength for their work when they were so exhausted every day and only ate one meal? And the food was so awful that even Xue Ci, who was hardly picky, disliked it. Life there sounded unbearable.
He Yi steadied himself and read on.
【You told me to keep a low profile here, so whenever somebody asks to spar with me, I always hold back!】
“…” Just like Xue Ci. He was so formidable, yet he listened to what He Yi told him. So obedient. A few desires He Yi kept hidden deep within himself were quietly satisfied.
The letter continued.
【The people here never bathe. There’s no water and no river anywhere. Everyone smells terrible. I think they’ve made me smell bad too. I want a shower so badly!】
The exclamation mark at the end was exceptionally large, revealing all the indignation and grievance of the writer, and leaving He Yi torn between laughter and tears.
That was the end of the letter. It was only a single sheet, and nothing had been written on the back.
He Yi smiled bitterly. The letter had simply stopped, probably because Xue Ci had run out of space. The last two passages were especially cramped. He Yi turned the paper over and over and read it several times, as though he might find some information he had missed.
But no matter how he looked at it, there was nothing more.
He Yi sighed, folded the letter carefully, and walked back into the house.
*
He would certainly have to reply, but he had no brush or paper at home and would need to borrow some from Tang Huai.
Tang Huai should be at home today. He Yi was in no hurry to go and ask. He had spent the whole night thinking about what to write in reply, but when morning came he found fault with every possible wording and knew he needed to think more.
So as he finished the roof over the west wing, he continued weighing the words of his letter.
Without his noticing, Zhou Qu’s work was drawing to a close too. He had finished two cabinets, one large and one small, and set them in a well-ventilated place with their doors open to air out.
He Yi was responsible for moving them. Looking at the cabinets, he found himself once again marveling at Carpenter Zhou’s skill.
“And that’s everything finished. It’s been ten days or more. Time I went home to see my wife and grandson.” Zhou Qu was well pleased with his creations. Stroking his beard with obvious satisfaction, he gave He Yi a sidelong glance.
“You’re leaving tomorrow?” He Yi asked.
“Mm. I’ve grown used to living here, so I’ll almost miss it, ha! You’ve done a fine job with this house. With skills like yours, you could build big homes for people in town without the slightest trouble. An impressive young man, truly impressive.”
He Yi raised his head with Zhou Qu and regarded the outline of the house for a while. His lips spread into an involuntary smile.
But he could not enjoy the moment for long, because it was time to settle the final payment. He Yi handed Zhou Qu one tael of silver and eighty-three wen, only to realize that his savings were almost exhausted. Barely two hundred wen remained. It was frighteningly little.
“…” No. He had to improve the vertical oil press.
After discovering that the components from the blacksmith’s shop were unusable, He Yi had thought a great deal on the journey home. Given the state of industry in this age, it would have been difficult enough to produce parts of such precision even in prosperous districts, never mind a backward village town like theirs. There was almost no demand for such work. Even if demand existed, the necessary techniques and tools did not. Without a certain level of mechanization, precise metal components simply could not be made cheaply.
He had truly expected too much. Still, the blacksmith was to blame for agreeing so casually and repeatedly promising the work could be done.
If a pulley-system model could not be made, switching to a material other than iron posed difficulties too. A smooth surface was needed to withstand the friction of a moving rope, and the structure had to cope with loads. Without metal, both were hard to achieve.
Come to think of it, horizontal oil presses often relied on leverage. Why couldn’t a vertical press do the same? A lever was far less laborious than repeatedly hammering to apply force, and more efficient. With sufficient force, the amount of oil extracted in a single pressing ought to increase as well.
He Yi realized he had not considered the problem comprehensively. In pursuing the perfect solution, he had overlooked the realities and limitations of his era. A lever-based design might be more workable. The model would be somewhat complex but would not require demanding materials; he could make it from wood and stone.
While Carpenter Zhou was still here, He Yi hurried to Tang Huai’s residence to borrow brush and paper. His reply to Xue Ci could wait a little longer. For now, the urgent task was to consult Zhou Qu and produce a model for improving the vertical press as quickly as possible.
Then they could go to town together tomorrow.