Upon returning home, Zhenniang carried the hot water directly to her grandparents’ room. Before entering, she overheard their conversation from outside.

“Ah, Jingfu is suffering greatly,” Grandmother Wu spoke with a choked voice.

“A man must endure the bitterest of hardships to stand in this world. You’ve always spoiled him too much, which is why our family fortune was squandered. What’s this bit of suffering now? Look at him as a father – he can’t even match up to Zhenniang. Now there’s someone who knows how to endure hardship,” Grandfather’s gruff voice responded.

“You blame me for spoiling him? When your eldest son Jingkui was alive, I didn’t spoil him. He followed you around the mountains and valleys until his health failed, and then he passed away. Compared to Jingkui, even if Jingfu is unfilial, at least he’s alive and breathing – that’s better than nothing.” Madam Wu snapped back when Old Shopkeeper Li blamed her for spoiling their son.

Hearing this, Zhenniang recalled something her eldest brother had mentioned – that they once had an uncle who had learned ink-making from his grandfather since childhood. Later, while searching for pine in the mountains, whether struck by an evil spirit or some other misfortune, he fell ill and never recovered. He passed away just three days before his wedding, leaving his intended bride to become a “widow at the gate,” still single to this day.

Her situation had been remarkably similar to Zhenniang’s previous circumstances.

Because of the eldest son’s early death, the grandmother had become especially indulgent with Zhenniang’s father, unknowingly spoiling him in the process.

As she was about to enter, she heard grandmother continue: “Ah, Zhenniang suffered such wrongdoing this time. Those managers at the ink workshop are becoming increasingly unbearable.”

Grandmother continued muttering for a while.

“Zhenniang did suffer, but she handled it very well,” Old Shopkeeper Li said.

“Yes, she’s a filial daughter. Today, having earned a bit of money, she immediately thought to buy us pear candy. But Zhenniang is still a girl, and making smoke ink is not suitable work for a young woman. It pained me to see her face covered in black soot. I think we should find Zhang the matchmaker and arrange a good marriage for Zhenniang. With proper support, she wouldn’t need to endure such hardships.”

“Of course, we should look for a good match for her, but this girl has a real talent for ink-making – it would be a shame to waste it. Besides, have you forgotten about Jingkui’s betrothed, the daughter of the Zheng family? After Jingkui passed, her future was ruined. Recently, Old Brother Zheng passed away, and I heard the girl’s situation isn’t good. Although Zhenniang saved Young Master Tian’s life this time, he still nearly died and remains bedridden. Zhenniang seems marked by misfortune, and now with the Tian family breaking off the engagement, her situation isn’t much better than the Zheng girl’s was back then. Her future remains uncertain. Rather than relying on others, it would be better to help her develop a skill she can depend on for life.”

Standing outside, Zhenniang felt her grandfather’s words resonated deeply with her thoughts. It was exactly right.

As she lifted the curtain to enter, she heard her grandfather continue: “However, making smoke ink truly isn’t suitable work for a young woman. I think tomorrow I’ll go speak with Old Nine about having Zhenniang work at the ink pavilion as an overseer.”

“Grandfather, there’s no need to speak with Ninth Uncle. If I’m to work at the ink pavilion, they should come to invite me themselves,” Zhenniang said as she entered, taking a wooden basin and pouring hot water to wash her grandfather’s face with a towel.

Madam Wu watched with a smile.

“Ha! Such big talk! Do you think they’ll come to invite you just because of the smoke ink you made today? Let me tell you, the ink workshop probably still thinks I was the one who made that smoke ink,” Old Shopkeeper Li said, half-teasing and half-serious.

“Granddaughter knows. Probably ninety-nine percent of people think grandfather was behind it all,” Zhenniang said while helping her grandfather change the foot basin and prepare for his foot soak. She continued, “Actually, I think even if everyone knew I made the smoke ink, they still wouldn’t invite me. At most, they might send materials for me to process at home for them to purchase. After all, as a woman, I can’t integrate into the workshop environment.”

“If you understand all this, why do you insist they must come invite you? You know the possibility is very low,” Old Shopkeeper Li asked, enjoying his foot soak while chatting with his granddaughter.

“Grandfather, isn’t the formula the most important aspect of ink-making?” Zhenniang asked, turning to face him.

“Correct.” Old Shopkeeper Li nodded.

“Is this formula just for mixing the ink?” Zhenniang continued, referring to the process of combining smoke materials, glue, and other ingredients to form ink sticks.

Old Shopkeeper Li nodded again.

“But doesn’t the smoke material itself have its formula?” Zhenniang countered.

Hearing this, Old Shopkeeper Li’s half-closed eyes suddenly opened wide, staring at Zhenniang, clearly urging her to continue.

“As granddaughter knows, in Song He Gong’s ‘Ink Records: Lacquer Smoke and Glue,’ it’s recorded that the Song Dynasty ink craftsman Shen Gui burned pine soot mixed with lacquer dregs to create ‘lacquer smoke.’ Isn’t that a formula for smoke material?” Zhenniang said with a smile.

“Are you saying you have a new formula for smoke material?” Old Shopkeeper Li stared at her intently.

“Yes. About two years ago, during heavy snow, some traveling scholars were stopped outside the city and rested at Uncle Shui’s tiger stove. When I went to fetch water, I heard them talking freely. I was fascinated, especially when they discussed Hui ink. One ink enthusiast mentioned that when discussing ancient smoke materials, raw lacquer works better than tung oil for smoke production. That day, I had just read my grandfather’s ink-making notes, and out of curiosity, I tried it at home. Later, I added lard, and the smoke results were excellent.” Zhenniang explained. This was the formula for what would later become known as super-grade lacquer smoke ink.

Although she had her grandfather’s notes as a cover, claiming to have invented such a formula herself would have been too presumptuous, so she attributed it to the traveling scholars.

Historically, there had never been a scholar who didn’t appreciate ink. During the Southern Tang Dynasty, Han Xizai made ‘Musk Moon’ ink, and Su Shi made ‘Snow Hall Righteousness’ ink – these were all scholars’ ink creations.

Therefore, Zhenniang wasn’t wrong to attribute this to the scholars.

“How does it compare to the smoke material you delivered today?” Old Shopkeeper Li asked with bright eyes.

“Even better,” Zhenniang replied with a grin.

At this, Old Shopkeeper Li forgot about his foot soak and began pacing the room excitedly, clearly eager to try it immediately. But remembering his vow never to touch ink again, he let out a long sigh.

“You old fool, have you lost your mind? Not even wearing shoes – what if you catch a cold?” Madam Wu jumped up anxiously, while Zhenniang quickly helped her grandfather sit back down.

Grandfather and granddaughter shared a knowing smile.

“I just don’t know where to find raw lacquer. The last batch was begged from a passing lacquer craftsman, but I can’t find him now,” Zhenniang said.

“Your Sixth Uncle has a mountain forest with quite a few lacquer trees. You can ask him,” Old Shopkeeper Li suggested.

Zhenniang hadn’t known about this before, and hearing her grandfather’s words, she nodded eagerly: “Then I’ll go see Sixth Uncle tomorrow.”

The Li family’s Sixth Uncle lived in a country estate outside the city.