At Chen hour (7-9 AM), as the morning mist had just dispersed, workers began filing into the ink workshop in small groups to start their day’s work.

Wu Mingquan, a man in his forties, stood outside on a large bluestone, taking his last puff of tobacco. Once inside the smoke production shed, smoking would be strictly forbidden.

“Uncle Quan, Uncle Quan!” At this moment, Ergou came running up to Wu Mingquan’s side with a piece of black wheat cake in his mouth.

“What is it, you rascal? Don’t tell me you’re asking for another day off. How many days have you taken off this month? Keep this up, and I won’t be so nice anymore.” Wu Mingquan glared at him.

He was a distant relative from Madam’s maiden family and had learned the art of smoke production from a young age. Now promoted to supervisor of the smoke production shed—equivalent to a workshop director in modern terms—he managed dozens of workers as a foreman.

Thus, he particularly despised Ergou’s slack attitude.

“How could that be? Do I look that thoughtless?” Ergou pouted, then mysteriously continued, “Uncle Quan, I heard some news. You know how Master Ma, who managed the smoke production, left? I heard Miss Zhen will be directly managing us now. Aiyo, we’ll be taking orders from a young maiden now.”

Ergou spoke with a subtle tone of discontent.

“What nonsense are you speaking? Haven’t we all been working under Miss Zhen since she took over the ink workshop?” Wu Mingquan said gruffly.

“How can that be the same? Sure, Miss Zhen took over the workshop, but aren’t Manager Shao and Owner Li still running things? Miss Zhen is just a figurehead. But now she’ll be directly managing our smoke shed. With her ordering us around, won’t we grown men feel stifled?”

“What are you suggesting? We’re just workers—can we prevent her from managing us?” Wu Mingquan raised his eyes to examine Ergou. This fellow never did his work properly, but he had no shortage of crooked ideas. From his tone, he was likely plotting something.

“Who said anything about preventing her?” Ergou argued, then after glancing around, he whispered in Wu Mingquan’s ear, “Whether she manages us or not isn’t up to us, but we should make her understand certain rules. She can’t be too bossy. How about we plan something to show her who’s boss?”

“What kind of show of force? We can’t go too far—Miss Zhen is still the owner. If we cross the line, we might all end up packing our bags and heading home,” Wu Mingquan said gravely.

For the common workers, it didn’t matter much who ran the workshop; they would do the same work regardless. Moreover, since taking over, Miss Zhen had conducted herself properly. The workers had no major complaints about her, and her few public appearances had been impressive, leading to general acceptance.

However, accepting her leadership didn’t mean they were willing to let her meddle in their specific domain.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, it won’t go too far,” Ergou said slyly. “I just heard from the accounting office that Miss Zhen is coming to inspect the smoke shed soon. She’s still a young lady, after all. The weather’s getting hot, and our smoke shed is quite warm. When we all work shirtless, she won’t be able to come in. If she can’t enter, she won’t be able to boss us around, right? We’re not doing anything wrong—it’s normal to work shirtless when it’s hot in the shed.”

Hearing Ergou’s scheme, Wu Mingquan had to admit the crafty fellow had a point. This method would leave no room for complaint.

“Fine, go inform everyone,” Wu Mingquan told Ergou, preferring not to deal with it directly.

“Yes, sir!” Ergou scampered into the workshop.

Soon, sounds of commotion and strange shouts emerged from the workshop—workers always seemed eager to stir up trouble.

“Miss Zhen, this way.”

After reviewing past accounts in the accounting office, which she needed to learn about, Miss Zhen called for Ma Sao and headed toward the smoke production shed at the end of Chen hour.

Ma Sao led the way.

Soon, they arrived at the smoke production shed.

“Ma Sao, Ma Sao, please stop!” Ergou, who had been watching for them, rushed out to intercept them with a sycophantic expression.

“Ergou, you’re causing trouble again. Quickly pay your respects to Miss Zhen,” Ma Sao glared at him.

Ergou had been nameless since birth. His mother had been a prostitute who died of illness when he was three. After that, he begged on the streets. One day, Ugly Woman, who guarded Li’s family’s back gate, saw him suffering from hunger and gave him a piece of cake. After that, he stuck to her. Ugly Woman didn’t mind him, feeding him when she had food to spare and letting him go hungry when she didn’t. He grew up this way until the Li family, seeing his connection with Ugly Woman, simply let him work in their workshop.

However, having grown up on the streets, he had developed all the habits of an idler. Not only was he a gossip, but he never worked properly, just getting by. He wasn’t a bad person, just rather annoying, so Ma Sao always felt the need to scold him whenever they met.

Miss Zhen found Ergou somewhat familiar, then remembered he had been spreading gossip outside during the Taibai Tower ink competition. Indeed, in modern terms, he would have made an excellent paparazzi.

“Ma Sao, you wrong me! How dare I slack off? I still need to earn money from the workshop to find a wife,” Ergou immediately protested, then quickly greeted Miss Zhen: “Greetings, Miss Zhen.”

Then, with an expression of absolute loyalty, he added, “I’m only thinking of Miss Zhen’s welfare! The workshop is full of rough men, and now that the weather’s getting hot, with the smoke production going on, it’s even hotter inside. Everyone’s working shirtless—how could Miss Zhen go in?”

Hearing this, Ma Sao immediately glared, walked forward a few steps, lifted the workshop curtain to look inside, and then spat: “You lot want to die!” She turned to Ergou and said, “Quickly go tell everyone to put their clothes back on.”

“That won’t work! We’re about to collect the first batch of soot. If we wear clothes now, the air movement will scatter the soot everywhere!” Ergou immediately protested.

Being workshop people themselves, they understood the importance of avoiding any air disturbance during smoke production.

“Miss Zhen, perhaps we should come back another time? We can give advance notice so the workers can prepare themselves properly,” Ma Sao suggested to Miss Zhen.

Looking at Ergou’s crafty expression, Miss Zhen understood these men’s intentions perfectly. They simply couldn’t accept being managed by a woman and wanted to show her who’s boss.

“No need, Ma Sao. Get me a cloth strip,” Miss Zhen instructed Ma Sao.

A cloth strip? What did Miss Zhen want with that? Ma Sao was puzzled, but she went to fetch one anyway, returning shortly.

Miss Zhen tied the cloth over her eyes, having Ma Sao secure it at the back of her head, then turned to Ma Sao and said, “Let’s go in.”

“But… Miss Zhen, is this appropriate?” Ma Sao looked at Miss Zhen’s appearance. True, this way she wouldn’t see the shirtless men, but what could she accomplish like this?

Beside them, Ergou also wore a confused expression, wondering what Miss Zhen was up to.

“It’s fine, let’s go in,” Miss Zhen pulled on Ma Sao’s arm.

“Alright.” Unable to dissuade Miss Zhen, Ma Sao supported her into the workshop, with Ergou eagerly following, curious about what Miss Zhen intended to do.

Not only was Ergou curious, but the smoke production workers inside were also quite intrigued by Miss Zhen’s unusual entrance. This could certainly be counted as an extraordinary sight.

Miss Zhen ignored their reactions and stood quietly for a moment before suddenly raising her hand and pointing to the last row of smoke lamps: “That row is ready for soot collection. If we wait any longer, it will be too mature.”

Just as Wu Mingquan was wondering what Miss Zhen was doing, he heard her words and instinctively checked the porcelain bowls above one of the oil lamps in that row. Indeed, the soot was at the perfect stage for collection. He immediately ordered workers to collect it.

“This row needs more oil, doesn’t it?” Miss Zhen then pointed to the row of oil lamps in front of her.

Everyone looked—indeed, the oil in that row of lamps was running low. Without waiting for Wu Mingquan’s order, workers began adding oil.

“That row’s flame is too strong, can’t you see the sparks? Smoke production requires medium heat. With such high heat, the smoke material will burn before it’s properly formed,” Miss Zhen pointed to another row of smoke lamps at the back.

The worker managing that row hurriedly adjusted the heat, sweat already forming on his forehead. This Miss Zhen was truly remarkable.

“Miss Zhen, Miss Zhen, how did you do that?” Ergou immediately exclaimed.

“It’s quite simple—scent and feeling. I can smell whether the smoke is too mature, and I’m sure some of you can too,” Miss Zhen smiled.

Wu Mingquan nodded slightly. He could indeed smell when smoke was too mature, but to distinguish the maturity of different smoke batches across an entire shed through smell alone, as Miss Zhen had just done—that was beyond his capability. This alone proved that Miss Zhen’s smoke production skills surpassed his own.

“As for the lamps running low on oil, that too is about smell. When a lamp lacks oil, its heat naturally weakens. With insufficient heat, the soot doesn’t fully develop, and the smell lacks a certain balance. Such soot will affect the ink’s quality. As for excessive heat causing the smoke to burn, that needs no explanation—you’ve all been smoke producers for years and should understand this,” Miss Zhen explained.

“Miss Zhen, I am impressed,” Wu Mingquan bowed slightly.

“You’re too kind, Master Wu. If you calm your mind, you can sense these things too,” Miss Zhen replied.

“But what if I deliberately reduce the flame? How can you distinguish that from a lamp that’s low on oil?” Ergou, still unconvinced, asked.

“A low oil flame and an intentionally reduced flame are two different things. When oil is low, the entire wick is dry, causing the flame to have an ’empty’ quality, producing dry smoke. But when the flame is intentionally reduced, the wick remains oil-soaked, producing a ‘solid’ flame head. The resulting smoke will be balanced and moist, not dry,” Miss Zhen explained.

“I submit, I submit…” Ergou bowed.