“Yes,” Zhao Hanzhang said. “I’ve decided—from now on, any industry involving partnership with the Zhao clan will be placed under your name.”

Fu Tinghan nodded, indicating he understood.

Zhao Hanzhang retrieved the contract and cocked her head. “You’re not going to ask me why?”

Fu Tinghan replied: “I know. You have the Zhao surname, while I’m an outsider. If disputes arise over the business, my identity makes me more suitable to negotiate with the Zhao clan.”

Zhao Hanzhang smiled slightly. “That’s exactly the reason.”

Fu Tinghan asked: “Aren’t you afraid I’ll betray you someday?”

Zhao Hanzhang gazed at him. “Would you?”

Fu Tinghan shook his head. “I wouldn’t, but you trust me this much?”

Zhao Hanzhang blew on the ink to dry it before folding the contract. “You’re worthy of trust. Never mind just these few businesses—even my entire fortune would be worth entrusting to you.”

Fu Tinghan didn’t seem particularly pleased. He asked: “Just like you’d be willing to entrust your entire fortune to Mr. Ji?”

Zhao Hanzhang stared at him for a while, then suddenly leaned forward across the table toward him. Fu Tinghan instinctively leaned back against his chair.

Zhao Hanzhang looked into his eyes. “Of course not. I regard Mr. Ji as my strategist. If he serves me faithfully, I’ll treat him as a national scholar in the future. If he fails me, I’ll part with him amicably and wish him success in his official career. But you—”

Zhao Hanzhang leaned even closer, looking at his tense face as she said softly: “Fu Tinghan, if you betray me, I might kill you.”

Fu Tinghan didn’t feel hurt—instead, his eyes grew moist. He looked at her and nodded gently. “Alright.”

Having received his promise, Zhao Hanzhang smiled broadly. She quickly pecked his lips, then stood up while he stared wide-eyed. “I’m going to find Uncle Ming. Get ready—we’re going to the paper workshop soon.”

Zhao Hanzhang ran out of the study. Fu Tinghan held his breath watching her leave, then touched his lips and rose in a fluster.

He nervously gathered the diagrams on the table into a pile, only to realize halfway through that he’d included discarded drafts. He hurriedly searched them out again.

Zhao Ming couldn’t get comfortable in their chairs. He stood by the window with his hands behind his back, gazing at the snow outside in a daze. Seeing Zhao Hanzhang rush in, he looked her up and down. “What’s the hurry? Tinghan didn’t agree?”

Zhao Qing was puzzled. “He wouldn’t agree to having property placed under his name?”

“No,” Zhao Hanzhang replied with a serious expression. “Uncle Qing, the papermaking technique was originally worked out by Tinghan—this paper workshop should rightfully be his.”

Zhao Qing quickly asked: “Is he dissatisfied with you giving forty percent to the clan?”

“…Not exactly. He just thinks the sixty-forty split isn’t good. He believes it should be fifty-fifty.”

Zhao Qing breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. “This arrangement is actually better for future management. If it’s fifty-fifty and there’s a major disagreement, whose decision should we follow—his or ours? With a difference, when opinions conflict in the future, we’ll know whose to follow.”

Zhao Ming stood silently by the window watching her brazenly fabricate stories. His gaze swept over her reddened ear tips before interrupting their conversation. “Prepare to go to the paper workshop.”

Zhao Hanzhang obediently replied: “Oh.”

Ting He received orders to prepare the carriage.

When Fu Tinghan emerged with the diagrams, both their expressions had returned to normal. Zhao Ming’s gaze swept over them both before he walked ahead. “Let’s go. Quick trip there and back.”

Zhao Qing smiled warmly at Fu Tinghan and explained on Zhao Ming’s behalf: “That’s just how he is—seems unreasonable, but his heart is actually very warm.”

Fu Tinghan knew this—otherwise Zhao Ming wouldn’t have fallen for Zhao Hanzhang’s schemes repeatedly.

Upon arriving at the paper workshop, Zhao Ming immediately showed his distaste. “This is far too small.”

In Xiping, few things could be hidden from Zhao Ming, so he’d known as soon as Zhao Hanzhang had people build a paper workshop beside this estate.

But he hadn’t known the workshop would be this rudimentary. He looked at the water pit where materials were soaking and shook his head. “This pit is both small and disorganized. Your manager is incompetent.”

Zhao Hanzhang said: “This manager was originally the estate’s steward. The estate isn’t large, and precisely because he’s not skilled at management, I needed to ask Uncle for help.”

If he were capable, would she have begged Zhao Ming?

Wouldn’t it be more satisfying to control the paper workshop herself?

The people at the school needed two or three years of training before they could be useful, and two or three years was far too precious in these chaotic times.

Right now, everything required paper. She didn’t want to keep sending people to surrounding counties to buy paper every few days due to shortages.

Zhao Qing went inside to look around and began asking how the paper was made.

Fu Tinghan pulled out the diagrams he’d drawn the previous night and this morning. “I want to build two large pools…”

Fu Tinghan held the diagrams and showed them the existing pulp processing methods, explaining the complete papermaking process.

Zhao Qing listened carefully. He didn’t need to know how to make paper himself, but he had to understand the process to properly arrange personnel.

“The curtain beds can be placed here, and this area can be used for drying paper. We’ll need to build a row of buildings over there for storage,” Fu Tinghan said. “If it rains, the paper needs to be moved back inside.”

Zhao Ming listened for a while before losing interest. He took a stick and stirred the materials in the reaction pit. As he stirred, he noticed something amiss. He pulled out the contents to examine them, then checked the adjacent pit.

Zhao Ming frowned and called Zhao Hanzhang over. “What’s going on? The contents of these pits are all different.”

Zhao Hanzhang glanced at them. “Oh, these are different formulas. We want to test what kind of paper results from different ratios.”

Zhao Ming said: “…I saw rice straw in there.”

“Right, there’s wheat straw too—all from after threshing. Doesn’t cost a thing,” Zhao Hanzhang said. “Tinghan and I tore up various materials to compare. Hemp and mulberry bark probably make the best paper. Next time we can try increasing their ratio to see the results.”

All this required research.

Zhao Qing, listening nearby, asked: “In that case, will one reaction pool and one pulp pool be enough?”

Fu Tinghan replied: “Yes. The experimental pits can use these small ones. Based on the paper quality from the test pits, we’ll choose which type to produce, then prepare pulp according to the production plan. The reaction pool can be divided into sections for use.”

He added: “The pit bottoms need to be cleaned after the pulp is used up.”

Zhao Qing understood and nodded, looking around. He already had a plan in mind. He directly pointed to the adjacent fields. “Give me this section of land. I want to build structures to enclose it, with the papermaking area in the middle.”

Zhao Hanzhang scanned the area—there were no wheat fields—before nodding in agreement. However: “I don’t have that many workers available right now.”

Zhao Qing said calmly: “I’ll arrange the workers.”

Zhao Hanzhang smiled cheerfully. “Then Uncle Qing, please help me out a bit more. I’ll allocate that area to you as well—could you help me build the printing house too?”

Zhao Ming immediately slapped her on the head. “The printing house can’t be built outside the city—it needs to be inside.”

—