jdhmnovel Chapter 506 Preparing to Set Sail
Chapter 506 Preparing to Set Sail
When she arrived at her post three days later, the officials of the Ministry of Rites were surprised to see that the new scribe was a woman. However, they did not look down on her. The news of the imperial examination had already spread throughout Xianyang, and everyone knew that this Miss Lü was a woman with real talent.
The official in charge of the office was an old clerk with white hair and beard. Holding a mountain of documents, he smiled and said, "Your arrival is just in time, Mr. Lü. These are the reporting documents from academies in various places. The formats are all messy, and I was just worried that no one would organize them."
Lü Zhi looked at the bamboo slips. Some were written on bamboo slips from Chu, the characters still damp with moisture; others were wooden tablets from Yan, the edges bearing the marks of time. She reached out and picked up a scroll, a "List of Disciples" submitted by the Wei Academy. Next to the names were annotations such as "good at arithmetic" and "proficient in the Book of Poetry." Although the handwriting was hasty, it revealed her earnestness.
“Minister Si,” she said, pointing to the classification grid on the desk, “why not categorize them into four types: ‘Classics, History, Philosophy, and Techniques,’ and then label them by region? This would make it easier to look up later.” She picked up a pen and annotated a scroll of Chu documents, “This ‘Miscellaneous Records of Agricultural Affairs in Chu,’ though not a classic text, contains records of ‘Three Methods of Rice Cultivation.’ It should be classified under the ‘Techniques’ category. Perhaps it will be useful for the newly appointed Jinshi (successful candidates in the highest imperial examinations) when they go to take up their posts in Chu.”
The old official's eyes lit up: "This is a good method! In the past, we only sorted by country, which was really difficult to find."
The officials gathered around, watching Lü Zhi systematically categorize the documents, gradually transforming the previously chaotic files into a well-organized order. A young clerk couldn't help but ask, "Master Lü, are all these old books really useful?"
Lü Zhi picked up a scroll titled "Records of Korean Craftsmen," which detailed the crossbow-making techniques of Korea. She smiled and asked, "Look at the dimensions of this crossbow; they're even more precise than the ones we use now. If we improved them, wouldn't they be useful?"
The clerk was speechless for a moment, and the old official next to him sighed, "Indeed, the knowledge of the world should not be divided between Qin and the six states."
As dusk fell, Lü Zhi finished organizing the last volume of documents. The bronze seal at her waist tapped gently against the edge of the desk with her movements, producing a crisp sound. Gazing at the darkening sky outside the window, she suddenly understood that this position of seventh-rank compiler, seemingly just organizing documents, was actually about doing something far more profound: to let the wisdom buried by war shine again under the sun of the Qin Dynasty.
Time flies. Just as the first batch of locust leaves fell from the trees of the official school, the official road outside Xianyang City became bustling with activity. Those successful candidates who had returned home to report their good news arrived one after another on the appointed day. Their blue robes were still covered with the dust of their journey, but their bags were filled with things from their hometowns—newly ground wheat flour brought by the students of the Jingzhao Prefecture, dried dates carried by the candidates from Hedong, and half a basket of freshly picked persimmons carried by the people of Nanyang. The bags were heavy and filled with the warmth of returning home.
Within half a day, the schoolyard was filled with people. Some were dusting off their clothes under the eaves, some were busy carrying bookcases to their dormitories, and others were gathered together, chatting about their hometowns—whose wheat had been harvested, which river channel had been repaired, and so on, until they veered onto the Qin law, "In my hometown, the people don't know the rules of 'collective responsibility among the ten or five households.' When I get to my hometown, I'm afraid I'll have to start by teaching them the law."
The official in charge of the training stood on the steps, stroking his beard and nodding slightly. These candidates, from different regions, still bore the marks of their respective hometowns on their faces, yet their eyes all shone with the same light—anticipation for the upcoming training and aspirations for a future official position.
At the third quarter of Chen hour, the bronze bell of the academy rang out for the first time. The once noisy courtyard instantly fell silent. The candidates lined up according to their hometowns, their blue robes and gray cloth student uniforms gradually blending together, making it impossible to tell who was from Qin and who was a guest from the other six states.
An official stepped onto the platform, unfurled a scroll titled "The Way of Being an Official," and spoke in a voice as strong as an ancient pine: "Now that you have passed the imperial examinations, you are all preparing to become officials of the Great Qin. These three months will not be spent learning poetry and prose, but rather how to ensure the people live in peace and how to ensure the smooth implementation of government orders."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across the audience. "Today's first lesson is to learn the character '民' (mín) – the Qin seal script for '民' is an eye with a blade on top, meaning that the people are like a blade, capable of bringing peace to the country, but also capable of capsizing it. We should always be in awe of them."
Sunlight streamed through the window lattice, illuminating the papers the scholars were copying with their heads down. Lu Bai, pen in hand, suddenly recalled his father's words when he left home: "When you get to Xianyang, don't always think about Qi; first see how Qin is improving the lives of its people." He glanced at his classmates and saw a Zhao scholar diligently writing the character "民" (people) in Qin clerical script, while a Chu scholar's fingers lightly touched the bamboo slips, as if pondering the deeper meaning of the strokes.
He knew that the purpose of these three months of training was not to erase their rural roots, but to allow the wisdom from different lands to find its most solid place in the word "serving the people." As the echoes of the bronze bell faded, the sound of neat recitation rang out in the school, passing through the locust tree leaves and soaring into the sky above Xianyang City, like countless seeds taking root, waiting for the day they would sprout.
Unlike Xianyang, in the shipbuilding workshop of Langya Port, Ying Wuyou was climbing a wooden ladder onto a newly built seagoing vessel. The ship's planks were scorching hot from the sun. Holding onto the mast, she looked down and saw the craftsmen applying the final coat of tung oil to the hull. The pungent smell inexplicably reminded her of the smell of disinfectant in a 21st-century laboratory—equally unfamiliar, yet equally full of hope.
“Princess, look!” The craftsman’s rough voice came from below. He held up a yellowed blueprint, which rustled in the sea breeze. “This keel is three inches thicker than last time. It’s made of South China Sea sunken camphor wood. When you tap it, it sounds like you’re striking a bronze bell!”
He pounded the hull with his fist, and in the dull echo, Ying Wuyou could clearly see the arc she had circled in vermilion on the deck—it was the curve of the hull she had modified based on the fluid dynamics model in the system, following the posture of a carp wagging its tail, which was said to allow the boat to "glide through the water like a fish".
She leaned on the mast and looked down. Some people were shouting as they lifted long nails, while others were using hemp thread to tighten the seams of the boat. Beads of sweat fell onto the scorching hot wooden planks, instantly turning into small, dark dots.
"Have you tried the tail rudder?" Ying Wuyou's voice was somewhat scattered by the wind, but it was clear and undeniable.
The captain, standing at the stern, quickly replied, "I've tried it! Yesterday at high tide, I circled the bay three times. This new rudder is ten times more maneuverable than the old wooden rudder!" He turned the chain-linked rudder handle, and the huge wooden rudder turned gracefully in the water, creating a ripple. "Even if a crosswind suddenly comes, it won't sway wildly like before!"
Ying Wuyou walked along the ship's side. The cypress barrels piled up in the hold emitted a fresh fragrance, their mouths wrapped in wax-soaked linen—a simplified version of the "ancient freshwater storage scheme" in the system, supposedly capable of keeping water from spoiling for six months. Next to her, a bulging bag of dry rations wafted out, the aroma of roasted rice mingling with the salty, gamey smell of cured meat. She picked up a hard biscuit, her knuckles aching from the pressure, but she couldn't help but smile—these "compressed biscuits," which could last three months, were far easier to produce than the military rations in the system that required sophisticated equipment.