Nanny Rong widened her eyes and murmured, "Master, the dicine bestowed upon you by Her Majesty the Empress is priceless. How could you..."
Shen Wei didn’t even look up. "Go and prepare it."
After a pause, Shen Wei revealed a faint smile. "Not just De Shun. Ji Xiang, Cai Lian, Cai Ping, and you, Nanny Rong—the five of you are my most trusted. There’s no reason in this world for a master to prosper while their servants suffer."
Nanny Rong’s shoulders trembled slightly, overwheld by a surge of emotion and warmth in her heart.
For a mont, her chest swelled with tenderness.
Nanny Rong left to search for the dicinal herbs in the storeroom.
Ti passed, and dusk arrived. When Prince Yan returned to his residence, he imdiately shut himself in his study, summoning several craftsn for discussions. Even by dinnerti, he had yet to visit the Glazed Pavilion. Shen Wei had the kitchen prepare a al and pack it into a food box, which she personally delivered to him.
Prince Yan was still young—he absolutely must not develop stomach problems. If an untreated stomach ailnt turned into sothing worse and he died prematurely, Shen Wei would lose a crucial pillar of support in the mansion.
In her life’s calculations, Prince Yan could only die after her position was firmly secured.
"Your Highness, I’ve brought your dinner," Shen Wei announced as she entered the study, instructing the maids to set the al on the outer chamber’s table.
After a short wait, the inner door opened, and five or six craftsn filed out, bowing to Shen Wei before departing.
Prince Yan approached the table, where the maids had already laid out the dishes.
The al was exquisite, but as he picked up his chopsticks, Shen Wei noticed his absentmindedness. After barely finishing half a bowl of rice, he set his utensils down with a troubled expression.
Curious, Shen Wei asked, "Your Highness, has sothing troubled you?"
Prince Yan dismissed the maids, leaving only the two of them in the outer chamber.
After a mont’s thought, he retrieved a blueprint and explained, "This is a design submitted by Zhao Qing—a weapon called a compound bow. But she’s an eccentric woman. She provided only the sketch and refuses to participate in its construction."
Previously, with the musket and landmines, Zhao Qing had only offered vague diagrams and material lists.
But when it ca to the actual chanics—the weight distribution of components, the interplay of chanisms—she remained tight-lipped. Left with no choice, the military craftsn had to decipher and replicate the weapons through trial and error.
The musket and landmine had been relatively straightforward.
But this compound bow... The sketch was crude, with critical structural details left unexplained. Prince Yan had spent the afternoon consulting craftsn, yet none could decipher the purpose of the joint chanisms or how they functioned within the whole.
Frustration gnawed at him.
Zhao Qing was undeniably brilliant, but her temperant was infuriating. Were it not for the Emperor’s favor and the South Garrison Marquis’s protection, Prince Yan would have thrown her into the dungeons and tortured the specifics out of her.
He shared his grievances with Shen Wei rely to vent, never expecting her to provide an answer.
"A... compound bow?" Shen Wei was stunned. Her mind conjured images of sleek, modern compound bows—lightweight yet deadly, capable of piercing steel plates with the right materials.
Zhao Qing had to be from the modern era! If not, she must have access to knowledge of modern weaponry.
Taking the blueprint from Prince Yan, Shen Wei confird its crudeness. While the general outline of the bow was there, the joint chanisms were barely hinted at.
"Look here, Wei Wei," Prince Yan sighed deeply. "The craftsn can’t figure out what this black component at the joint is supposed to be."
Shen Wei silently mused. Of course, it was a bearing with holes. But Zhao Qing had reduced it to a re black dot in her sketch.
Feigning contemplation, Shen Wei ventured, "Your Highness, to this humble one, the joint resembles a waterwheel. Perhaps if there were gears, it might rotate?"
She avoided directly naming it as a bearing, instead using the waterwheel as a taphor.
After all, wasn’t a waterwheel just a large-scale bearing component?
Prince Yan chuckled dismissively. "A waterwheel is massive. How could it resemble this compact bow?"
Shen Wei widened her almond-shaped eyes, feigning indignation at his skepticism. "Your Highness could think of it as a miniature waterwheel!"
Prince Yan laughed. "A miniature waterwheel—"
His words trailed off as realization struck. Having grown up around military machinery, he began ntally reconstructing the bow’s design. If the joint were replaced with small, perforated bearing wheels...
His eyes lit up.
Abandoning his al, he called for his attendants. "Prepare my horse! I’m heading to the Ministry of War!"
Shen Wei: "..."
In the blink of an eye, the workaholic prince was gone.
Glaring at the untouched al, Shen Wei gritted her teeth—Starve to death, then!
Knowing Prince Yan, he’d likely bury himself in work for days, perhaps even staying overnight at the Ministry or the Eastern Palace.
But his obsession with duty suited her just fine. Shen Wei leisurely returned to the Glazed Pavilion, looking forward to a peaceful night’s rest.
...
anwhile, night draped over the South Garrison Marquis's Mansion.
Tomorrow was the Dowager’s grand birthday celebration, coinciding with Shangguan Xuan’s return. The mansion should have been festive.
Yet the inner hall was thick with tension.
The silver-haired Dowager sat at the center, flanked by her youngest daughter Shangguan Qian and eldest son Shangguan Xuan. The other relatives—uncles, aunts, and juniors—filled the seats around them.
Sun Qingi stood in the middle, like a prisoner on trial.
Pale but resolute, she repeated, "I refuse to share a husband with Zhao Qing. Nor will I accept co-wife status."
After years of waiting for her husband’s return, she had believed her hardships were over.
Instead, she was t with a crushing blow.
That military advisor, Zhao Qing, was a woman—and she had secretly pledged herself to Shangguan Xuan in Liangzhou. Now, back in the capital, he intended to marry her. Sun Qingi would not yield.
Shangguan Qian, who had always disliked her sister-in-law, sneered. "Sister-in-law, Zhao Qing is a newly titled viscountess, honored by the Emperor. You? You’re just a daughter of the declining Sun family, with no elders left. Marrying into our mansion was a stroke of luck. And yet you dare to be picky?"
Sun Qingi remained silent, her gaze fixed on her husband.
Shangguan Xuan spoke coldly. "You’ve served my parents dutifully. If you won’t accept co-wife status, then I’ll have no choice but to demote you to concubine."
Though the law mandated corporal punishnt for demoting a wife, he was willing to endure it—for Zhao Qing’s sake.
The Dowager sighed. "Zhao Qing is a viscountess, a model for won. Such a distinguished lady is barely worthy of my son. You, with neither talent, virtue, nor beauty, should be grateful for co-wife status."
The uncles and aunts from the other branches chid in, all chastising Sun Qingi for her obstinacy.
"The county princess holds a high status; she's a suitable match for Xuan'er."
"It's just a secondary wife position—you'll still be the principal wife."
"The Sun family raised such a petty-minded daughter."
"Qingi, you're still young. Won must rely on n to survive—why provoke Xuan'er?"
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