35. A Reunion with Miss Tang

Time flew by, and before Xia Lin knew it, the summer season had arrived. He felt as though he had done nothing but busy himself with endless rounds of the various construction sites.

With summer here, the kilns were finally ready for full-scale operation. A series of processes had already begun: mining, grinding, sifting, and pulping. If he had to rely solely on his own wits for these tasks, he would have surely failed, but Xia Lin had a secret weapon.

How to sift the ore, how to formulate glazes, how to fire the kilns, and how to paint the designs—the instructions he found online were crystal clear. This drastically reduced the cost of trial and error. Even after just a few runs with the local villagers, the quality of their products had become relatively stable.

The Dragon Boat Festival served as a milestone. Once it passed, the workshop went into full production. For days, Xia Lin had been rushing about, barely catching his breath. Although the processes were generally sound, minor issues inevitably arose during actual operation.

Problems like clogged vents causing backdrafts, burners extinguishing, temperatures failing to rise, or smoke reflux—all these required his constant, hands-on intervention. Fortunately, there were no major disasters. While the yield of the first batch was slightly low, it was, at the very least, a good start—and a good start is half the battle.

However, when he saw the actual shapes of the porcelain, Xia Lin could only squat down and pull at his hair in frustration. These workers were not professionals, and their craftsmanship was abysmal. The bowls were lopsided, the vases were twisted, and some plates were so slumped and misshapen they could only be described as trash.

The idea of selling such items was nothing more than a pipe dream.

Indeed, his "cheat" could solve basic technical and manufacturing issues, but it could not replace the proficiency that comes with practice. Facing the prospect of not only failing to recoup his costs but also losing the trust of the villagers, Xia Lin felt a splitting headache coming on.

He had two options: intensify the training of his base laborers or go outside and invite experienced masters to mentor the apprentices.

The first path was undoubtedly difficult. The second was much more viable and would yield faster results. After all, the issue lay only in the vessel shapes and the lack of manual dexterity; the porcelain itself was impeccable—smooth, translucent, and vivid—a far cry from the common products currently on the market.

"Zhao Da."

"I'm here, sir."

Zhao Da had changed significantly since Xia Lin first arrived. He had purchased property in Raozhou and even found a suitable son-in-law for his widowed daughter. Now, if anyone dared to speak ill of Xia Lin, he would be ready to risk his life to defend him. Hearing his master call, he responded with alacrity.

"Do you know of any highly skilled pottery masters? Age doesn't matter; I need them to come and train apprentices."

"Pottery? But sir, aren't we making porcelain?"

"Pottery, porcelain—it’s much the same. It’s just a matter of materials and heat control. Without a master, how can we make money with these slumped, ugly things? We have to get our products out before the Mid-Autumn Festival and see a return on our investment by the end of the year."

Zhao Da scratched his ear, feeling uncertain. He was out of his depth, but since Xia Lin had spoken, he would push forward regardless. Fortunately, they were only about a hundred miles from Raozhou, so he prepared to depart immediately.

"Wait," Xia Lin said, standing up. "I’ll go with you."

"Then I shall go and prepare."

"Prepare for what? Just find an ox cart. You drive, and I’ll sit in the back."

Zhao Da looked troubled. "Sir... you have a status to maintain."

"Status? If we fail, our status will be that of prisoners."

Hearing this, sweat beaded on Zhao Da’s forehead. He quickly readied the cart, and the two set off toward Raozhou.

They departed in the morning and arrived by evening at Changmen in Huizhou—later known as Qimen County. Xia Lin was baffled when he saw the county boundary marker. "Hey, weren't we going to Raozhou? How did we end up in Changmen, Huizhou? Did you lose your way, you old fool?"

Sitting on the cart, Zhao Da felt his scalp tighten as he looked at the sign. After a quick mental review, he realized he had taken a wrong turn at a fork. The road he chose led to Xiuning in Huizhou, whereas they should have headed toward Wuyuan to reach Raozhou. He had accidentally brought his master to Changmen.

"Forget it, forget it. Let's find a place to stay."

As he spoke, a torrential downpour began. Before they could even put on their straw rain capes, they were soaked to the bone. They found an inn, changed into dry clothes, and headed downstairs to get something to eat.

Xia Lin was internally cursing Zhao Da, but there was no use in punishing him now. They would just have to settle in; perhaps they could find some skilled masters here instead. Still, it was infuriating—if they had gone to Xiuning, they would have arrived long ago and avoided this storm entirely.

"Actually, coming to Changmen isn't so bad, sir... This place is famous for tea, and among the tea merchants, there are many skilled potters."

"What good does that do now... Goodness, I'm truly..." Xia Lin waved his hand helplessly. "Waiter, what food do you have left? Bring us some."

The waiter hurried over, rubbing his hands apologetically. "My apologies, sirs, but it is late. We have no food left; what remains is reserved for guests who booked ahead."

"It's late and pouring rain. I doubt those guests are coming. Just take some extra money and give the food to us."

"This..." the waiter looked distressed. "I cannot make that call. I will go fetch the manager."

The manager arrived shortly after, offering the same excuses. Xia Lin, exhausted and starving after a long day of travel, lost his temper. Zhao Da, always keen to read the room, pulled out his official constable’s blade and slammed it onto the table. "How dare you be so negligent toward my master!"

The manager and the waiter panicked. They hadn't realized a government official had arrived, and the blade looked unmistakably like standard issue.

"In that case... in that case, I will have someone prepare something for you both."

Just as the dispute settled, five or six people in straw capes entered. The leader spoke up: "Once the goods are unloaded, let the men come in and rest. It’s been a hard journey for everyone."

Hearing that voice, Xia Lin’s head snapped around. Even in the dim light, he couldn't see the face clearly, but the voice was etched into his memory.

"Miss Tang?"

His shout startled the group. The men standing by Miss Tang’s side immediately grew alert, their hands moving to their swords.

"Do not panic." Miss Tang remained calm. She removed her bamboo hat and looked at Xia Lin curiously. "You know me? May I ask who you are?"

Xia Lin stood up and smiled. "It is only natural that you don't remember me, Miss Tang. Do you recall two people catching a ride to Yangzhou from Luoyang during the spring equinox last year?"

Miss Tang shook her head slightly, though a smile appeared on her face. "It seems we are fellow travelers from Luoyang. A pleasure to meet you."

Seeing that she had no memory of him, Xia Lin felt a pang of disappointment. He smiled thinly, bowed half-heartedly, and said, "Then I shall not disturb you, Miss Tang."

Tang Wanqiu had been observing Xia Lin, but she truly had no recollection of him. It had been a minor incident a year ago, and she had spent the year traveling across the country managing the family business—she simply didn't have the time to remember every detail.

Soon, a crowd arrived; it seemed Miss Tang had brought her entire caravan. That explained why the manager said the food was reserved. As the largest inn in the area, it was the natural choice for a caravan of this size.

After they were seated, the manager no longer dared to object. It was clear that the dishes served to Xia Lin were merely scraps taken from the caravan's portions, but in such conditions, having anything to eat at all was a blessing, and he saw no point in being picky.

As the group ate, Xia Lin heard someone at the next table say, "Eldest Miss, this life of sleeping in the open—you have suffered right along with us."

"It is fine. Since I have taken over the Tang family business, these are things I must do. If my father could endure it, so can I." Miss Tang’s voice carried a hint of exhaustion. "Everyone, eat quickly. It has been a hard journey. After you eat, get a good night's rest."

Hearing this, Xia Lin realized Miss Tang was quite the remarkable woman. Despite her delicate appearance—a typical "porcelain doll" from Guanzhong—she possessed a resilience like the poplars of the Northwest, growing strong in the face of the wind.

"Miss, after this leg of the journey, we will head west along the Chang River to reach Hongdu. I hear a new academy has opened there; perhaps we could pay a visit."

Hmm? Xia Lin grew curious. Why would Miss Tang go to an academy? Then, he understood: she was looking to invest. The status of merchants was low, and the only way to climb the social ladder was to become part of the landed gentry. But money alone wasn't enough; one needed political influence. For a regional merchant like her, investing in a new academy was the perfect path.

Any graduate of that academy who received her funding would be beholden to her. Over time, the Tang family could transform from a house of merchants into a house of gentry.

However, Xia Lin suspected this Miss Tang was about to hit a wall.