Chapter 20: The Satchel (I)

I had originally planned to travel to Chengdu today, but a heavy snowfall intervened... The airport was closed, and my journey was thwarted. After all the commotion, I felt a bit exhausted. I intended to post a new update after midnight, but decided to upload it ahead of time, counting it as the first chapter for tomorrow.

And, by the way, I humbly ask for some more recommendation votes!

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Kuai Zheng took a cup of wine, made a polite gesture, and departed soon after.

No one truly understood the purpose behind his visit. Yet, to outsiders, Kuai Zheng’s arrival seemed a clear omen of Deng Ji’s rise. Especially when they saw Kuai Zheng conversing warmly with Cao Peng, their suspicions were confirmed; even the looks cast toward Cao Peng now carried a hint of respect.

Though Kuai Zheng was merely a county magistrate, behind him stood the formidable Kuai family—a true force to be reckoned with.

“Did you see? Young Master Cao and Magistrate Kuai were speaking as equals... When have you ever seen Magistrate Kuai act so affably with anyone?”

“Indeed, even Elder Deng was deferential when meeting Magistrate Kuai. I’ve never seen Magistrate Kuai treat Elder Deng in this manner. This time, the third son is destined for greatness! With this connection between Young Master Cao and Magistrate Kuai, Deng Cai is simply out of his depth. Ha! Just yesterday, I saw Dame Ma at the village entrance, her face still bandaged, eyes downcast as she hurried by. Gone was the imposing air she once had. It’s enough to make one laugh.”

“If they’d known it would come to this, why act as they did before?”

“Exactly. The old patriarch may seem unchanged, but I suspect he simply can’t bring himself to act otherwise. In someone else’s place, Dame Ma would have been shown the door long ago... The old man is soft-hearted, too indulgent of Deng Cai...”

Gradually, the villagers’ gossip shifted from Deng Ji, to the old patriarch Deng, and then to General Deng. From General Deng, the talk turned to Zhang Xiu, before finally settling on next year’s farming.

After seeing Kuai Zheng off, Cao Peng returned indoors to rest.

Cao Ji and Deng Ji remained outside, playing hosts. The feast lasted until dusk, the aftermath a scene of scattered dishes and empty cups—only then did the guests disperse.

Madam Hong gathered a few people to tidy the courtyard, while Madam Zhang and Cao Nan took her inside, insisting on giving her some money before drifting into idle chatter about family matters. Not until the moon rose above the willow tips did Madam Hong, content, bid her farewells and depart with her companions. After a day of busyness, the Cao family was thoroughly spent. Deng Ji, planning to return to his post at the county office the next morning, retired early. Madam Zhang and her daughter, though tired, were in high spirits. The two lay side by side, whispering secrets late into the night.

Cao Peng too was weary—not just in body, but in spirit as well. To outsiders, he seemed to be riding high, but only he knew the burdens he carried, pressures others could scarcely imagine.

Cao Peng was gambling, yet he firmly believed that Pang Ji would approve of his actions. Even if Pang Ji did not, there was still Sima Dechao. As long as one of the two gave their assent, the deception regarding his supposed Lumen tutelage could be glossed over.

He had this confidence, yet until he had a clear answer, he could not help but remain on edge... As for Kuai Zheng’s visit today, he understood the intent perfectly. Outwardly, Kuai Zheng came to offer congratulations, but in reality, it was a final test—a chance to gauge Cao Peng’s reaction.

Fortunately, Cao Peng’s response had been impeccable: “I sent someone to Xiangyang three days ago!”

At least for now, Kuai Zheng would not take any action.

Now, all he could do was wait, and wait, and wait...

In the late Eastern Han era, private academies flourished. At the top were renowned scholars like Zheng Xuan; at the bottom, unsuccessful officials returned home to teach. Opportunities to pursue learning were far greater than before. The prevailing ethos valued talent and delighted in passing on knowledge. Presumably, in the eyes of men like Sima Dechao, he too counted as a worthy talent. Just this thought gave Cao Peng considerable confidence.

The past few days had been spent honing his body, building strength and endurance—a demanding endeavor. So, as soon as night fell, Cao Peng went to bed.

He didn’t know how long he slept, when half-awake he heard noises outside.

Rubbing his eyes, he got up, donned a cotton robe, and stepped out his door. The sounds seemed to come from the front courtyard. Crossing the main hall, he stopped on the steps, peering into a corner of the yard, where a hulking figure bustled about in the moonlight. Cao Peng instantly recognized his father, Cao Ji.

Cao Ji was assembling a simple shed in one corner of the courtyard, by the well—four pillars supporting a thatched roof. The structure had been there for some time, but had stood empty until now. Under the shed, Cao Ji was stacking something. Cao Peng scratched his head, hopped down the steps, and approached.

“Father, what are you doing?”

Cao Ji’s face and hands were smeared with mud. Seeing his son, he asked in surprise, “Peng’er, weren’t you already asleep?”

“Oh, I woke up feeling refreshed.”

By the light of an oil lamp inside the shed, Cao Peng saw something resembling a furnace. He started, then realized: this must be a smelting furnace. On the ground lay an assortment of tools—hammers, tongs, anvil, and a large leather bellows.

These were all blacksmith’s tools...

Ironworking on a significant scale began in the Western Han. Large workshops typically had smelting furnaces, bellows, and other equipment. In the early Eastern Han, the Prefect of Nanyang, Du Shi, invented the water-powered bellows, which used water to drive the air pumps, similar in effect to later bellows.

To Cao Peng, such equipment seemed primitive.

But for Cao Ji, even a water-powered bellows was out of reach.

Cao Peng squatted down and picked up the bellows.

“Father, is this the furnace bellows?”

It was shaped with narrow ends and a bulging middle, resembling a type of Spring and Autumn-era vessel known as a ‘bellows,’ and so the name had stuck. Fitted to the smelting furnace, these bellows could be compressed and expanded with a ceramic rod. Large furnaces often used multiple bellows in sequence—hence the term ‘row bellows.’

Cao Ji’s furnace clearly did not require such an elaborate setup.

“That’s right, it’s the bellows,” Cao Ji replied, slapping a slab of black clay onto the furnace wall and smoothing it with a spade. Smiling, he said, “We’re settling down here for good... Your brother-in-law offered to find me a shop in the city. But I thought, the city’s too far from the village; here is more convenient. See the road out front? Plenty of travelers pass through. The farmers from nearby villages need their tools repaired, and they all come this way. Rather than pay rent in the city, it’s easier here...

“Uncle Sun is an honest man, upright too. But we have hands and feet—we can’t just take advantage of his generosity, can we?”

It seemed his father truly wished to make a home and settle here...

But, Father, this County of Jiyang is only a waystation for us—a place to rest, not to stay…

Though this thought crossed his mind, Cao Peng voiced only agreement. Rarely did his father show such enthusiasm; as a son, how could he dampen that spirit? Still, repairing farm tools... hardly seemed promising.

“Father, do you know how to forge blades?”

“Blades?” Cao Ji paused, then laughed. “You mean weapons? I’ve tried! But my skills aren’t up to par, so I never made a good blade. Your Uncle Wang once asked me, too... but after a few attempts, I gave up.”

“Why?”

“There are many reasons. First, my technique isn’t good enough, I never learned properly; second, I lack the means. Forging blades isn’t like fixing farm tools—it requires precise temperatures. Generally, you need two or three bellows working together. I only have one.

“Bellows cost too much, I can’t afford them. And even if I could, there’s no guarantee of success... It would be money wasted. A man must know his own limits. I had a senior apprentice brother who tried to switch to making weapons—built a foundry in Wancheng, installed ten bellows, but still failed. No one wanted what he made, he ended up deep in debt, and had to leave town.”

“Father, you had a senior brother?”

“Yes, and he was truly talented—if even he failed, how could I hope to succeed?”

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Thanks to the readers: Ren Yue, Sighing Demise, Blade Thunder, Love Ends Like Water, Admiring Your Beauty, Genius Tiger’s PP, the Drow Mage, and the Generous Son of the Drow Mage for their support.