Chapter 80: The Stubborn Steel Needle

The next day, before dawn, Elder Wang and his two grandsons brought Wang Xing to the local militia camp.

Tiefeng spoke quietly with Elder Wang and his son to the side. Wang Xing, holding five sheets of paper, approached and said, “There are many characters I didn’t recognize, so I marked them with circles. Also, Brother Huan, I originally wanted to write on both sides, but the ink would bleed through, and it would waste a sheet.”

The child’s reluctance to waste paper was written all over his face.

“I was the same when I was young.” In truth, it was not the paper that was most precious, but the ink. But there was no need for the Wang family to know this yet. Huan Zhen glanced over the pages; the circles and characters were almost evenly distributed, which was excellent. He nodded with a smile as he read each page.

Wang Xing, seeing Huan Zhen nearing the fifth page, explained honestly, “On the last sheet, any character that’s just a single stroke—that’s all my sister’s writing… Cough, the rest I wrote for her. She said she must always remember the master’s teachings and repay him with the craftsman’s skills. Thanks to the lodestone you gave us, Brother Huan, my sister wrote to the teacher last night about how she discovered the iron needle could point north and south. Brother Huan, maybe one day, everyone will carry a small tube of water, float a needle in it, and know which way is north or south…”

Wang Xing’s little mouth kept chattering away. Elder Wang and his son glanced over now and then, worried that Young Master Huan would grow annoyed, but Huan Zhen listened intently, paying even closer attention to the writing on the paper.

Huan Zhen’s own family possessed a “south-pointer” carved from lodestone, used for observing the motions of the stars and constellations. As it was heavy, it had to be carried in a cart when used outside, thus called a “south-pointing chariot.”

As for the imperial court’s south-pointer, it symbolized the “nation’s righteous law,” standing for upright governance rather than mere navigation.

At this moment, Huan Zhen’s mind was in turmoil as he carefully examined the fifth page, trying to deduce which character each circle represented, reviewing each line again.

It all began because Wang Xing, wanting to save paper, wrote on both sides. When he found the ink bled through, Wang Ge thought it a shame to waste it, so she cut out the unaffected words and saved them using hemp cloth as backing.

Before doing this, she had been mending clothes at the other end of the table. When the sewing needle grew blunt, she honed it with the lodestone.

Because it was night and the candles were burning, there was always a basin of water by the table. With the leftover scraps of paper, Wang Ge had a sudden inspiration: she threaded a needle through the paper, placed the needle and paper onto the water, treating it as a tiny boat.

Then, the siblings, recalling the “leakproof” bamboo boat, swirled the water with their fingers. She said, “Look, it doesn’t leak at all—no matter how you spin it, it won’t sink.”

Wang Xing replied, “Maybe it’s because of the paper? That’s why the needle doesn’t sink.”

Wang Ge added, “It’s not just that it floats—it’s stubborn too! No matter how you spin it around, one end always points south, the other north.”

Wang Xing said, “Let me try… Sister, you’re right, it’s very stubborn!”

Huan Zhen, after reading again, looked down to see Wang Xing’s eyes wide and round, worried that Brother Huan would think the fifth page poorly written. His nose was running from the cold, but he dared not wipe it.

“Tiefeng, fetch a rust-free needle and a basin of clean water,” Huan Zhen instructed, retrieving the paper and lodestone.

Once everything was ready, he honed the needle with the lodestone, threaded it through a scrap of paper, and, following Wang Ge’s method, placed it deliberately east-west on the water. Sure enough, the needle spun the paper until one end pointed south, the other north.

Tiefeng, scratching his head, crouched by the basin, watching as Huan Zhen stirred the water with a finger. The paper spun wildly but, once it stilled, the needle aligned north-south again.

Tiefeng couldn’t help but try several times, and the result was always the same.

Behind them, Wang Xing giggled and asked Elder Wang, “Grandfather, is a needle honed with a lodestone really that stubborn?”

Delighted, Elder Wang scooped up his grandson.

Second Brother Wang muttered, “If you want to know north from south, can’t you just look at the sun?”

Wang Xing replied, “What if it’s cloudy?”

Second Brother Wang said, “Is it always cloudy?”

Elder Wang countered, “What if you’re lost deep in the mountains?”

“Who goes into the mountains for no reason?” Second Brother Wang grumbled.

Elder Wang sighed, “My little tiger, don’t grow up to be like your second uncle—he’s even more stubborn than this guiding needle.”

Huan Zhen stood and praised, “Well said! The guiding needle! Come here, Xing.” He picked Wang Xing up without complaint and wiped his nose clean. “When I return to the capital, would you like to come with me?”

Wang Xing was so excited he nearly cried. He turned to ask his grandfather, but Elder Wang was already nodding enthusiastically, “Wonderful, wonderful!”

Afterward, Huan Zhen bundled the five sheets in a cloth pouch, placed them in a waterproof box, tied it with hemp rope, and sealed it with clay. Then, mounting his horse, he rode swiftly away.

Tiefeng took Second Brother Wang to Qinghe Village—Tiefeng on horseback, Second Brother Wang on a donkey.

Early that morning, Wang Tian had already escorted the two escaped convicts back to Xunxi Township, so Wang Xing missed seeing them, much to his regret.

Back home, upon learning her “sudden inspiration” had passed muster once again, Wang Ge devoted herself to her craft. Magistrate Huan had demanded that she produce one hundred rulers, one hundred squares, and ten sets of ten compasses—twelve hundred pieces in total—before the start of spring. She knew she couldn’t leave it until the last day, so, counting fifty days, she would need to make twenty-four tools per day.

From dawn to dusk, subtracting time for meals and necessities, she had five hours—meaning she had to make five tools every hour!

In such conditions, how could she expect to make extras and earn more money?

Wang Ge could only sigh, but her hands never slowed. The stricter Magistrate Huan’s requirements, the higher his expectations for her!

“When Heaven is about to place a great responsibility on someone, it first tests their resolve and wears their body with toil…” Wang Xing’s recitation drifted from the courtyard.

Elder Wang, in the old spot where he once chopped firewood, set up a workbench to help Wang Ge plane wood.

Third Brother Wang had taken Wang He into the wild hills to chop wood—today was Wang He’s first time in the wilds. In Jia Village, a boy’s first foray into the hills meant he was ready to bear family responsibilities.

The eldest brother still wove baskets. Over the year, his baskets, aside from those given as gifts or in trade, had earned enough grain to last the family at least two months.

The old woman Jia and Wang Shu continued working at the landlord Jia’s house, while Wang Peng fetched water and watched over the younger children. Everyone worked hard, all awaiting Second Brother Wang’s return.

Would the tally token really bring them an ox?

That afternoon, north of the village, the young master Jia, who rented a room in the widower’s house, died when a boil burst. The neighbors hardly knew his family; it was the widower who found a few young men to carry the body out of the village, bury him in an unclaimed field, and erect a grass shelter at the grave.

Five days later, Tiefeng and Second Brother Wang rounded the bend by Lingshui Pavilion and returned. Tiefeng rode slowly, while Second Brother Wang, grinning ear to ear, drove the ox cart without a care for the wind. The cart was the kind farmers used, but its wheels were much larger and sturdier than those owned by Zhang’s family. The cart was piled high with sacks of grain.

The little donkey was not idle either, carrying sacks on its back and trailing beside the ox cart.

A sound of wailing drifted in the wind. Second Brother Wang stood on the cart to look and saw a grass hut and a fresh grave in the distance. He quickly sat back down, not seeing the two kneeling figures by the grave.

“Whose family is that?” he wondered aloud. He hadn’t heard of anyone in the village falling ill.

Tiefeng understood but said nothing.

At the same time, Magistrate Huan received a reply from Prefect Wang, praising him for his virtue and wisdom. Not only had Prefect Wang reported all of Wang Ge’s achievements to Luoyang, but he had also granted her the opportunity to study and become literate.

From the twelfth lunar month onward, Wang Ge could attend the Xie Family Primary School at the Nanshan estate, with tuition waived.

Prefect Wang, himself from the illustrious Langya Wang clan, owned Qinghe Village among his estates, and the Wang clan’s school in Duoyi County was located within the village. Still, the Xie Family Primary School was even better.

Magistrate Huan was delighted for Wang Ge and wondered how her practice making measuring instruments was progressing, and when she would begin full-scale production. He had asked her to carve a hundred rulers, a hundred squares, and a hundred compasses (ten sets of ten), totaling three hundred tools... Cough, was that perhaps too demanding?

Official document: Like the previously mentioned “memorial,” it refers to an official communication.

Primary school: Before the Sui and Tang dynasties, “primary school” referred to the study of script and philology—character forms, meanings, pronunciations—arising in the Han dynasty and continuing through the Wei and Jin periods.

(End of chapter)