Chapter 93: The Barrel Wheel

“How am I disgusting?” Wang Ge, unconcerned about eavesdropping, strode over and asked directly.

“Ah?” The two girl servants lurking in the shadows were startled, caught between fleeing and standing their ground.

One was indeed Jing Girl. The younger one beside her was clever; seeing Jing Girl’s panic, she quickly deduced Wang Ge was the “disgusting person” just mentioned.

Wang Ge pointed at the other servant and questioned, “Jing Girl, though you told her ‘don’t bring it up,’ you were hoping she’d hurry and ask you, weren’t you? So you could ruin my reputation, weren’t you? Jing Girl, I’m right before you now, no need to hold back. Tell me, how am I disgusting? If you don’t, I’ll drag you before the manor’s master and ask how they instruct their servants—to dare trample an official student and the reputation of a first-class craftsman in broad daylight!”

Huzi heard the soft, leaf-crushing footsteps approaching but paid them no mind, calmly folding his arms: Broad daylight? Is that from “The Book of Documents,” the phrase “under the bright sky”? What an apt expression.

As for Jing Girl, caught gossiping and pressed by Wang Ge’s relentless questioning, her fear only grew—especially of the matter escalating to the master. She stammered, “I—I wasn’t wrong. Early this morning, you told me yourself—you said you caught a mouse and roasted it alive to eat. That’s what disgusted me. I may be a servant, but I’m revolted by eating live mice! I—I’m not wrong!” Her voice grew firmer, ending in a shout.

“You know you’re a servant, yet don’t know not to speak out of turn? I didn’t approach you this morning, yet you chased after me, warning, ‘Miss Wang, you needn’t get close to that servant anymore.’ Jing Girl, did I imitate you well or not?” Wang Ge perfectly mimicked her tone from earlier. “I didn’t say a word at the time, did I? You were annoyed I didn’t respond, so you kept talking…”

Wang Ge repeated all Jing Girl’s words, tone, and pauses exactly, then sharply demanded, “Is that correct or not?”

The servant next to Jing Girl leaned forward anxiously, thinking: Yes, yes, that’s exactly how Jing Girl gossips.

Jing Girl grew more frantic! Who’s lacking brains, who can’t imitate others? “So what did Craftsman Wang say next? You said your family was poor, so you caught mice and roasted them to eat… You said the mouse squeaked, and you ate it while it screamed…”

Wang Ge snorted coldly, “Finished making it up? What I said was… My family was also poor, I caught mice, sometimes hated them for ruining grain, so I roasted them. When roasting, the mouse was alive, squeaking.”

“Yes, that’s what you said! Did you all hear? That’s what she said, that’s what she said!”

Several squat figures who’d been hiding laughed loudly, unable to resist stepping out from behind the trees—all students around Wang Xing’s height.

“Ha, what a fool, such a fool.”

“We heard it!”

The most striking was a girl in yellow and red, her face flushed with anger. She strode forward and, despite her short stature, swung her hand in a gust at Jing Girl’s waist.

There was no helping it, the girl was too short—but her aura was anything but! “Lies! When you spoke with her in the covered walkway today, I was right outside my room. Hmph, I heard every word. She said, without error, she only roasted mice because she hated them for ruining grain. What’s wrong with that? She never mentioned eating them—it was you who imagined, fabricated, and spread the rumors. Hmph!”

Wang Ge bowed to her and then to all the students.

The students responded with solemn bows.

Jing Girl was dumbfounded, pondering Wang Ge’s words carefully—indeed, “eating” was never mentioned. What now? What now? Caught gossiping about students, what should she do?

“Craftsman Wang, I was wrong. Boo… When I was little, as far back as I remember, my family was dead all over, gnawed by mice. That’s all I remember, so I’m terrified of mice, terrified to nausea. Boo… I was wrong, I was wrong. Please forgive me, Craftsman Wang, I won’t dare again. If this reaches the master, I’ll be thrown out of Nanshan! We servant children have been raised here since young—there’s nowhere for us outside the mountain! Boo… Ah… I was wrong…”

Jing Girl sat on the ground, wailing, rubbing her tears with alternating arms, sobbing as she spoke, “I used to be called Yanyan… I know the master dislikes my talkativeness, so I was renamed Jing Girl… Boo… If I’m punished again, I’ll end up called North Wind…”

“Pfft!” Someone burst out laughing.

“Forget it, forget it.” Who forgave Jing Girl first was unclear, but everyone shouted together as they headed for the kitchen.

Children love to swarm together; Wang Ge naturally had to blend in with the group (like a kindergarten class), leading Huzi by the hand. Neither spared Jing Girl another glance. The commotion would surely reach the manor’s steward tomorrow.

All the lanterns in the covered corridor had been replaced. Last night, they were uniform red; tonight, each was different. In front of Wang Ge’s lodgings, whether by chance or the manor’s design, hung a colorful carp lantern, shaped like a fish. From her vantage, the lanterns lined up as radiant kingfishers, dazzling beauties, proud fledglings, moonlit lotus ponds, auspicious gourd clouds…

After his evening meal, Huzi came over, excitedly telling Wang Ge he’d admired all the lanterns and planned to write a “Ode to Lantern Colors” tonight.

“Good. You write your ode, I’ll build a waterwheel.”

Huzi sat at the desk, about to grind ink, when his legs and back were gently wrapped in a quilt.

Wang Ge smiled, then walked to the opposite wall to begin sawing bamboo.

In history, the waterwheel that surpassed the “treadwheel” was called the “drum wheel.” The drum wheel was invented in the Sui dynasty, upgraded in the Tang, and refined again in the Yuan and Ming.

Regarding waterwheels, Wang Ge felt ashamed—she only knew this much. She’d memorized it after researching while apprenticing to an old craftsman skilled in miniature waterwheels in her previous life.

All these years in Jia’s village, Wang Ge never had a chance to approach the landlord’s waterwheel. The closest she ever got was glimpsing its general shape, knowing it was an old-style treadwheel, before being chased away by tenants.

She’d never dared make a miniature drum wheel, simply because she’d never seen even the current era’s treadwheel up close—how could she “innovate” without a model?

Moreover, a miniature drum wheel only demonstrated the principle. To scale it up for irrigating fields would require the expertise of “Heavenly Wheel Masters” to study, build, and repeatedly test the impact of water flow.

The main difference between treadwheels and drum wheels is their power source. Treadwheels require human hands, feet, or animal strength to drive the scraper chain; drum wheels rely on water’s momentum, with each small drum dipping into the flow, then tilting at the top to spill into a bamboo trough, irrigating fields or serving other uses.

Drum wheels are less versatile than treadwheels, needing to be built where there’s a significant drop in water (like at Flying Peak Falls) or on swift riverbanks.

As Wang Ge recalled the process from her previous life, she shaved bamboo drums, making ten of similar size so their water capacity and power would be uniform. Then, she drilled holes with iron nails, wedged in bamboo rods, and fashioned the basic wheels.

Limited by time and materials, her aim was only to demonstrate the drum wheel’s principle—no need for beauty or complexity. As long as the bamboo drums tilted at the wheel’s top and poured into a fixed trough, it would suffice. She also made a bamboo drum figure, with the axle extending to connect to the figure’s hands.

Thus, as the wheel spun, the bamboo figure would “work” at the same pace—a charming effect.

At some point, Huzi came over. Wang Ge spun the drum wheel, the bamboo figure busily moving with it. She asked, “What do you think? Does it look right?”

Huzi thought: For a first-class craftsman to make such a rough, unconvincing waterwheel is no easy feat!

He kindly pointed out a flaw: “Hmm… Isn’t the principle reversed? Shouldn’t people turn the wheel to drive it? How is it that the wheel turns first, then moves the person… The wheel turns first… drives human effort? First motion, then force?”

(End of this chapter)