Thinking about the order for fifty sets ahead, the smile on Carpenter Liew's face gradually stiffened.
He pushed off from the doorframe and bowed sincerely. "Clara, your skills and vision far surpass mine. From here on, I'll follow your lead entirely—whatever you say, I'll do, no questions asked."
Clara patted his shoulder. "That's what I've been waiting for. Come inside—we've got to draw up the plans today. Time's tight."
Some early harvesters had already moved their tools to the fields and would begin cutting rice tomorrow. Clara's plot was slightly behind schedule, starting on the twelfth of the seventh month.
Today was the ninth, so she had two days left to prepare. As soon as the harvest rush ended, she would begin recruiting, buying materials, and launching production!
Clara and Carpenter Liew talked for a long time at her home, listing every household in the village with usable timber.
Carpenter Liew had these details memorized—he knew what was readily available and what was still up in the hills.
After estimating the materials required for fifty small watermills, they calculated that the timber from Liew Clan Village alone would suffice.
They quickly divided the workload.
Clara had two main tasks:
First, establish a production workshop.
Second, recruit workers and refine the grinding plates.
Carpenter Liew would handle securing the timber, tallying quantities and specs so that everything could be arranged right after the harvest.
As for stone, Clara wasn't worried. Fishbone Mountain loomed large—plenty of rock to go around.
If they needed more than what lay within Liew Clan Village's boundary, they'd need to negotiate with neighboring villages.
But for now, the village's share of stone would be enough for the fifty watermills.
With each of them managing a major part of the work—and Clara overseeing the whole plan—the two finalized the workflow by the afternoon.
With a clear roadmap, Carpenter Liew finally relaxed his anxious heart.
They returned to their homes for dinner. Afterward, Carpenter Liew went door to door with paper and brush, booking timber from households.
If a family had wood on hand, they were asked to send it to his yard for temporary storage.
Meanwhile, Clara informed the four children at home before heading out to meet the village chief and clan head about securing land for the workshop.
When the two elders heard about the fifty-unit watermill order, they were stunned.
Then they remembered what Clara had once said—how this new industry could lift the whole village out of poverty—and they were thrilled. They told her to choose any plot, as long as it didn't disrupt daily village life, and they'd back her decision.
However, building a workshop made things a bit different.
The village chief scratched his head. "We might need to check with the district registrar. I'm not sure if we have to file a notice with the county office."
Setting up a workshop was a formal enterprise—and subject to commercial taxes.
If it wasn't registered and the authorities discovered it while collecting grain tax, things could get messy.
Worst case, if a troublesome official showed up, they might slap on a charge that could ruin someone in secret.
Clara hadn't thought of that—she nodded gratefully. "Thank you for the reminder, Chief. I'll head into town to ask around."
Coincidentally, Lester Liew would be returning home soon, so she planned to pick him up along the way.
More importantly, there were plenty of scholars at the academy—she could gather info from them first.
With all this on her mind, Clara didn't dare waste time. One delay might set back the entire workshop launch.
Still, it seemed silly to charge tax on such a small operation—not even 200 square meters, and no guarantee it would last long.
Morning arrived after a good night's sleep. From down the slope, the steady thump of threshing echoed through the valley.
The early-ripening fields had begun their harvest.
Old Walter Liew's family owned several dozen acres of sunlit land, which had ripened too. Yesterday, Clara had dropped by the old family house to ask Brandon and his brothers about recruiting laborers.
Once they heard Clara was starting a factory, the brothers didn't dare delay. They pushed their own harvest ahead, not wanting to miss the first wave of hiring.
And so, even before sunrise, the whole family marched to the fields in two teams, each carrying square harvesting tubs, and began cutting rice.
The morning dew clung to the stalks. The cut rice was laid out in the fields to dry. Once the sun rose high, threshing would begin.
At home, Adam, Ben, and Chad bustled around the kitchen like little adults.
Deb wasn't slacking either—she was in the vegetable garden catching bugs to feed the chickens.
The four chicks gifted by Granny Wang's family had grown over a kg each under the children's careful care.
One hen and three roosters. Deb eagerly awaited the day the hen would lay eggs. She and her brothers had already prepared a straw nest, ready to place in the coop.
Clara couldn't help but feel these four were a joy to raise—especially when compared to Lester, who seemed like a genetic fluke.
Knowing Clara was heading to town, Ben carefully poured some of the bayberry drink they had simmered with rock sugar into a bamboo tube for her journey.
Sour and sweet—perfectly refreshing.
She hadn't had time yesterday to taste the fruits of their labor, having run off her feet all day.
Now that she was finally ready, waiting only for Adam to finish breakfast, she let Ben pour a half-bowl so she could try it.
Clara hadn't expected much—she was already preparing to praise them blindly.
To her surprise, one sip of the dark red bayberry soup and her eyes lit up. The balance of tart and sweet was perfect. Any more sour would've puckered her mouth, and any more sugar would've been cloying.
"Well?" Ben asked eagerly.
Adam, flipping flatbreads in the iron pan, and Chad, stoking the fire, both looked over anxiously.
Clara took another sip, savored it, then gave them a thumbs-up. "Very well done!"
If only there were ice—it would be perfect!
The three boys beamed at her praise.
"We'll go pick more bayberries and make it again so we can have it every day!" Ben declared.
Wild bayberries had a unique aroma but were incredibly sour—only strong-toothed kids could stomach them.
But with rock sugar added, even a simple infusion was delicious.
Unfortunately, sugar was expensive, and most folks couldn't bear to use it. So those hills of wild bayberries ripened and dropped with barely anyone picking them. Ben thought that was such a waste.
"But if you make so much and have no ice to preserve it, it'll turn bad in two days," Clara reminded gently, popping a single bayberry into her mouth. "Can you really drink that much so fast?"
"You used all the bayberries Carpenter Liew brought yesterday. That big bamboo basket made two full jars. If you don't finish them by tomorrow, they'll go sour."
Ben's eyes sparkled. "Then can I sell it?"
"Sure. But don't come crying if no one buys it." Clara supported their experiments but gave them a dose of realism too.
Well, as long as they didn't start dumping it as some bargain-basement sale...
Ben wouldn't sell at a loss! Adam thought to himself.
But at two copper coins a bowl, few folks would be willing to splurge.
Oh well, if it doesn't sell, they could just give it to Ryder and Rosie to enjoy.
Seeing that the kids weren't discouraged, Clara didn't say more. She downed the rest of her bayberry drink in one go and let out a satisfied burp.
Right on cue, Adam brought out the vegetable soup and flatbreads. The five of them sat and ate together before heading off to their tasks.
Clara set out first. As she walked past the river, she saw the farmers in the fields, toiling under the hot sun, pouring bowl after bowl of water into their bellies.
Maybe—just maybe—that bayberry drink might sell after all.
(End of Chapter)
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