The sturdy man in coarse linen was Zhou He, known as Zhou Lao-San (Third Zhou) among the kiln workers for being the third son in his family.
He currently managed the Taoran Kiln for Taoran Pavilion.
Given the unique nature of the porcelain industry in Tianqi, kiln workers did not receive fixed wages.
During ordinary times, their earnings were modest—enough to meet basic family needs but nothing more.
However, when the year-end peak season for porcelain shops arrived, everything changed.
At this time, the workload at the kilns increased significantly, often requiring overtime and night shifts, and wages surged to two or three times the usual amount.
Take Taoran Kiln as an example:
Last year, Taoran Pavilion's business thrived, with profits up by a full 20% compared to previous years.
Gu Yanli then decided to raise the workers' wages further.
As a result, during the busiest three months at year's end, workers at Taoran Kiln earned what would normally take them a full year to make.
Gu Yanli's decision last year taught the kiln workers a crucial lesson:
The more ceramics they produced and the better the shop's sales, the higher their wages would be.
These kiln workers were the breadwinners of their families—entire households depended on their earnings to put food on the table.
During the New Year, every family wanted to add a few meat dishes to their meals and buy new clothes for their wives and children—the kiln workers were no exception.
Just days ago, they had been discussing working extra shifts to earn more for the holidays.
But now, Manager Tang had abruptly halted production, shattering their hopes for festive feasts and new clothes.
No wonder Zhou Lao-San was anxious.
"Ahem—Princess Consort, this is Zhou Lao-San, the foreman of this kiln."
Tang cleared his throat, avoiding Zhou's question and first introducing him to Gu Yanshu before turning back:
"Zhou Lao-San, this is His Highness the Prince Li's consort. I've brought him today to inspect the kilns."
"Prince Li's consort? The Young Master?"
Zhou Lao-San blinked in surprise before realizing—this "Princess Consort" was none other than the former master's younger brother.
Spending his days either firing ceramics in the kilns or discussing production techniques with workers, Zhou Lao-San paid little attention to outside affairs.
He had only vaguely heard that Taoran Pavilion and Taoran Kiln had been given by the original master—Gu Yanli—to the young master as part of his dowry.
Seeing Manager Tang's deferential attitude, Zhou Lao-San realized the ownership transfer was indeed true.
But for him, who currently managed Taoran Kiln, the shop's ownership mattered far less than one urgent question:
When would production resume?
Without hesitation, he voiced his concern—
His greeting to Gu Yanshu blunt, his tone edged with impatience:
"Respects to the Princess Consort. When can we restart work?"
Manager Tang paled at this breach of etiquette.
Having known Gu Yanshu's temperament from his Marquisate days—
He feared an explosive reaction to Zhou's rudeness.
"Zhou Lao-San! Mind your tone before His Highness—"
Gu Yanshu interrupted calmly:
"We'll discuss resuming operations after I inspect the kilns."
His composed response signaled no offense taken—
Making Tang exhale in silent relief.
Zhou Lao-San, however, remained unsatisfied.
"After inspection"?
What if this inspection led to keeping the kilns shut through the New Year?
What would become of the workers then?
Gu Yanshu read his doubts instantly and chuckled:
"Zhou Lao-San, rest assured—I'll have you back at work before the holidays. Even if not, all workers will receive their full seasonal wages."
"Truly?" Zhou's expression brightened slightly, though skepticism lingered.
"Truly. If not my word, then trust Prince Li Manor's reputation."
At the mention of Prince Li's authority, Zhou's hesitation vanished.
"Good! Then I'll take you to the kilns at once!"
He turned abruptly, gesturing for Gu Yanshu to follow.
Once Zhou strode ahead, Tang finally voiced his own concern:
"Princess Consort... about guaranteeing the workers' wages..."
Meeting Gu Yanshu's gaze, he chose his words carefully:
"Even if production doesn't resume?"
"Naturally." Gu Yanshu confirmed without pause.
"But..."
Tang fell silent, conflicted.
Most kiln workers were veterans of a decade or more—
While he rarely interacted with them, he couldn't bear seeing them struggle during the holidays.
Yet paying full wages without resumed operations meant Taoran Pavilion's crisis would remain unresolved...
If Taoran Pavilion's crisis remained unresolved, the losses would far exceed the current 30,000 taels of stagnant inventory—yet Gu Yanshu still insisted on paying the workers...
"I noticed most workers here are long-term employees?"
Gu Yanshu discerned Tang's concerns effortlessly, smiling faintly:
"Veterans who've sweated for Taoran Pavilion deserve compensation if operations halt—consider it year-end bonuses."
Even in his pre-apocalyptic world, companies paid severance upon closure.
Now, with New Year approaching? Basic decency demanded no less.
Noting Tang's lingering unease, he added breezily:
"Rest assured, Manager Tang—the one thing I don't lack is silver."
With that, he strode after Zhou Lao-San without awaiting a response.
Only then did Tang remember:
The Princess Consort had just won 1.21 million taels from ChangLe Den.
Even if Taoran Pavilion collapsed tomorrow, Gu Yanshu could cover the costs!
His expression relaxed as he hurried to follow.
Their conversation hadn't been whispered—
Kiln workers overheard every word.
Skepticism turned to relief; some even darted off to spread the news to absent colleagues.
Meanwhile, Gu Yanshu entered the kiln chamber with Zhou Lao-San.
Despite autumn's chill and three days without firing—
Residual heat still radiated from the arched brick entrance.
Half-finished ceramics lay everywhere:
Sun-dried clay molds on racks,
Painted unfired pieces,
Glazed works awaiting final firing...
The abrupt shutdown order had clearly interrupted mid-process—
Yet this very disarray revealed something precious:
The workers' disciplined obedience to commands.
A quality Gu Yanshu valued immensely.
"Normally we wedge clay and dry molds outside—I can show you later..."
Zhou Lao-San, now cordial after the wage guarantee, explained each area:
"Sun-dried molds always fire better than shade-dried ones. These sunny days were perfect before—"
Zhou Lao-San's voice trailed off as he remembered the kiln's current shutdown.
As for Gu Yanshu?
He seemed to ignore Zhou's implied plea, instead wandering through the kiln chambers—
Poking through piles of discarded ceramics,
Squatting to sift broken shards—
As if searching for something specific.
Just as Zhou and Tang exchanged baffled looks—
Gu Yanshu stood abruptly, tossing aside the fragments.
Wiping his hands with Bai Zhu's offered handkerchief, he turned to Zhou:
"Skip the clay preparation areas. Where's your most experienced craftsman?"
"Longest-serving? Hard to say. But the most skilled? That'd be Zhou Lao-San himself."
Tang answered promptly.
He'd entrusted Zhou with the kiln precisely for his craftsmanship—
Despite the man's burly appearance, no worker's ceramics matched Zhou's quality.
A third-generation kiln master, Zhou's expertise ran in the blood.
"Oh?" Gu Yanshu's brow lifted slightly at this lineage.
Studying Zhou anew, a thought seemed to strike him:
"You trust Prince Li Manor implicitly?"
The question referenced Zhou's instant belief upon hearing "Prince Li's reputation" earlier—
A trust so absolute even a child would notice the shift.
"Aye." Zhou admitted bluntly.
"Why?" Gu Yanshu smiled faintly. "Neither the Prince nor his manor enjoys favorable fame."
"Fame means naught to me."
Zhou waved dismissively, his voice booming:
"I only know—when Prince Li guarded our borders, Tianqi won its wars! Commoners like us could sleep soundly!"
Gu Yanshu held Zhou's gaze a long moment before nodding decisively:
"Good. You're the one."
"For what?" Though confused, Zhou sensed impending importance.
Gu Yanshu's expression—previously relaxed or faintly amused—
Turned deadly serious:
"I need you to craft something. Whether successful or not, its method stays secret—
Not a word to family, wives, or children. Can you do this?"
**Gu Yanshu's gravity was warranted—**
What he was about to propose held the key to Taoran Pavilion's salvation.
Though price wars had become outdated tactics in his pre-apocalyptic world—
And none of his past competitors had employed such crude methods—
He'd studied enough historical cases to know the standard counterplays.
For Taoran Pavilion's current predicament, solutions boiled down to a few options:
1. Match Yun Cizhai's price cuts.
But this wouldn't remain a battle between two porcelain shops—
It would escalate into a financial duel between the Zhou family backing Yun Cizhai and Gu Yanshu himself.
Victory would depend solely on whose coffers ran dry first.
Consider Gu Yanshu's recent windfall:
Even after deducting Qin Lu's share and the initial wager, the ChangLe Den gamble had netted him 510,000 taels pure profit.
A sum that could undoubtedly crush Yun Cizhai in a drawn-out price war—
And potentially destabilize the Zhou family itself if leveraged strategically.
Yet Gu Yanshu rejected this approach outright.
Not just because wasting half a million taels on petty retaliation seemed absurd—
But because blindly matching price cuts was fundamentally flawed, especially for a premium brand like Taoran Pavilion.
As someone raised among nobility, Gu Yanshu understood elite psychology intimately.
These patrons craved exclusivity—every purchase meant to underscore their superiority over commoners.
This mentality grew even more pronounced in feudal Tianqi.
If Taoran Pavilion slashed prices enough to trigger mass buying—
It would inevitably attract customers who'd never afforded their wares before.
**Under such circumstances, Taoran Pavilion's original clientele would inevitably grow dissatisfied—**
And this discontent would ultimately tarnish the brand itself.
Once ordinary citizens could afford Taoran Pavilion's wares, the elite would deem them no longer exclusive or refined.
Such perceptions, once cemented, become nearly impossible to reverse.
Consider the pre-apocalyptic world:
Countless women scrimped to buy out-of-season luxury handbags at discounts—
Yet when budget brands released premium-priced items, their customers balked:
"Madness! I buy your products because they're cheap! At this price, I might as well purchase [luxury brand]!"
This demonstrated how crucial brand positioning truly was.
Gu Yanshu refused to degrade Taoran Pavilion's prestige—
Thus, matching Yun Cizhai's price cuts was unacceptable.
If not have discount, then only one alternative remained:
Introducing a groundbreaking new product.
But this innovation had to meet strict criteria—
It must be rare enough and astonishing enough to overshadow Yun Cizhai's pricing advantage.
Given Tianqi's annual porcelain renewal tradition, ceramic craftsmanship had already peaked.
For most, devising such an innovation would be near impossible—
But for Gu Yanshu, who'd witnessed the technological marvels of the apocalypse-era?
As simple as a kindergarten puzzle.
Take one pre-apocalyptic commonplace—even cheap—item:
Glass.
Glass shared similarities with ceramics, even in production methods.
However, glass required higher firing temperatures—
A challenge in technologically limited Tianqi, explaining its delayed emergence compared to pottery.
Yet for Gu Yanshu, raising kiln heat or modifying glass formulas posed no difficulty.
Thus, when considering new products, glass became his instant choice.
Though Zhou Lao-San didn't yet know Gu Yanshu intended glass production—
The gravity in the Princess Consort's tone and expression conveyed its significance.
Meeting that solemn gaze, Zhou nodded without hesitation:
"Your Highness needn't worry—this humble one can keep secrets."
**After securing Zhou Lao-San's verbal pledge, Gu Yanshu said nothing—**
Instead, he gestured to Bai Zhu standing behind him.
The attendant stepped forward promptly, producing two sheets of paper from his sleeve and handing them to Zhou.
Only once Zhou had taken them did Gu Yanshu explain:
"I believe in prudence. To prevent future disputes, review this contract. Sign if acceptable."
Having built a commercial empire before the apocalypse—
Gu Yanshu understood contracts better than most.
Promises meant nothing until inked on paper.
Having witnessed countless cases of breached trust, he'd never rely on mere goodwill.
Thus, even before visiting Taoran Kiln—
He'd drafted this agreement to safeguard glassmaking secrets.
As Zhou unfolded the document, Gu Yanshu's terms proved straightforward:
1. Glassmaking techniques taught to Taoran Kiln artisans must remain confidential.
2. No disclosure of materials or processes without Gu Yanshu's explicit consent.
3. No unauthorized trade of glass products or semi-finished goods under any circumstances.
4. Violators would face severe penalties—
Including but not limited to:
Legal consequences under Tianqi's contract lawsIndividual fines exceeding 1,000 taels per workerCollective liability enforcing group accountability
The last clause gave Zhou pause—
Even as someone never intending to breach, the joint punishment system startled him.
Should any worker leak secrets, every artisan in Taoran Kiln would be fined—
Regardless of who betrayed or how much was disclosed.
Noticing Zhou's prolonged silence, Gu Yanshu broke it first:
"If unacceptable, I can find another craftsman."
"It's not that..." Zhou hesitated, gripping the contract. "This collective penalty..."
"Seems unfair?" Gu Yanshu finished for him, smiling faintly.
"Only when the cost of mistakes is high will you avoid making them," Gu Yanshu explained calmly.
"The collective penalty simply ensures you choose your team carefully and keep each other accountable."
He leaned slightly forward, his gaze steady:
"If this glass succeeds, anyone wishing to remain at Taoran Kiln must sign this contract."
Then, with a faint smile:
"Look at it another way—if no one breaks the rules, no matter how severe the penalties, they'll never affect you."
This last argument struck a chord with Zhou Lao-San.
The contract wasn't just about punishment—it also outlined generous rewards:
Double the monthly wages compared to beforeFour extra days off per month (a shift from the previous 10 workdays, 1 rest day to a 5-day workweek with 2 rest days)Optional overtime at double pay for those needing extra incomeHoliday bonuses and additional leave
Kiln work was grueling—more rest meant better recovery and more time with family.
Besides, secrecy wasn't new.
Taoran Kiln had always required workers to keep new ceramic designs confidential.
This contract simply offered better terms for the same obligation.
As for the harsh penalties?
Zhou had to admit—Gu Yanshu was right.
If no one violated the agreement, the consequences were irrelevant.
With that realization, Zhou nodded firmly:
"Agreed."
Gu Yanshu wasn't surprised.
Once Zhou signed and fingerprinted the contract, Gu Yanshu retrieved another document—
This one detailing the glassmaking process.
Understanding the unspoken rules of discretion, Manager Tang and Bai Zhu quietly excused themselves, leaving Gu Yanshu and Zhou alone in the kiln chamber.
Meanwhile, in Prince Qin Sheng's study, a different discussion unfolded—
One also centered around Taoran Pavilion's fate.