In the stables beneath the West Tower, the winter silence was broken by an unusual clamor.
With just a single sentence from Sophia entrusting her with a heavy responsibility, Irene had almost instantly activated her 'Mad Inventor Mode'. Putting aside the soap and shampoo production for the female workers and apprentices to handle, she directly initiated the toothbrush manufacturing process.
She not only charged into the stables herself but also casually snatched up Hailey, who was giving the cows an extra meal, and Willow, who had originally planned to attend to Sophia's afternoon nap. Sophia did not return to her Bedchamber to nap; instead, she had the guards lay down thick soft cushions in a well-ventilated and clean corner of the stables and brought over a reclining chair. She was nestled entirely within her black fox fur, holding the Black Rose openwork hand warmer Irene had given her, her fingertips feeling the even heat radiating from the charcoal. Daphne sat obediently to the side, holding a pot of steaming hot mint milk tea, ready to provide logistical support to Her Majesty at the front lines at any moment.
Hearing the news that Miss Irene was going to make toothbrushes for Her Majesty, everyone else rushed over to watch the fun. Since there was no explicit order forbidding it, then onlookers were allowed!
"Your Majesty, do you think Miss Irene can really make that brush?" Daphne craned her neck curiously. She felt that Her Majesty and the people of Mason were truly too magical. Although these daily necessities existed in her world of Magical Girls, they didn't seem to pay much attention to them there. They only cared about finding monsters in the city every day and eliminating them. Leaving early and returning late, they were almost always fighting and helping people. As for what to eat, what to play, living a refined life, or anything else... they didn't care much.
"If she can't make it, she'll probably be so anxious she won't be able to sleep tonight, and then she'll drill into This Queen's blankets again." Sophia took a sip of milk tea, her eyes languid. "So, for the quality of This Queen's sleep, she must succeed."
Blankets? Daphne looked at Sophia in surprise for a moment. Are Your Majesty and the Inventor Lady in that kind of relationship? Or is it that... people in this era sleep together if they are close friends? Daphne's fair fingers gently tapped the water pot, unknown thoughts running through her mind.
Inside the stall, Irene was bent over, holding a pair of scissors, her azure eyes staring dead at Delilah's snow-white warhorse named Gale. Although she didn't want to make a move on Gale directly, this was the horse with the best hair in the Palace!
"Hailey, quick! Use your move to steady it! Just touch its head and soothe it! Don't let it kick me! I'm just cutting that one small tuft, just one tuft!" Irene whispered commands.
Hailey held a bundle of top-quality grass, trying hard to distract Gale. Willow stood to the side carrying a wooden bucket, ready to collect the spoils of war at any time. As a top-tier warhorse, Gale was extremely spiritual. It looked askance at the pink head sneaking toward the base of its tail, snorting a jet of disdainful hot air from its nostrils.
Just as Irene held her breath and the scissors were about to close—
"Achoo—!"
Gale let out a massive sneeze without warning, shaking the accumulated snow off the stable roof. Immediately following that, the thick and powerful horse tail swung violently.
"Ouch!" Irene couldn't dodge in time and was whipped solidly across the face by the tail, which had been dipped in clean water and was incomparably smooth. Even more comical was that Gale followed up with a hoof kick that overturned the fodder basket nearby. The sky filled with flying chopped grass showered Irene thoroughly, instantly turning her from a 'Great Inventor' into a scarecrow.
"Hahaha..." Hailey couldn't help but laugh out loud, and even Willow turned her head away, her shoulders shaking.
Sophia sat in the distance, watching Irene howl, then spit out grass clippings while rushing back toward the horse's tail in a flustered rage. She was laughing like crazy inside. But due to her facial paralysis, the corners of her mouth only raised a nearly invisible arc. She couldn't help but say to the side, "Delilah, your horse has a lot of personality."
Delilah, standing in the shadows, remained expressionless, but the corner of her mouth hooked up imperceptibly. This horse was given to her by Sophia when she first arrived in Mason. At that time, having come as a vagrant, she had no horse at all. It was Her Majesty who said she would need to use one frequently in the future, so she let her choose one freely. And Delilah chose this horse with a rather fiery temper and tamed it.
After tossing about for the better part of an hour, Irene finally returned to the temporary workbench with a small bundle of cleaned, silver-bright, and smooth horse tail hair. Next was the boring but extremely precision-testing production process. Irene abandoned Cement and chose scraps of redwood with a hard texture and beautiful grain. She used a small file to polish the wood into an arc suitable for holding, repeatedly sanding the surface with fine sandpaper until it felt as smooth as silk.
Next, Irene drilled many tiny deep holes neatly at the top of the wooden handle. Because there were no professional measuring instruments or professional hole punchers, the distribution wasn't very uniform. Even though she drilled with her utmost seriousness, it was still a bit crooked, but fortunately, not obvious. This was the hardest step.
Hailey was responsible for separating the horse tail hair into even small tufts, and Willow was responsible for tying the bottom of the tufts tight with silver wire as thin as hair. Irene then used a special resin glue to embed the tufts one by one into the deep holes, and finally carved the Black Rose logo on it.
"Success!" Irene didn't care to wipe the wood chips off the tip of her nose. She held the exquisite small object with both hands and trotted all the way to Sophia, her expression looking as if she were offering up the entire kingdom's national treasure. "Your Majesty, please look! The Kingdom of Mason, and even the entire plains' first 'Queen's Exclusive Horse Tail Hair Gum-Protecting Toothbrush'!"
Sophia took the toothbrush. The wooden handle carried a faint woody fragrance and was polished round and shiny. The horse tail hair on it was white as snow, arranged neatly. When pressed with a finger, the resilience was excellent; it was indeed a thousand times gentler than those bitter and hard willow twigs.
"Not bad." Sophia gave the highest evaluation. "Irene, you have saved This Queen's morning."
"Hehe, then... then tonight when playing chess, can you let me move two steps first?" Irene took the opportunity to bargain.
Sophia looked at her smiling face stained with grass clippings and dust, her pale golden pupils full of warmth. "Granted. In addition, make one for Willow, Daphne, and Delilah as well. From now on, willow twigs are not allowed to appear in Mason's Palace again."
Daphne and Willow looked at each other, their eyes filled with surprise.
"Your Majesty, do you think this kind of thing can be sold?" Irene blinked, smiling as she said to Sophia, "After all, this toothbrush is easier to replicate than soap, shampoo, and the like. So we have to sell a lot and make a big profit before others think of this trick. But I estimate that after we sell a batch, others will buy it back to study and know how it's made. Soap and shampoo aren't urgent; after all, they won't figure those out for a while."
Sophia thought for a moment and believed Irene's words made a lot of sense. With Sophia's "Granted," the West Tower workshop of the Kingdom of Mason instantly switched from an alchemy laboratory to a mass production workshop. Irene's amazing organizational skills were displayed vividly at this moment. To cope with the coming trade frenzy, she not only mobilized all the apprentices but also applied to Sophia to transfer a group of nimble female workers from the Palace.
"Quick, quick, quick! That team go to the North Stables, this team go to the South Camp!" Irene, wearing a crisp short robe, stood on the high platform of the West Tower, shouting through a simple megaphone: "Remember! Only the toughest tuft at the tip of the horse's tail! One tuft is enough to make many toothbrushes! Don't be greedy! Don't cut them bald for me; that is the dignity of a warhorse! If Lord Delilah finds out the horses' tails look like they were gnawed by dogs, This Lady won't be able to protect you!"
Upon hearing the name Delilah, everyone felt a chill down their spines. Unlike the Great Inventor Miss Irene, the Head Maid by Her Majesty's side, or the Saint, who would all give people pleasant faces, Delilah was different. She rarely showed a pleasant face, and due to her phoenix eyes and rather heroic appearance, people felt she had a bad temper. More importantly, she could move giant rocks with her bare hands; if they provoked her, they might be thrown out just like that.
For a time, an extremely absurd scene appeared within Mason Royal City. Groups of apprentices and female workers, carrying bamboo baskets and holding small scissors, searched the streets for livestock with long tails. The garrison generals looked bewildered as the female workers busied themselves behind the horses' rears. The originally majestic warhorses, after a series of snip-snip sounds, still had their tails, but they were obviously a circle thinner.
The soldiers whispered among themselves upon seeing this. "Your Majesty is not only harvesting wheat but now won't even spare horse hair. This must be some new type of magic wing material that makes arrows fly faster! Your Majesty is indeed preparing for a war that will subvert the world!"
Inside the West Tower, the smells of wood chips and resin intertwined. Experienced stonemasons transferred to become carpenters; they split whole blocks of redwood, walnut, or oak into thin strips and polished them repeatedly on simple grinding wheels. Those rough hands originally used for building houses were now carefully carving slender brush handles. Next was the most physically demanding part. Female workers sat around the fire stove, separating the collected horse tail hair into equal small tufts after washing them with alkaline water and disinfecting them with alcohol. They tied the bottom of the tufts tight with silver wire as thin as hair, then skilled workers embedded them into the resin-filled drill holes.
Willow supervised personally; every toothbrush had to be paired with an exquisite small linen cover embroidered with a tiny Black Rose. In just three days, thousands of uniform toothbrushes exuding a faint woody fragrance were piled up in the warehouse. Although still rough compared to the assembly lines of later generations, at this moment, it was the top luxury good on this continent. Every toothbrush was carved with Mason's Black Rose pattern; this was Mason's symbol, Mason's trade trademark, and the inviolable sign of authenticity.
With the experience from the first time, Sophia naturally still leaned toward letting Delilah lead the caravan for trade. Although others were also articulate, none had Delilah's ability to protect herself and others. In these chaotic times, especially in winter when grain and fodder were scarce, encountering refugees or bandits would result in situations far crazier than usual.
"Your Majesty, let me go too." As the caravan bound for Leighton was preparing to depart, Vasha, who had been quiet as a shadow, suddenly stood up. She knelt before Sophia's throne. The arrogance she once held as a Princess of the Kingdom of Orr was deeply hidden, replaced by a desperate determination.
"Vasha?" Sophia put down the hand warmer, her pale golden pupils narrowing slightly. "You are the Princess of Orr. The border is bitterly cold, and the merchants of Leighton are like wolves and tigers. Are you sure you want to show your face and go sell these brushes?"
"Precisely because I am the Princess of Orr, I understand what those nobles want even more." Vasha raised her head, her eyes crystal bright. "Miss Irene is right; this kind of thing will be imitated very quickly. We are not just selling toothbrushes; we are selling Your Majesty's taste and civilization. I want to make this first deal successful for Your Majesty, and I also want to prove to you... that I, Vasha, am absolutely not a cripple who only knows how to calculate accounts in the Palace."
Delilah, standing to the side, swept a cold glance at Vasha, her hand on her sword hilt tightening slightly. In her view, this Orr Princess remained an unstable factor. "Your Majesty, I will watch her," Delilah said briefly. "If she makes any strange moves, my sword will be faster than the caravan's carriage."
Sophia looked at the two diametrically opposed young girls before her. One was a sharp sword like ice and fire, the other an introverted and deep strategist.
"Very well," Sophia spoke coolly, her tone allowing no doubt. "For this caravan, Delilah will coordinate everything; military deterrence and route decisions belong to her. As for trade negotiations, pricing, and promotion, Vasha, This Queen allows you to try." Sophia stood up and stepped forward, tapping lightly on the exquisite toothbrush box. "Go. Let that bunch of merchants in Leighton know that the will of the Kingdom of Mason, even if it is just a single horse hair, carries a nobility they cannot touch."
Vasha bowed deeply, her long hair scattering on the cement floor. "Please rest assured, Your Majesty. Vasha will definitely not fail your trust. I will make every gold coin in Leighton bear Your Majesty's name."
Vasha had rarely shown her face these past few days, and Sophia hadn't expected her to have this idea. But it didn't matter; with Delilah watching, Vasha couldn't do anything even if she suddenly wanted to. Mason's caravan guards were equipped with muskets, but Vasha was not.
Half an hour later, a caravan modified from carriages and loaded full of toothbrushes and soap slowly drove out of the Royal City gates under Delilah's escort. Vasha sat in a corner of the carriage, tightly clutching a roll of promotional manuscript regarding oral health and Queen's etiquette. That was something she had rushed out overnight by combining details of Sophia's daily life.
Outside the carriage window, the wind and snow were heavy. Delilah rode on Gale, looking at her mount's tail which was a section shorter, then turned to look at Vasha in the carriage. She didn't know why Her Majesty chose to let this woman stay in Mason. But with her there, this cunning woman shouldn't think of causing any trouble. As Delilah and Vasha's caravan disappeared at the end of the wind and snow, the tense political and military atmosphere within Mason Palace relaxed slightly. For Sophia, this was simply rare free time.
Without Delilah's eyes ready to draw her sword at any time, and without Vasha's calm gaze that seemed to see through all accounts, she could finally indulge her slacker heart that wanted to create something fresh.
"Irene, Daphne, come here." In the afternoon, Sophia took the rare initiative to summon her two capable stay-at-home subordinates to the side hall of her Bedchamber. It was warmer and more private here than the West Tower workshop.
"Your Majesty? Do you have some new inspiration?" Irene rubbed her hands excitedly as soon as she entered, her pink twin-tails swinging behind her head.
Daphne obediently held the latest magic notebook, her emerald eyes full of anticipation. "What does Your Majesty need me to do? Is a new blessing needed, or healing?"
Sophia leaned lazily on the soft couch, shaking the newly made horse hair toothbrush in her hand. "Having the brush, I always feel something is missing." Sophia pointed at her teeth, hinting with a calm expression. "Just using salt and mint powder is still too dry to brush with, and the taste is too strong. This Queen wants a cleaning agent with a fragrance, at least one that doesn't smell too bad."
"Toothpaste?!" Irene and Daphne exclaimed in unison. Irene was pleasantly surprised by the new challenge, while Daphne was surprised that Her Majesty's life could be exquisite to such a degree. Irene glanced at Daphne warily, but then thinking that a Magical Girl like Daphne clearly didn't look like someone from a backward era, she relaxed a bit. Hope she won't sell me out.
"Sounds very interesting!" Irene instantly entered the zone. She pulled out a charcoal pencil and scratch paper from her small bag and began scribbling. "If it's toothpaste, it's best to be paste-like, so a base is needed. Grease? Beeswax? Or some plant gum?"
"Perhaps I can use my Saint Glory Magic to refine some plant essences?" Daphne also joined the discussion, extending a finger where a ball of soft green light danced. "Like the cooling sensation of mint, and the fragrance of roses; I can fuse them together."
Sophia looked at these two young girls who had instantly entered work mode, the corners of her mouth hooking up slightly. Very good, the tools' enthusiasm is very high. Since the ground floor of the West Tower was sorting and crushing ore, the second floor was making toothbrushes, the third floor was making soap and shampoo, and the fourth floor was full of Daphne's various herbs and magic talismans, they could only change locations temporarily. The side hall was quickly transformed into a makeshift magic kitchen.
Irene first attempted to mix lard and beeswax, but the resulting substance was so greasy it made one want to vomit. Sophia pushed it away in disgust after just one sniff. Irene leaned in with a grin, then got bonked on the head by Sophia. "Wu!" Irene clutched her head and faked a few sobs, making the few people in the room laugh.
"That's right, foam is the key!" Irene had a brainwave. "Saponins in soap can create foam; shall we try adding a little?"
Daphne was in charge of magic enhancement. She carefully dripped mint extract into the paste Irene had stirred, chanting in a low voice while stirring: "—Fresh breeze, fragrant flower language, fuse!"
"Your Majesty, come smell this!" Irene presented a bowl of pale green paste to Sophia like a treasure offering. Sophia leaned in and smelled it; indeed, there was a fresh mint scent, not unpleasant.
"Try the foaming effect," Sophia commanded.
Irene excitedly picked up a small brush, dipped it in a little water, and stirred frantically in the bowl of paste. At first, there was only a little bit of fine foam. But as Irene's hand speed increased, and Daphne spared no effort in applying activation magic from the side...
"Eh? Wait. The foam seems... to be increasing?" Daphne said with some hesitation.
"More is good! Only with more can it brush clean!" Irene stirred with increasing vigor, not feeling anything was wrong at all. But suddenly, the foam in the bowl seemed to gain self-awareness and began to expand crazily! It overflowed the bowl, flowed down the table, and then exploded in the air like clouds.
Bang—Poof—
Accompanying a slight muffled sound, the entire side hall was instantly submerged in white, mint-scented foam.
"Cough, cough, cough! Irene! How much saponin did you add?!" Sophia was sprayed in the face by the sudden cloud of foam. She stood up from the soft couch somewhat raggedly; her black fox fur, the top of her head, and her hair strands were all hung full of white bubbles, looking just like a little fox that had just burrowed out of cream. She finally knew why Irene's laboratory always exploded.
"I... I don't know either! Maybe Daphne's magic was too strong!" Irene wasn't much better off; her pink twin-tails had turned into two white cream sticks. She wiped the foam off her face and nose, looking accustomed to being blown up.
"Oh my! Your Majesty!" Daphne cried out in alarm, wanting to use magic to disperse the foam, but unexpectedly made things worse; a gust of wind blew past, plastering more bubbles onto Sophia.
"Stop moving!" Sophia was laughed into anger by these two fellows. She reached out, accurately grabbing the back of the neck of Irene who wanted to run away, and then, seized by a prankster's heart, grabbed a handful of foam and smeared it directly onto Irene's panicked little face. "Since you made it, taste it yourself."
"Wu! Your Majesty is mean!" Irene was smeared into a painted face and, unwilling to show weakness, grabbed a handful of foam to fight back. The two soon tussled into a ball in the pile of foam. Sophia's aloof Queen image collapsed completely; she dodged Irene's foam attack but accidentally crashed into Daphne's arms.
Daphne stumbled from the impact and subconsciously hugged Sophia's waist. "Ya..." Daphne's small face instantly exploded red. She could feel Her Majesty's soft body and warm temperature in her arms; that faint cold fragrance mixed with the scent of mint drilled into the tip of her nose, making her whole person a bit dizzy.
Sophia looked down at Daphne who had fallen into her arms. Looking at her shy expression, she suddenly remembered that someone seemed to have used magic to blow bubbles all over her just now. Thus, without any pity for the fair maiden, she pressed Daphne directly onto her bubble-filled black fox coat. Watching Daphne struggle like an octopus against her chest, a smile appeared on Sophia's face. But in Irene's eyes, she could see Her Majesty pressing Daphne down with cold eyes, the corner of her mouth hanging with a stiff and eerie arc.
Y-Your Majesty... So scary!
After the farce, the three young girls sat paralyzed on the carpet where the foam was gradually dissipating, panting without any image. Willow came in with a helpless expression to clean up the mess. Looking at the room full of chaos and the three cream people, she could only shake her head and go prepare hot water.
"So, this is the finished product?" After bathing and changing clothes, Sophia looked at the small jar on the table containing the pale green paste that was still slightly bubbling, her tone disdainful. She felt this was more like a poison brewed by a Witch; if Daphne, who could eat anything, ate a mouthful of this stuff, she would probably be poisoned to death.
Irene dipped her finger in a little and tasted it dejectedly, instantly making a bitter face. "Peh peh peh! So astringent! And there's too much foam; once you brush, your mouth is full of bubbles, you can't breathe at all!" Irene lay prone on the table in frustration. "Failed, completely failed. If this stuff is taken out to sell, Mason's signboard will be smashed."
Sophia looked at her pitiful appearance and reached out to rub her not-yet-fully-dry pink hair; the tactile sensation from her fingertips was soft. "Although it's hard to use, at least the taste is okay," Sophia comforted. "Besides, I believe you can make something better."
Irene raised her head, light reigniting in her azure eyes. "Really, Your Majesty? Then, then I'll improve it again! I will definitely make toothpaste that satisfies you!"
"Mn, take your time, no rush." Sophia picked up the hot tea Willow had brought again, her fingertips rubbing the porcelain cup, a very shallow arc hanging on the corner of her mouth.
"Your Majesty smiled! That's great." Irene held her hot tea, mumbling softly in happiness like a kitten that had stolen fish.
Daphne, on the side, also with wet hair and wrapped in a large bathrobe like a round green-haired white dumpling, stared doubtfully at Sophia on the high seat and tilted her head. "Your Majesty didn't smile; it's still the usual expression of sending people to the mines."
Irene shook her head with an unfathomable look, putting on the arrogant air of a senior. "You don't understand. See that? Her Majesty's facial muscles are about three millimeters more relaxed than usual; this is a smile, and it's a sign of an extremely good mood."
Daphne's emerald eyes widened upon hearing this. She tried hard to compare it with Sophia's face, and after a long while, honestly whispered, "Still... don't quite understand."
"You've still been in contact for too short a time." Irene hummed twice, her tail almost curling up to the sky, assuming the posture of an old veteran. "Wait until you've stayed in front of Her Majesty for a while longer, and you'll be able to sense what Her Majesty looks like when happy, when angry, and when she wants to physically transcend someone."
"Is that so? It seems that as a... as a Healer... as a Saint, I still need to study harder!" She didn't quite understand what a 'Healer' was, but Her Majesty and Miss Irene always called her that; sometimes they almost led her astray. Daphne gripped the hot tea cup in her hand tightly, her expression as solemn as if she were treating a forbidden curse. "Miss Irene, then what is the expression like when Her Majesty is angry?" This was a major matter concerning survival! Daphne didn't want to crash headfirst into the range of Thunder when Her Majesty's mood was rainy. Even in her original world, she had never tried fighting against those weapons... Moreover, those things rarely appeared in the Magical Girl world, or rather, had almost never appeared!
As soon as the words fell, Irene suddenly retracted her smile, tried hard to keep a straight face, emptied her eyes, and lowered the corners of her mouth—accurately replicating a cold version of Sophia with a 'little cat bitch face'.
"Here, like this, is Her Majesty's angry expression," Irene muttered softly.
"Huh?" Daphne was completely confused. "But, Her Majesty seems to have this expression normally..."
"That's why I said your rank is too low." Irene raised her eyebrows proudly. "Anyway, listening to me is definitely right. I am now the Sophia Expression Analysis Grandmaster; in all of Mason, who understands better than me?"
"Okay." Daphne nodded obediently, then couldn't help but steal a glance at Her Majesty on the high seat again. Then, a huge doubt arising from the subject matter being out of the syllabus appeared in her gaze. "But Miss Irene, look at Her Majesty now. Her eye corners are slightly lowered, and the upward arc of her mouth exceeds the three millimeters you mentioned. What does this smile, which reveals a trace of gentleness amidst the weirdness, mean? Is she super happy?"
Upon hearing this, the fine hairs on the back of Irene's neck instantly stood up. She turned her neck stiffly, meeting perfectly with that pair of faint golden pupils on the high seat that were secluded and seemed capable of piercing through the soul. Sophia was currently resting her chin on her hand, looking at them with a smile that was not a smile, her eyes clearly saying: Continue, why aren't you continuing the analysis?
Careless! Alarm bells rang loudly in Irene's heart. Because the room was too warm and the distance too close, she had actually forgotten Her Majesty's terrifying hearing. The two of them had been whispering under the Great Inventor's nose for half the day, and it turned out not a single word had been missed.
Irene's face instantly turned the color of earth, and she closed her eyes with a heart like dead ash.
"What's wrong, what's wrong? Miss Irene, why did your expression suddenly become like you're about to die in the line of duty? Inventor Lady! Speak!" Daphne hadn't yet realized the imminent disaster and was still asking fervently.
Finally, Irene opened her eyes abruptly, her eyes full of the resolve that 'the fellow cultivator dies but the poor monk does not'.
"Daphne," Irene's voice was incomparably painful.
"Hmm? What is it, Miss Irene?" Daphne smiled brightly, her holy green pupils full of innocence.
"That... absolutely don't blame me, you must remember my goodness."
"How could I blame you? You've always taken great care of me!" Miss Irene and Her Majesty were the same, both very, very good people! Better than anyone she met in Orr, tens of times, hundreds of times better!
"Good, then I'm relieved." The instant the words fell, Irene jumped up from her spot without warning. Moving that pair of agile short legs, she rushed straight for the main door like a pink cannonball, her movements so fast she even left an afterimage in the air!
Daphne: "?"
On the high seat, Sophia elegantly took a sip of tea and lifted her eyes lightly. "Willow, close the door."
Bang.
The heavy carved main door slammed shut half an inch in front of the tip of Irene's nose. Irene maintained her forward-rushing posture, despairingly pasted against the door panel like a slowly sliding thin pancake.
From behind, Sophia's cold and dangerous voice drifted over slowly: "Since the Expression Analysis Grandmaster is here, then don't be in a hurry to leave. Come here, accompany This Queen to chat about what that expression you imitated just now actually meant? If you can't explain clearly... then stay and scrub the toilets."
Daphne held her tea cup, staring blankly at all this, and finally realized: Miss Irene seemed to have pitted herself.
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