Chapter 48 — New Machines
Xie Jing’s condition relapsed, and it wasn’t until three days later that his fever began to gradually subside. However, the spots from the chickenpox itched terribly. During the day he endured without scratching, but at night while sleeping, he accidentally scratched a little. His earlobe had been smeared with a thick layer of ointment and wrapped in gauze.
For the past few days, it had been Lord Bai Jiu administering his injections and applying medicine. Seeing Xie Jing’s hesitation, he even took over the tasks of applying medicine to his body. “Since you’re afraid of others seeing, I’ll do it all,” he said.
Xie Jing still wanted to avoid it, retreating to the head of the bed, unwilling.
Lord Bai Jiu raised a hand to shield his head, and it was only then that Xie Jing realized he had bumped into the headboard. But because Lord Bai Jiu’s palm was in the way, he didn’t feel any pain and froze there.
Lord Bai Jiu chuckled: “Bumped your head and got dazed? Don’t move. I’ll rub your back; you do the rest yourself. Move carefully—don’t tear the skin and leave scars.”
“Ah.”
Xie Jing, being cared for over several days, improved day by day. By the time the doctor arrived, he was almost fully recovered.
The doctor examined him carefully and only said there was no serious problem. He handed Xie Jing some ointment and instructed him: “Your chickenpox has mostly gone. Just be careful with the earlobe that was scratched; if it becomes inflamed, it will hurt a lot.” After changing the dressing, he taught him again how to apply it, leaving him a box of scar-removing ointment to use on his own. With a smile, he added, “The people who came from your household didn’t explain clearly, just said a child was sick. I brought medicine for children, so I didn’t expect you to be this old. But it’s fine—the ointments are all heat-clearing and scar-reducing, just not as strong as adult medicine. Apply generously; if one box isn’t enough, come ask me again.”
Outside the tent, Zhang Huwei peeked in and muttered something under his breath.
He was the fastest on horseback and had been the one to fetch this doctor, but Zhang Huwei didn’t feel he had misspoken—he still thought of Xie Jing as a child.
Lord Bai Jiu listened and, after the doctor finished, asked a few more questions. He frowned. “He had a fever for three days, his body was very hot—it seems worse than others.”
The doctor replied: “Normal. Little Jing’s pox came late, so a longer fever is common. As long as he avoids drafts, eats well, and rests, he’ll recover. Let me check—any soreness here?” He pinched Xie Jing’s arm.
Xie Jing shook his head at every spot.
The doctor nodded to Lord Bai Jiu: “Rest assured; he’s physically strong.”
That evening, the doctor administered another injection. Most accessible sites had already been used, so this one was near the waist.
Xie Jing wasn’t afraid of much but was a little wary of needles. He gritted his teeth, endured it, and sweat broke out on his back as the doctor withdrew the needle.
The doctor looked surprised: “Afraid of injections? Did it hurt much?”
Xie Jing shook his head.
The doctor said: “Always tell the truth. Some people are allergic to medicine; if you feel unwell, I can prescribe something else.”
Xie Jing hesitated, then admitted: “Not allergic, just afraid of the needle.”
The doctor comforted him: “It’s fine. Many are afraid; one doctor I know faints at the sight of a needle but isn’t scared of scalpels. Sharp points like this are the problem.” He asked with interest, “Want me to leave an injection syringe for you? Maybe seeing it will help.”
Xie Jing shook his head repeatedly. He didn’t want to see it.
Lord Bai Jiu lifted the tent flap and came in, coinciding with the doctor’s departure. He stayed behind to watch over Xie Jing.
Xie Jing lay on the bed, not fully recovered, and looked up to call, “Master?”
Lord Bai Jiu sat beside him, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Still hurts?”
Xie Jing shook his head. “No.”
Still uneasy, Lord Bai Jiu lifted his clothes slightly, revealing a small patch of bluish bruising spreading upward. Xie Jing’s fair skin made it look worse. Lord Bai Jiu frowned, then covered him back up.
The next day’s injection was given by Lord Bai Jiu. His hands were steady and fast; there was no longer a large bruise.
Xie Jing felt a little embarrassed about troubling him and wanted to find the doctor, but Lord Bai Jiu assumed he simply didn’t want the injection. He put away the syringe, tapped him on the forehead, and said lightly: “Too delicate. Just endure a few more days. The doctor said you’ll need three more injections, then only take medicine—no more injections.”
Lord Bai Jiu went to disinfect the medicine box outside the tent. Xie Jing rubbed his forehead, still feeling a slight coolness and a faint smell of disinfecting alcohol.
Half a month later, Xie Jing fully recovered.
There were no scars on his face or body, except a tiny pit on his earlobe, about the size of a grain of rice—barely noticeable unless inspected closely.
Lord Bai Jiu looked at it for a long time, then called Xie Jing over, even touching his earlobe. Xie Jing’s face turned red, unsure where to look as his ear was pinched.
Lord Bai Jiu teased: “Consider it a mark; if you ever wander off, it’ll be easy to find.”
Xie Jing thought: he wouldn’t wander off.
He would go nowhere except by Lord Bai Jiu’s side.
After caring for Xie Jing for half a month, Lord Bai Jiu noticed a change. Previously, Xie Jing was obedient; now, he seemed to enjoy being near him.
Sometimes, when Lord Bai Jiu looked up from reading, Xie Jing would notice immediately. The first time their eyes met, he’d stop whatever he was doing. The second time, without being called, he’d come over to ask if Lord Bai Jiu had instructions.
Lord Bai Jiu thought for a moment. Even if he had no task, Xie Jing would come over anyway, so he would casually assign him something to do.
Xie Jing eagerly helped with anything, even trivial things like serving tea or shelling lotus seeds—never showing impatience.
During his illness, it was the same. When Lord Bai Jiu visited, Xie Jing didn’t feel he needed extra care; he endured injections without complaint. Often, Lord Bai Jiu, feeling sympathetic, would bring him some cakes, but the boy would ignore them, only looking up at Lord Bai Jiu, happily trying to sit up and talk.
Lord Bai Jiu recalled a small hunting dog he had in childhood, black and glossy, with clear eyes that reflected its surroundings. Once injured in the forest, he and his grandfather brought it home, letting it sleep in a wicker basket beside the sofa. When he looked at it, the dog’s tail wagged joyfully, forgetting its pain.
Lord Bai Jiu had a bowl of sweet rice dumplings cooked and brought to Xie Jing. True enough, the boy took them eagerly with both hands, eating happily.
Lord Bai Jiu didn’t like overly sweet food but enjoyed watching Xie Jing eat. Seeing him enjoy it even improved Lord Bai Jiu’s appetite.
The epidemic in Heihe, due to timely response and experience from a previous outbreak, was quickly contained through disinfection and large-scale rodent control. Though many still died, the outbreak did not spread widely.
Tracing the source led to marmot pelts.
These pelts were shipped from Hailaer, a sparsely populated region where local hunters had only occasionally trapped marmots. This time, newcomers unfamiliar with marmot behavior captured them indiscriminately, not realizing sick marmots moved slowly. They skinned them for sale.
The Bai family’s trading company had experience and carefully inspected the pelts, avoiding any infected ones, which caused a shortage this year. Other small shops, less cautious, bought many, regardless of condition.
Among these were pelts sent to Fang Ji’an by Japanese merchants. Earlier, Fang Ji’an’s son, Fang Jiwu, had been beaten at the clan school, angering Fang Ji’an. Compounded with resentment over the Bai family’s old compensatory marmot pelts, the Japanese pelts pleased him. But unexpectedly, these pelts caused deaths.
The two boys in the Fang family who died had each received a marmot fur scarf. Though young, they wore them twice at home, contracting the disease and dying. Later, Fang Ji’an’s use of Fu Shou Gao and subsequent handling of pelts led to the deaths of a pawnshop owner and two clerks, sparking the epidemic in Heihe and causing many unnecessary deaths.
The remaining women in the Fang family survived, especially Madam Fang, who was strong and active even during pregnancy.
The police traced the source, and after learning several Japanese merchants had also died similarly, the cause was confirmed.
A series of orders followed: destroy marmot pelts, disinfect, and distribute medicine, which finally controlled the epidemic.
After two months, the shadow over Heihe gradually lifted.
But soon after, another wave of hardship came.
Many merchants in Heihe suffered heavy losses.
Japanese merchants who had contracted the disease abandoned their dead and left the north. Machines they had sold began to fail, but their contact info was false, leaving no trace.
Merchants who hadn’t bought machines were relieved. Those who had paid deposits or purchased machines were left powerless.
In one old Heihe distillery, even the middle-aged owner attempted suicide by hanging, saved only by a passing clerk.
The Bai trading company sent invitations to northern distilleries’ owners. More than thirty invitations were sent; every recipient responded. Those unable to come sent family members instead.
Northern distilleries were numerous. Previously, some could compete with Bai’s distillery. Now, everyone was anxious. The internal market was limited; external sales, especially to Russia, were crucial. Heihe was the bottleneck—if it failed, everyone worried.
Bai Mingzhe, the chief manager, greeted the merchants and guided them to seats.
Some lowered their heads in shame; others sneered, saying, “So, now you’re embarrassed seeing Manager Bai? What were you doing before, ignoring his advice not to buy machines? Now you regret it, don’t you?”
“Brother, we’ve all suffered together. Alas, I misjudged people.”
“Misjudged? Seems more like blinded by money. When you brought the Japanese to me, you even tried to get me to hand over my formula! Pfft!”
Some were seething; if not for respecting the Bai family’s face, they might have started fighting.
Suddenly, a tremor was felt. Some timid ones tapped the table in alarm: “Is the tea shaking? An earthquake?”
Others stood nervously. Bai Mingzhe shouted, then laughed: “Everyone! Lord Bai Jiu is impatient. You have no time for my words—everything is ready in the backyard. Please follow me!”
They followed, aware their businesses could collapse at any moment.
In the backyard, eight horses led the way, pulling a covered object wrapped in waterproof oilcloth. The carriage used rolling logs for wheels, and unloading it made a loud clatter. Soldiers in uniform carried the goods; Lord Bai Jiu followed calmly, accompanied by a military officer in a crisp uniform.
The Bai family, powerful and connected, relied heavily on the governor of the three northern provinces, Bai Xiliang, a rare upright and incorruptible man.
Merchants whispered nervously, noting the armed soldiers. Some tried to excuse past misdeeds, but all eyes focused on the Bai family and soldiers, awaiting explanation.
Once the last shipment was unloaded, Lord Bai Jiu stepped forward, and silence fell.
He said: “I am not eloquent. Today I have business to discuss with you.” He pulled a rope, and the oilcloth slid off, revealing a large, cold-metallic machine. Soldiers unpacked other machines; all were brand new.
Some recognized it and whispered: “This is the Bai distillery’s machine… How are there so many?!” Previously, the Japanese machines were few and smaller, priced modestly. Now, the machines in Bai’s backyard were identical to those in the distillery, far more numerous than the Japanese shipment.
