My Lady Says She Wants to Marry Me - Chapter 41

Chapter 41

The emergence of glass caused Grand Princess Shaoyang’s reputation to spread even further, especially because she used the wealth she gained from it for the benefit of the people.

She established free primary schools in every county to educate the commoners. To achieve true enlightenment, she mandated that girls of the appropriate age must be admitted to these schools and could not be turned away. Although this move drew some criticism, no one truly opposed it.

Everyone knew that children entering primary school were already five or six years old. At most, commoners would send only one male child to school; the rest had to stay home to perform whatever labor they could. Some commoners even rejected the idea entirely, viewing education as a waste of time and food.

Their predictions were largely correct—the number of children actually entering the free county schools was small, totaling only about a dozen per school. Prosperous counties fared better, as a culture of learning already existed there. In poor, backward counties, even if a Magistrate mobilized the people for the sake of his performance review, few paid him any mind. Whenever he spoke, the parents would claim their children were too restless or that it was a waste of grain, refusing to give them even a single chance.

The Magistrates, looking into those timid and fearful eyes, could not find it in their hearts to force families to “grit their teeth” and send their children away. Those who did send their children were usually families of some means who could bear the incidental costs. Education was not just about sitting in a classroom; one needed paper, ink, brushes, and inkstones, as well as three meals a day. Even without tuition fees, these expenses were more than an ordinary person could endure.

The first year of county schools was not very successful. However, in the second year, the Grand Princess suddenly announced that she would subsidize half the cost of stationery and provide one free meal a day. This moved many more parents; some sent their four and five-year-olds just to save on the cost of a meal.

Meanwhile, Lu Youming looked at the newly produced paper. The quality was acceptable—it worked well enough as general draft paper. Fortunately, she had read many books and watched many videos in her previous life. By refining the process, she aimed to reduce costs even further. The raw materials for the paper pulp ranged from bamboo to paper mulberry, and even straw could be used.

The cost of papermaking plummeted. Under her management, paper mills were established simultaneously in dozens of prefectures across the country. Previously, a stack of paper cost a hundred copper coins; now, other paper businesses were forced to lower their prices to compete. After controlling costs, the price dropped by ten coins. While the traditional workshops grumbled, scholars wrote poem after poem praising the Grand Princess for benefiting the people and promoting education without seeking private gain. They called her a sage of the modern age.

Furthermore, the Princess’s bookstores published works by famous authors, including rare annotated editions and comprehensive guides for the Imperial Examinations. She held the hearts of the scholars firmly. If anyone dared to “eat the meal and then curse the cook,” they would be collectively attacked by the literati.

These two strategic moves made the Grand Princess’s reputation so sterling among the scholars that no one questioned her presence in the court as a woman anymore. Recently, officials at the morning court were exceptionally polite to her. As scholars themselves, they knew the value of books and how the pursuit of an official career could drain a family’s fortune. They felt a natural affinity for someone who made books affordable.

Of course, this offended some aristocratic literary families. They believed in “preserving books within the family” to maintain their social superiority. The Grand Princess’s actions were, in their eyes, digging up the very roots of their status.

“Grand Princess, please wait.” Zhang Zhihua, the Minister of Rites, walked up to her.

Shaoyang smiled slightly. “Does the Minister have business with me?”

“The Emperor has issued a decree to invite the Grand Tutor back to court. This official hasn’t corresponded with the Grand Tutor in a long time. Returning with him will be the eldest son of the Shao family, who is being transferred back to the capital.”

Looking at the Minister who smiled like an old fox, Shaoyang knew he was showing his favor. Normally, the Emperor’s orders went through the Secretariat, but this time he had issued the decree directly through the Ministry of Rites. Shaoyang’s eyes flickered; she knew she should temporarily step back from the court. Her recent influence had been too great, and her Imperial Father was likely becoming uneasy.

“I wonder why Master Zhang is telling me this?” she asked, matching his smile.

Zhang Zhihua looked at the Princess in her golden robes. Beneath her calm eyes lay an indomitable spirit, though she never let her sharp edge show. Unlike others, Zhang was a calculating old fox who avoided trouble. He chose his monarchs carefully: they either had to be mediocre and obedient, or they had to be capable of soaring to the clouds and taking him into the history books with them. He had ambition and ability, and among all the contenders, he saw only one “Bright Ruler.”

The two did not speak much more and parted ways after exiting the gate.

Back at her office, the Princess’s female officials organized her documents. “Huaying, there is nothing more today. You may go home early to rest,” Shaoyang said, noticing her subordinate’s pale face.

Huaying, a fifth-rank official, was the only granddaughter of the Duke of Ying. Though she was pampered from childhood, she was currently pale and petite in her crimson robes. She was experiencing a difficult menstrual cycle and had nearly asked for leave, but her grandfather had told her that once she chose to be an official, she had to endure. A woman in office faced thousands of men waiting for a single sign of weakness to attack.

Huaying had endured the pain to attend the session, but Shaoyang’s kindness allowed her to finally go home.

Far away in Chongjiang, Lu Youming and Su Wanrou were rushing back to the capital for their maternal grandfather’s 60th birthday. They left the county affairs to Chen Jing. Over the past few years, the two of them had made a fortune through the cement and glass factories, so their birthday gifts were exceptionally lavish. Several large carriages filled with treasures had already arrived at the Shao Manor, giving Old Madam Shao a great deal of “face.”

Lu Youming sat in the carriage, which glided smoothly over the flat cement road. The carriage’s shock absorption had also been improved. She spent the time thinking about a military tool she wanted to create: the telescope. Previous attempts with concave and convex lenses had been unsatisfactory, with a range of less than three kilometers and poor clarity. She was still looking for ways to improve the glass quality.

Su Wanrou leaned against her, drowsy, her leg resting on Lu Youming’s lap. Even with the smooth roads, long journeys were tiring.

“The cement road has reduced the travel time from Chongjiang to Jinling by two full hours,” Su Wanrou murmured in a half-dream. “If this were for an army, troops could arrive almost instantly anywhere.”

“Mm?” Her words pulled Lu Youming from her thoughts.

“That’s true, but there are only a few cement roads now. Most cement is being used to build the cities,” Lu Youming mused. Because the factory technically belonged to the Princess, it now employed female artisans specializing in R&D under Chen Jing’s management. Under Shao Jiechuan’s oversight, the area was heavily guarded.

The old Emperor knew the value of cement and glass. He wouldn’t let these powerful tools fall into the hands of the general court, where factions would fight over the profits. Thus, he had granted Jinling to Shaoyang as her personal fiefdom.

The Emperor was now sixty-one and his energy was waning. His other sons had been out of house arrest for two years. Superficially, they were well-behaved and capable of answering policy questions, but they lacked deep strategic thinking. Unable to teach his sons, the Emperor was looking toward his grandsons. Calling Shao Yun (the Grand Tutor) back was intended to provide a teacher for the grandsons.

“Your Majesty, the Grand Princess seeks an audience,” the eunuch whispered.

The Emperor, in his bright yellow dragon robe, looked up from his desk with a smile. “Go, call the Princess in.”

The eunuch bowed and hurried to the gate. “Princess, His Majesty invites you.”

“Thank you, Eunuch Wang,” Shaoyang said.

“It is this old slave’s honor to lead the way for the Princess,” Wang replied, his smile genuine.

They entered the hall. Shaoyang knelt gracefully. “Daughter pays respects to Imperial Father.”

“My child, rise. What brings you to see your father today?” the Emperor asked curiously, looking at his hardworking daughter.