Before the city gates closed, Shiyan had already escorted the grain back to the detached residence.
Among the various branches of the Cheng family's Qing lineage, most held official positions and naturally resided in the ancestral mansion. The detached residence housed only guests—and Cheng Jinzhou.
Two hundred dan of grain sounded like a substantial amount, but in reality, it amounted to merely five or six horse-drawn carts. If one wasn't pressed for time, donkey carts proved even more economical.
The heavily laden wooden wheels made rhythmic "thump-thump" sounds against the bluestone pavement as they entered through the rear gate. Servants along the way cast fleeting glances before scurrying away—the second steward had given strict orders, and none dared interfere with such trivial matters.
Cheng Jinzhou lounged leisurely beneath the great banyan tree in the central courtyard. The nearly acre-sized green space belonged entirely to this single tree, whose shade stubbornly resisted the waning sunlight.
Watching the servants from the estate haul in sack after sack of grain, Cheng Jinzhou pulled Shiyan aside and asked, "Did you see how they concealed the grain?"
"Conceal?"
"When grain goes missing, the household will surely investigate. How did they hide the discrepancy?" Cheng Jinzhou pressed eagerly, recognizing this as valuable knowledge worth acquiring. During his time browsing the internet at home, he'd encountered numerous corruption schemes—though frustratingly, he couldn't recall a single one now.
How one regrets not reading more when knowledge is needed! He sighed inwardly, lamenting again that his ring couldn't provide unlimited reading material.
Shiyan's enthusiasm deflated as he lowered his head guiltily. "They wouldn't let me observe the grain transfer. In the end, they only inspected the quality—as you said appearance didn't matter..."
"No matter, you did well." Cheng Jinzhou tossed him a small silver ingot weighing two liang.
Shiyan's face blossomed into a grin, all previous apprehension vanishing without a trace.
"From now on, we'll purchase grain directly from our family granary. Tell them it's for my experiments."
Two hundred dan for experiments? The corner of Shiyan's mouth twitched—this excuse was flimsy at best.
After hastily cleaning the area and storing the grain, Shiyan and Shimo discreetly withdrew. Cheng Jinzhou excitedly touched his ring. "Mr. Ke, I'd like to exchange for a book."
"151,000 characters. Confirm?" Customer Service 010 appeared with its usual promptness, referring to the previously selected title.
151,000 characters would make about 250 pages. Cheng Jinzhou licked his lips, deliberately avoiding overthinking. "This one."
He reminisced about his past life, when renting a Jin Yong or Gu Long novel cost merely fifty cents—millions of words for the price of a bowl of rice. Those days seemed irrevocably gone.
"Greek text: 'On Agriculture.' Translation requires 50% additional fee." The customer service representative showed no hint of apology.
"Translate it." The title sounded promising. Cheng Jinzhou maintained his composure—exploitation became insignificant once one grew accustomed. The granary still held sufficient reserves, though this transaction left it noticeably emptier.
His attention fixed on the ring's reading interface. Aside from the book's intangible nature in the void, it differed little from a physical text.
The cover suggested three volumes. Cheng Jinzhou nonchalantly flipped through the pages projected from his ring.
Facing potential disappointment, he'd steeled himself—even at the cost of three hundred dan of grain.
After a brief introduction discussing agriculture's purpose and scope, Chapter Eight covered grapevine pruning, followed by land measurement, farm structures, equipment (including slaves...), then olive trees and grains.
Clearly, the author had earnestly compiled an agricultural guide. Though some sections were generalized and focused on Greece's primary cash crops, much content held practical value.
Cheng Jinzhou's flipping accelerated, his excitement growing. "Mr. Ke, this is what I call a real book! Only useful knowledge deserves the name. Those previous piles of trash belonged in the garbage."
Dr. Cheng had always been a pragmatist.
Customer Service 010 unusually offered an unnecessary comment: "That's good."
Grinning like a toothless rabbit, Cheng Jinzhou rested his chin on his shoulder, muttering, "This MT Varro isn't bad. I always said those who main-tank in guilds are diligent, hardworking folks."
Heaven knew—though born two millennia earlier—Varro was actually a renowned scholar who'd certainly never played World of Warcraft.
Energized, Cheng Jinzhou continued reading. Beyond the content itself, the book offered hope—a direction. Compared to "Elements of Geometry," "On Agriculture" held more practical value. Moreover, with sufficient investment in the ring, he might acquire even more valuable texts.
After quickly reviewing it again, he reluctantly repeated, "Now this is a proper book..."
Then he inquired eagerly, "So I now have eleven Star Alliance points, correct?"
"Affirmative."
"For future worthless books, pick shorter ones." Having rationalized his previous waste, his spirits lifted as he asked the ring, "How many points to reach Star Alliance Level 3?"
He remembered Level 3 unlocked the so-called "autonomous trading platform"—the very name sparked anticipation.
Customer Service 010 answered his hopeful query: "One hundred points."
Cheng Jinzhou's enthusiasm instantly dampened.
The accountants were soon summoned again for transcription duty. Cheng Jinzhou bustled between rooms with tea. Like ancient China, the Great Xia Dynasty's basic education was thorough—even those with only a few years' schooling could write swiftly. Thus, transcription speed depended mainly on Cheng Jinzhou's mobility.
Dr. Cheng preferred splitting short sentences. To facilitate later reassembly, he employed simple ciphers—alternating every three sentences or using two natural numbers as intervals. The two-hundred-page content proved mentally taxing.
Dusk fell quickly. The lamp-lighting servant had just departed when courtyard gate knocks sounded, accompanied by the second steward's voice: "Third Young Master, the mistress requests your presence for dinner."
"Understood," Cheng Jinzhou replied impatiently.
Knowing his temperament, the steward outside added, "The mistress insists you arrive before dinner. It's time to depart."
"What's so urgent?" Seeing transcription had become impossible, Cheng Jinzhou waved resignedly as the copied materials were gathered.
"The mistress only said it's important..."
"Explain," Cheng Jinzhou frowned.
"I truly don't know."
"You're the second steward. If you're ignorant of such matters, how do you manage this residence?" Cheng Jinzhou snorted, lifting his chin. "Speak freely, as conversation."
The steward glanced around, and attendants tactfully retreated. He whispered, "The residence originally planned to vacate rooms, but later the mistress said the guests would stay in the main mansion..."
Whether in main or detached residence, accommodations differed little, but the implications varied greatly regarding intimacy—something Cheng Jinzhou had grasped within days. He nodded. "Continue..."
"It's former Longdong Garrison Commander Liu Bin, newly appointed as Hexi Transport Commissioner, passing through Shaonan with family." The steward's voice grew quieter.
Garrison commanders existed only in major border regions, serving as civilian officials performing military roles. Though prestigious locally, to Great Xia's nobility, the position mattered little. Transport commissioners differed—purely civilian roles overseeing finance, taxation, and transportation. Though nominally a demotion from sixth-rank, the Hexi post near the capital was far more lucrative and significant.
"How curious—a former garrison commander bypassing airships to pass through Shaonan during his transfer." Cheng Jinzhou mused to himself, his mindset having evolved considerably since first arriving in this world.