Xiao Yunqing was momentarily taken aback, then shook his head: “This is a family heirloom; I cannot accept it. Keep it safe—in the future—”

“This is the future,” Duan Jin interrupted him, his voice soft yet firm. “My parents are gone. I have no relatives or ties left in this world.

This jade pendant is the only thing left from my family. Before my father passed away, he told me to give it to the person who matters most to me.”

As he spoke, his Adam’s apple bobbed slightly, and his voice grew even softer: “I’ve thought about this for a long time. The most important person to me—it seems, in this world, it might be Your Highness.” 

The room suddenly fell completely silent.

Birds chirped outside the window, and in the distance came the sounds of the constables chatting and laughing in front of the county magistrate’s office, but these sounds seemed muffled by a thick layer of cotton, hazy and indistinct, unable to penetrate this room.

Xiao Yunqing’s face flushed instantly.

The color spread from his cheeks all the way to his earlobes, like drops of blood.

He turned his face slightly to the side, revealing a slender, graceful neck—even that was tinged with a faint blush.

“You…” Xiao Yunqing’s voice wavered slightly. “What kind of nonsense are you spouting…”

Duan Jin blushed himself, but the words had already left his mouth; there was no taking them back.

He placed the jade pendant on the table, nudged it toward the Young Prince, and said earnestly, “I have indeed spoken nonsense. If Your Highness does not mind, please accept it. This humble servant… has nothing better to offer Your Highness than this.”

Xiao Yunqing stared at the jade pendant for a long moment before finally reaching out. His fingers trembled slightly as he took it and clasped it in his palm. He lowered his head, his voice muffled: “I accept it.”

Just three words—and nothing more.

But Duan Jin saw that his earlobes were red as if they might bleed, and even the fingertips holding the jade pendant were pink.

Neither of them spoke another word; they simply stood facing each other, a single step apart, the air thick with an indescribable, bittersweet atmosphere.

It was as if something had quietly broken through the soil and sprouted between them. 

Duan Jin’s Adam’s apple bobbed again. He wanted to say something to break the suffocating silence, but his mind felt as if it were filled with glue—nothing came out.

He didn’t even dare to look at the young prince, instead fixing his gaze on the sandalwood box on the table.

Just then, a rush of hurried footsteps suddenly echoed from the courtyard, followed by Liu Cheng’s booming voice: “Sir! Sir! Trouble! Oh, no—it’s good news! Wonderful news!”

Duan Jin and the Young Prince both turned toward the doorway at the same time.

Liu Cheng burst into the eastern wing; though the attendants at the courtyard gate tried to stop him, he had already rushed to the doorway, where he pounded on the door, panting:

“Sir! Zhu Laotong sent me to report that—that mud… water… cement! It’s done! It really worked!”

Duan Jin froze for a split second, then spun around abruptly, the flush on his face instantly giving way to wild joy: “What? What did you say?”

“Cement! Zhu Laotong said that the formula you ordered to be researched—the last batch was fired last night. After it cooled completely, they mixed it with water, and by this morning it had dried and was harder than stone! Zhu Laotong couldn’t believe it himself—he hit it several times with a hammer, and it didn’t budge an inch! He sent someone to report that you must go see it for yourself!”

Duan Jin flung open the door and grabbed Liu Cheng by the arm: “Is it really harder than stone?”

“You know Zhu Laotong’s temperament as well as anyone—if he says it worked, then it really worked!”

Duan Jin turned to look at the young prince, who was staring back at him; the slight blush from earlier had been completely washed away by his delight.

He strode over quickly, his hand unconsciously gripping Duan Jin’s sleeve: “Cement? Is that the stuff you mentioned earlier—the one that can be used to repair river embankments, pave roads, and build houses?”

“That’s right!” Duan Jin’s voice cracked with excitement, sounding like a child’s. “Your Highness, as I’ve told you before, if we use ordinary lime and mixed earth, the river embankment won’t last more than a few years before it collapses. But cement is different—it hardens when it comes into contact with water, so it isn’t affected by soaking or erosion. If used on the river embankment…”

“Enough,” the young prince said, tugging on his sleeve and heading for the door. “Let’s go take a look right away.”

Duan Jin stumbled a couple of steps as he was pulled along, instinctively reaching back to grasp the young prince’s wrist—only to let go as if he’d been burned. The young prince didn’t look back, but Duan Jin could clearly see that his ears had turned red again.

Liu Cheng followed behind, scratching his head in confusion. Why did he feel that something had changed between the official and the young prince? The two horses rode out of the county magistrate’s office gate, one in front and one behind, crossed the main street of the county town, and galloped toward the west of the city.

After riding for about two quarters of an hour, they arrived at several official kilns on the western outskirts of the city.

The ground was littered with stones of various sizes and piles upon piles of powder. An old man in his seventies, with dark skin and hands covered in calluses, was crouching in front of one of the piles of powder, surrounded by seven or eight people who were all chattering away.

Duan Jin reined in his horse and dismounted,

The prince jumped straight down from the horse, stumbled slightly as his feet touched the ground, and Duan Jin quickly reached out to steady him by the waist; both of them froze at the same moment. 

He pretended nothing had happened and walked straight toward Zhu Laotong. Duan Jin stood where he was, glanced at his hand, then hurried after him, taking three steps in two. 

Zhu Laotong had long since heard the hoofbeats. He stood up, his face creased with a broad smile, and called out from a distance, “Your Excellency! It’s done! It really worked!”

He pointed at the gray object on the ground—something that looked like stone but wasn’t—his voice trembling with excitement: “Your Honor, look! Following your formula, we mixed limestone, clay, and other materials, and finally managed to fire it into cement powder. Yesterday evening, I mixed a batch with water and smeared it on this brick. When I checked this morning, it had hardened! I couldn’t even break it with a hammer!”

Duan Jin crouched down, picked up the brick—which was firmly bonded to the cement—and examined it from every angle. 

Once set, the cement had taken on a bluish-gray hue. Its texture was dense and hard, fitting the brick so perfectly that it seemed as if the two had grown together naturally.

He drew the dagger he carried at his waist and scraped at it a few times, removing a thin layer of powder.

“Where’s the hammer?” Duan Jin asked.

Zhu Laotong handed him an iron hammer.

Duan Jin swung it down with a thud; the impact made the web of his hand go numb, but the concrete didn’t budge an inch—not even a crack appeared. Duan Jin’s hand holding the hammer trembled slightly as he stood there, overcome with excitement.

“Zhu Laotong,” his voice trembled slightly, “do you realize what you’ve created?”

Zhu Laotong felt a lump in his throat. The blueprint of that foreigner’s design that he’d seen with his own eyes—he’d actually managed to build it one day!

Duan Jin stood up, looked at the dust-covered craftsmen around him, and at the pile of unremarkable gray powder on the ground, and suddenly felt his eyes sting.

He took a deep breath and turned to look at the young prince.

Xiao Yunqing crouched down, ran his finger over the hardened cement, then picked up a small piece of debris from the ground and examined it closely in the palm of his hand.

He looked up; sunlight fell on his face, and his eyes, reflecting this humble imperial kiln workshop, shone brighter than ever.

“Duan Jin,” he said, “with this, can the river embankment in Wuyuan County be repaired?”

“Not just the river embankment,” Duan Jin replied. “Roads, bridges, canals, warehouses—we can repair anything. In the past, we used rammed earth, which would crack within three to five years. But if we switch to this, it’ll last thirty to fifty years without any problems.”

That afternoon, as soon as Duan Jin returned, without even stopping to take a sip of water, he went straight to the inner chambers and began sketching and drafting.

The next day, court officials posted notices recruiting kiln workers. Those recruited that very day began work immediately, and from then on, cement entered mass production. After the first batch of cement came out of the kiln, Duan Jin didn’t rush to sell it; instead, he used it first where it was most urgently needed in the county—the wharf.

Wuyuan County is located in the south, bordering the sea, and the mouth of the Lan River—which flows from west to east—is right at the wharf.

A dozen or so years ago, this wharf had been the busiest cargo hub within a hundred li radius. Merchant ships traveling north and south loaded and unloaded their cargo here, and the wharf was lined with warehouses, restaurants, and inns, bustling day and night without cease.

But in recent years, the authorities have neglected their duties, the docks have fallen into disrepair, and management has been in utter disarray.

It was a common occurrence: one day someone would occupy a berth, the next day someone else would steal cargo, and the day after that, two shipowners would come to blows over a single berth, with the dispute ending up at the county magistrate’s office.

Gradually, large ships stopped coming, small boats took detours, and more than half of the wharf fell into disuse. Only a few dilapidated fishing boats and scattered cargo ships remained, making the place look increasingly desolate.

Duan Jin stood on the pier, gazing at the crooked wooden pilings, the pitted ground, and the trash piled in the corners, left uncleared, and remained silent for a long time.

Xiang Changqing sighed beside him: “Sir, repairing this pier won’t be something that can be done with just a few dozen taels of silver.”

Duan Jin didn’t respond. He crouched down and scraped at the ground with his hand, then examined the water level and current of the Lan River. He stood up and walked the length of the pier, gauging its length and width with his strides.

“Changqing,” he finally said, “Bring me some paper and a pen.”

He spread the paper out on the ground and drew a scaled sketch of the pier.

The pier needed to be expanded; all the original wooden pilings would have to be replaced with stone ones, the surface would be hardened with cement, and the berths would be divided into zones by size and numbered accordingly.

A management pavilion would be built, and personnel would be stationed there day and night.

“Sir, how much will this cost?” Xiang Changqing looked at the sketch and gasped.

Duan Jin did the math: “We produce the cement ourselves, so that’s free—we’ll just need to cover labor and transportation costs. The stone will be quarried from the mountains by our own people. The biggest expenses will be labor and food. I estimate that, all told, a hundred taels of silver will be enough.”

One hundred taels!

Xiang Changqing was well aware of the county government’s financial situation. Not only did he have to pay the county officials their monthly salaries, but he also had to distribute gypsum and seeds free of charge to all the county’s residents—and that covered thousands of mu of land!

Even with the prefectural governor’s generous support, the county treasury simply couldn’t sustain such spending!

Noticing the regret in his eyes, Duan Jin smiled. “I know the county treasury is short on silver, but let me ask you this: if the wharf is repaired, do you know how much silver it could bring in?”

Xiang Changqing was taken aback. “Can the wharf actually generate revenue?”

Don’t those ships just come and go as they please? If we charge fees, will anyone even stop here?

Duan Jin counted on his fingers to explain: “First, we’ll definitely charge a docking fee. We’ll draft regulations to charge based on the size of the ship. Second, there are warehouses. I plan to build several warehouses right by the dock. Merchants won’t have to move their goods back and forth—they can store them directly in our warehouses, and we’ll charge by the day. Additionally, we’ll organize a team of porters with fixed rates to handle cargo for the shipowners. On the one hand, this makes management easier; on the other, it prevents those shipowners from exploiting labor costs. Add those three items up, and we’ll bring in at least twenty or thirty taels of silver a month. Once the wharf is finished, more and more merchant ships will come, and our income will keep rising.”

“But…” Xiang Changqing hesitated slightly. “Will merchant ships even dock here if they have to pay?”

“Magistrate Duan’s plan is sound. The old wharf was chaotic—overcrowded, filthy, and noisy—and those porters could earn a meager living there. Even on slow days, when shipowners tried to drive down their wages, they still had to work.”

But it remains to be seen whether the shipowners will approve.

Duan Jin said, “At first, they might think it’s too expensive, but if they dock here, the lot is spacious and level, and there are people watching over it and keeping an eye on things—so they don’t have to worry about their cargo getting stolen. Tell me, do these boat operators think it’s better to pay a little extra and save themselves the trouble, or to risk losing their stuff and getting into a whole bunch of trouble?”

Work on the dock renovation began immediately.

Duan Jin recruited several dozen strong laborers from the county to form a dock renovation crew.

It was impossible to tell how long the trash had been piling up on the wharf—rotten wood, torn fishing nets, broken roof tiles, silt, and weeds filled every nook and cranny.

It took a full five days of cleanup before the wharf finally revealed its original appearance.

The pier’s foundation was fairly solid, but most of the wooden piles had rotted away. The surface was riddled with potholes, and in some places it had even caved in, sinking deep enough to reach the ankles.

Next came the concrete pouring—the most critical step of the entire project.

Duan Jin had his men first compact the ground, lay down a layer of crushed stone as a base, then pour the cement mortar, level it with wooden planks, and finally finish it with a trowel.

Once the concrete had set, the surface was smooth and hard, with a bluish tint to the gray, and it made a “clack-clack” sound underfoot; they no longer had to worry about muddy, treacherous conditions during rain or snow.

All the original wooden pilings at the dock were removed and replaced with stone pilings.

The berthing area was divided into three zones based on size: small boats, medium boats, and large boats. A stone stele was erected in each zone, engraved with a number and the fee schedule.

The area for large ships was located on the outermost edge, where the water was deep; the area for small ships was closer to the shore, where the water was shallow. This arrangement was both safe and efficient, ensuring that large and small ships did not interfere with one another. A management kiosk was built on the pier, with concrete walls and a blue-tiled roof; inside the kiosk were a table, a chair, and a ledger. Duan Jin assigned a literate clerk from the county government office to be specifically responsible for collecting fees and keeping records.

In addition, he had three warehouses built along the wharf to store merchants’ goods.

The floors of the warehouses were raised slightly above the dock level and paved with a double layer of concrete to protect against moisture and pests; goods stored inside were safe from theft, rain, and rodent damage.

The entire project took half a month and cost eighty taels of silver.

Duan Jin managed the budget meticulously, ensuring every wen was spent wisely; even Xiang Shiye was deeply impressed when he finally reviewed the ledgers.