Chapter 20: Gongshu Tuo: My Daughter, That Young Master Is a Devil

“Astounding beyond belief? I don’t understand a word of it…” Wang Wan listened drowsily, barely paying attention as she busily devoured her meal. The two men’s discussion left no room for her to interject.

“This is my transcription. Also, I’ve noticed that the Qin cavalry is quite unstable while riding because there’s no proper point of support on the horse’s back.”

“If we use this device, every soldier could rival King Wuling of Zhao’s mounted archers, steady as a mountain on horseback! I shall name it... the stirrup!” Ying Ziji produced another sheet of paper.

It detailed the design of the stirrup.

At this time, cavalry could only grip the horse’s back tightly with their legs. Stability depended on familiarity with the horse and rigorous riding practice. This was why the Xiongnu moved like the wind, while the Qin cavalry struggled to fully eliminate them.

After all, the Xiongnu grew up on horseback; ordinary cavalry simply couldn’t compete.

But with the stirrup, the situation would be completely reversed.

The Han Dynasty’s eventual defeat of the Xiongnu owed much to the invention of the stirrup.

The diagram immediately captivated Wang Wan’s attention; even the beef lost its appeal.

It was as if she had discovered a new world!

“The stirrup?”

Wang Wan had loved swordplay and martial arts since childhood, especially horsemanship. Unfortunately, the pony her grandfather Wang Jian gifted her was too swift, making it easy to fall off.

If only she had stirrups...

“Young master, may I borrow these two diagrams to study?” Gongshu Youlan asked shyly, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

“Of course! They’re yours now. I hope, Youlan, you can convey this to Uncle Gongshu. I’d like the Gongshu family to help me mass-produce the smelting technique and the stirrup as soon as possible.”

Ying Ziji generously handed both drawings to Gongshu Youlan, seeking the Gongshu family’s assistance.

“Thank you, young master. I will speak to my father at once,” Gongshu Youlan replied solemnly.

“Youlan, make the stirrup first and let me try it, please,” Wang Wan pleaded.

“That’s not possible. Young master must approve it first before we can share it with you,” Gongshu Youlan said, glancing subtly.

Across from her, Ying Ziji was happily blowing on his beef and took a big bite, his face breaking into a satisfied smile.

The young master was truly nothing like she had imagined.

And the more she looked, the cuter he seemed.

Driven by some impulse, Gongshu Youlan reached out her delicate hand...

Ying Ziji, still chewing, suddenly smelled a faint fragrance near his nose and felt a soft, warm touch.

What?

His cheek was being pinched?

Before he could say anything, Gongshu Youlan blushed, realizing her rudeness and quickly withdrew her hand.

“Young master, I didn’t mean it...” she whispered almost inaudibly.

Wang Wan cried out in protest, her eyes filled with grievance and a hint of eagerness.

Ying Ziji: “...”

Damn it.

Why did every young lady start acting like Yin Mianjie?

I’m just too irresistible!

...

They spent half an hour enjoying the hot pot.

Outside the palace chamber.

“Ziji, I’ll come see you again in a couple of days.”

Wang Wan helped Gongshu Youlan into the vermilion lacquered carriage at the gate.

“Ziji, are you planning to build an academy at the foot of Mount Li soon?” Gongshu Youlan called after the departing Ying Ziji.

“Yes, and it should be large enough to welcome scholars from all over the world, especially those from humble backgrounds.”

“Welcoming scholars from humble origins?” Gongshu Youlan’s almond-shaped eyes gleamed with a strange light. “I’ll ask my father for help. Your smelting technique and stirrup are truly groundbreaking; I doubt he’ll refuse.”

With that, she waved to Ying Ziji.

The carriage rolled away carrying the two women.

Ying Ziji watched it vanish, a faint smile curling his lips.

Today was a big win!

Now, even the craftsmen for building the academy were secured.

Once Qin’s soldiers wielded fine iron weapons and rode with stirrups, they could finally consider eradicating the Xiongnu.

Qin wasn’t short on soldiers but desperately needed capable commanders.

“I wonder if Steward Yu succeeded,” Ying Ziji glanced at the brewing rain.

...

At the Gongshu residence.

Gongshu Youlan stepped down from the carriage.

Just inside the gate, a middle-aged man paced anxiously with his hands behind his back.

He was Gongshu Tuo, the current head of the Gongshu family.

“Father, why are you standing at the gate?” Gongshu Youlan tilted her head in confusion.

Hearing his daughter’s voice, Gongshu Tuo spun around and scrutinized her.

“You aren’t hurt, are you? Did the young master do anything to you?”

“I’m fine, Father. Ziji treated me to a delicious meal and then sent me back,” Gongshu Youlan frowned slightly.

It wasn’t some dangerous place, so why did Father react so strongly?

“Phew, thank goodness.” Gongshu Tuo relaxed when he saw her flushed complexion but then noticed something odd.

Why did his daughter address the Seventeenth Prince by name so familiarly?

He frowned and scolded, “The young master isn’t someone to be taken lightly. It’s fine with me, but don’t call him that in front of him.”

“Father, what are you talking about? Ziji is smart and kind, nothing like you say. Maybe you misunderstand him.”

Lately, Gongshu Tuo had spoken about Ying Ziji often—once cruel and capricious, prone to sudden outbursts after court meetings.

But today’s meeting had been entirely different.

You must be mistaken, Father.

“Mistaken?” Gongshu Tuo’s eyes widened.

He was about to recount Ying Ziji’s conduct in court again.

Gongshu Youlan instead began describing her experience in Ying Ziji’s chamber: the hourglass and the hot pot.

Most importantly, Ying Ziji’s personality.

The more Gongshu Tuo listened, the deeper his surprise grew.

Was this really the same person?

Could he have been mistaken all along?

“Besides, I promised Ziji that our family would provide craftsmen to help build the academy,” Gongshu Youlan said, producing two scrolls from her bosom.

One detailed the essentials of smelting; the other was the stirrup design.

...

“How could you promise this without consulting me... hmm? What’s this?” Gongshu Tuo’s words trailed off as his attention was drawn irresistibly to the two diagrams.

His daughter had inherited his curiosity.

Gongshu Tuo was a craftsman obsessed with his craft.

After thoroughly examining the papers, his gaze was filled with shock.

It was like discovering a new continent.

“Youlan, where did you get these?”

“Ziji wrote them himself and generously gave them to me.”

“The young master wrote these?” Gongshu Tuo nearly lost his footing.

After careful thought, he quietly pocketed the drawings.

“Youlan, I agree to the academy project.”

“Thank you, Father, but could you return the papers for now? They were gifts from Ziji, and I haven’t finished studying them.”

“Cough... very well. I’ll bring them to you tomorrow.”

...

Rain poured down, blurring the vast city of Xianyang.

Today would inevitably be a day of joy and sorrow.

At the Gan residence.

The three major noble families had gathered, with Feng Jie sitting among them.

The atmosphere was tense, almost tangible.

“The young master ordered all the books to be delivered today,” someone reported.

“Why? Those are the family’s centuries-old treasures. Now they’re all in the academy, known to everyone.”

“It was to save a life. Otherwise, exile would have been the result.”

...

Thud—thud—

Hearing the quarrel below, the elderly white-haired patriarch stomped his cane heavily.

Instantly, the room fell silent.

He was Gan Tai, the Gan family’s venerable ancestor, having served three Qin kings and witnessed Emperor Qin Shi Huang’s rise.

He was also the mentor of Right Chancellor Feng Quji.

His virtues and reputation were unparalleled throughout Qin.

“Such bickering is unbecoming! We, the Gan family, are the Gan family of Qin. If the young master has spoken, we have no excuse to refuse,” the white-haired Gan Tai declared before shifting his tone.

“But these books, if the young master has reviewed them and allows other noble heirs to read them, that is acceptable. For anyone else, I will not permit it.”

The meaning was clear.

If the academy was for princes and nobility, no problem.

But it must not admit impoverished scholars.

The aristocrats’ ancestors had bled for Qin; they had earned its glory.

Why should poor scholars, even from the Six Kingdoms, stand on equal footing?

“When Emperor Qin returns, I will visit His Majesty,” Feng Quji said, troubled.

There was still an unresolved question.

Was the young master acting on impulse, or was this the emperor’s will?

If the emperor intended to confront the noble families, the situation would be grave.

Before Ying Zheng, no noble house or powerful entity could dare oppose.

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