Enlightened

"Your Grace, Grandfather Dave said I should report my progress to you." Tang Feiliu knocked on the door of the duke's study where he handled official business, peeking in with wide eyes and whispering from the doorway.

Unlike other nobles who preferred dictating reports to their personal valets, the Duke always reviewed official reports himself. His personal valet, Ivan, only entered at set times to await instructions or replace quills and ink. Most of the time, he stayed by Old Dave’s side. Dave was getting old, his energy waning, and Ivan needed to learn quickly how to manage the castle and its affairs.

Thus, the room was empty save for His Grace alone. Edward heard the sound, set down his quill, and looked up. There, peering up at him with wide, lake-blue eyes, was a fluffy golden head, resembling a kitten ready to dart away at any moment.

"Come in," Edward said in a deep voice. Tang Feiliu hurriedly slipped inside. He hadn't noticed it before, but when handling official business, Edward looked strangely stern. Tang Feiliu felt like he'd run into the dean of students during his school days, filled with an anxiety that screamed, "I haven't done anything wrong, but I feel so guilty!" He stood properly before Edward and said solemnly, "Sir, the cement factory upgrades are complete. We can now produce cement through the winter. Recruitment has expanded, and shipment speeds have increased fivefold while costs are less than a tenth of before. I guarantee the main castle's complete sewer system will be finished within a month..."

"Stop," Edward snapped, his brain reeling from the barrage of words. Staring at the blond boy before him, he suddenly remarked, "Your hair has grown longer."

"Huh? Ah, yes." Tang Feiliu paused, instinctively touching his hair. He'd always trimmed it himself. While old-school nobles still sported long locks, the new generation of gentlemen had embraced shorter styles. Tang Feiliu wasn't following the trend; he mainly did it to save soap and shorten drying time. In an era without hair dryers, he didn't want to catch a cold. Running his fingers through the soft, fine golden hair that now reached below his ears—almost long enough to comb up—he continued, "It's already this long? I'll cut it tomorrow."

"No need." Duke Edward's dark eyes held a deep intensity as he studied Tang Feiliu's shoulder-length blond hair and snow-white neck, his gaze lingering down to his waist. His voice grew husky. "It's perfect like this. As pure as the Holy Son in a fresco."

"???" Tang Feiliu froze, utterly at a loss for words. Dude, this is giving me major anxiety! You're a devil's son, raised locked away in a tower, stamped with the seal of the Holy Temple. When you say someone resembles a holy child from a fresco, why does it feel less like genuine praise and more like a dreadful foreboding that I might not make it through the night?

"...Your Grace, you jest." Tang Feiliu couldn't shake the feeling that something was off—his animal instincts were warning him. He quickly added, "If there's nothing else, I'll begin laying the main sewer system? And Your Grace, your bedroom is the primary renovation area. You might need to make do in another room for a few days..."

Mentioning the sewer system—his pet project—made Tang Feiliu's eyes light up. Edward's expression softened, and Tang Feiliu relaxed, growing more animated as he enthusiastically detailed his plans and timelines. He concluded triumphantly: "Even if Your Grace were to host a thousand noble guests simultaneously, the entire castle would remain spotless and fragrant!"

"Very well. I grant you full authority." Edward nodded earnestly.

"Then I'll get to work right away!" Tang Feiliu, buoyed by his superior's approval, practically skipped out the door. Descending cheerfully, he announced to all the senior servants: "The Duke says we can begin! Everyone available, come quickly! We need to break through these stones and lay all the large pipes!"

The project sounded straightforward, but its execution proved monumental. Without Edward’s full authorization and the tireless support of Old Dave and Ivans, Tang Feiliu’s vision would never have unfolded as smoothly as he imagined.

First, the entire castle floor had to be pried up. Then, following the route meticulously surveyed and planned by a team over many days, the entire sewer system began to be laid. The castle's lower servants were far too few for the task. Workers were recruited from five nearby villages and some from York City itself. The entire castle was in utter chaos. Tang Feiliu worked himself into the ground every day, feeling more exhausted than he ever had at his first job in his previous life.

Yet despite the relentless pace and constant emergencies, Tang Feiliu found himself surprisingly content. Compared to his former desk-bound existence, his true nature craved this hands-on work of building and growth. While this passion might not be considered manly, here in this place, everyone clearly admired everything Tang Feiliu accomplished. filling him with pride. Thus, he threw himself wholeheartedly into the renovation of Black Swan Castle, busying himself day in and day out.

Duke Edward was no less occupied. His estates had been neglected due to his critical illness, and now he dealt decisively with any minor rebels or testers of boundaries—making an example of them to intimidate those harboring delusions of authority.

He also had to respond to the Prince and Queen residing in the palace. Though gravely ill, the Emperor still clung to life, refusing to die while still harboring the desire to father more illegitimate children. With a quill pen, Edward wrote in elegant cursive his final words to Queen Josephine: "...Finally, to my dearest aunt, I wish you well. Yours most faithfully, Edward."

He set down the pen, scrutinized the entire letter once more, then folded it into an envelope. He melted wax, applied it, and sealed the envelope with his own wax seal. The red wax solidified into the same pattern as the one on his hand—a small serpent coiled around a green jewel, clinging to the thorns, sealing the letter securely.

Having completed this, Edward exhaled softly, only to suddenly hear the familiar laughter from below. Like the tinkling of silver bells, it wound its way up the stairs, brimming with cheerful vitality. Edward slowly rose to his feet and walked to the window. Through the velvet curtains, he saw the blond youth in the small garden below, laughing as he finished speaking to the fiery-haired young man. Then the red-haired knight exclaimed loudly, "Are you serious?! That's disgusting, Little Lance!"

"I'm not Little Lance! Call me Tang!" Tang Feiliu planted his hands on his hips, his blond hair practically standing on end with fury. "I don't care! All you knights do is eat and train! Digging holes is training too, isn't it?! You're coming with me!"

"I refuse to dig a pit for human waste!" Jace protested vehemently, clutching his head dramatically as if facing the apocalypse. "Oh, Little Lance, you look like an angel, but why are your thoughts so horrifying!"

Tang Feiliu was nearly driven mad by this medieval-minded, single-minded knight. But he couldn't do this job alone. He tried desperately to persuade Jace, who insisted, "For the honor of knighthood, I absolutely will not dig latrines!" Yet just then, the window on the second floor opened. Tang Feiliu stared dumbstruck as the tall duke with jet-black hair and eyes stood behind crimson velvet curtains. The scene perfectly matched the architecture of Black Swan Castle... Tang Feiliu felt like he'd choked for a second. The whole thing looked so vampire-like that he stood frozen for a long moment before stammering, " Your Grace... I only heard your study had been moved. I didn't know you were here..."

It was all because this ancient castle, though vast, had a surprisingly complex layout once inside. Tang Feiliu knew the Duke's temporary quarters were on the eastern side overlooking the orchard, but hadn't anticipated the Duke wouldn't choose the sunlit side. Instead, he'd selected the shaded area near the small garden.

He offered an awkward explanation, while Jace beside him dared not make a fuss, instead bowing solemnly to Edward: "Good day, Your Grace."

"...What are you searching for? Why seek out Jess? What of the other assistants I assigned you?" Edward inquired from the second floor.

"They're all busy!" Tang Feiliu hurriedly explained. "Grandpa Dave said composting in the castle is unsightly, but I think it's such a waste to throw away all that... that... fertilizer... After all, fertilizer helps the fields yield more crops..."

That's right—Tang Feiliu had been fussing about all this time because he wanted to make compost.

Anyone familiar with穿越 novels knows this practice wasn't discovered in ancient China until its later stages. Europeans were even more remarkable—they seemed to focus solely on advancing technology, paying no heed to rudimentary methods like composting. Consequently, medieval populations remained sparse due to abysmally low crop yields. Potatoes originated in the Americas, and though Tang Feiliu had observed this world intently since arriving, he'd never noticed them. Fortunately, the Age of Exploration had now begun, and he believed this high-yield, nutrient-rich crop would soon emerge alongside the discovery of the New World.

But that was for the future. Tang Feiliu dared not count on it now. After reading Jenna's story, he had resolved to accelerate his own efforts. He might not accomplish much, but he could strive to his utmost—increasing the cement factory's demand to hire more workers was one approach; composting, making fertilizer, and boosting grain yields to ease hunger was another.

So even after facing rejection, Tang Feiliu refused to give up. In the castle, aside from Aunt Lai Li in the kitchen and the assistant chef Senov who accompanied him on his outing—both of whom were swamped with work—the only person currently free was the idle knight, Jess.

If composting wasn't feasible within the castle walls, then finding a better location would solve the problem.

Besides, Tang Feiliu couldn't stand the knights' enormous appetites. They trained only half a day daily, resting the afternoons, contributing nothing to production. Though he understood knights were noble in this era—sons of gentlemen, even accompanied by servants—and that reduced training was normal in peacetime, Tang Feiliu still felt compelled to find Jess and his peers something to do.

Alright, Jace's constant teasing of Tang Feiliu was probably the bigger reason.

Still, Tang Feiliu was serious about composting. While it wouldn't fundamentally solve the problem of low yields, it could absolutely double grain production. Take York's wealthiest Duke Edward as an example—he commanded nearly two hundred knights. In ancient Asia, that number would be laughable, yet this was the reality of the Lotte Empire and Europe today. Battles between lords typically involved dozens of men, while conflicts between nations were fierce struggles involving hundreds.

This reality is unimaginable to modern citizens of Tang Feiliu's homeland. Reflecting on it, European history seems absurdly comical—much like Japanese history, where a single general commanding a dozen warriors could become a regional overlord... Doesn't that sound ridiculous?

Yet this was reality. Poverty, sheer lack of funds—a level of destitution unimaginable to their Asian contemporaries. When Tang Feiliu learned that Edward's entire fighting force consisted of these two hundred knights, yet he could still terrify surrounding lords into silence... ...and yet Queen Josephine and the heir to the throne regarded him as their most crucial pillar of support... even collapsing from anxiety multiple times during Edward's illness... Tang Feiliu's utter shock and sense of the absurd were beyond words.

Yet these two hundred men, who ate without working, were truly the greatest safeguard for the entire York region—indeed, for Queen Josephine's very throne. For the palace itself maintained only two hundred knights; none of the other lords possessed Edward's wealth, nor could they afford to maintain such numbers.

Maintaining knights was prohibitively expensive. Tang Feiliu had fallen from the upper class; he could pawn the young Master Lance's banquet invitation for twenty pounds. His innate literacy, coupled with having learned multiplication tables in the modern world, gave him astonishing mental arithmetic skills—qualities that allowed small factory owners to rely on him as a crucial steward. These were advantages truly unique to someone raised in this era.

A simple example: Tang Feiliu could earn seven shillings a month. Yet ordinary workers toiled amid cotton piles, laboring excessively each day while exposed to toxic dyes... How much did they earn monthly? Most managed fifteen pence... or even less than a shilling.

At first, Tang Feiliu even thought the cost of living in this era wasn't too high, and he could take good care of himself.

But if he weren't Lance... no, if he weren't a premature, frail child like Lance, if he weren't the son of a gentleman, he might not even have survived to adulthood.

These were things Tang Feiliu hadn't noticed when he first arrived in this era. Back in York City, he'd thought things weren't so bad. But now, as Tang Feiliu lived longer in this place, he finally understood the savagery and horror of resource-deprived areas.

Therefore, Tang Feiliu felt compelled to undertake this task. Though his conscience pricked him for disturbing Duke Edward, and he hadn't heard a reply in ages, he still plucked up the courage to sneak a glance upward.

The dark-haired, dark-eyed duke gazed upon the boy, who resembled a saintly child from a mural. Barely sixteen, he was slender and pure, his golden hair illuminated by the dim sunlight, radiant like the dazzling sun in a garden.

His milk-white face flushed with excitement. Though he dared to peek up, appearing docile, his courage was immense—like a cub unaware of the danger lurking in the wild.

"I can accompany you on your walk," Tang Feiliu heard the duke, who seemed like a vampire, whisper softly. "You can tell me more details along the way."

"Thank you, Your Grace!" Tang Feiliu's eyes lit up instantly, then he turned to shoot Jace a look of utter contempt.

Jesse remained as still as a chicken, not daring to move an inch under the duke's gaze.

For the first time, he was astonished by his new friend's boldness... This little guy didn't seem afraid of the duke at all?

Tang Feiliu didn't notice at all. After happily giving Jace a look of contempt, he said, "Your Grace, shall I wait here for you to come down?"

He even waved cheerfully.

Edward nodded and turned away from the window.

"Yay! I'll tell you what, Jace, you just missed your chance to be written into history!" He lifted his chin triumphantly, shooting Jace a smug sideways glance.

"Fine, fine. But aren't you worried about what happens after the Duke hears the details of your 'feces collection plan'?" Jace firmly believed that a person of high standing could never possibly enjoy listening to such filthy matters.

"...No. The Duke is an enlightened man, nothing like you rotten petty bourgeois!" Tang Feiliu's contempt was practically palpable. Just then, Edward descended the stairs, still without his personal valet in tow, as if Evans were merely the butler's successor.

Tang Feiliu cheerfully scurried over, tail wagging, and began gesticulating wildly beside Edward as he recounted his grand scheme.

Jace watched helplessly as the Duke of Edward ruffled the blond child's hair, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly. The little blond boy showed no reaction whatsoever, seemingly accustomed to it, still busy expounding on his grand scheme.

Watching their receding figures, Jace shook his head and muttered in confusion, "Could poop really be that precious?!"

A noble duke could never be wrong. Therefore, the mistake must lie with him! Jace nodded, resolving to reflect deeply.