Little Meat Pies

Early the next morning, Tang Feiliu arrived at the cement factory under Mr. Ross's guidance.

The cement factory was slightly larger than Tang Feiliu had initially imagined, though production relied almost entirely on manual labor. Roman cement was exceptionally durable, capable of withstanding the test of time for millennia. Still, Tang Feiliu knew he needed to reformulate it. Roman cement was prohibitively expensive, requiring volcanic ash transported from distant locations. In an era before steam engines, it was no wonder only the upper classes could afford clean, well-maintained homes.

Moreover, the production and drying time for this cement were excessively long. Even with two or three dozen workers and Mr. Ross's budget, completing the entire Black Swan Castle's sewer system would take over two years under normal production schedules.

This was the last thing Tang Feiliu wanted to see. He simply didn't have that kind of time. The castle was already bitterly cold, and without proper drainage, Tang Feiliu wouldn't be able to bathe or clean himself properly during the winter. Lack of cleanliness meant a drastically increased risk of illness—and in this era, falling ill was practically dancing cheek-to-cheek with death... Tang Feiliu wasn't fighting for anything else now—he was fighting for his very life. Not to mention winter was the social season. Old Dave, the butler, was counting on this year's season to bring a new Duchess. Imagine the crowds during the social season. Without proper sanitation, the entire castle would be filled with the fermenting stench of excrement and urine, amplified by the heat from the fireplaces...

The mere thought turned Tang Feiliu's face ashen. He shook his head, forcing himself out of that dreadful vision, then addressed Ross: "There's a simple solution. I heard from the Duke that commoners use a clay mixture as 'fake cement' for their houses here, correct?"

"That's true," Ross replied honestly, though puzzled. "But that clay isn't very sturdy. A bit of winter snow or wind can make it crumble."

"My improvement involves using this sticky clay... I hear this soil type is common throughout this region?" Tang Feiliu confirmed before continuing, "I don't know the exact formula, but I recall it involves mixing this clay with sand, gravel, and wood ash in specific proportions... volcanic ash might work even better? After it hardens into blocks, they're fired in kilns, then crushed... when ready to use, just add water..." ..."

Tang Feiliu wasn't an expert, so he could only slowly recount the knowledge he'd observed. Ross then beckoned several workers over, and they got to work with great enthusiasm.

Tang Feiliu's sole task was to verify their methods and compare the results to the cement mortar he remembered. This proved surprisingly straightforward. Within just a few attempts, their mixture grew increasingly close to the ideal. Tang Feiliu felt a wave of relief wash over him—success was assured. Now, they only needed to pinpoint the optimal ratio.

These men weren't stupid; they just hadn't considered such a combination before. Now that Tang Feiliu had pointed it out, they suddenly understood and performed far better than he had anticipated.

With his worries eased, Tang Feiliu found himself in the mood to explore.

Though he was the son of a local gentry, that identity belonged to Xiao Lans' memories. Tang Feiliu himself had little genuine experience with this era. So, during the final waiting period, he took Jess and began hiking in the hills farther from the cement factory to clear his mind.

Ross saw the staggering profits the cement factory would reap once this secret formula succeeded. He might strike it rich. When Little Jenny entered society this time, her sights might no longer be set merely on the son of a minor estate owner. Perhaps he could even prepare a five-hundred-pound dowry for her, marrying her off to a true estate heir!

From then on, his daughter could truly be called a Lady! This was a title the daughters of these merchants could only dream of. After all, the social hierarchy in the Lott Empire was so rigidly defined—a natural barrier money couldn't break. Nobles held estates and supreme authority, and for a man like Ross, merely securing an audience with a noble for his estate owner client was already the limit of his wildest imagination.

Ross harbored grand dreams, practically longing to live in the cement factory, while Tang Feiliu enjoyed the leisure of strolling through the gradually withering late autumn countryside, admiring the beautiful foreign scenery.

It was precisely during such moments that Tang Feiliu began to witness the poverty of the rural peasants up close.

The freemen lived in dire poverty, scarcely better off than slaves except for the right to own their own homes and private property. Yet even the servants' quarters at the entrance to Mr. Ross's "modest" residence far surpassed these freemen's dwellings in both beauty and sturdiness, let alone compare to the castles of the nobility.

Throughout the villages, the freemen's dwellings were low and dilapidated. Approaching them revealed emaciated figures that stirred pity. Their robes hung in tatters, coarse cloth garments covered in patches. Tang Feiliu, having worked in factories, recognized their garments. Most were repurposed from the burlap sacks used for packaging clothes in factories—coarse but durable, though their rough texture easily cut the skin of anyone with even slightly delicate complexion.

Those burlap sacks cost barely two pence each—extremely cheap. Yet these people, their faces etched with sorrow, clearly had not a penny more than their rations in their pockets.

"Jenna, you can't go again, Jenna!" Just as Tang Feiliu's heart sank, the sound of an argument reached him, followed by the young woman's angry voice: "But what else can I do? Am I supposed to just watch my whole family die?! Little Jamie needs nourishing food, Father's leg requires treatment, and we don't even have blankets for the winter... Listen, Mother, I'm not blaming you. This is my choice. I love you all. I can't lose you, so... let me take care of you, okay?"

"But Jenna, my poor Jenna..." The older woman's voice trembled with tears, while the little boy called softly, uneasy, "Sister, where are you going? Why is Mom crying?"

"Nothing. Sister's going to work. I'll bring back bacon and delicious bread for little Jamie when I return, okay?" The young woman promised the children with a smile, earning cheers of delight.

Tang Feiliu watched as a brown-haired, brown-eyed girl with deep-set eyes emerged from the alley. He felt somewhat flustered and awkward, but Jace beside him seemed oblivious, cheerfully greeting her: "I knew why my legs kept walking me to this strange place—clearly, even they can't forget such a beautiful girl."

Jenna, still tear-streaked, giggled softly. Blinking, she smiled and said, "Since you're so handsome and charming, come find me at the inn. I'll give you a discount."

Tang Feiliu watched the two flirting with mixed feelings. Then, as Jenna swayed her hips away, he opened his mouth several times, wanting to ask something, yet his emotions were too tangled to even know what to say.

"...I know what you want to say," Jace turned, his fiery red hair seeming to dim. For the first time, his freckled face wore solemnity as he looked at Tang Feiliu and said earnestly, "Lance, remember this: never show pity to a lady—especially one like Miss Jenna. They are strong and resilient, protecting their families. We must respect them. If you look at them with pity, it only makes them suffer more."

"I don't understand," Tang Feiliu frowned, asking Jace, "I... I don't understand. What can I do?"

Jace's expression softened instantly. He ruffled Tang Feiliu's hair and murmured, "You little rascal, how did you even survive?"

"Hey! I'm serious. Why would you say that?!" Tang Feiliu angrily swatted his hand away, frowning. "Shouldn't we help Jenna?"

"Shh..." Jace murmured, pulling Tang Feiliu toward the exit before explaining to the bewildered girl, "...Little Lance, didn't your father ever tell you? You can express compassion for these people at social gatherings, but you mustn't say such things in front of them."

Tang Feiliu was utterly bewildered. Neither in his own memories nor in Young Master Lance's recollections had there ever been such "teaching."

"Because you can't help everyone," Jace sighed. "When I was a child, I once helped a family of freemen—villagers belonging to my father's estate. I bonded with their son, assisted them when trouble arose, and even taught him to read alongside me... My father never once stopped me."

"That sounds wonderful!" Tang Feiliu nodded repeatedly as he listened.

"Then one night, my friend fell down a ravine while playing," Jace said softly, his expression saddened. "But Nodding wasn't that kind of boy. Though mischievous, he was actually very obedient. He'd said he wanted to become my personal valet. When he learned I couldn't inherit the estate and wouldn't have a valet, he said he'd become my attendant instead... In the end, we promised that no matter what we did, we'd always be together... At that time, he was studying advanced butler courses, and I had the estate's senior butler teach him... Nodding knew how important this was. He wouldn't have gone off alone into the mountains at a time like this..."

Tang Feiliu froze at this revelation. He murmured, "Are you saying... your friend was murdered?"

"The investigation revealed it was their neighbor. After his child died from a high fever, he grew jealous of Nodding. As he faced execution, he looked at me and asked, 'Why didn't you choose my son as your friend? Then he wouldn't have died...'" Nodding had a high fever before too. I told the servants to care for him, but he pulled through on his own..." Jess's eyes glistened, his red hair dulled, making him look utterly pitiful.

Tang Feiliu felt he couldn't bear to watch any longer. He embraced Jace gently, recalling how he'd done it before, and said, "It wasn't your fault..."

"I know," Jace replied. "But I regret it. I caused the death of my best friend... So please, don't look at me like that, Lance. There are too many unfortunate souls. If you gave Miss Jenna a few pounds today, or some precious food or herbs... it would either be stolen or bring trouble upon her..."

Tang Feiliu fell silent. He understood Jace's concerns now. Modern people grow up without worry about food or clothing, taking full bellies and warm clothes for granted. But that's not how it was. Humanity endured over twenty thousand years of hunger, only achieving true food security in the last hundred years or so. This meant Tang Feiliu's parents had lived through hunger, and only his generation grew up without such worries.

Thus, Tang Feiliu didn't perceive having enough to eat as particularly precious. Even transported to this unfamiliar medieval world, his knowledge transcended the era, allowing him to manage his life well. Having never truly experienced despair, he retained a soft-hearted compassion—a quality beyond reproach. Yet if Tang Feiliu rashly offered help, it might appear to the villagers here as something deeply enviable.

Even modern lottery winners donned hoods and mascot costumes to collect their prizes; in ancient times, this was a matter of survival... Tang Feiliu's eyes dimmed. Yet Jace said, "But if you truly wish to help her, there's only one way: take her entire family away from here. Settle them in the manor the Duke intends to grant you, so you can care for them nearby."

First, Tang Feiliu didn't yet possess an estate. Second, he lacked the energy to constantly watch over and care for this family.

But could he just stand by and watch such tragedy unfold?

Tang Feiliu walked back with Jace in silence. They traversed a picturesque country lane. The lush green grass and mountains covered in trees were breathtakingly beautiful. Yet, as Tang Feiliu gazed into the distance, he saw two such villages. Their houses were dilapidated and low, scattered across the land like patches of poverty.

Jena's story, he thought, was likely playing out in every one of those patches. As he watched, Tang Feiliu suddenly said, "You know... I can't help Jena."

Jesse remained silent. Tang Feiliu continued, "I can't do much to help right now, but someday—someday, we'll all be okay... everyone..."

In that moment, something stirred within Tang Feiliu. He gazed at the surrounding mountains, forests, and grasslands—at all this beauty—and thought to himself: "Maybe I don't have much to offer, but I have to try. I have to do something."

Had fate brought him to this place just to let him live out his days here?

Tang Feiliu felt it might be so, or it might not.

But he resolved to strive hard—not just for himself. Then, he asked Jace earnestly, "Do you know which estates belonging to the Duke are relatively close by and suitable for cultivation?"

Meanwhile, inside the castle, Edward, still in his pajamas, told his personal valet, Lawrence, "I'm craving some meat pies."

That dish was rather complicated. Tang Feiliu had left in such a hurry that he hadn't taught the finer points. Duke Edward surely knew this, and as a personal valet, Lawrence's ultimate skill lay in understanding subtle hints. He bowed slightly and replied, "I'll see to it immediately, Your Grace."

"Mhm," Edward replied indifferently.

Lawrence hurried downstairs after leaving the duke's bedroom, where he happened upon butler Dave. Dave looked at him curiously and asked, "Lawrence, what's the rush?"

Though Lawrence's manners were impeccable, Dave could tell something was amiss precisely because he had trained him. The two knew each other well. Lawrence whispered, "His Grace desires some meat pies."

Old Dave paused for half a second before nodding. "Understood."

Lawrence nodded in return, and the matter was settled.

The next morning, Edward made no comment about the breakfast of bacon and buttered bread.

Knight Danro was already en route. Three days later, Tang Feiliu—who was celebrating the successful production of the first batch of cement sewer pipes with the Ross family—would be compelled to hasten his departure. The reason? Old Dave, the butler, feared winter would arrive early this year and urged Tang Feiliu to accelerate progress on the sewer project.

Thus, Tang Feiliu returned to Black Swan Castle a week earlier than expected.

Author's Note:

It feels so good to have drafts saved up. Even if something feels off and I have to delete a couple chapters, I can handle it with ease.