Chapter 112: Wu Ning’s Income for Six Months

Meng Cangsong was indeed not left-handed, yet his left-handed swordsmanship was not a deliberate ruse to conceal his identity.

How should one put it?

In this era of cold weapons, wielding a weapon with the left hand offered a significant advantage. Because left-handed people are a minority, most are accustomed to using their right hand and are therefore conditioned to defend against attacks and techniques originating from that side. Thus, when one suddenly encounters a left-handed opponent, their sword strikes and defensive maneuvers are mirrored; if one fails to react in time, the outcome is often decided in the blink of an eye.

It was precisely because of this that Meng Cangsong had practiced exclusively with his left hand from the very beginning. By the age of fifteen, his left-handed swordsmanship had reached such a pinnacle that he was invincible. Consequently, after he turned fifteen, Master Meng stopped practicing with his left hand and switched to his right. Those in the martial arts world familiar with him all assumed his right-handed swordsmanship was divine, never realizing that his left hand was his true weapon of slaughter.

As for Wu Sisi and Wu Chengsi trying to test whether Master Meng favored his left or right hand—well, one could say they played right into his hands.

Having explained the reasoning in detail to Taiping, she finally set her mind at ease. She gave Wu Ning a playful, reproachful glare. "Why didn't you say so earlier? You scared me so much I didn't even dare to sit at the banquet for long!"

Wu Ning replied, "If I had told you sooner, Your Highness wouldn't have been able to act so convincingly."

Taiping was left speechless. After a moment, she asked, "Then why have your senior brother cause such friction with the Wu brothers?" In her view, there was no need to be so aggressive. "Allowing things to reach this point with those two is hardly a good thing."

To this, Wu Ning could only offer a wry smile. "I don't know what kind of mischief Master Meng is up to; this part wasn't supposed to happen." He would have to have a serious word with Meng Cangsong later. Did he really enjoy being so troublesome?

"Alright, I'm off," Wu Ning said, turning to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"To celebrate the New Year, of course!" Wu Ning said as if it were obvious. "My Princess, the task is done. You go enjoy your holiday, and we folk in the valley have our own New Year to celebrate, don't we?"

Taiping rolled her eyes but could not stop him from leaving. She teased, "You aren't staying to spend the New Year with us? It would be a good chance to get closer to your 'Imperial Brother Xian'."

"Don't!" Wu Ning’s mouth twitched in an exaggerated grimace. "I'd better keep my distance." That man was foolish enough to have nearly ruined everything just moments ago.

***

Leaving his small courtyard, Wu Ning headed straight for his grandfather’s place. As soon as he entered the gate, Wu Laojiu let out a long, relieved breath. Forget the distance of a single wall—this was what a real New Year felt like!

Unlike the scheming and undercurrents of the Wu household, this place was bustling with activity. Almost every head of the households in the valley was present. In the kitchen, Chef Luo and Li Wenbo were busy preparing the New Year’s feast alongside several of the Wu women.

The courtyard fire blazed brightly, and a group of children circled it, lighting bamboo branches, while the men, led by the old patriarch, sat under the eaves.

"Laojiu, you're just in time," Uncle Six said the moment he saw him, pulling him into the crowd. "Your grandfather can't balance the accounts; hurry up and help him calculate!"

The old man bristled. "Who says I can't calculate? I'm better at it than this kid!"

"What are we calculating?" Wu Ning felt an indescribable joy at being back among his own kin.

"The profits from the charcoal kilns," the Third Brother replied. "It's time to divide the dividends." He cast a disdainful look at the patriarch. "But the money is too much—the old man can't keep track of it."

"Hahahaha!" The crowd burst into laughter, leaving the patriarch blushing with embarrassment. He took a swing at the Third Brother's head. "Don't think that just because I'm old, I can't thrash you!"

Annoyed, he shoved the ledger toward Wu Ning. "Here, take it! Your Fifth Uncle recorded these messy accounts; nobody but a ghost could make sense of them!"

"Dad," the Fifth Uncle protested, "we've always recorded them this way in previous years!"

"Hey!" The old man glared. "I'm your father—you dare talk back to me?"

Wu Ning chuckled and took the ledger, thinking that the old man was grumpy when he didn't have money, and just as grumpy now that he did. But upon opening it, he realized he couldn't blame the old man; the Fifth Uncle could barely write, and the accounts were indeed a mess.

He buried his head in the numbers, working diligently for a full hour. "Whoa!" he exclaimed. "It’s quite a haul this year!"

Everyone perked up. "How much?"

Wu Ning scanned the ledger. "We started with three kilns, and before winter, we added four more, making seven in total. By the twenty-third, the minor New Year, we had finished two hundred and ten batches. Including the charcoal dust, that’s over 170,000 jin of finished charcoal."

"Hiss!" The group gasped. "That much?"

They knew that with the original three dilapidated kilns, even in a good year, burning twenty or thirty thousand jin of charcoal was considered decent. This year, it had surged to 170,000 jin—even the large kiln factory at Chen Village couldn't match a fraction of that.

Wu Ning continued reading the accounts. "Before the New Year, we had about 20,000 jin of charcoal dust left that hadn't been pressed. The remaining 150,000 jin were sold, bringing in 450,000 coins. After deducting labor costs and the New Year supplies for the entire valley, we have about three hundred strings of cash left."

"What? Three hundred strings?!" Everyone was incredulous. "What about the raw material costs?"

"Don't forget, Ninth Son, the cost of the raw materials!" That was supposed to be the bulk of the expense. Most figured they would be satisfied if they had a hundred strings left after paying for materials.

To their surprise, Wu Ning laughed. "What raw material costs? Everyone in the valley gathered the materials from the mountains themselves, and that's already accounted for in the labor costs. This three hundred strings is pure profit!"

"Whoa..." Even the old patriarch let out a long sigh of relief. Three hundred strings! A broken-down kiln factory making three hundred strings in half a winter was something they had never dared to dream of. It seemed this year was not just a good year, but a truly bountiful one.

"Fifth!" The old man called out to his son. "Go get the scales; we're dividing the money!" He had originally planned to divide it on New Year's Day when everyone came to pay their respects, but at this rate, there wouldn't be enough time tomorrow. He decided to do it now while the sun hadn't set. And he shouldn't forget, this was just the charcoal factory.

The autumn cabbage had been collected by Wu Laojiu and sold collectively, and there was still a large sum from that to be distributed. Since Wu Ning had handled that money, he had already calculated it and intended to divide it tomorrow. Seeing everyone gathered, he spoke up. "There’s quite a bit from the cabbage, too. Every household will get at least one string, and some could get as much as three to five."

"Whoa!" The men began rubbing their hands together in glee. By this calculation, even the households with the smallest shares would receive two or three strings—it was truly unexpected.

"Come, come, Fifth, man the scales. Sixth and Third Brother, go distribute it to each house," the patriarch commanded.

As for Wu Ning... he mentally toppled up how much he would personally receive for the New Year. From the vegetable garden, his family didn't have much land, so he would get about a string. From the charcoal kilns, with Seventh Aunt transferring her five-string share to him, he would receive about twenty strings in dividends. Plus the inn, which brought in three or four strings a month.

In other words, after half a year of killing himself with work, he had earned about fifty strings of cash in total.

Damn! Wu Laojiu cursed inwardly. It was so much that it made him want to swear. This couldn't go on like this. It seemed that after the New Year, he would have to come up with some ways to make money even faster.