The night at Zhiwei Workshop was completely different from every other part of the marquis's residence.
The other courtyards had already put out their lights. The maids had finished cleaning up after the evening meal and returned to their rooms to rest.
Only the workshop on the western side, abandoned for many years, was still lit.
The flames in the furnace painted half the walls red.
The air was thick with the mixed scents of charcoal, lime, and rust.
Gu Changfeng crouched in front of the furnace, carefully controlling the heat.
Shen Zhiwei, however, was not looking at the furnace.
She sat at a newly made wooden table with several sheets of rough paper spread out before her.
One of them was covered in writing.
At the very top, in stark letters, it read:
Papermaking Experiment.
She tapped her fingers lightly against the tabletop.
“Put the glass aside for now.”
Gu Changfeng looked up.
“Miss, we’re not making it anymore?”
“It’s not that we’re giving up.”
Shen Zhiwei looked toward the furnace.
“The materials still need adjusting. We’ll start with the first stage today.”
“What’s the first stage?”
“Paper.”
Gu Changfeng was a little surprised.
“Paper?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Doesn’t the residence already have paper?”
“It does.”
Shen Zhiwei picked up the paper on the table.
“But it’s too expensive.”
“Ordinary people can’t afford it.”
Gu Changfeng nodded.
That was true.
Most of the paper on the market was made by specialized papermaking workshops.
High-grade xuan paper and Chengxin paper were expensive.
Even ordinary paper was not something an average farming family could use freely.
When many families needed to keep accounts, they reused old paper over and over.
Those who were poorer could only use wooden boards or bamboo slips.
Shen Zhiwei set the paper down.
“What I want is a kind of paper—”
“that everyone can afford.”
Gu Changfeng froze.
Everyone could afford it?
He had never thought about such a thing.
In his mind, paper was just paper.
If it was expensive, then it was expensive.
The poor simply did without it.
But the young woman before him seemed to enjoy thinking about questions completely different from those ordinary people considered.
“If paper is cheap enough,”
Shen Zhiwei picked up her pen and wrote several lines on the paper.
“Books will become cheaper.”
“More people will learn to read.”
“There will be more account books.”
“Craftsmen can record their methods.”
“Physicians can preserve their prescriptions.”
“Merchants can keep proper ledgers.”
“Government offices can preserve more documents.”
She raised her head.
“Knowledge won’t have to remain in the hands of only a few people.”
Gu Changfeng fell silent.
He did not know many characters.
But he understood that final sentence.
Knowledge did not have to remain in the hands of only a few people.
Those words were like a pebble falling onto the surface of a pond.
Ripple after ripple spread through his heart.
“Miss.”
He suddenly asked, “If paper could really be made so cheap…”
“would that mean even my son could go to school?”
Shen Zhiwei looked at him.
“Yes.”
Gu Changfeng lowered his head.
For a long while, he said nothing.
When he raised his head again, his eyes held a seriousness that had never been there before.
“Then I’ll help you.”
“You’re not helping me.”
Shen Zhiwei smiled.
“You’re helping yourself.”
The next morning.
The entire Zhiwei Workshop sprang into action.
Shen Zhiwei did not choose expensive raw materials.
She wanted things that could be found everywhere in this era, things that cost little and were even treated as waste.
Rags.
Hemp rope.
Bark.
Bamboo.
Reeds.
Even straw.
The craftsmen hauled cartload after cartload of materials into the workshop.
Qinghe looked at the mountain of rags and could not help frowning.
“Miss, can these really be made into paper?”
“They can.”
“What about these?”
She pointed to a large bundle of bamboo beside them.
“These too?”
“Those too.”
“What about straw?”
“That too.”
“Then…”
Qinghe pointed toward a pile of discarded hemp rope in the corner.
“Can this be used too?”
Shen Zhiwei nodded.
“As long as it contains enough plant fiber, it’s worth trying.”
Qinghe considered that.
“Then could we even use the vegetable leaves from the kitchen?”
Shen Zhiwei paused, then laughed.
“In theory, some plant fibers could be used.”
“But let’s not make paper from vegetable leaves just yet.”
Qinghe breathed a sigh of relief.
“This servant was afraid that eventually even the kitchen scraps would have to be sent here.”
“It won’t come to that.”
Shen Zhiwei rolled up her sleeves with a smile.
“We’ll start with the rags.”
The first step of papermaking.
Breaking the material down.
Shen Zhiwei had the craftsmen cut the rags into pieces.
The smaller, the better.
Then they soaked them in water.
Gu Changfeng crouched beside the wooden barrel, looking confused.
“Are we washing the cloth?”
“No.”
“Then what are we doing?”
“Letting the fibers absorb water.”
“Fibers?”
Shen Zhiwei took a small piece of hemp cloth out of the water.
“Look.”
“Cloth is made by interweaving many extremely fine fibers.”
Gu Changfeng leaned closer.
“I can’t see them with the naked eye.”
“That’s why we need tools.”
Shen Zhiwei stopped abruptly after saying that.
She had forgotten.
There was no microscope here.
Even magnifying glasses were uncommon.
After a moment of silence, she said, “It’s fine.”
“We’ll make one later.”
Gu Changfeng had long since grown used to her suddenly saying strange things.
“What’s next?”
“Boil it.”
“In water?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Let’s try two double-hours first.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“We’ll try again.”
That was scientific research.
There were no ready-made answers.
Only round after round of experiments.
The first batch.
Failure.
After the rags had boiled for two double-hours, they still had not reached the state Shen Zhiwei wanted.
The second batch.
Lime was added.
The fibers began to soften.
The third batch.
The soaking time was increased.
The result improved.
The fourth batch.
The proportion of lime was changed.
The fibers gradually came apart.
Gu Changfeng stared at the mass in the wooden barrel. It looked like rotten cotton fluff.
“This is paper?”
“Not yet.”
“Then what is it?”
“Paper pulp.”
Shen Zhiwei picked up a wooden mallet.
“Now we need to pound it into even finer fibers.”
Gu Changfeng took the mallet from her.
“I’ll do it.”
Boom!
The mallet came down.
Boom!
Another blow.
One.
Two.
Thirty.
A hundred.
Sweat began to bead on Gu Changfeng’s forehead.
“Miss.”
“Mm?”
“How long do I have to keep doing this?”
“Until the fibers are fine enough.”
“What counts as fine enough?”
Shen Zhiwei thought about it.
“When it no longer looks like a piece of rag.”
Gu Changfeng: “…”
That standard was very Shen Zhiwei.
He could only keep pounding.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
The heavy sound echoed throughout the workshop.
Only when the mass of fibers had gradually become a uniform paste did Shen Zhiwei call a halt.
“That’s enough.”
Gu Changfeng set down the mallet and shook his aching wrist.
“What’s next?”
“Add water.”
“How much?”
“A lot.”
“How much exactly?”
“We’ll try it first.”
Gu Changfeng could not help laughing.
“Miss, whenever you make something, you always seem to want to try it.”
“Because we don’t know the answer.”
Shen Zhiwei replied calmly, “That’s why we have to try.”
They added water to the paper pulp.
Then they stirred it.
Shen Zhiwei made a simple papermaking vat.
A wooden frame.
Fine bamboo strips.
A hemp screen.
The materials looked crude.
But they were enough to complete the initial experiment.
She picked up the papermaking screen.
“Watch closely.”
“This is the most important step.”
The screen slowly sank into the paper pulp.
She moved it gently.
Then lifted it smoothly.
Water streamed through the mesh.
Fine fibers were left evenly across the screen.
Gu Changfeng’s eyes widened.
“It worked!”
Shen Zhiwei did not answer.
She frowned.
The fibers on the screen were not distributed evenly.
Some areas were too thick.
Others were too thin.
The paper would consequently have obvious differences in strength.
“Again.”
The second attempt.
Better than the first.
The third.
Better still.
The fourth.
At last, it was more or less even.
Shen Zhiwei transferred the wet layer of paper onto a wooden board.
She pressed it flat, then placed it somewhere with good ventilation.
The group waited for it to dry.
Everyone gathered nearby.
No one spoke.
For the first time, they saw it with their own eyes.
A pile of rags could actually become paper.
“How long will it take to dry?” Gu Changfeng asked.
“That depends on the weather.”
“It’s very dry today.”
“Then it should be quick.”
“One double-hour?”
“Possibly two.”
“Then we wait?”
“We wait.”
The workshop rarely fell this quiet.
Everyone stared at that single sheet of wet paper.
It was as though they were waiting for something momentous to happen.
For Shen Zhiwei, this was merely a very basic experiment.
Modern papermaking technology had long since become highly industrialized.
She knew many more advanced methods.
She knew how to use wood pulp.
She knew how to bleach it.
She knew how to control fiber length.
She knew how to add fillers.
She even knew how to produce paper for different purposes.
But she could not rush things now.
She had to establish everything step by step.
From raw materials,
to equipment,
to standards,
and finally to technique.
No stage could be skipped.
Because she did not want to make one sheet of paper by chance.
What she wanted was—
for this workshop to reliably produce one thousand sheets, ten thousand sheets, even a million sheets.
That was true industry.
Two double-hours later.
Shen Zhiwei reached out and touched the surface of the paper.
“It’s ready.”
Gu Changfeng immediately came over.
Shen Zhiwei carefully lifted the sheet.
The paper was a pale grayish white.
It was not pretty.
It was even somewhat rough.
The edges were uneven too.
Compared with the finest xuan paper on the market, it was almost unbelievably ugly.
Yet Shen Zhiwei stared at it for a long time.
Then she suddenly smiled.
“We succeeded.”
Gu Changfeng stared at her.
“This counts as…success?”
“The first one.”
“The first sheet of paper.”
Shen Zhiwei spoke softly.
“Paper we truly made ourselves.”
Gu Changfeng reached out, then pulled his hand back.
“Can I touch it?”
Shen Zhiwei handed it to him with a smile.
“Of course.”
A rough texture brushed against Gu Changfeng’s fingertips.
He turned the paper over and over, examining it several times.
Then he suddenly broke into a wide grin.
“Can you really write on it?”
“You can.”
“Really?”
“Try it.”
Gu Changfeng immediately ran to get a brush.
But after taking the calligraphy brush, he held it for a long time without putting it to paper.
“What’s wrong?” Shen Zhiwei asked.
“I…”
Gu Changfeng looked embarrassed.
“I can’t write.”
Shen Zhiwei froze for a moment.
Only then did she realize that this blacksmith, already in his forties, was illiterate.
He had spent his entire life working iron,
yet had never truly owned a book of his own.
“Then draw.”
“Draw what?”
“Anything.”
Gu Changfeng thought for a long time.
In the end, he drew a crooked iron hammer on the paper.
Shen Zhiwei looked at the hammer.
She smiled.
“Very good.”
Gu Changfeng smiled too.
The sheet of paper was ordinary.
It was even rough.
But to him, it was like the first mark in the world that truly belonged to him.
The news quickly spread throughout the workshop.
“We made paper!”
“From rags!”
“You can really write on it!”
Several craftsmen ran over.
Some touched the paper.
Some held it up to the light.
Others exclaimed, “If this stuff is cheap, does that mean we won’t have to buy such expensive paper anymore?”
“That would be incredible.”
“If my kid could use paper like this, maybe he really could go to school.”
“Yeah…”
Everyone talked over one another.
Shen Zhiwei stood off to the side.
She did not interrupt.
She knew that true change often did not begin in the imperial palace.
It began with a single sentence spoken by an ordinary person.
“My kid can go to school too.”
Those words held more power than any grand declaration.
However, Shen Zhiwei did not let herself become immersed in their success.
She took out the paper and examined it carefully.
“There are still problems.”
Gu Changfeng was stunned.
“We succeeded, and there are still problems?”
“Many.”
Shen Zhiwei pointed at the surface.
“It’s too rough.”
“It absorbs too much water.”
“The thickness is uneven.”
“And it isn’t strong enough.”
She took out a sheet of ordinary paper from the market.
She placed the two sheets side by side.
The difference was immediately obvious.
“We’re not just trying to make something people can write on.”
“We need it to be cheap, durable, and consistent.”
Gu Changfeng nodded.
“What’s the next step?”
“Improve it.”
“How?”
“Find raw materials first.”
Shen Zhiwei wrote several names on the paper.
Hemp.
Bamboo.
Straw.
Mulberry bark.
“Make separate batches.”
“Record everything.”
“Compare them.”
“Which fiber is the best?”
“Which costs the least?”
“Which is most suitable for mass production?”
Gu Changfeng looked at the sheet covered in writing.
Then he suddenly smiled.
“Miss.”
“Mm?”
“Did you already know we could make it?”
Shen Zhiwei shook her head.
“No.”
“Then why aren’t you afraid of failure?”
She was silent for a moment.
“Because failure is also a result.”
“As long as we record it, it hasn’t been wasted.”
Gu Changfeng froze.
He remembered those words.
That evening.
Shen Zhiwei brought the first sheet of paper back to her courtyard.
Qinghe was organizing the bookshelves.
When she saw what Shen Zhiwei was holding, she immediately ran over.
“Miss!”
“What is that?”
“Paper.”
“Paper?”
“We made it.”
Qinghe took it from her.
She examined it carefully for a long moment.
Her eyes slowly widened.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“From rags?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Qinghe touched it.
“It’s so rough.”
Shen Zhiwei laughed.
“I know.”
“And a little gray.”
“I know.”
“The edges are crooked too.”
“I know.”
Qinghe asked cautiously, “Then why are you still so happy?”
Shen Zhiwei looked at her.
“Because this isn’t an ordinary sheet of paper.”
“It’s the first one.”
“After the first, there will be a second.”
“After the second, there will be a hundred.”
“After a hundred, there will be ten thousand.”
“As long as we find better methods.”
She looked out the window.
“One day, every person in Dayong will be able to afford paper.”
Qinghe gazed at her.
Suddenly, she felt that the world in her mistress’s eyes was much larger than the world they saw.
They saw a sheet of paper.
Her mistress saw the future behind it.
That night.
Shen Zhiwei placed the first sheet of paper inside a blank notebook.
Written on the cover was:
Zhiwei Workshop Experimental Records.
On the first page, she solemnly wrote:
Experiment No. 001
Project: Papermaking from plant fibers.
Result: Successful.
Defects: Rough paper, uneven thickness, high water absorption.
Next step: Compare different plant fibers and optimize the raw-material processing method.
When she reached the end, she paused.
Then she added one more sentence.
“Today, the first sheet of paper was born.”
The ink had not yet dried when footsteps suddenly sounded outside the door.
“Miss.”
“Come in.”
Qinghe pushed open the door.
Her expression was a little strange.
“What is it?”
“The Marquis has returned.”
Shen Zhiwei’s brush paused.
Her father?
She had been in this world for so long.
At last, she was about to meet the true father of this body.
“When did he return?”
“Just now.”
“Madam has already taken Second Miss to greet him.”
Qinghe hesitated.
“Marquis… I heard that you’ve been doing many strange things lately.”
Shen Zhiwei smiled faintly.
“What did he say?”
“I don’t know.”
Qinghe lowered her voice.
“But I heard that the Marquis seems to know about the workshop already.”
Shen Zhiwei set down her brush.
There was not the slightest trace of panic in her eyes.
“If he knows, then he knows.”
“This workshop belongs to me, anyway.”
“If he asks,”
“I’ll tell him.”
“I’m working on something that can—”
She glanced at the first sheet of paper on the table.
“change this era.”
At the same time.
At the main gate of the Yongning Marquis's Residence.
A group of riders slowly came to a stop.
The middle-aged man at the front swung down from his horse.
He wore a dark official robe.
His features were stern and imposing.
He was the Yongning Marquis, Shen Mingyuan, who had guarded the northern frontier for many years and had only just returned to the capital that day.
Madam Liu brought Shen Ruolan forward to greet him.
“Marquis.”
Shen Mingyuan nodded.
“Is everything well at the residence?”
“Everything is fine.”
Madam Liu smiled.
“It’s just that Zhiwei…”
Shen Mingyuan’s brow furrowed.
“What about her?”
Madam Liu hesitated.
Shen Ruolan spoke at the right moment.
“Father, Elder Sister is awake.”
Shen Mingyuan stopped in his tracks.
“She’s awake?”
“Yes.”
“How is she feeling?”
“She seems much better.”
A trace of relief flashed through Shen Mingyuan’s eyes.
But in the next moment, Madam Liu spoke softly.
“It’s just…”
“She seems to have become a little strange lately.”
“Strange?”
“She not only investigated the household accounts, she also asked for an abandoned workshop.”
Shen Mingyuan fell silent.
“A workshop?”
“Yes.”
“I heard she even gathered a group of craftsmen.”
“What exactly is she trying to do?”
No one answered.
After a moment, Shen Mingyuan raised his head.
“Take me there.”
Madam Liu’s expression changed.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“The Marquis has just returned. You should rest first…”
“No need.”
Shen Mingyuan mounted his horse.
His gaze turned toward the western side of the marquis's residence.
There, beneath the night sky,
a single light was still burning.
The workshop that had been abandoned for so many years had, for the first time, voices within it.
Firelight.
Hope.
And, more importantly—
the first step toward changing an era.
Shen Zhiwei did not know that her father was on his way.
She only knew that the first sheet of paper on the table had dried completely.
She reached out and gently stroked its surface.
A faint smile rose at the corners of her lips.
The first sheet of paper had been born.
Then next—
there would be a second.
A third.
A thousandth.
A ten-thousandth.
Until paper truly entered every household.
And she finally began to understand.
To change an era, one person’s knowledge was far from enough.
She needed workshops.
She needed craftsmen.
She needed students.
She needed merchants.
She needed the government.
More than anything, she needed people who could make everyone believe that—
the future could be created.
The night outside was deep and dark.
But the lights of Zhiwei Workshop burned until late into the night.
And the first page of Dayong’s technological revolution
was quietly written on this very night.