Chapter 63: Technology from Five Centuries Ahead, the First Pot of Gold?

Last time, Zhang Yi received news about Kong Kejian from Zhu Biao, who spoke of the Kong family. Zhang Yi hadn't paid much attention to it, assuming history was still unfolding as it always had.

In the first year of Hongwu, Xu Da broke through the Duke of Sage's Mansion. Following Zhu Yuanzhang's orders, he invited Kong Kejian to the capital to meet the emperor. Unfortunately, the current Duke of Sage was loyal to the Northern Yuan and, caught between two sides, feigned illness and refused to leave. He only sent his son, Kong Xixue, to face Xu Da. Unable to persuade the Duke himself, Xu Da, torn and frustrated, had no choice but to send Kong Xixue to the capital.

Zhang Yi recalled this piece of history, though not clearly, but believed it to be accurate. So why, then, had the Duke of Sage, Kong Kejian, come to the capital this time?

"Did I not explain it clearly that day?" Zhu Biao found Zhang Yi's reaction odd and added, "Kong Kejian claimed illness and wouldn't come, so the emperor, furious, ordered General Xu Da to personally 'invite' the Duke of Sage to step forward, and then personally escort him to the capital as a sign of respect!"

Those words, "as a sign of respect," felt especially ironic.

But Zhang Yi was not in the mood for semantics; his heart was in turmoil. Indeed, history had been changed. Xu Da had actually returned to the capital, even while the northern campaign was at its height? This revealed how much Zhu Yuanzhang "valued" the Kong family in Qufu—yet that "value" carried a scent of blood.

"I wonder how this history will unfold?" Zhang Yi was anxious and uncertain.

"Enough; matters of the court aren't for common folk like us to worry about," Zhu Yuanzhang shifted the topic at just the right time.

"By the way, Zhang Yi, what is this?" Zhu Yuanzhang took something from his sleeve and placed it on the table.

Zhang Zhengchang and Zhang Yu Chu focused their gaze and saw a small wooden stick, about as thick as a chopstick, though it had been shaved with a knife to reveal a black core inside.

"What is this?" The Zhang father and son were equally curious.

Zhang Yi recognized it at once—it was the pencil Huang Mu had casually taken away that day. Because Zhang Zhengchang saw him as a jinx, Zhang Yi had been rebellious since childhood. Although teachers came to teach on Mount Longhu, they were not friendly to him. After Zhang Yi had played pranks on a few, no one on the mountain bothered to teach him to read or write.

Life had been comfortable, but whenever he needed to write or draw, Zhang Yi found the brush difficult to use, so he made a few pencils himself.

"This is a pencil!"

Zhang Yi had no anxiety about revealing the pencil; he was too lazy to invent stories of divine instruction and simply said,

"This is a technology I learned from the Book of Heaven. It's also a technique from the future!"

The others, except Zhang Yi, drew sharp breaths.

"This is a pen used by people of the future—how strange!" Zhang Yu Chu looked at the pencil on the table with fascination.

Zhang Yi smiled. Indeed, the pencil was technology from the future—nearly two hundred years before the first graphite pencil stick appeared, and nearly three hundred more before the modern pencil evolved.

"This is the pen used by people five hundred years from now!"

"Five hundred years?" Zhu Yuanzhang could not remain calm. When he took out the pencil, he hadn't thought much of it. He'd used pencils before—they were convenient, but nothing more.

The pencil itself was unimportant; what mattered was Zhang Yi's claim that it was technology from five hundred years in the future.

He recalled the smallpox vaccination method, and his gaze changed. More and more evidence confirmed that Zhang Yi could truly glimpse the future, leaving no room for doubt.

This fellow could bring future technology into this era ahead of time?

Thinking of the implications, Zhu Yuanzhang felt his scalp tingle. If he could obtain something crucial, the fate of the Ming dynasty would be beyond imagination.

"What will the world look like five hundred years from now? Does Ming still exist?" Everyone was filled with curiosity about the world to come, and Zhu Biao was first to ask.

Zhang Yi was prepared, shaking his head, "I don't know. What I see are only fragments. The Book of Heaven doesn't always let me see the future..."

"What are the fragments you saw like?"

"I've seen buildings taller than mountains, iron birds flying in the sky... People are well clothed and fed, no longer suffering from hunger and cold..."

Zhang Yi casually described snippets from the future, leaving everyone bewildered.

Could such a world truly exist?

If Zhang Yi had said that in the future everyone lived in celestial paradises, flying swords, perhaps they would have found it easier to accept.

Human imagination has boundaries, and no matter how Zhu Yuanzhang and the others tried, they could not picture an iron bird soaring through the sky. They wanted to ask more, but Zhang Yi shook his head, indicating he knew no further details.

Old Zhu and the others were left with a sense of loss.

Yet Zhu Yuanzhang was not disheartened. If Zhang Yi couldn't see today, he might see tomorrow. Keeping Zhang Yi close was precisely for such possibilities.

"Pencil!"

Looking at the pen again, Zhu Yuanzhang's perspective shifted. He had thought the pen interesting, novel, but nothing special.

In truth, Zhang Yi understood this as well. In this era, knowledge was monopolized by the scholar-gentry. A tool like the pencil had little practical use.

Scholars looked down on it; those who could use it were mostly illiterate.

Zhang Yi had only made it for his own drawing. Hard-tipped pens certainly had their advantages, but were unsuited to this time.

"I've used this kind of pen. It feels odd at first, but once accustomed, writing speed improves significantly!"

"Zhang Yi, I’d like to buy the recipe for making this pen from you. I'll handle the sales—what do you think?"

Zhu Yuanzhang's proposal was something Zhang Yi naturally welcomed.

He needed money now; selling the recipe to Huang He would earn him a tidy sum.

Zhang Yi fetched paper and pen, wrote down the recipe, and explained the method for compressing the pencil core without reservation.

Zhu Yuanzhang was very pleased with Zhang Yi’s straightforwardness, and said, "Later, I'll have my eldest send you the silver. If business goes well, you'll get a share every year!

How about five hundred taels?"

The method for making pencils was not especially important, but Old Zhu wanted to set a precedent with Zhang Yi—a precedent ensuring every time Zhang Yi glimpsed new technology in the Book of Heaven, he could contribute it.

If this soured Zhang Yi's feelings, the little rascal would surely never show off again.

Zhang Yi was delighted. Five hundred taels of silver was a considerable sum in early Ming; the pencil-making technique was nothing special to him, so selling for silver was ideal.

Moreover, Uncle Huang had many connections. As a Daoist, it was inconvenient for Zhang Yi to monetize his techniques himself, so this was perfect.

After writing the recipe and receiving the silver delivered by the steward, the meal drew to a close. Seeing Old Zhu put away the recipe, Zhang Yi asked casually,

"Uncle, where do you plan to sell these things?"

Old Zhu feigned mystery, "Do you remember whose connections I first used when I came to the capital?"

Chang Yuchun?

Zhang Yi pondered; it seemed Zhu Yuanzhang intended to sell pencils to the military!