Chapter One: The Small Copper Hot Pot

“Assistant Director, Assistant Director, Clerk Guo has gotten into a fight again!” Wang Jun, deputy chief of the Gunpowder Bureau, burst into the room, his hair damp with steam, breathless as he reported to Zhang Qian.

“With whom?” Zhang Qian, dressed in the official robes of a fifth-rank officer, carefully placed a solid brass, half-foot-square furnace-like apparatus on the table. As he leisurely manipulated a mechanism on its side, he asked without much concern.

“It’s Captain Zhou of the Shuofang army. He came to collect gunpowder today. He and Clerk Guo from the Gunpowder Bureau clashed over some disagreement and ended up tussling in the courtyard.” Newly transferred from his position as Doctor of Arithmetic to deputy chief at the Armory, Wang Jun’s eyes glazed over as he fixed his gaze on the six cotton wicks rising evenly from the furnace. His report became fragmented. (Note: Kapok was used in the Tang dynasty instead of cotton, which only became widespread after the Song dynasty.)

Hearing this, Zhang Qian felt even more at ease. Smiling slightly, he returned his full attention to the wicks, carefully observing how much alcohol they absorbed, and how their hardness and thickness changed after soaking.

“Assistant Director, what is this…” Wang Jun, itching to understand, reached out to touch the solid brass furnace body cautiously.

“An alcohol stove—a different application of gunpowder. Mainly, it provides the army with a device to heat water for sterilizing bandages!” Zhang Qian answered boldly, without hesitation, offering a response that sounded highly virtuous.

Though he was a counterfeit disciple of Qin Mo, in Zhang Qian’s view, using alcohol simply to start fires was a waste. Yet the Tang Emperor had personally named alcohol “gunpowder” for this very reason, and he lacked the authority to correct it. So recently, he had devoted his efforts to developing new uses for “gunpowder.”

Just now, with his own designs and the combined skills of over a dozen craftsmen in the Armory, they had completed a trial production of a small copper stove.

This device consisted of four main parts: a fuel chamber, a fire plate, a wick adjustment mechanism, and a pot. The fuel chamber, fire plate, and wick control could be nested together once filled with fuel, forming a complete multi-core adjustable brightness alcohol lamp suitable for both lighting and heating.

When the fourth component, a copper pot, was placed on the stand, it transformed into a fully functional multi-core alcohol stove. It produced fierce heat, boiled rapidly, could heat water, cook bandages, sterilize surgical instruments, and occasionally even be used for hot pot!

“Assistant Director, your compassion is admirable; I am truly impressed!” Wang Jun, newly assigned to the Armory, had no idea of Zhang Qian’s true nature. Hearing him speak so earnestly, he paused in surprise before bowing deeply in admiration.

“Just a humble device!” Zhang Qian accepted the flattery without restraint, then trimmed the wick to its shortest length. Covering the stove with a solid brass lid, he inverted the entire unit to check whether the alcohol inside the sealed chamber leaked at all. He paid no mind to the loud shouts of Clerk Guo in the courtyard.

“Assistant Director, you are too modest. Our soldiers endure harsh conditions, often sleeping in sand and snow, and it’s a rare luxury to have a hot meal. With this device, at least they can have a warm soup when sick!” Wang Jun said sincerely, eyes still fixed on the copper alcohol stove.

Though he had known Zhang Qian only briefly, Wang Jun admired him from the bottom of his heart.

Ten days ago, Zhang Qian had earned a rapid promotion from the Emperor after presenting windmills and mechanized wells to the court, rising several ranks to become the Armory’s Assistant Director. In no time, he had introduced this alcohol stove—a vital tool for field campaigns.

It was predictable that even if the court refrained from further promotions to avoid advancing him too quickly, Zhang Qian’s position as Assistant Director of the Armory was now rock-solid.

Wang Jun, personally recruited by Zhang Qian and elevated to deputy chief of the Gunpowder Bureau, naturally found his own standing stabilized. Clerk Guo, newly promoted to head of the Gunpowder Bureau, and Ren Qiong, newly chief of the Crossbow Bureau, also benefited significantly.

A capable leader who could secure promotions for himself and his subordinates was a rare find these days. Wang Jun’s sudden fortune wasn’t by chance—it all began when, in the rush of court affairs, he had boldly added a few compliments to Zhang Qian’s report as the then-head of the Gunpowder Bureau.

Thus, whenever Wang Jun expressed his admiration and gratitude to Zhang Qian, his words never ceased. Unfortunately, Zhang Qian was usually indifferent to such praise, quickly forgetting it after hearing.

This time too, Zhang Qian clearly treated Wang Jun’s adulation as mere wind. After fiddling with the alcohol stove for a while, he switched to another semi-finished product, assembling its parts while casually instructing, “Go ask Deputy Supervisor Yang about the relocation preparations of the Iron Staff Bureau. On your way back, check with Ren Cong about the Crossbow Bureau’s preparations. The entire Armory’s move to Weiyang Palace outside the city is a major matter and needs someone meticulous to oversee it. The old and young there require extra attention.”

“As you command!” Wang Jun reluctantly withdrew his gaze from the stove and stood at attention.

Ordinarily, transmitting orders and gathering reports from various bureaus would be the task of officials ranked ninth grade or below; Zhang Qian should not be directing a seventh-grade deputy chief to do such work. Yet he felt no humiliation at all.

This was partly out of gratitude for Zhang Qian’s recognition, but largely because Wang Jun’s once-prized arithmetic skills were utterly useless before Zhang Qian.

Not only did Zhang Qian himself never consult Wang Jun—the third-place graduate in “Bright Arithmetic”—when complex calculations were needed, but even Guo Nu and Ren Qiong barely regarded Wang Jun’s skills.

The three senior disciples seemed to wield a mysterious mathematical tradition. With a few strange numbers and symbols, they could complete most daily calculations within fifteen minutes.

Moreover, they never shied away from performing this secret art openly. As a Doctor of Arithmetic, Wang Jun had observed several times. Aside from mapping those ten bizarre so-called Arabic numerals to his usual numbers, the rest was as unfathomable as reading the heavens!

“Want to learn? If you do, join our sect and be my junior disciple!” Ren Cong had once joked, noticing Wang Jun’s fascination with arithmetic.

Wang Jun had been tempted but dared not request this favor from Zhang Qian.

First, as a newcomer, it would seem like blatant flattery to join the sect under the powerful Assistant Director as a junior brother. Second, he doubted whether his own aptitude would meet the standards of Zhang Qian, the sect leader’s senior disciple.

After all, Guo Nu and Ren Qiong had family backgrounds: one’s elders had served the Duke of Baoguo for generations, the other’s father and uncle were fourth-rank governors. Wang Jun, however, was a true humble-born son from a modest family with only a hundred or so acres of farmland. Only after he passed the “Bright Arithmetic” exam and entered officialdom did his father finally gain the status of local gentry.

“I’ll just keep performing well and let the Assistant Director know he made the right choice!” Filled with hope and anxiety, Wang Jun hurried out. Before even stepping down the stairs, he heard a muffled “pfft” sound.

Looking over, he saw Gunpowder Bureau Clerk Guo Nu fall like a wooden stake into a nearby snowdrift.

“You shameless fatty, have you no decency?” Captain Zhou Jianliang, having gained the upper hand, dared not press the advantage. He quickly retreated a dozen steps, holding his nose and cursing, “You deliberately sweated by the stove just to disgust me before fighting!”

“Scar-faced, if you dare, come challenge my senior brother one-on-one!” Guo Nu, who had been guarding the gunpowder distillation and alcohol stove or overseeing the plant oil extraction at Zhang’s Manor, had seen the potency of his secret weapon wane considerably.

Knowing that sheer stench wouldn’t defeat his opponent today, he resorted to provocation: “If you beat my senior brother, I’ll produce twenty thousand jin of gunpowder for you at once—no, thirty thousand! I’ll work through the night to get it ready before you leave!”

“Beat your senior brother? Do you think you can?” Zhou Jianliang responded eagerly.

Before the words finished, Zhang Qian’s voice rang from inside, sharply scolding, “Enough fighting! If you’re done, wash up. Then bring down the whole sheep we bought this morning from the roof. I’ll personally teach you both how to use the alcohol stove in the field!”

“All right!” Both Zhou Jianliang and Guo Nu immediately forgot the quarrel. They leapt up and hurried toward the bathing area behind the distillation furnace, made from repurposed wastewater tanks, disappearing from sight in an instant.