Chapter Forty-Four: Wu Lao Jiu in the Midst of Exploration

When it came to the charcoal kiln, Wu Ning truly knew nothing. As the saying goes, a scholar is of no practical use.

Unfortunately, in both of his lifetimes, Wu Ning had been a scholar.

But it didn’t matter if he was ignorant—Wu Ning really did have the drive for it.

He didn’t know? Then he’d learn. As long as he was willing, it was never too late to start.

Ever since he realized that the method of making charcoal in later times was different from that of the Tang dynasty, the urge to learn had lingered in his mind and simply wouldn’t go away.

Luckily, with Li Wenbo and Chef Luo now managing the inn, he didn’t have much to worry about there, so he could devote his energy to this new pursuit.

As soon as he entered the charcoal works, he found Old Ancestor Jun sitting by the heap of charcoal materials, lost in thought.

It turned out the old man hadn’t gone home after storming off, but had come here instead.

“Grandpa Jun!” the five of them called out as they approached, greeting him.

Wu Ning, knowing the old man must be feeling down, tried to comfort him. “Don’t take it to heart, Grandpa. Just let Seventh Aunt fuss as she likes.”

Wu Qi added, “Exactly, everything has its limits. As long as we have a clear conscience, we don’t owe anyone anything.”

Old Ancestor Jun smiled, though his words were sharp. Staring at the pile of charcoal wood, he said in a low voice, “What do you kids know? It’s your Grandpa Jun’s own incompetence that’s made this business so hopeless.”

“That’s not true at all!” Huzi blurted out anxiously. “Grandpa Jun, you’re the most capable person in the whole village!”

“Hey! Don’t try to flatter your Grandpa Jun!” The old man shot Huzi a sidelong glance. “I’m not that easy to fool.”

“It’s true!” Huzi protested, eyes wide. “Don’t worry, I’m on your side, Grandpa. I think my mother’s in the wrong too.”

“Hm.” At last, Old Ancestor Jun seemed to let go of his worries, gazing at Wu Ning, Wu Qi, Wu Li, Huzi, and Qiao’er by his side.

“You’re all good kids.”

Seeing that the old man’s mood had lifted, Wu Ning took the opportunity to ask, “Is this really all the charcoal material we’ve collected this year?”

The pile before them barely reached a man’s height—clearly far less than previous years.

Grandpa Jun replied, “It’s only enough for seven or eight firings at most. This year, I doubt any household will see much profit.”

In previous years, by the ninth month, all three kilns would already be burning. But this year, even now, the kilns were still cold.

“That’s just as well,” Wu Ning said, more than happy to have a kiln free. “Let Third Uncle lend me one for a bit—I want to learn how to make charcoal.”

“You?” Grandpa Jun eyed Wu Ning suspiciously. “Why on earth do you want to learn that?”

But then again, with the kilns standing idle, he figured there was no harm. “Go find your Third Uncle yourself, then.”

With that, he walked off with his hands behind his back.

He hadn’t realized Wu Ning intended to use the kiln for experiments. If he had, he would never have agreed, no matter what.

...

Third Uncle was the one who’d helped Wu Ning repair his house earlier—older even than Fifth Uncle, and the most senior kiln worker at the charcoal works.

“You want to learn to make charcoal?”

“That’s right!” Wu Ning nodded eagerly.

He didn’t know how they made charcoal in this era, and only had a vague notion of the methods used in later times, so he had to learn everything from scratch.

“Alright!” Third Uncle agreed readily. He had nothing better to do anyway, and with a few youngsters around, he’d have some company.

“Charcoal making is all about judging the heat,” he began. “Different sizes of material, different types of wood, whether it’s dry or damp—it all calls for different handling…”

Wu Ning listened for a long time, but when it came down to it, it was all about having an experienced eye.

He didn’t know what kilns looked like in later generations, but the Tang dynasty charcoal kiln was essentially a large stove with a small opening at the top.

It had a big door at the front, the walls built high, and a small vent left at the top.

During firing, they’d put the materials in from above and feed kindling below. Once lit, the wood would carbonize by itself.

It really did call for a practiced eye—if the fire was too strong, the material would burn away to nothing; too weak, and the outside would be charcoal, but the inside was still wood, unsellable.

The yield from a thousand pounds of wood depended entirely on the skill of the worker—sometimes only a hundred pounds of charcoal, sometimes three or four hundred.

Even a seasoned worker like Third Uncle could only manage five hundred pounds at best—so much was lost to waste.

“Third Uncle, can I have a go?” Wu Ning finally asked, after listening to the process several times.

“Go ahead, why not?” Third Uncle replied, since he’d be watching anyway and nothing could go too wrong.

Soon, though, Third Uncle regretted his decision.

Wu Ning’s method was like nothing he’d seen before—a complete mess.

First, Wu Ning, along with Wu Qi, Wu Li, and Huzi, altered the kiln itself.

He thought the opening at the top was too large, so he rebuilt the rim, leaving only a tiny vent.

He also thought the main door was too big and bricked it up further.

As a result, there wasn’t enough airflow, the fire burned weakly, and after a while, it simply went out, leaving nothing but smoke.

Third Uncle was heartbroken. The material was half-cooked, not properly carbonized at all—a whole kiln’s worth wasted.

The second time, Wu Ning learned his lesson.

He’d used too little kindling and left too little airflow, so this time he added more and made Wu Li, Wu Qi, and Huzi fan the flames furiously with big palm-leaf fans.

The result: a roaring fire that quickly blazed out of control, turning a whole kiln’s worth of material to black ash in no time.

Wu Ning stood there, his face blackened with soot, looking like a famine-stricken refugee.

He was stumped. The kiln door wasn’t even sealed yet—how had everything burned away so quickly?

Third Uncle couldn’t take it anymore and, seeing that Wu Ning wouldn’t listen, went to fetch Old Ancestor Jun.

Soon enough, the old man stormed into the yard with a stick, chasing Wu Ning, Wu Qi, and the others all around the kiln.

“I’ll beat the life out of you, you wasteful brat!”

Wu Ning ran for his life, shielding his head and shouting back, “I’ll pay for it! Isn’t it enough if I pay?”

“Paying isn’t enough!” Old Ancestor Jun roared, waving his stick. “You’re still ruining good material, even if you pay!”

At last, exhausted from the chase, the old man ordered Third Uncle, “Keep an eye on them. If they touch the charcoal wood again, give them a beating.”

Wu Ning had no choice—he didn’t dare lay a hand on the precious wood anymore.

But the urge to make charcoal still burned in him, and nothing could stop his stubborn determination.

“Go out and gather branches and scrap wood for me!”

He refused to believe that, without proper charcoal wood, he couldn’t figure it out.

In fact, he should have done this from the start. Groping around in the dark, if he kept using good material for his experiments, who knew how much he’d waste?

And, as it turned out, using twigs, leaves, and offcuts actually sped up his progress.

But this meant hard work for Wu Li, Wu Qi, and the others, who now had to scavenge for kindling like ragpickers, combing the hills and valleys for dry branches and rotten wood.

Eventually, when they couldn’t gather enough, Wu Li simply carted over a heap of old walnut shells from behind his house, saved from last year’s harvest.

Huzi, even lazier, got tired of collecting branches and just brought back armfuls of leaves.

So, dry branches, dead leaves, walnut shells, orange peels, and all kinds of bark began to pile up at the charcoal works.

Wu Ning accepted everything, embarking on his journey of trial and error—each firing a new experiment, each time sending up a fresh plume of smoke…