Chapter Fifty-Seven: The Folding Fan

Who would have thought that a little prodding would make Master He lose his composure? Although he didn’t finish his sentence, it was enough to confirm Zhen Qian’s suspicions and give him a new understanding of the Qin family. Judging by the way these two craftsmen spoke with Qin Hao, it was clear they knew each other well; whatever connection lay between them remained unclear, but it was certainly not as simple as Qin Hao claimed.

None of this mattered much to Zhen Qian. Both sides were using each other, and it was a grave taboo to pry into one another’s secrets—Zhen Qian had no intention of inviting trouble.

Afterward, Zhen Qian discussed his ideas with Masters Yan and He and sought Qin Hao’s opinion. “Let’s begin with the preliminary work. The first few months should focus on training the craftsmen. With only two months left of summer, we might not make it in time, but that’s not a problem. This year, we can stockpile goods. If the Qin family has connections in the south, we could sell our mats there—summer hasn’t begun yet, so we should be in time. As for tables, chairs, and benches, those can be sold any time; in fact, the end of the year is the peak season. What do you think of this arrangement, Uncle Qin?”

Qin Hao nodded helplessly; Zhen Qian’s analysis was thorough. Items like mats were seasonal, but with their current skills, the Qin family could barely produce anything people would want. He could only suppress his impatience for now. “Let’s do as you say, Zhen Lang.”

A faint smile curved at Zhen Qian’s lips. As long as the initiative was in his hands, everything else could be left aside. “Since that’s settled, I’ll return to the city shortly and check the market in Zhendin. If possible, I’ll set up a general store specifically to sell goods produced by the Qin family. Think of it as a showcase.”

Qin Hao was well pleased with Zhen Qian’s attitude. He thanked him profusely and personally saw Zhen Qian and his party off, grasping Zhen Qian’s hand at the gate and urging him to stay longer next time.

Zhen Qian took the opportunity to ask the Qin family to help him find sulfur. Qin Hao agreed without hesitation, even offering a few hundred pounds from the village stores.

The journey from Zhendin to White Horse Village began at dawn. As summer set in, the weather grew stuffy, but the deeper they went into the mountains, the cooler it became and the more comfortable they felt. However, on the return journey, when the sun was already high in the sky and noon approached, the blazing sun beat down relentlessly. Before they had even left the mountains, Zhen Qian felt as if he’d stepped straight into a steamer.

Dragging several carts of mountain goods, the group’s pace slowed until they finally chose to rest in the shade of some trees.

“This damned weather,” Zhen Qian complained, “it’s hot enough to kill a man. When we left White Horse Village a while ago, it didn’t feel so bad, but the further we’ve come, the more the temperature seems to have shot up by more than ten degrees. And this is only the start of summer. I wonder how we’ll survive the rest of it!”

Wang Qun wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, took a draught from his water skin, and sighed, “You’ve never been here in the summer, so I forgot to warn you. Returning to the city around midday is the hardest part of this journey. It’s cooler in the mountains than outside, so as we head out, it only gets hotter. We might as well rest here a while longer and wait until Shen hour—then we’ll be able to make it back before the city gates close.”

Zhen Qian had always been impervious to heat, but this first summer in the Tang dynasty was proving unbearable. He opened his clothes and lay under the tree. “Not even a fan…”

“A fan!” The thought struck him like lightning. He sat up abruptly and smacked his forehead. How could he have forgotten about fans, when he’d already considered summer goods like mats and rattan chairs? Fans were even more essential!

Fans, initially used in rituals, were a symbol of status and privilege among the ruling class. If one pays attention in certain dramas, one might notice the house stewards or the accountants of wealthy landlords, often comically tucking a fan behind their necks, but seldom does anyone contemplate the evolution of the fan.

By the Tang dynasty, fans already existed, though the folding fan familiar in later generations didn’t appear until the Ming. The fans of the Tang were mainly brocade fans, feather fans, round fans, and long-handled fans. Bamboo fans were also in use, but none could be folded, making them inconvenient to carry—mostly ladies and gentry used them, while scholars had not yet adopted them.

Without delay, Zhen Qian grabbed brush and ink, and sketched out the structure of a folding fan. Soon, a simple diagram was complete.

High-grade folding fans used precious materials; redwood, ivory, and jade could all be employed, but most were made of bamboo—of which there were many varieties: nan bamboo, purple bamboo, southern bamboo, ink bamboo, mottled bamboo, Xiangfei bamboo, Tang bamboo, and more. Now was not the time to be particular. Folding fans were far simpler to make than bamboo mats and much easier to popularize, with an immediate effect.

“What’s that?” Wang Qun craned his neck. He was no longer startled by Zhen Qian’s strange drawings, only mildly curious.

“It’s a fan.” To make his story more plausible, Zhen Qian claimed he’d just had a sudden inspiration. Whether Wang Qun believed him or not was another matter.

“This fan is unusual—it folds up for easy carrying!” Wang Qun immediately saw its advantage. “But it seems rather simple in materials. Would it fetch much of a price?”

Zhen Qian knew full well that an ordinary blank folding fan would barely fetch a couple dozen coins. “Don’t underestimate the folding fan, Uncle Wang. True, ordinary ones are cheap, but they can be mass-produced—hundreds at a time, or thousands, even tens of thousands. And if we use precious materials for the frame—jade, nan wood, ivory—each fan could become a plaything for the wealthy. If we could get renowned artists to paint or write on the fans, the price could multiply several times, even dozens of times over. It’s a small business, but the profit is enormous.”

Wang Qun was at a loss for words. “If you don’t go into business, it’s a crime against your talents.”

“I’ll see about acquiring some fine materials when I return. But making folding fans requires skillful craftsmen—will we need to buy slave artisans as well?”

Wang Qun’s reminder brought Zhen Qian up short. Fans made with precious materials weren’t like ordinary bamboo fans. First, this was a new invention and no one had the experience; practicing on expensive materials would be a costly mistake. Second, there was little technical difficulty—at best, it was a clever idea, and anyone could copy it. There were no patents in these times.

“You’re right, Uncle Wang. I hadn’t considered that. There’s no rush to get craftsmen; instead, we could buy some clever and dexterous maidservants. They needn’t be beautiful, nor too many in number, and age doesn’t matter. They can be sent to the Qin family’s valley, where they’ll help care for the children and learn some skills from Master Yan. Later, the Qin family can make ordinary fans, and we’ll handle the luxury ones. We don’t need quantity, just exquisite quality.”

Wang Qun blinked and chuckled. “You’re shrewd indeed! Even if Qin Hao knows you’re making fans too, he can’t complain if you use different materials.”

“I have no intention of competing with the Qin family.” Zhen Qian shrugged. The heat pressed down like a wave, and he longed to strip off his clothes and plunge into the river. He was already wearing the coolest attire—two layers of silk, soft-soled silk boots—but his hair was piled up in a tall knot, which felt like a kettle on his head. He envied the modern crew cut: cool and convenient, unlike now, when every bath was a struggle with his long hair, and he wished he could cut it all off.

He used to mock his female classmates for having long hair and short insight, but now he was no different.

Pouring water from his skin onto his head, Zhen Qian felt faint from the heat and wondered how people in ancient times endured it. This was only his first summer in the Tang—how would he survive the coming years?

It wasn’t just idle worry. Even in an age of air conditioning, people still suffer heatstroke. The wealthy families of the Tang dynasty had ice cellars, collecting ice in winter to store and use for cooling in summer, but ordinary folk had no such luxury. In the strictly hierarchical society of old, baring one’s chest or belly was considered indecent and could get you punished.

Even though the Tang were comparatively open, that didn’t mean one could go about half-dressed. If Zhen Qian wandered around in a tank top, the officials might turn a blind eye, but the Zhen family would drag him back in disgrace.

Already, his loosened robes were drawing astonished glances from those around him—luckily, there weren’t many people here, so it was still acceptable.

“By the way, Uncle Wang, with the weather so hot, why hasn’t any ice been brought out from the cellar at home?”

Wang Qun was clearly more heat-tolerant than Zhen Qian, but even he poured water over his head. “After midsummer, as the weather heats up, the household gradually starts using ice from the cellar. But last winter was mild in the north, so there’s less ice stored. Unless it gets truly unbearable, we won’t use it.”

That made sense to Zhen Qian, but it had already been quite hot for days, and no one had brought him any ice.

“So no one in the house is using ice these days?”

Wang Qun shook his head. “That I’m not sure about. The ice cellar is always managed by Steward Xing. Normally, you can get a little ice, but if you need a lot, you have to go through him. I’ll look into it.”

Zhen Qian narrowed his eyes and gave a cold laugh. “I suspect Steward Xing is up to his old tricks again. When we get back, look into this carefully. If it’s true, he’ll have another charge of deceiving his master added to his name!”