10. Zunhua City.

The next day, Brother Wei didn’t get out of bed. Ruan Zhuqing smiled sheepishly and took Yang Fan to the county government office to handle the household registration procedures. The blacksmith shop and a small hill outside the city, which Wei Bancheng had gifted to Yang Fan, required official transfer through the authorities.

Ruan Zhuqing truly was a local expert; she was as familiar with the six departments of the county office as if it were her own home, bowing and greeting everyone along the way, able to exchange a few words with each person.

She arranged a tea appointment with one official, reminisced about a certain delicacy at Lichun Pavilion with another, and amid the light-hearted chatter, they completed the registration and property transfer in a single morning.

She then brought Yang Fan to pay a special visit to Ruan Dafu, the county magistrate’s advisor.

Ruan Dafu was in his fifties, plump and fair, speaking a heavy Nanjing dialect that was difficult to understand.

It turned out that Ruan Zhuqing was his cousin once removed.

She had come here following her uncle, who served as the magistrate’s advisor, while Ruan Dafu served as advisor to the region’s wealthiest landowner.

After some polite conversation, Yang Fan gained a good rapport with this influential figure, which would greatly benefit his development in Zunhua.

They then took a horse-drawn carriage to the northeast corner of the city to transfer the blacksmith shop.

It was Yang Fan’s first time touring a complete ancient city, and he observed everything with great interest.

However, the sanitation of ancient cities was truly poor, with foul-smelling ditches everywhere, and rats and flies swarming about.

The main streets were passable, but venturing deeper revealed broken-down thatched mud houses, with pale, gaunt residents. Many ragged children ran about freely.

Overall, Zunhua was not very large. The city wall stretched 1,251 zhang, roughly over six Chinese miles but less than seven.

The wall base was about 30 feet thick, approximately ten meters, standing 3 zhang and 6 chi tall, about twelve meters. It had 1,341 crenellations. Each of the four cardinal directions had one city gate, and each corner was fortified with a watchtower. Outside the gates was a moat, two zhang deep and three wide.

At the city’s heart stood a bell and drum tower.

On the west side of the north gate was the Xuandi Temple.

Besides the four gates, there were water gates on the west side of the north and south gates, serving both defensive purposes and ensuring water flow within the city.

A river flowed through the city. Advisor Ruan explained not to underestimate this river: upstream it led to the Bashang grasslands and Xinglong County.

Downstream, boats could travel east to Jixian, then southeast directly to Beitangkou, Tianjin, entering the Bohai Sea. This river, abundant in water, was known as the Ji Canal.

If one reversed course at Baodi, they could reach Sanhe County, which was not far from the capital.

Yang Fan knew Sanhe was famous for Yanjiao, one of the four major commuter towns around the capital. Those who worked in the capital but couldn’t afford city homes lived there, returning only at night to sleep in a place virtually deserted by day.

The river running through Zunhua was the city’s most prosperous area, lined with many stone arch bridges and wooden ones.

Countless boats clustered along the riverbanks, sails densely packed. Along the river were docks bustling with laborers hauling goods.

Looking closely, the cargo mainly consisted of iron ore and finished iron ingots, crafted farming tools, and even waist knives, spearheads, and bundles of arrows—likely orders from military garrisons. There was also charcoal.

Additionally, daily necessities such as vegetable oil, grain, vegetables, meat, and eggs were transported here. After all, this was the northern steel production center of the Ming Dynasty.

Over a hundred thousand people produced iron goods, consuming vast amounts of grain, cloth, and other supplies.

Within the city and surrounding townships, countless blast furnace chimneys rose, with numerous iron-smelting workshops. Mining, ore selection, smelting, and blacksmithing employed over a hundred thousand workers. Including their families, the population reached four to five hundred thousand.

The saying “ice three feet thick is not formed in a single day” was apt here. Zunhua had been smelting iron since the Spring and Autumn period, and the city had formed by the mid-Tang Dynasty. Nearly a thousand years of development had brought it to this scale.

Along the riverbanks were wide roads paved with bluestone, lined with shops, restaurants, teahouses, even brothels, gambling houses, and bathhouses.

From the central bell and drum tower:

Southward to the South Gate, known as Xunmen Street;

Northward to the Gongji Gate, the North Gate, called Beijie;

Eastward to Zhenhai Gate, the East Gate, called Dongjie;

Westward to Daijing Gate, the West Gate, called Xijie.

Yang Fan inquired with Advisor Ruan about the city’s notable sites.

Ruan explained that just southeast of the city, where the East Street’s south meets Southwest Street’s east, stood a temple thriving with incense offerings. Many childless couples came to pray there. It was common to see the wives and daughters of wealthy families, along with many young, beautiful maidservants—Ruan gave Yang Fan a knowing look only a man would understand.

In the northeast part of the city were many buildings: the Zunhua County government office, the examination hall west of it, and further west the Guandi Temple. East of the government office was the Fire God Temple, with the garrison office slightly southeast. This was the district of the wealthy and officials. The Wei family mansion was also located here.

On the west side of North Street and the north side of West Street, principal buildings included the Martial Temple, City God Temple, Iron Official’s Office, and another Guandi Temple. On the northern city wall stood the Xuandi Temple.

At the northwest corner, from east to west were the Ancestral Temple, Wenchang Temple, Medicine King Temple, and Fire God Temple.

Between the south side of West Street and the west side of South Street was the so-called West Grand Temple.

There were the Guanyin Hall, Guanghui Temple, Qiti Temple, and Confucius Temple—which was also the school. In front of the school were the Nan Chi Pavilion and Lingyang Temple, south of which was another Guandi Temple.

Arriving at the northeast corner of the city beneath a watchtower, Yang Fan saw a scene of ruin. This was the poor district, home mostly to laborers. The men worked as blacksmiths or porters for shops, while the women served as maids or laundresses.

Many children ran about naked, and sanitation was even worse here, with numerous foul ditches.

There were many patches of wasteland, foul-smelling pools, and wild grasses and reeds taller than a person. Stray dogs roamed the hills.

Yang Fan had just stepped off the carriage when he accidentally stepped in dog excrement, causing him great disgust.

Could this be the infamous “stepping in dirt the moment one disembarks”?

The blacksmith shop consisted of a dozen or so thatched sheds built with wooden frames—no proper brick walls—surrounded by crumbling mud walls, chewed up like by dogs, offering no protection even against wild dogs, let alone thieves.

The workshops had no walls, with straw mats hanging on all sides.

A group of ragged artisans, resembling beggars, stood at the entrance to greet the new owner.

Yang Fan counted about thirty, mostly elderly men, with some children around twelve or thirteen years old—truly a mix of the very old and the very young.

Advisor Ruan felt awkward and said, “You all have yet to pay respects to the new master.”

Business here was poor, the location bad, not near water, and transportation inconvenient. The lord had taken away all the able-bodied men, leaving only the old, weak, and disabled. It indeed looked dismal.

“Greetings, master.”

“Greetings, lord.”

Most here were indentured servants, hence calling the owner “lord.” A few were accountants or clerks, all hired hands, who simply called him “master.” The scene was chaotic.

Yang Fan noted that these people seemed to have gone long without a proper meal, staggering from hunger.

He sighed and entered the workshop gates.

The yard covered roughly ten acres, surrounded by mud-brick walls. A gate opened to the south. On the east and west sides were simple workshops made of wooden pillars and straw curtains along the walls; the north side held the warehouse. The southern middle was the main gate, flanked by living quarters for the artisans.

In the center of the yard stood three earthen blast furnaces, appearing extremely primitive—more rudimentary than the ruined furnaces Yang Fan had seen from the ancient Dayue Jin era in his hometown.

The furnaces were coated in dust and looked very dilapidated. It was uncertain if they could still be used.

“Why haven’t you started work?” Yang Fan asked.

“Who’s in charge? Come out and speak,” a voice called.

“We report to the lord: no wages have been paid for three months, and food supplies have run out. These days, we’ve been subsisting on wild vegetable porridge and have no strength left,” came the reply.

Yang Fan was stunned.

What was going on here?