I started on a deserted island and encountered Ying Zheng, who insisted I was an immortal.

Wang Ben's hand, which was about to grab the fourth steamed bun, froze in mid-air.

"Old Meng, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong with this steamed bun?"

Ying Zheng also stopped what he was doing and looked at his most trusted minister.

He knew Meng Yi's personality best: calm, meticulous, and never speaking without purpose.

"gentlemen."

Meng Yi did not answer Wang Ben, but turned to Zhang Ying and cupped his hands in greeting.

"I have a question that I do not understand, and I hope you can enlighten me."

Zhang Ying, munching on her "Chinese hamburger," mumbled a reply: "Speak."

Meng Yi picked up a whole steamed bun and weighed it in his hand.

"This item weighs approximately half a pound each."

"As the gentleman just mentioned, this full plate of thirty steamed buns used ten catties of flour."

He paused, then spoke each word with exceptional clarity.

"Thirty half-pound steamed buns should weigh a total of fifteen pounds."

"May I ask, sir?"

"Where did those extra five pounds come from?"

hum.

Wang Ben felt as if he had been hit on the head with a heavy hammer.

He stared blankly at the steamed bun in his hand, then at the rest on the plate, his mouth half-open, unable to utter a single word.

Yes.

Ten pounds of flour yielded fifteen pounds of food.

This……

"Clatter".

The half-eaten steamed bun in Ying Zheng's hand fell onto the wooden plate in front of him.

He stood there, completely frozen.

To create something from nothing.

These four words, like a thunderclap, exploded in his mind.

To create something out of thin air.

This is no ordinary skill.

This is a heaven-reaching power that only gods can possess!

Wang Ruoshu's face, which had just regained its color, instantly turned deathly pale again.

She looked at Zhang Ying, then at the steamed bun in her hand, and felt that all of this was beyond her comprehension.

This can no longer be explained by some high-yield crop or some ingenious technique.

This is true magic.

Faced with three pairs—no, four pairs—of shocked and inquisitive gazes, Zhang Ying felt a headache coming on.

Again.

It's started again.

He let out a silent wail.

Isn't it just that during the fermentation and steaming process, the flour absorbs water and its weight increases?

I learned about the law of conservation of mass in junior high school physics.

But how am I supposed to explain this to these "ancient people"?

Talk to them about water molecules? Talk about yeast? Talk about starch gelatinization?

I'm afraid I'll be seen as a madman spreading heresies.

"It's just a tactic." Zhang Ying sighed and stuffed the last bite of steamed bun into her mouth.

"Methods?" Ying Zheng's voice was somewhat dry. "What methods?"

After thinking for a moment, Zhang Ying decided to make up a story in a way they could understand.

"To put it another way, an ordinary person, without any training, can lift a fifty-pound stone."

"But if he undergoes rigorous training and his physical potential is unlocked, he might be able to lift 100 or even 200 pounds."

He pointed to the steamed buns on the plate.

"Flour is the same principle."

"You're just turning it into a dry, hard, lifeless dough; that's not tapping into its potential."

"I used my method to unlock its potential, and it naturally became more, heavier, and tastier."

The cave was deathly silent.

Ying Zheng, Wang Ben, Meng Yi, and Wang Ruoshu looked at each other.

Unlocking...the potential of flour?

They understood every single word he said.

But when put together, it seems like I didn't understand a single word.

These words sounded profound and mysterious to them, filled with some kind of profound truth that they could not comprehend.

"You mean, sir..." Meng Yi hesitated before speaking, "that everything has potential, waiting to be discovered?"

Zhang Ying rolled her eyes.

Everything has its potential.

Why don't you become a success coach?

"That's pretty much the gist of it." He was too lazy to explain further and waved his hand.

"Alright, stop researching."

He stood up and pointed to a stone platform not far from the cave entrance.

"There's a stone mill over there, and the wheat is in that sack over there."

"If you're really that curious, go grind some flour yourselves."

"Once you've finished grinding, I'll 'dig' it for you again in front of you."

After saying that, he ignored the four people who were dumbfounded and walked to the other side of the cave, where some chopped wood and thatch were piled up.

"You're new here."

He said to Wang Ruoshu without turning his head.

"I'll build you a simple thatched hut to stay in first. We can't let a young lady like you squeeze into a cave with us."

Zhang Ying's figure disappeared into the light at the cave entrance.

Inside the cave, only Ying Zheng and his three companions remained, looking at each other in bewilderment.

It took Wang Ben a long time to finally manage to utter a single sentence.

"He...he just left like that?"

Ying Zheng remained silent.

He slowly picked up the fallen steamed bun, looked at the clear fingerprints on it, and fell into a long silence.

This gentleman, faced with the astonishing question of "creating something out of nothing," showed no pride or boasting whatsoever.

The attitude was so casual, as if it were something as trivial as saying, "The weather is nice today."

Wang Ruoshu's heart was pounding.

She looked in the direction Zhang Ying had left, her face burning hot.

This man dares to be so disrespectful to His Majesty and to boss his own father around.

In this city of Xianyang, no, in this whole world, who has the guts to do this?

Only immortals.

A true immortal who doesn't care about earthly emperors.

She remembered yesterday on the beach.

When I woke up, I felt the warm, soft touch on my lips.

Thinking of this, Wang Ruoshu couldn't help but smile.

......

Ying Zheng looked at the stone mill, then at the golden wheat grains in the sack, his mind filled with thoughts.

He spoke slowly, his voice carrying a hint of inquiry.

"Sir, now that the wheat has been harvested, how should we remove the husks?"

"In the Qin region, mortars and pestles are used everywhere. Women pound rice day and night without stopping, but the yield is only a few bushels, which is extremely laborious."

What Ying Zheng said was the most accurate reflection of the Qin Dynasty.

The post-processing of grain is a problem of equal importance to cultivation, and it also constrains national strength.

"Use that one."

Without looking up, Zhang Ying pointed towards the stream not far outside the cave.

Go see for yourself.

The four of them walked in the direction he pointed.

After rounding a huge rock, a rhythmic "thump...thump..." sound came from behind.

Beside a stream flowing down from the mountains, a huge wooden structure was tirelessly rising and falling.

A thick wooden arm was raised high and then fell heavily, slamming into a stone mortar with a dull thud.

The stream water churns against a huge wooden wheel, which slowly turns, driving a horizontal axle.

On the horizontal axis, several protruding wooden blocks precisely control the rise and fall of the wooden arm.

It goes on and on, in a never-ending cycle.

Completely, requiring no human intervention.

"This...this is..."

Wang Ben's tongue got tied; he pointed at the large, self-moving machine, unable to utter a complete sentence for a long time.

"An automatic rice pounder?"

Meng Yi muttered to himself, trying to define what was in front of him with the vocabulary he could understand.

But it was clearly moving on its own.