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

Ying Zheng's finger hovered in the air, an inch away from the stack of yellowish-brown objects.

Meng Yi's breathing stopped.

Wang Ben stared wide-eyed. He couldn't understand how this thing, which looked even smoother than the silk that Meng Yi treasured most, could be an ordinary item.

"Paper?" Meng Yi's voice was dry and hoarse, as if it were being forced out from deep in his throat. "Sir, you mean this thing is called...paper?"

"Yeah, what else could it be called?" Zhang Ying found the question strange.

He picked up a black charcoal stick and drew a line on his finger, leaving a black mark.

"This graphite will do as a makeshift pen."

After saying that, he pulled out a piece of paper and spread it on the rough wooden table, his movements as casual as if he had just plucked a large leaf from the roadside.

Ying Zheng and the other two unconsciously moved forward in unison.

With a slight flick of her wrist, Zhang Ying's black "pen" left clear lines of black characters on the paper as thin as a cicada's wing.

It is not as laborious as carving with a knife, nor as cumbersome as bamboo slips, nor as expensive as silk.

Writing can be so easy and so fluid.

"IOU".

Zhang Ying pushed the written paper to the center of the table.

"Now, Ying Zheng, Meng Yi, and Wang Ben have each lost one hundred coins at the mahjong table, totaling three hundred coins. This is hereby established as evidence."

He read it aloud, then tapped the table with a graphite stick.

"Sign and put your fingerprint here. If you don't have ink, just put your handprint."

Ying Zheng did not move.

His entire attention was drawn to the piece of paper with writing on it.

The handwriting is clear and the ink is even.

A thin sheet of paper carries the transmission of information, the smooth implementation of government orders, and the inheritance of culture.

The decrees of the Qin Dynasty had to be carved word by word onto bamboo slips by scribes with knives, and then transported throughout the country by oxcarts and horse-drawn carts. This process was time-consuming, labor-intensive, and prone to errors.

If we had this...

Ying Zheng dared not think any further.

"This thing..." he finally spoke, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion, "What was its cost?"

Zhang Ying seemed to have heard the biggest joke in the world.

"Cost?"

He looked at Ying Zheng with the same expression one would give a landlord's foolish son.

"How much could this thing cost?"

"Just find some tree bark, rags, and rotten hemp, put them in a pot and boil them until they're mushy, then take them out, flatten them, and dry them in the sun."

"Cost? Zero cost, understand?"

Zhang Ying stretched out her finger and made a circle.

Seeing the three of them looking dumbfounded, he assumed they hadn't understood and kindly added a sentence.

"I find it too much trouble, so this was made with better quality linen, which is why the color is okay."

"Later I made a large batch, using a variety of materials, the color was darker and the texture was rougher."

Zhang Ying scratched the back of her head, seemingly trying to recall something.

"Oh right, I put all the coarse stuff in the outhouse over there."

He pointed to a makeshift toilet made of planks and thatch not far behind the wooden house.

"It works quite well for wiping my bottom, much more comfortable than leaves or wood chips."

The air froze.

The salty sea breeze seemed to stop blowing at this moment.

Wang Ben stared with his mouth agape, completely unaware that the mahjong tiles in his hand had fallen to the ground.

Ying Zheng's body stiffened. He slowly turned his head and looked in the direction Zhang Ying was pointing. The simple outhouse had become a ferocious beast that devoured civilization in his eyes.

"puff--"

Meng Yi did not vomit blood.

He let out a mournful cry, like a cuckoo weeping blood.

"What a waste... what a terrible waste!!!"

He was trembling all over, pointing at Zhang Ying, his lips were white, and he couldn't even finish a sentence.

"You...you actually used such a divine artifact...you actually used such a divine artifact..."

"For use as a toilet?!"

He roared out the last four words, his voice shrill and filled with endless grief and heartache.

This was a million times more devastating for Wang Ben than seeing his precious sword being used to remove bones.

That's paper!

Paper can carry the words of sages and record the achievements of countless generations!

It was actually used for...

Meng Yi dared not think any further; he felt his heart bleeding.

The next second, he did something that no one expected.

He turned around abruptly, lifted his robe, and sprinted towards the outhouse at breakneck speed.

His agile figure was nothing like that of a civil official over fifty years old.

"Damn, is this guy's constipation that bad?" Zhang Ying was bewildered by Meng Yi's reaction.

"So anxious? Is it really necessary?"

Wang Ben was dumbfounded. He looked at Meng Yi rushing towards the outhouse, then at Zhang Ying who looked completely innocent, and his mind was a little confused.

Only Ying Zheng understood.

He completely understood Meng's friend.

If it weren't for his status as an emperor requiring him to remain calm, he himself would have wanted to rush over.

He took a deep breath and forcibly suppressed his turbulent emotions.

He picked up the piece of paper on the table that read "IOU" and carefully held it between two fingers, as if it were not a rough piece of linen paper, but the Imperial Seal of the State.

"gentlemen."

Ying Zheng's voice was more solemn than ever before.

"Please, teach me the method of papermaking!"

He bowed slightly to Zhang Ying.

Zhang Ying was a little taken aback by his sudden change in attitude.

This drama queen, has she changed her tactics again?

"Teach you? Sure." Zhang Ying leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs.

He pointed to the IOU on the table.

"Let's settle the bill first."

"Signature, fingerprint, and handprint—none can be omitted."

Zhang Ying shook her finger.

"Let's keep things separate. If you lose money playing cards, you have to accept it."

"As for that papermaking method, there's no rush."

He grinned, revealing a set of white teeth.

"Let's continue playing mahjong later. If you beat me, or if you make me happy, I'll tell you."

Ying Zheng raised his head and looked at Zhang Ying's face, which was full of "what can you do to me?"

The whole world belongs to the king.

Within the borders of the land, all are subjects of the king.

What Ying Zheng wanted, he never failed to get.

But today, on this deserted island, he wants to learn a "zero-cost" skill, but he needs to put his fingerprint on an "IOU" first.

In the distance, from the direction of the outhouse, came the sounds of Meng Yi rummaging through drawers and cabinets, mixed with his choked sobs as if he had found a treasure and his heartbroken mutterings.

"What a sin, what a sin..."

"How can something of noble character be subjected to such humiliation!"

Ying Zheng snapped out of his thoughts.

Looking at Zhang Ying, he suddenly felt that this might be the immortal's test.

He picked up the graphite strip without the slightest hesitation.

"it is good."

He lowered his head and signed his name on the linen paper that read "IOU".

Two ancient seal characters: Ying Zheng.

The strokes are vigorous and powerful, carrying a sense of overlooking the world.

Zhang Ying leaned over to take a look and then pursed her lips.

"It looks like scribbles, who can recognize it?"

He used a graphite strip to write the two crooked characters "Old Ying" below the characters "Ying Zheng" as a note.