Is this cheat code from Bika? Just do it!

She wore a simple but clean outfit, her expression serious, and her eyes conveying an undeniable authority.

On her desk lay a large stack of toilet paper, which looked white and soft, quite unlike the rough paper commonly seen in this era.

"Do you need toilet paper?" the middle-aged woman asked sternly. "Toilet paper is charged; one roll costs one copper coin."

"Huh? What's paper?" a businessman asked, bewildered. His eyes widened, and he looked completely blank. In his knowledge, he had never heard of using paper to wipe one's bottom.

"It's for wiping your bottom," the middle-aged woman said casually, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

"Aren't there wooden strips? Bamboo pieces?" a merchant asked blankly.

In that era, people commonly used wooden sticks or bamboo strips to wipe their bottoms, and in the wild, they would make do with leaves and twigs. Although these methods were simple, they were very unhygienic and uncomfortable to use.

The middle-aged woman glanced at the merchants' fine clothes, then pursed her lips and said, "There are wooden planks and bamboo strips in the toilet, but remember to wash them after you're done! However, I still recommend that you use toilet paper; it's clean and comfortable."

“Uh…” The merchants looked at each other, hesitating for a moment.

"Um, could you please give me a piece of paper?" a merchant finally said, as he really didn't want to use those rough wooden strips and bamboo pieces anymore.

"I'll have some too." Several other merchants chimed in, seemingly provoked by the woman's disdainful look, and decided to buy toilet paper to try it out.

This toilet paper took a lot of effort to make. After repeated experiments and research, Hannah and her research team selected a soft grass fiber as the raw material.

They first soaked the grass fibers in water to soften them, and then processed them using a special technique to shape them.

This toilet paper is not only soft and comfortable, but it will also completely decompose within three or four days after it is used and falls to the ground or is soaked in water, so it will not cause pollution to the environment.

"That upright thing inside is for urinating, don't poop in it. The rows of ditches inside are where you can poop."

The middle-aged woman reminded them, her voice loud and clear, as if afraid the merchants had made a mistake.

"Oh, okay, okay..." The merchants nodded hurriedly. This was truly their first experience. They never expected that they would have to pay for toilet paper to use the restroom, and that there were so many rules to follow.

In fact, which ordinary person in Winterfell doesn't carry some paper when they go out? There are plenty of paper stalls in the market, and the prices are quite reasonable.

"Hey! You guys, that's the women's restroom over there, the men's is on the left!" the middle-aged woman suddenly shouted. It turned out that some businessmen, in their haste, had gone to the wrong restroom.

"Ah..."

"Yes, yes!" The merchants who had gone to the wrong door hurriedly and embarrassedly ran to the left, their faces flushed red, wishing they could find a crack in the ground to crawl into.

This is the role of the middle-aged woman here; she acts like a strict guard, preventing men from entering the women's restroom and avoiding unnecessary embarrassment and chaos.

Her salary was fifty copper coins a month, and selling toilet paper was Link's suggestion, which could serve as an additional source of income for them.

When the merchants emerged looking completely satisfied, they had no idea that taking a dump could be so enjoyable.

The toilet, in particular, was very well designed, clean and tidy, and far superior to the outhouse in their house. It was a stroke of genius, and they immediately fell in love with it.

Seeing everyone had come out, the middle-aged woman carried a bucket of water and poured it into the ditch. The water flowed quickly, carrying away all the excrement and urine, which then flowed into the cesspool.

Every morning, someone would come to clean the cesspool and carry the excrement to the land outside the city to compost it, which would then be used as agricultural fertilizer, thus realizing the recycling of resources.

"Where can I buy this toilet paper?" a merchant asked. He had fallen in love with the soft and comfortable toilet paper and decided to use it from now on.

“The big market has everything,” the middle-aged woman replied enthusiastically.

"The Great Market?" The merchants were puzzled. What kind of place was this? They had never heard of such a place in Winter City.

Solo also experienced using a public toilet, and when he came out, his mouth was agape, his eyes filled with disbelief.

He thought to himself: How did they come up with all this? We all have the same brain, so why are other people's brains so much better?

He had been doing business in various places for many years and had seen toilets in many cities, but this was the first time he had seen a public toilet as clean, tidy, and well-equipped as the one in Winter City.

“Father, we need to buy a lot of paper. I don’t want to use wooden strips anymore,” Ger called out, tugging at Solo’s sleeve, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

He had just used toilet paper in the bathroom, and the soft, comfortable feeling made him never want to use wooden strips again.

"Okay, okay!" Solo just nodded blankly; he had gleaned a lot from just a public toilet.

The concepts of Winterfell are dozens of times more advanced than those of King's Landing!

While King's Landing is prosperous, it is far inferior to Winterfell in terms of sanitation and environmental protection.

Mizuki Yukikaze, who was in charge of monitoring these merchants, watched all this silently from the side, then walked away with a smirk.

She thought to herself: These businessmen are nothing special, they're all a bunch of people who've never seen the world.

In her opinion, these novelties in Winterfell were nothing new and she was used to them.

As they passed the steamed bun shop, Mizuki Yukikaze also saw Vikson and Cliff.

They were queuing up to buy steamed buns; the queue was so long it seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see.

Mizuki Yukikaze was a little puzzled: Shouldn't these two go see Farahia first? Why are they buying steamed buns here?

Vikson and his family didn't want to go that way; he was halfway there when he smelled the aroma of meat and wheat. The scent was like an invisible hand, hooking his nose and drawing him involuntarily towards the steamed bun shop. Coupled with his son's nagging, he couldn't resist and finally joined the queue to buy steamed buns.

Yes, it's all his son's fault. Vikson turned to look at his eight-month-old son in his wife's arms, his eyes full of admiration, almost as if to say, "You cried well."

Although his son was only eight months old, he was very clever. As if he could smell the aroma of the steamed buns, he kept crying in his wife's arms.

Vikson's wife was filled with helplessness. She looked at her crying son in her arms, then at the crowd around her, feeling extremely embarrassed.

My son is crying while I'm nursing. How can I breastfeed him in a place like this?

She could only let her son suck on her finger, hoping to calm him down temporarily. And she didn't know what had gotten into her husband, who had actually come here to queue up for steamed buns.

In her opinion, steamed buns are just ordinary food, nothing special, and not worth spending so much time queuing to buy.

The merchants were also surprised to see the long queue in front of the steamed bun shop. They started discussing among themselves, "It smells so good! With so many people buying it, it must be delicious."

"Let's go buy some and try it. We haven't had breakfast yet."

"They're in line, should we join them?"

"We should! Since everyone is lining up, there must be a reason."

So the merchants also joined the queue, hoping to taste the delicious buns.

A day in Winterfell began amidst these novelties and surprises, but the city's wonders extend far beyond these...

160. Not taking a bath

In the early morning in Winterfell, the sunlight lazily spilled onto the cobblestone streets, casting a soft golden glow over this ancient and tranquil city.

Along the streets, all kinds of shops opened their doors to welcome customers one after another. Among them, a steamed bun shop was particularly lively. Steaming hot steam rose from the steamer, mingling with the morning mist and emitting an enticing aroma, attracting passersby to stop and watch.

Just then, a group of weary merchants appeared at the end of the street. They wore gorgeous but slightly dirty clothes, and their faces showed a tired yet expectant expression.

These merchants came from afar and, having heard of the grand market that was recently being held in Winterfell, rushed here eagerly, hoping to get a share of this trade feast.

However, when they approached the steamed bun shop, ready to cut in line as usual, they found a long queue already formed, filled with ordinary citizens of Winterfell.

The merchants looked at each other, wondering to themselves, "Why are these commoners being so sensible today? They're actually queuing up!"

"Hey! These people are quite considerate, actually giving us their seats. It seems the people of Winterfell are even more honest and kind than those in the capital." A burly, bearded merchant grinned, his eyes gleaming with pride.

“It’s really good. Those commoners in the capital always have to be chased before they’ll give up their seats. It’s such a hassle,” another tall, thin merchant chimed in, his tone tinged with disdain.

The merchants initially intended to skip the queue and push their way to the front, but their attention was quickly drawn to an old man staring intently at them.

The old man wore a faded cloth shirt, his hair was gray, and his face was marked by the passage of time, but his eyes were exceptionally sharp, as if they could see into people's hearts.

The businessmen felt a chill run down their spines, realizing that it was best not to be too arrogant on someone else's turf.

Moreover, although they considered themselves to have some wealth and connections, they were ultimately not nobles, but just ordinary merchants.

In this rigidly hierarchical society, if you accidentally offend a nobleman, even with their connections, you'll either die or pay a hefty sum of money—something they certainly don't want.

The old man staring at them like that wasn't without reason.

These merchants were rude, and some even planned to spit on the ground, which is intolerable in Winterfell, a city that values ​​etiquette and hygiene.

Actually, the old man himself spat yesterday, but his grandson saw it and gave him a stern lecture.

"Grandpa, you're a scholar, you should have self-cultivation and not spit anywhere," the grandson said earnestly. His serious expression made the old man both amused and ashamed.

"Who taught you this?" the old man asked, feigning seriousness.

"That's what Ms. Miyajima Sakura taught me. She said spitting is unhygienic and can spread diseases," the grandson replied, his eyes sparkling with intelligence.

The old man was speechless after his grandson's words, and secretly vowed to change this bad habit in the future.

At the same time, he also decided to talk to others and try to be a cultured scholar to set a good example for his grandson.

So when these businessmen came into his view, he immediately set his sights on them, ready to "teach" them a lesson.

Unfortunately, these opportunistic businessmen have become shrewd; they always glance around first to see if there are any warning signs.

They actually saw the sign on the wall that read "No Spitting".

The businessmen looked at each other, then swallowed their phlegm back down, and grinned at the old man with an awkward but polite smile.

The old man stared blankly, his preconceived notions at play, believing that these businessmen would definitely do something outrageous.

After all, in Winterfell, although many people are hygienic, spitting indiscriminately is still a common occurrence.

Some people, however, restrained themselves a little after being told off by their children.

Changing these people's habits in just over ten days is no easy task.

Therefore, Link started with children, using their education to influence adults and gradually improve the city's sanitation.

Just as the old man was deep in thought, the conversation in front of the steamed bun shop once again caught his attention.

"Ugh...it stinks. Forget it, let's go. I don't even have an appetite for steamed buns anymore," a commoner said, covering his nose and frowning.

"It stinks! They haven't showered for at least a month, just like I did before," another civilian chimed in, a hint of disgust flashing in his eyes.

"Yes! I don't know how we survived before," the third commoner sighed, his tone tinged with helplessness and self-deprecation.

Such conversations occasionally reached the ears of the merchants, leaving them standing there dumbfounded. It turned out that they left because the merchants thought the smell was too strong and that the commoners had lost their appetite from the stench.

The merchants watched as the commoners covered their noses and walked away, especially the commoners who got closer to them; they walked away faster as if the commoners were a few human-shaped rotten eggs, deadly weapons.

"Hey! When did commoners start looking down on us?" a merchant muttered in dissatisfaction, an incredulous expression on his face.

"Is it really that smelly? Why can't I smell it? It's just that I haven't showered for a month. I used to go three months without showering." Another businessman reassured himself, but his tone clearly lacked confidence.

Solo, who also wanted to try the steamed buns, was reminded of the smell and indeed smelled a foul odor.

He had taken a shower three or four days ago, after getting caught in the rain; so he should be grateful for the rain four days ago, otherwise he would have been the one disliked.

“Father, they smell awful, just like the old Father.” Geer added from the side, his childish voice tinged with a hint of teasing.

"Uh...shut up!" Solo roared angrily, but secretly wondered, "How come these commoners have such a keen sense of smell? Do they bathe every day?"

Solo thought it was impossible; who would waste time taking a bath?

Besides, don't those witch doctors always say that bathing is bad?

He remembered visiting a famous witch doctor who had treated the king; this is how he described him:

"Water weakens the body's protective barrier, especially when taking a hot bath, which makes people more relaxed. Some deadly diseases can enter the body through the water vapor. So the more you bathe, the more susceptible you are to illness. Only by not bathing can you live a long and healthy life. If you have a thick layer of oil on your body, you can resist the invasion of deadly diseases!"

Solo thought it made a lot of sense, just like a knight being protected by armor from the invasion of the plague demon.

After taking a bath that day, he was worried he might get sick. Such a fantastical theory was quite popular in this day and age.

Except for a few very clean girls who only take a bath every few days, and even then they have to do it secretly, for fear of being laughed at if others find out.

The queue was still long, but the businessmen looked embarrassed.

Being called smelly is something no one wants to hear. They began to whisper among themselves: "Hey! How many gold coins does a bottle of perfume cost in the capital now? I want to go back and buy one." A merchant asked in a low voice, his eyes gleaming with longing.

"It seems you can't afford it. I heard it costs twelve gold coins a bottle now, and it's snapped up by the nobles as soon as it appears. There's no chance for us," another merchant said, pouring cold water on the idea, his tone tinged with helplessness.

"Hiss... So expensive? I couldn't afford it even if I saved up for a year!" The first merchant gasped, secretly calculating how to make more money.

Vikson endured the stench emanating from behind him; he was about to be asked to back down, and he was unwilling to do so.

In fact, Vikson hadn't showered for half a month either, but it was still better than the person behind him who hadn't showered for months. The smell of steamed buns mixed with some foul odor was the most unbearable thing for him.

"What would you like, sir? We have meat buns, vegetarian buns with cabbage filling, and steamed buns..." the bun shop clerk asked warmly, a professional smile on his face.

"Four meat buns, please," Vikson said hurriedly, as if afraid someone would snatch them away if he was even a second late.

"Okay, that'll be two copper coins in total." The clerk quickly packed four meat buns. His movements were skillful and swift, leaving no room for criticism.

Vikson grabbed the meat buns and ran off with his wife and children. He felt the buns would go bad if they stayed any longer.

He didn't think there was anything wrong with it before, but after the common people started talking about it, he felt that everything smelled bad, even his own wife.

He secretly vowed that he would pay more attention to hygiene from now on and not let people find him disgusting again.