378: Chapter 379 The Blacksmith's New Apprentice and "Old Han's Spring"

In Han Zheng's third month at New Homeland, he finally learned how to forge iron.

It sounded simple, but doing it nearly cost him his life.

On the first day, Zhao Iron Pillar had him swing the hammer. Han Zheng swung it for an hour, and his hands swelled up like steamed buns.

On the second day, Zhao Iron Pillar had him tend the fire. Han Zheng made the fire so intense that he nearly set the shop ablaze.

On the third day, Zhao Iron Pillar had him forge the simplest kitchen knife. Han Zheng made three, and all were ruined—the first was too thick, the second too thin, and the third was shaped like a crooked gourd.

"Were you really a vice commander before?" Zhao Iron Pillar looked at the three pieces of junk with a complex expression. "The kind that commanded tens of thousands of people?"

Han Zheng lowered his head like a child who had made a mistake.

"Fine, fine," Zhao Iron Pillar sighed. "Starting today, you're responsible for sweeping, moving coal, and assisting me. Once you've learned to steady your strength, only then can you touch iron again."

Han Zheng nodded.

The six brothers behind him wanted to laugh but didn't dare, their faces turning red from holding it in.

But Han Zheng wasn't stupid.

Over the course of three months, starting from sweeping and moving coal, he learned and practiced bit by bit. Thick calluses formed on his hands, and his shoulders were tanned dark, but he truly developed his blacksmithing skills.

That day, he forged his first acceptable kitchen knife.

Zhao Iron Pillar took it, looked it over, weighed it, tapped it twice on the anvil, and finally nodded.

"It's alright. Though it's far worse than what I make, it's usable."

Han Zheng stood there, suddenly not knowing what to say.

It had been three months, and this was the first time he had been "recognized."

"Take it," Zhao Iron Pillar shoved the kitchen knife at him. "Give it to Auntie Liu. Her family's knife should have been replaced long ago."

Han Zheng was stunned for a moment. "I'm going to deliver it myself?"

"Nonsense, you made the knife, so who else would deliver it? Go on!"

Holding the kitchen knife, Han Zheng walked toward Auntie Liu's house, feeling a bit nervous.

He had seen Auntie Liu a few times—in the fields, at Little Girl's doorstep, and at the town market. Every time, she was smiling and spoke kindly to everyone.

But he was still nervous.

Because three years ago, the troops he commanded had killed three hundred people from New Homeland.

Among those three hundred people, there might have been Auntie Liu's relatives, her friends, or people she knew.

He stood at Auntie Liu's door, hand raised, unable to knock for a long time.

The door suddenly opened.

Little Girl poked her head out, and seeing him, her eyes lit up.

"Uncle Han! You're here!"

Han Zheng was pulled into the courtyard, still clutching the kitchen knife.

Auntie Liu was hanging laundry; seeing him enter, she was taken aback.

"This is..."

"I made this," Han Zheng handed the knife over, his voice a bit tight. "Captain Zhao asked me to bring it, saying your family's knife needed replacing."

Auntie Liu took it, looking at the blade and then the handle—on the handle was a crookedly carved character: "Han."

"You carved this?"

Han Zheng nodded.

Auntie Liu was silent for a few seconds, then she smiled.

"It's carved quite earnestly."

She put the knife away, turned into the house, and brought out a bowl of steaming rainbow potato soup.

"Have some. It's freshly made."

Holding the bowl of soup, Han Zheng stood there, his nose feeling a bit stingy.

It had been three months, and this was the first time someone had brought him soup to drink.

Little Girl, holding Huahua nearby, looked up at him. "Uncle Han, are you crying?"

"No," Han Zheng turned his face away. "Some dust got in my eye."

Little Girl gave an "oh" and didn't expose him.

Huahua chirped nearby as if saying, "I want some too."

After finishing the soup, Han Zheng returned the bowl to Auntie Liu and bowed deeply.

"Thank you."

Auntie Liu waved her hand. "What's there to thank? It's just a bowl of soup."

Han Zheng walked out of the courtyard, his steps much lighter than when he had arrived.

Behind him, Little Girl's voice drifted over:

"Uncle Han—come back to play tomorrow—!"

He turned back and waved at the small figure.

Days passed like this, one by one.

Han Zheng's blacksmithing skills grew better and better; he could now independently forge simple items. The six brothers under him had also found their places—some went to help in the fields, some joined the construction team, and some followed Senior Brother Zhang to learn technical skills.

One day, Zhao Iron Pillar suddenly said to him, "Old Han, don't just use that vice commander brain of yours for forging iron."

Han Zheng was startled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you used to manage tens of thousands of people, so you must have some ability. Although New Homeland is small, there are still several hundred people who need managing. That kid Wang Wu has been so busy lately he can't keep his feet on the ground; go help him."

Han Zheng was silent for a few seconds before saying, "I am a sinner."

"What about being a sinner? Sinners can't work?" Zhao Iron Pillar glared. "You have to work for ten full years to become a regular citizen. During these ten years, do more work to atone for your sins faster."

Han Zheng thought about it and nodded.

The next day, he went to the Council to report to Wang Wu.

When Wang Wu saw him, his expression was complex.

"Han Zheng, right? I heard you were a vice commander before?"

"Yes."

"Managed tens of thousands of people?"

"At the peak, thirty-seven thousand."

Wang Wu was silent for a few seconds, then handed him the ledger in his hand.

"Fine then, help me calculate the resource allocation for this quarter. I've been calculating for three days, and my head is spinning."

Han Zheng took the ledger, looked through a few pages, then picked up a pen and began writing rapidly.

Half an hour later, he returned the ledger to Wang Wu.

"This is the adjusted plan. Resource utilization can be increased by 17%, but it requires merging the transfer processes of the East District Warehouse and the West District Warehouse to reduce intermediate steps."

Wang Wu looked at the dense data, his eyes wide as saucers.

"You... how did you calculate this?"

Han Zheng thought for a moment and said, "In the fleet, resource allocation was ten times more complex than this. I'm used to it."

Wang Wu was silent for three seconds, then slapped him hard on the shoulder.

"Old Han, don't go forging iron anymore. Come help me manage logistics!"

Han Zheng was slapped into a stagger, but the corners of his mouth couldn't help but turn upward.

That night, he returned to the dormitory—actually just a simple small hut shared by four people—opened the door, and found a bowl of hot soup on the table.

Next to it was a note with crooked writing:

"Uncle Han, you've worked hard. —Little Girl"

Holding the bowl of soup, he stood there, his nose feeling stingy again.

This time, he was sure it wasn't dust.

From that day on, Han Zheng began participating in the resource management of New Homeland.

He worked very earnestly—no, one should say he worked desperately. He was the first to arrive at the Council every day and the last to leave, flipping through ledgers and remembering data better than anyone.

Some people whispered privately, "Is that guy from the Heavenly Court just faking it?"

Others shook their heads. "Can someone fake it for three months?"

Some had even seen him counting supplies in the warehouse in the middle of the night, only to appear at the Council early the next morning.

The gossip gradually diminished.

A month later, Wang Wu formally proposed at the Council: let Han Zheng serve as the Deputy Supervisor of Material Allocation.

"He does a better job than I do," Wang Wu said candidly. "Accounts I couldn't clear in three days, he sorts out in an hour."

Someone objected: "He used to be from the Heavenly Court!"

Wang Wu looked at Wen Youyi.

Wen Youyi was silent for a few seconds, then said, "He used to be from the Heavenly Court. But now, he is a person of New Homeland."

"How do you prove it?"

Wen Youyi looked toward the corner—Han Zheng sat there, not saying a word.

"Let him speak for himself."

Han Zheng stood up, looked at the gazes fixed on him, and took a deep breath.

"I don't ask you to believe me. I only ask that you give me a chance to prove myself. I'll work for ten years, and if you're still not at ease, I'll keep working. Until I die."

The meeting room was quiet for a few seconds.

Then someone raised their hand. "Agreed."

Another person raised their hand. "Agreed."

Finally, it passed unanimously.

Han Zheng stood there, his eyes a bit red.

After the meeting, he found Wen Youyi.

"Thank you."

Wen Youyi shook his head. "Thank yourself. You earned it yourself."

Han Zheng was silent for a few seconds, then asked, "That child... Little Girl... why is she so good to me?"

Wen Youyi thought for a moment and said, "Because she knows you are hesitating."

"Hesitating about what?"

"Hesitating about whether to become good," Wen Youyi said. "She can see the person behind the door. You are behind the door, not an enemy, but someone who is hesitating."

Han Zheng was stunned for a long time.

In the distance, Little Girl was playing with Huahua and Bright Fur Ball in the courtyard. The sunlight spilled over her, stretching her small shadow.

She suddenly looked up and waved in Han Zheng's direction.

Han Zheng subconsciously waved back.

"What did she say?" he asked.

Wen Youyi smiled.

"She said, welcome."

(End of Chapter)