Chapter 019: Details Determine Success or Failure

The abacus itself was not complicated; it was just that crafting those counting beads took some time. Before midnight had fully passed, the first abacus was already completed. The honest carpenter looked at Wei Ba, nervously rubbing his hands together. “Young master, does it meet your approval?”

Wei Ba glanced at him, then burst out laughing. “Not only does it meet my approval, you’ve made it beautifully. If you’d had more time, were you planning to carve flowers across the entire frame?”

“Heh heh, young master is right, I didn’t have enough time. Otherwise, I certainly would have carved some designs.” The carpenter was truly straightforward, failing to catch Wei Ba’s meaning. He earnestly inquired, “Young master, the Wei family is a house of generals. Ordinarily, we’d carve fierce beasts—lions, tigers, bears—to reflect our martial spirit. But this abacus will mostly be used by the bookkeepers. Shouldn’t we use flowers or plants instead? Those penny-pinchers love that kind of thing.”

Wei Ba nearly spat out his water, while Steward Chen glared at the carpenter. “And where did you hear that bookkeepers are all paupers? Shut your filthy mouth and get out!”

Realizing he’d offended Steward Chen, the carpenter dared not say another word and quickly turned to leave. Wei Ba stopped him, shaking the abacus in his hand, and addressed Steward Chen, “Steward Chen, in your opinion, is it necessary to carve these decorations?”

“Of course it is,” Steward Chen replied, feeling quite pleased despite having worked hard all day. “This blockhead may have spoken crudely, but there’s some truth to his words. Even if it’s a household tool, it still sits on the table as an ornament. If it can be made beautiful, all the better.”

Wei Ba said nothing. In his mind, an abacus was just a tool—so long as it was sturdy and durable, that was enough; spending time on carving seemed unnecessary. But Steward Chen had his reasons, and Wei Ba felt no need to change their opinions. He glanced kindly at the uneasy carpenter. “You’ve worked hard. Take a short rest—supper will be ready soon. Have some meat, a bowl of wine, and get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, focus on making about ten abacuses as spares. Do you think you can manage?”

Hearing there would be meat and wine, the carpenter finally broke into a sincere smile, nodding so enthusiastically his wooden hairpin nearly fell out. Before long, a plump cook arrived to report that supper was ready and they could eat at any time. Wei Ba nodded to Steward Chen, who rose, clapped his hands, and called out, “Everyone, stop for a moment!”

The carpenters, busy at their tasks, perked up their ears as soon as the cook entered, knowing it was mealtime. Though their hands didn’t stop, they waited eagerly for the announcement. Tonight, with young master Wei in charge and meat and wine to enjoy, it was a rare feast they’d long anticipated. At Steward Chen’s words, all work ceased at once, and every eye turned expectantly toward him.

“The young master has shown you great kindness tonight, providing meat and wine for a proper meal. But let me be clear: the young master treats you well out of his generosity. Don’t let it go to your heads and forget your proper duties. You can eat your fill and have an extra helping of meat, but you must watch your wine. If anyone gets drunk and delays the night’s work, don’t blame me for turning nasty—I’ll see to it you’re bedridden for half a month. Understood?”

The workers, reminded of how Zhang the senior steward had just been beaten by Wei Ba that very morning, remembered well the consequences. If even the lady’s chief steward could be handled thus, how much more so could they, mere craftsmen? Some who had hoped for a night of heavy drinking swallowed their ambitions, responding in a chorus of assent.

“Go on, you have a quarter of an hour,” Steward Chen commanded sternly, and the crowd burst into laughter as they jostled their way toward the kitchen.

Wei Ba watched the craftsmen, mouths already watering before they’d even reached the kitchen, and felt at a loss for words. The Wei family treated its retainers and craftsmen fairly well, as the satisfaction of those three newly arrived blacksmiths had shown. Yet even they rarely ate meat more than a handful of times a year. To someone like Wei Ba, who in his previous life grew tired of eating meat and longed for vegetarian dishes to lose weight, this was another stark reminder of the difference between the two worlds.

Steward Chen respectfully said, “Young master, you’ve worked hard today. You should eat something, drink a little wine, and then rest. I’ll watch over things here—nothing will go wrong.”

“No need,” Wei Ba waved him off. “This task may not be complicated, but its implications are significant. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I’ll only rest easy if I watch over it myself. Even if I went to bed now, I doubt I’d be able to sleep.” He smiled, then added, “Look at me—do I seem likely to sleep well?”

Steward Chen laughed, turning the newly delivered abacus in his hands and remarking with admiration, “Young master, you are truly gifted—one clever idea follows another. This abacus is far more convenient than counting rods. It looks simple, but its ingenuity is remarkable.”

Wei Ba paid this little mind. He didn’t feel the abacus was anything to be proud of; Steward Chen was probably just flattering him after a good meal. Everyone likes to hear praise, but if Steward Chen were a sycophant, it would have been reckless to bring him before Lady Zhang today.

“Especially this bead,” Steward Chen continued, oblivious to Wei Ba’s slight annoyance, still absorbed in admiring the abacus. He pointed to the black bead in the upper row, representing five. “Representing five with a single bead and adding a crossbar reduces four beads, saving on materials, and also makes the numbers immediately clear—no need to count every time. Remarkable!”

Listening to Steward Chen’s musings, Wei Ba realized at last that what he thought was a simple abacus was not so simple after all. As Steward Chen said, having the top black bead represent five wasn’t just about reducing four beads per column, but also made each column’s number much clearer. Someone once said that people can only instantly recognize up to seven items—beyond that, you have to count. Without the black bead for five, each column would need nine beads, and distinguishing between seven, eight, and nine at a glance would be difficult. With the black bead, there are never more than five beads per section, and with two colors, it becomes much easier.

In counting rods, there’s “one for ten, one for a hundred,” but not “one for five.” This “one for five” contains a subtle advantage most would overlook. Wei Ba, accustomed to it, had never noticed, but for someone like Steward Chen, who frequently dealt with counting rods, the difference was immediately apparent.

It is in such details that true insight is found; for the first time, Wei Ba discovered something new about the abacus. In his memory, the Han dynasty’s abacus used one black bead for five and one white bead for one, essentially no different from later abacuses. This proved that the ancients were not fools—sometimes, in fact, they were smarter than later generations. It was just a pity that, due to limited means of dissemination, many ingenious inventions were lost to time. The abacus, for instance—though it existed in the Han dynasty, by the Three Kingdoms era, many had never even heard of it.

It seemed that printing technology truly had a crucial role to play.

From this, Wei Ba’s thoughts expanded further. Suddenly, he realized there was much he could accomplish.

In his previous life, Wei Ba was a technician and deeply understood that details determined success or failure. One must not only set qualitative goals but also quantify them. Since coming to this life, he’d been preoccupied with his father Wei Yan’s plan for the Ziwu Valley—a stratagem so cunning it bordered on the miraculous. He’d always wondered just how feasible it really was. In his previous life, he’d spoken up for Wei Yan, believing that Zhuge Liang’s refusal to use the Ziwu Valley plan was overly cautious, perhaps even a slight against Wei Yan. But now, after careful consideration, even he felt that this scheme was more of a gamble than a sound plan.

Many things seem wonderful at first, but only upon attempting them does one realize the multitude of difficulties—some insurmountable. For example, the Ziwu Valley plan now seemed unworkable to him. Were he in Zhuge Liang’s place, he would reject it as well.

He faced two choices: persuade his father to abandon the plan, thus avoiding conflict with Zhuge Liang and possibly eliminating the threat of being framed and killed later. But this seemed unrealistic; judging by his father’s attitude, he considered the plan flawless and was certain Prime Minister Zhuge would approve, perhaps even praise him as a military genius. Short of running headlong into disaster, convincing him to give up was a fool’s hope.

That left only the second path: resolve the key difficulties in the Ziwu Valley plan, increasing its feasibility to the point where Zhuge Liang would consider it worth the risk and likely to succeed. And what was the chief difficulty? Provisions.

Bring too much food, and the troops move slowly, losing the element of surprise, so that by the time they emerge from the valley, the Wei army is ready and waiting. Bring too little, and there’s too little time to act; after all the effort of getting through the valley, they would have to turn back in a matter of days, turning a major operation into a mere ten-day excursion—clearly unfeasible.

To make the plan work, they needed to carry enough provisions for sustained action, yet not be slowed down—surprise was essential.

It seemed a dilemma, but perhaps not insoluble. If he could build a machine that could transport more provisions while maintaining speed, wouldn’t that be perfect?

A sudden flash of inspiration lit Wei Ba’s eyes.

“Young master, what... are you thinking?” Steward Chen’s gentle prompt broke Wei Ba’s reverie. Startled, he covered with a smile. “What is it?”

“Are you devising something new again?” Steward Chen asked nervously. “I hope I didn’t interrupt your train of thought?”

“No, no,” Wei Ba scratched his head, realizing that the craftsmen had already finished eating and returned—he must have been lost in thought for quite some time. No wonder Steward Chen interrupted him. Yet he had just sensed a breakthrough, as if he’d grasped something, but with the interruption, the idea vanished as quickly as it had come.

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