The mineral-water bottle cap was nothing special in the human world—two and a half centimeters across, barely one centimeter deep.
But once it crossed into the miniature realm, it became something else entirely.
A vast pool.
Seven feet across. Half a zhang deep.
And what filled it was not water.
It was rapeseed oil.
Golden. Thick. Glossy. Carrying that unmistakable fragrance only modern refining could produce—the kind that clung to the nose and refused to let go.
The villagers sniffed once.
Then again.
Their noses twitched in perfect unison.
"Rapeseed oil…"
"The finest rapeseed oil!"
"Oh heavens—an entire pool of it!"
"In my whole life, I've only ever seen oil in tiny bottles!"
Three years ago—before the drought—families could still plant a little rapeseed. Come New Year's, they might manage a single spoonful of oil, just enough to fry something properly and pretend life wasn't miserable.
Then the drought arrived.
Grain withered. Vegetables vanished. Rapeseed didn't even get the dignity of dying—it simply never sprouted.
Oil became something you remembered, not something you owned.
And now?
Now there was so much of it that, if one were reckless enough, one could bathe in it.
Excitement detonated on the spot.
Gao Xiaowu—so named because no one remembered his real name—blurted out without thinking:
"A-are we really going to use all this… just to light lamps? I—I can't bear it. Let's eat it! All of it!"
Whack.
The village chief knocked him squarely on the head.
"Eat, eat, eat! Is that all your brain can do? Didn't you see the rebel band pass outside last night? Under the protection of Dao Xuan Tianzun, we're no longer starving—but what we need now is defense, not deep-fried dreams!"
Gao Yiye stepped forward, ceremonial robes swaying, her voice calm but absolute.
"Tianzun has spoken."
The square fell silent instantly.
"Half of this oil is for eating. The other half will be made into lanterns for the night watch. If thieves approach, the sentry rings the alarm bell. Everyone arms themselves and guards the gate."
"Understood!" the villagers shouted in unison.
She continued, eyes sweeping the crowd.
"Tianzun further commands that San Shier shall distribute and allocate the oil. The rest of you—return to work. The city gate still needs reinforcing. Armor must be finished. Li Da's muskets require every ounce of strength we have. There is still much to do."
The villagers were startled.
Oil had always been divided evenly. Never entrusted to one person.
Why give it all to San Shier?
But curiosity was not rebellion.
This was Tianzun's decree.
They bowed and dispersed without a word.
San Shier's Ambition
San Shier's heart nearly exploded.
Tianzun noticed me.
Not only noticed—entrusted.
Small matters today. Bigger ones tomorrow.
And one glorious day, he would stand as Dao Xuan Tianzun's right-hand man.
Infinitely better than being a nameless clerk in the county yamen, bowing to fools and copying paperwork until death.
A booming voice rolled down from the heavens.
"San Shier."
He snapped upright. "Your servant obeys!"
Li Daoxuan asked calmly, "Do you know why I left the oil to you?"
San Shier bowed deeply.
"I do. Gaojia Village is like loose sand in a bowl—each household thinking only of itself. Many cannot read, most cannot count. If oil were shared out for lanterns, chaos would follow in three days. Some would steal lamp oil for themselves."
Li Daoxuan smiled.
"Good. You understand."
Then, with mild amusement, he added, "And what's this? You're not ending every sentence with an idiom anymore."
San Shier flushed.
"Your servant used idioms to pretend he was learned. But before Tianzun, my 'knowledge' is a candle before the sun and moon. Better not embarrass myself."
Li Daoxuan waved it off.
"Enough. Tell me—what does Gaojia Village lack most?"
"People," San Shier answered instantly. "Manpower."
"Correct."
Li Daoxuan lowered a mound of flour before him—enough dough to feed an entire clan.
"Use this to bring in people."
San Shier's eyes shone.
"In a drought year, flour is more precious than gold. I will—cough—persuade… cough… recruit many people!"
Li Daoxuan raised an eyebrow.
"Explain."
San Shier laid it out without hesitation.
"The nearby villages—Wangjia, Zhongjia, Zhengjia—many were dragged away by Wang Er's rebels. But not all. Some refused to become thieves. Those people are starving and terrified. If we offer food and safety, they will come."
Li Daoxuan's lips curled slightly.
This one really is useful.
He'd read before that the county clerk—the magistrate's aide—was often the one who actually made things work. Magistrates decided; clerks executed.
San Shier was exactly that sort.
"Very good," Li Daoxuan said. "I leave it to you."
The clouds drifted.
Gao Yiye announced solemnly, "Dao Xuan Tianzun has returned to the Immortal Realm."
After Tianzun Leaves
San Shier exploded.
"Ha! I, San Shier, am Tianzun's right-hand man today! Wahahaha!"
He'd held that laugh in for so long that once the divine presence vanished, it burst out uncontrollably—hands on hips, head thrown back, unfiltered triumph.
Gao Yiye relaxed at last, letting out a long breath.
"Wearing this heavy outfit and acting dignified all morning… I'm exhausted."
The Third Lady looked at her with open envy.
"To think you find a sacred duty tiring. I'd trade places with you in a heartbeat."
"I don't mind the work," Gao Yiye said quickly. "I just need time to get used to it."
The Third Lady straightened, voice earnest.
"Miss Yiye, you are the Saintess of Dao Xuan Tianzun. You relay his will. The more dignified you appear, the more people will respect Tianzun. Never forget that."
Gao Yiye straightened her back at once.
"I understand."
Then the Third Lady turned sharply toward San Shier.
"You rascal. The villagers are ignorant—they've done nothing for Tianzun for so long. Shouldn't our family contribute something? Shouldn't we build a small temple? A golden statue for the Heavenly Lord?"
San Shier didn't hesitate for even half a breath.
"Build it! Even if we have to smash pots and sell iron—we must build it!"
Then his voice faltered.
"Though… in Gaojia Village… even if we want to spend money…"
"…we don't actually have much to spend."
The silence that followed was deeply, painfully realistic.