"I understand now. I understand everything!"
One of the graduate students practically jumped into the air.
"I feel like I could build this immediately!"
"Then what are we waiting for?" another shouted. "Let's try it!"
The research building instantly turned into a battlefield of enthusiasm.
Blacksmiths were summoned. The massive copper windings from the gigantic motor bestowed by Dao Xuan Tianzun were carefully removed. Under careful instruction, they were drawn out and reforged into thinner, more uniform copper filaments.
Magnets were collected.
Tables were cleared.
Graduate students rolled up their sleeves and began winding coils by hand.
It was exhausting work.
Each coil had to be tight, evenly spaced, layered carefully. One mistake meant starting all over again. A single uneven turn could ruin balance. A slight inconsistency could destabilize rotation.
But no one complained.
They were not producing thousands. They only needed one functioning prototype.
After hours of painstaking labor, a hand wound coil roughly the size of a dog's head lay before them. It was not elegant. It was not perfectly symmetrical. But it was theirs.
Magnets were mounted according to the design principles they had just dissected.
Wires were attached.
Someone swallowed nervously.
The switch was flipped.
"Vwoom."
The motor began to spin.
Not fast.
Not smoothly.
It wobbled slightly, its axis trembling from imperfect craftsmanship. After a few rotations it even swayed unevenly, threatening to veer off.
But it was undeniably rotating.
For a heartbeat, no one spoke.
Then the entire room erupted.
"It works!"
"It's moving!"
"It's truly moving!"
Some of them were so excited they nearly hugged the blacksmiths.
Immediately, analytical minds shifted into improvement mode.
"We need more uniform copper wire."
"The coil winding must be tighter."
"The bearings must be refined."
"If we improve friction reduction, rotational speed will increase."
The motor was no longer mysterious.
It was now a problem to be optimized.
—
Meanwhile, far from the research building, in the Warm and Sleepy Textile Factory, Hou Lan was weaving wool yarn.
Her hands moved skillfully, rhythm steady and precise.
Not far from her, several women were whispering.
"Look at her. Hou Lan."
"I see. What about her?"
A middle aged worker leaned closer and lowered her voice. "A few years ago she married a graduate student from Thirty Two Middle School."
"Yes, I know. That sounds respectable. Educated husband."
The middle aged woman snorted softly. "Educated? His family is ordinary. No wealth. And he does not even have proper employment. He spends all day in a laboratory tinkering with strange devices, living off a small graduate stipend. Their entire household depends on Hou Lan's wages."
Several women gasped.
"So she married a man who cannot even support her?"
"Keep your voice down."
"Why? Someone should advise her. If a man cannot provide, how reliable can he be? She is still young. Still beautiful. No children yet. She should divorce him while she can and marry into a better household."
The whispers drifted.
Hou Lan heard them.
She had heard them before.
More than once, women had approached her directly. One auntie had even offered to introduce her to a "more promising" husband.
Utter absurdity.
Hou Lan lifted her head and smiled gently at them.
"Do not underestimate my husband," she said calmly. "He is intelligent. He is educated. One day he will invent something truly useful."
The women exchanged skeptical looks.
They shook their heads.
Hou Lan did not argue further.
When her shift ended, she returned home.
The house was quiet. The kitchen cold. No meal prepared.
She tied on her apron and began preparing dinner, lighting the stove, washing rice, cutting vegetables.
Halfway through cooking, her husband burst through the door.
His face was glowing.
"Xiao Lan," he said breathlessly, "in a few days, you may not need to work anymore."
Hou Lan blinked. "How can I not work? You are still a graduate student. You have not graduated. You have no salary. If I do not work, how will we eat?"
Her husband's expression softened.
"Xiao Lan, for years this household has survived because of you. Every coin we have came from your wages. I, as your husband, have contributed nothing."
Her cheeks flushed slightly.
"This is our home," she replied quietly. "Not yours alone."
He exhaled deeply. "I know people speak ill of me. I know you hear it. I know it burdens you. But it will not be long now. My invention is nearly complete. Once it is released, I will earn money. I will make you live comfortably."
Hou Lan laughed softly. "You are always dreaming."
Without responding, he rushed to his desk, grabbed paper and brush, and began sketching.
A compact motor.
Encased neatly.
A wire extending outward.
At the end of the wire, a plug designed to connect to Gao Family Village's power grid.
From the front shaft extended a rod.
Mounted upon it were spiral blades, inspired by the propellers of the Celestial Ship granted by Dao Xuan Tianzun.
He refined the angle.
Adjusted the curvature.
Enhanced airflow direction.
Finally, he leaned back.
With decisive strokes he wrote a name at the top.
Electric Fan.
He burst into laughter.
Hou Lan gently placed a bowl of rice beside him.
"The thing that will make us wealthy," she asked softly, "is this?"
He grinned. "Yes. Ji Menghan became wealthy by inventing the electric lamp. Next it will be us. Once the motor is finalized, I will present this design immediately."
Hou Lan tilted her head thoughtfully. "Ji Menghan's father funded his factory. We do not have such resources. Even if your invention succeeds, we can only sell the design."
Her husband shook his head vigorously. "Dao Xuan Tianzun encourages innovation. Even civilian inventions receive rewards. Once I receive support, we will build our own electric fan factory."
Hou Lan's smile grew sweeter.
"Then I will be the factory manager's wife?"
"Exactly," he said proudly.
—
Several days later.
At the official laboratory of Gao Family Village, under the leadership of Song Yingxing and a large group of graduate students, the First Generation Motor officially entered mass production.
It connected directly to the village power grid.
It rotated steadily.
It delivered reliable mechanical power.
But to ordinary villagers, it was merely a machine.
Useful, but abstract.
That very evening, Mo Li unveiled his application.
The electric fan.
Using the First Generation Motor as its core, mounted with carefully angled spiral blades, it generated cool flowing air when plugged into the grid.
It was not a complex device.
Yet it was the first civilian application of the motor.
When powered on, a steady breeze flowed through the demonstration hall.
On a warm evening, that breeze felt like a blessing.
Dao Xuan Tianzun personally praised the invention.
Innovation of theory.
Innovation of application.
Both were worthy.
Mo Li and Hou Lan received a Special Award for Applied Scientific Invention.
A large Silver Ball was granted to them as recognition.
Shortly thereafter, construction began on the Gao Family Village Electric Fan Factory.
On the day Hou Lan formally resigned from the textile factory to become the Electric Fan Factory's manager's wife and head of finance, the same co workers who had once whispered behind her back stood frozen.
Speechless.
The woman who had "married a useless husband" now walked past them calmly, posture straight, expression serene.
Not triumphant.
Not resentful.
Simply certain.
The breeze from the future had already begun to blow.