[Yao Capital · Inside the Workshop]
The workshop echoed with the clatter of machinery.
Yao-crystal light flowed through the space as steel plates and wooden frames lay interwoven in organized chaos.
Lin Lie was crouched beside a newly modified Yao Carriage, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow as he adjusted a copper conduit with practiced precision.
Si Chengxun stood with his hands clasped behind his back, interest gleaming in his eyes.
"In just a few months, these Yao Carriages have spread throughout the city," he said quietly.
"Some carry cargo, some carry passengers—even market grannies are willing to pay for a ride. But unfortunately…"
He paused, his expression turning grave.
"The streets lack regulation. Collisions and disputes occur daily. Just yesterday, someone was injured badly enough to bring the matter before the magistrate."
Lin Lie straightened, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
"Xingyu once told me that in her world, streets use a system called traffic lights—light colors to govern movement.
Red means stop. Green means go. There are also dedicated paths for pedestrians.
"If we implement such a system in Yao Capital, it may reduce conflict."
Si Chengxun raised an eyebrow.
"Light as command?"
Lin Lie nodded, his tone steady.
"Yao crystals naturally emit red, green, and yellow light.
We can install crystal lamps atop tall poles at intersections, link them to simple arrays, and have them cycle automatically.
"With magistrate guidance at first, people and vehicles will learn their respective paths. Over time, it will become law by habit."
Si Chengxun's eyes lit up. He laughed softly.
"Brilliant. Truly the thinking of a new age. If this succeeds, the Yao Carriage won't be a danger—but an asset.
"Lin Lie, shall we test this together?"
Lin Lie curved his lips faintly, eyes focused.
"That's exactly what I was hoping for."
The two exchanged smiles and bent over the blueprints, sketching an entirely new vision of urban order.
Candlelight swayed, shadows overlapping—a rough silhouette of Yao Realm's future.
[Outside the Workshop · Morning]
Morning light spilled across the street, still cool with dew.
A group of apprentices had gathered outside the workshop, whispering excitedly.
"Look! Miss Ding is testing her new invention again!"
"Didn't she blow up half a courtyard last time? What is it now?"
At the street corner, a young woman stood atop a massive single-wheel device, each foot planted on side pedals.
As she pushed off, the Yao crystal embedded at the wheel's core glowed softly, and the wheel hummed as it glided over the stone road.
"Make way—!"
Her ponytail flew behind her, eyes sparkling with exhilaration, utterly immersed in her creation.
The apprentices scrambled aside, coughing as dust kicked up.
Just as she prepared to turn triumphantly, a figure stepped into her path—
Lin Lie emerged from the workshop, blueprints in hand. He looked up, brows snapping together.
"Stop!"
Too late.
Ding Yuxuan's eyes widened. She stomped frantically on the pedals, but the wheel slammed into the stone steps with a loud clang. She flipped forward, tumbling twice with her invention clutched to her chest before landing in a heap.
A chorus of gasps erupted.
Lin Lie walked over, calmly retrieving the nearly crushed blueprints.
He spoke coldly.
"Is this thing meant for research—or for making a spectacle of yourself?"
Ding Yuxuan rubbed her knee, chin lifting defiantly before she even brushed off the dust.
"This is my improved Yao Wheel! It's efficient, saves labor, and will replace pack animals someday! A joke? The joke is how narrow your vision is!"
Their eyes locked—sparks crackling in the air.
Lin Lie remained composed, though a restrained irritation flickered beneath his calm.
Ding Yuxuan, meanwhile, looked ready to charge headfirst into battle.
The overturned wheel left clear marks on the stone steps.
Her cheeks flushed red as she lifted her chin, eyes blazing.
"My design is fast and efficient! One day the streets will be full of my Yao Wheels!"
Lin Lie glanced at her coolly.
"Fast, yes. But have you considered stability? If the crystal output fluctuates, this will lose balance. At best, someone falls. At worst, someone dies."
"No, it won't!" she shot back instantly.
"I tested it plenty of times! It's just because the road was uneven—"
"Uneven roads are exactly why stability matters. Your pedals sit too far outward. The center of gravity is offset—imbalance is inevitable."
His voice was calm, but every word struck true.
"And steering. How do you plan to maneuver a wheel this large through crowds?"
She hesitated—then gritted her teeth.
"That's because it's not finished yet! Add auxiliary handles, or use smaller crystals to control direction and—"
"You can. But that doubles consumption. Do you know what that means?"
Lin Lie unfolded the blueprint in his arms, lines precise and clean.
"Yao crystals are not limitless. Your design costs more than it yields. It will never be viable."
The apprentices stared, stunned into silence.
Ding Yuxuan's face burned red. She planted her hands on her hips.
"You—cold-hearted calculator! You only know numbers, not the future!"
She lifted her chin, voice sharp and unyielding.
"If no one dares to try, how does anything improve?
If everyone feared failure, the Yao Carriage wouldn't even exist!"
A collective gasp rippled through the apprentices.
Lin Lie's brows lifted slightly. A faint, unreadable curve touched his lips.
He spoke slowly.
"…The one who built the Yao Carriage is exactly the person you call afraid of failure."
Ding Yuxuan froze.
"…What?"
Whispers broke out.
"Oh no… she doesn't know Lin Lie is the creator…"
"This just got interesting…"
Lin Lie rolled up his blueprints, movements precise and unhurried—final.
"So before criticizing, you should first understand who it is you just crashed into."
Silence fell like a dropped blade.
As Lin Lie turned to leave, Ding Yuxuan stared at him, realization dawning.
"You… you're—"
Her eyes lit up, suddenly blazing with starlight.
"Lin Lie—the creator of the Yao Carriage?!"
He paused, lifting his gaze.
In the next instant, she bounced in front of him, words tumbling out in a rapid-fire stream.
"I've studied the Yao Carriage so many times! But why do you weave the energy conduits in triple layers? Wouldn't a single layer save materials? And the braking valve—why an angled latch instead of a flat one? And how did you calculate the energy ratio? And the frame—so light but so stable—how did you—?!"
The apprentices were dumbstruck, some snickering quietly.
Lin Lie stared at her, expression still cool—but something stirred faintly within.
…This is exactly how I was.
Once, he had chased his grandfather with endless questions, eyes blazing with curiosity.
Then his grandfather was taken—leaving only old notebooks and lonely nights filled with unanswered problems.
Now, this girl burned like a small fireball, relentless and bright.
His gaze dimmed briefly before he replied flatly,
"…That mouth is even louder than Sang Qi's."
She blinked.
"Sang Qi? Who's that?"
But the question vanished instantly as she grabbed his sleeve, excitement surging again.
"Never mind! You heard me, right? My design already addresses the center of gravity issue, doesn't it? And the energy conduit—if we just—"
Another barrage followed.
Lin Lie looked down at her shining eyes. The chill in his expression softened, imperceptibly.
"…You're really noisy."
Yet somewhere inside, a familiar feeling surfaced.
She was like his younger self.
And also—annoyingly—like Sang Qi, who never knew when to stop talking.
Ding Yuxuan kept gesturing wildly, explaining her ideas without pause.
"But no matter how I calculate it, triple-layer conduits still seem excessive! Single-layer is lighter and cheaper!"
That stopped him.
Lin Lie looked at her again—this time with a flicker of approval.
He answered quietly.
"Single-layer conduits resonate. At high speeds, vibration exceeds three pulses—the entire frame collapses."
Her eyes widened—then burned brighter.
"Oh! So that's it! But what if the outer layer were spiral-grooved? Wouldn't that disperse vibration?"
Lin Lie fell silent.
After a long moment, he said slowly,
"…You really do have a sharp mind."
Her face lit up so brightly she nearly lunged at him.
"Then you have to teach me! Master Lin Lie!"
His ears warmed almost imperceptibly.
"…Don't call me that," he muttered, turning away.
Yet for the first time in a long while, a thought surfaced—
Finally, someone stood across from him not to agree blindly,
but to argue on equal ground.