I didn't sleep. My eyes felt like they were full of sand, and my brain was buzzing with a nervous energy that I couldn't shut off. I sat at my small wooden table, staring at a cup of tea that had gone cold hours ago. Outside, the world was waking up. I could hear the familiar sounds of the village—the splash of water, the distant bleat of a goat, and that constant, heavy thumping of the water wheel. It was a comforting noise, but today it felt like a ticking clock.
Feng hadn't lied. The scouts were just the beginning. The Governor wasn't the kind of man to let a bunch of peasants humiliate his soldiers. He was going to come back, and he was going to come back with enough men to turn this entire province into a graveyard.
I looked at my hands. They were stained black and red—soot and raw skin. I was a man of the twenty first century, a man who believed in structural integrity and building codes. But there are no building codes for a war. There is only what stands and what falls.
Lao walked in without knocking. He looked worse than I did. His armor was caked in dried mud, and he was leaning heavily on his spear. He looked at my cold tea and then at me.
They're coming, Lu, he said. Not twelve men this time. A full company. Maybe two hundred. They've got horses, archers, and heavy infantry. They'll be here by midday.
I felt a cold knot tighten in my stomach. Two hundred men. Against a village of farmers and one high pressure water hose. The math didn't add up.
We can't fight them on the bridge again, I said. They'll stay back and use the archers. They'll turn us into pin cushions before we can even get the pump running.
Then we leave, Lao said. We take the people into the hills. We burn the wheel so they can't have it, and we run.
I looked out the window at the wheel. The wooden buckets were catching the light of the morning sun. I had bled for that machine. I had spent every ounce of my modern knowledge to bring it to life.
No, I said. We don't run. We change the game.
I stood up and grabbed my charcoal. I needed a way to increase the pressure. The water wheel was strong, but it was limited by the flow of the river. If I wanted to hold off an army, I needed something more explosive. I needed steam.
I ran to the workshop. Han was already there, cleaning the valves of the pressure tank. She looked up as I burst in, her eyes sharp and focused.
We have a problem, I told her. Two hundred men. We need the steam boiler running now.
The boiler? She looked at the iron tank we had been working on. It's not ready, Lu. We haven't tested the seams. If we push it too hard, it'll turn into a bomb.
Then we make it a controlled bomb, I said.
I spent the next four hours in a fever of activity. I didn't feel the pain in my back or the hunger in my stomach. I was back in the zone. I was the lead architect on a project with a zero hour deadline.
We moved the iron pressure tank closer to the kiln. I had rigged up a system of copper pipes—salvaged from old temple decorations—to run the steam from the boiler into our main water tank. The idea was simple: heat the water until it turned to steam, trap that steam to build immense pressure, and then use that pressure to fire the water cannon with ten times the force of the water wheel alone.
But steam is a dangerous mistress. In 2025, we had pressure gauges, relief valves, and computerized shutoffs. Here, I had a spring made of hammered iron and a prayer.
Li Chen! Lao yelled from outside. I can see their banners! They're at the ridge!
I ignored him. I was focused on the safety valve. It was a simple weighted lever that sat over a hole in the top of the boiler. If the pressure got too high, it was supposed to lift the lever and let the steam escape before the iron tank exploded.
Han, more wood! I shouted. I need the fire at maximum!
She shoveled charcoal into the furnace under the boiler. The heat was becoming unbearable. The workshop felt like an oven. I could hear the water inside the tank beginning to groan and hiss. It was the sound of a trapped giant trying to get out.
I walked to the window. On the road, I could see them. A long line of red and black. The Governor's men. They were moving in a disciplined formation, their spear tips glinting in the sun. At the front was a man on a white horse, wearing gilded armor. He looked like he was going to a parade, not a battle.
They stopped a hundred yards from the bridge. The man on the white horse stepped forward.
Prince Lu! he shouted. His voice was loud and clear. I am General Sheng! By order of the Governor, you are to surrender this village and all its machines! You have five minutes to open the gates, or we will take them by fire!
I didn't answer. I was watching the safety valve. The iron lever was starting to jiggle. A tiny wisp of white steam escaped from the edges.
It's ready, I whispered.
Lu, Lao said, stepping into the workshop. He looked at the vibrating boiler. That thing looks like it's going to melt.
Get the nozzle, Lao. And tell the men to stay behind the brick walls.
We dragged the leather hose out to our defensive position. This time, we didn't hide. I wanted them to see us. I wanted them to see the madman in the soot stained tunic.
General Sheng looked at us and laughed. You intend to fight an army with a garden hose, Prince? Your exile has truly rotted your mind.
Archers! Sheng commanded.
The front line of soldiers stepped forward, pulling their bows. I felt a cold sweat run down my spine. This was the moment. If the boiler held, we had a chance. If it blew, we were dead anyway.
I grabbed the main valve handle. It was hot, even through my leather gloves.
I'm sorry, I muttered to the village, to Lao, and to myself.
I yanked the valve open.
The sound was not like the roar of the river. It was a high pitched, piercing scream. The steam rushed through the pipes, hitting the water tank with the force of a thunderbolt. The water cannon didn't just spray; it exploded.
A jet of boiling water and steam blasted out of the nozzle. It was a terrifying, jagged pillar of white death. It hit the front line of archers before they could even release their strings. The force didn't just knock them down; it sent them flying backward into their own ranks.
The heat was so intense that the air turned into a thick fog. I couldn't see the soldiers anymore, but I could hear them. The screams were unlike anything I had ever heard. It was the sound of men being cooked in their own armor.
Sheng's white horse panicked, throwing the General into the mud. The formation broke instantly. These were professional soldiers, but they weren't prepared for this. They were prepared for swords and spears. They weren't prepared for a twenty first century engineer using the power of a thousand years of progress.
Keep it steady! Lao yelled, his hands gripping the hose behind me.
The recoil was monstrous. It felt like I was holding onto the tail of a flying dragon. The leather hose was vibrating so hard I thought my teeth would fall out. I swept the jet back and forth, creating a wall of scalding mist that made it impossible for the archers to aim.
But then, I heard a sound that made my blood turn to ice.
A loud, metallic ping.
I looked back at the workshop. The boiler was glowing a dull red. The safety valve was dancing violently, but it wasn't enough. The pressure was building faster than the vent could handle. The iron seams were starting to bulge.
Han! Get out of there! I screamed.
She didn't move. She was standing by the furnace, her face determined. She grabbed a long iron rod and jammed it into the fire, trying to rake out the coals to lower the heat.
The tank groaned. It was a deep, structural sound that I knew all too well. It was the sound of a building about to collapse. It was the sound of a bridge failing under a load it wasn't built for.
I had to make a choice. If I kept the valve open, the boiler would explode and kill us all. If I closed it, the soldiers would regroup and slaughter the village.
I looked at the road. The Governor's men were in a full retreat, fleeing into the trees to escape the scalding fog. They were broken. For now.
I slammed the valve shut.
The recoil vanished, but the pressure in the boiler reached a breaking point.
Lao, get down!
I tackled him into the mud just as the workshop disappeared in a blinding flash of white light and a roar that shook the earth. The ground jumped under me. I felt a wave of heat wash over my back, followed by the sound of splintering wood and falling brick.
Then, silence.
I lay in the mud for a long time, my ears ringing so loudly I couldn't hear my own breathing. I eventually rolled over and looked back.
The workshop was gone. The boiler had disintegrated, taking the roof and two walls with it. A thick cloud of steam and smoke hung over the wreckage.
Han, I whispered.
I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the pain in my knees. I ran toward the ruins, tripping over pieces of twisted iron and charred wood.
Han!
I saw her. She was lying near the edge of the foundation, covered in gray ash. I fell to my knees beside her, my heart stopping. I reached out and touched her shoulder.
She coughed. A ragged, wet sound. She opened her eyes and looked at me. Her hair was singed, and there was a deep cut on her forehead, but she was alive.
The valve... she whispered. It was too small.
I started to laugh, a broken, hysterical sound that turned into a sob. You're worried about the valve? The whole building blew up!
She managed a weak smile. I told you... the math was wrong.
I helped her up, her weight leaning heavily on me. Lao joined us, looking at the destruction with a face full of disbelief. He looked at the road, where the last of the Governor's men were disappearing over the ridge.
They won't be back today, Lao said. But Lu... look at the village.
I looked. The people were standing in the street, staring at the ruins of the workshop. They weren't cheering. They were terrified. The explosion had been louder than any thunder they had ever heard. To them, I hadn't just used the river. I had brought the sun down to earth and let it eat my own house.
The elder walked toward us. He didn't look angry. He just looked defeated.
Is this what you wanted, Prince? he asked, gesturing to the smoke. To save us by destroying us?
I looked at the ruins. I looked at my blackened hands. I didn't have an answer. In my old life, a project failure was a lawsuit or a lost job. Here, a project failure was a crater in the ground and the smell of burnt hair.
We are safe, I said, but my voice felt hollow.
The elder shook his head. No. We are not safe. We are just different. You have brought a monster into this valley, Lu. And now that it's here, it's never going to leave.
He turned and walked away, the rest of the villagers following him.
Lao looked at me. What do we do now?
I looked at the twisted iron of the boiler. It was a wreck, but the iron was still there. The knowledge was still there. I had learned more in that explosion than I had in a year of university. I knew why the seam failed. I knew the exact pressure the iron could handle.
We rebuild, I said.
But this time, we don't build a workshop. We build a factory.
I looked at Han. She was staring at the crater, her eyes narrowing as she analyzed the debris. She was already thinking about the next design. She was already fixing the math.
I felt a surge of something that wasn't quite hope, but it was close. I was an architect. And an architect doesn't stop when a building falls down. An architect figures out why it fell and builds it better.
I reached down and picked up a piece of the shattered boiler. It was cold now. I gripped it tight.
The Governor would be back. The Emperor would hear about this. The whole world would eventually come for the man who could make the earth scream.
Fine, I thought. Let them come.
I walked toward the river, the sound of the wheel still thumping in the distance. It was the only thing that hadn't broken. It was still working. It was still turning.
One boiler, I whispered. One boiler at a time.
I sat on my stump and watched the sun set over the ruined village. The sky was a bruised purple, and the smoke from the explosion was drifting toward the mountains. I was an exile, a failure, and a madman.
But I was also the only man in this world who knew how to build the future. And I wasn't going to stop until the whole world was made of iron and steam.
I closed my eyes and listened to the river. It sounded like music.