Chapter Thirty-Four: Standards of Hygiene

Feng Xiaobao had been missing for some time, and when he finally returned to his friends, he was met with a mountain of complaints.

The aftermath of his reckless behavior was evident. When he sparred with his close friends Cheng Boxi and Yang Chengxian, his skills had deteriorated markedly—his moves were unfamiliar, his strength lacking. He nearly ended up flat on the ground, barely managing to win, and was left panting on his back like a spent dog.

“Hahaha! So you finally have a taste of defeat!” Cheng Boxi laughed uproariously, only to wince in pain; Feng Xiaobao had landed a heavy punch on his cheek, leaving it bruised and swollen.

But he had his own satisfaction—his kick to Feng Xiaobao’s stomach, though the latter quickly rolled away and dissipated the force, had been powerful enough to almost make him vomit last night’s meal.

“Xiaobao, where were you off enjoying yourself?” Unexpectedly, Yang Chengxian, outwardly a sunny young man but inwardly a gossip, pressed him eagerly, eyes gleaming.

“I refuse to tell you, I refuse to tell!” Feng Xiaobao replied with smug delight, his lips curled proudly, as Yang Chengxian began to analyze:

“To dull your spear until it’s a mere embroidery needle—no ordinary woman could do that!”

“Look, your face has grown sharper…” Once round, it now tapered from nights of revelry—was it true? Feng Xiaobao frantically searched for a mirror.

“You must have spent a lot of energy; an average girl couldn’t handle your beastly strength. It has to be a mature woman.”

“There’s only one!” Yang Chengxian raised a single finger.

Cheng Boxi complained, “Why not two? Two hefty women could handle a wild beast like him—hey…” His voice grew louder, and his face throbbed.

Feng Xiaobao told Cheng Boxi, “You’ve got it wrong, you’ve got it wrong.”

“Xiaobao is single-minded and resolute; he wouldn’t go for two!” Yang Chengxian insisted. “Just one!”

“He’s picky—even Old Cheng’s beautiful sister isn’t enough, so this woman must be stunning and noble!”

“Besides, Xiaobao has some morals—he wouldn’t pursue a married woman. It must be a single noble lady, probably of royal blood, and not too old. There’s only one such woman!”

“Who?” Not just Cheng Boxi, but even Feng Xiaobao waited in curiosity.

“The Princess of a Thousand Golds,” Yang Chengxian said slowly. (Watching their incredulity, Yang Chengxian had no intention of revealing that the Commander of the Golden Guards had seen Feng Xiaobao and the princess together and talked about it with colleagues.)

“Wow, wow, wow…” Cheng Boxi’s mouth hung open in amazement, forgetting even the pain in his face.

Feng Xiaobao: "..." He was speechless.

After a while, he said, “In the future, you’ll be my chief strategist!”

“If I’m the strategist, what are you?” Yang Chengxian asked, knowing full well the role.

“I’m the marshal!”

“What about me?” Cheng Boxi chimed in.

“You’re my vanguard!”

“Great! Vanguard is best—I get all the good stuff first, all the beauties are mine, and Xiaobao gets the hefty ones!” Cheng Boxi rejoiced.

“Even the hefty ones are still women. What do you leave for me?” Yang Chengxian wondered just how generous his friends could be.

Both replied in unison, “We’ll leave you the toothless old women!”

“Bah!” Yang Chengxian retorted angrily, “I’ll just be the supply officer. I’ll eat meat, you two can munch on horse feed!”

Such banter about marshals, strategists, and vanguards often came up among the three. Yang Chengxian and Cheng Boxi never contested Xiaobao’s position; though all from official families, after learning Xiaobao’s abilities, they tacitly accepted him as their leader (mostly because he was used to beating them).

...

Regarding the two thousand strings of cash for his soap factory, Feng Xiaobao didn’t seek Yang Chengxian or Cheng Boxi’s help, nor did he approach Boss Huang. If he asked Boss Huang, he could easily get the money.

Instead, he went to Gao Balang of Xiushan Lane, who had previously expressed interest in investing. Gao Balang, a portly and wealthy tea merchant, owned several tea mountains producing fine leaves.

Boss Huang had the keen eye to invest in Xiaobao’s pharmacy at a favorable rate; Gao Balang had considered it but hadn’t acted before Boss Huang snatched the opportunity.

When Xiaobao requested a loan of two thousand strings for business, Gao Balang agreed without hesitation, lowering the interest by one-tenth.

The usual market rate was 1.2 percent; Xiaobao would pay 1.1 percent, repaying over three years—five hundred strings each for the first two years, and one thousand for the third.

Borrowing was easy, and the lender was happier—Xiaobao promised to order two hundred strings’ worth of tea seed oil in a month.

Tea seeds were pressed for oil, used in premium soap.

Two thousand strings was a substantial sum; even Xiaobao couldn’t carry it alone. He asked Gao Balang to deliver the coins to the Princess’s mansion, and Gao Balang’s eyes lit up like lanterns, grabbing Xiaobao: “Is two thousand enough? I’ll give you two thousand more!”

Once, people sought money; now, money sought people.

Xiaobao shook his head, refusing more, leaving Gao Balang slightly disgruntled.

Gao Balang told him to come anytime he needed more, and insisted on inviting him for dinner, which Xiaobao politely declined.

...

Word spread quickly. Boss Huang heard and was distinctly unhappy, interrogating Xiaobao about why he hadn’t come to him—they were so familiar, there was no need for restraint, and he’d even drop the interest by 0.2 percent!

Xiaobao replied, “It’s precisely because we’re too close, I felt awkward!”

“Huang Qilang, you’ve been too good to me. If I borrow again, I’ll have no way to repay you except to become your son-in-law!” Xiaobao joked.

“What’s wrong with becoming my son-in-law?” Boss Huang retorted.

“It’s good, only next lifetime, I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you fully!” Xiaobao replied with a forced smile.

Boss Huang snorted, “You live in a Daoist temple now, and don’t believe in reincarnation anyway!”

...

That night, Xiaobao returned to the Laojun Temple. Xuanqing greeted him with a smile: “Congratulations, Xiaobao!”

“What’s there to celebrate?” Xiaobao feigned ignorance.

“Your Red Luan star is stirring—an omen of joy in life. And your official fortune is trembling—you’re not an official yet, so it must mean you’ve come into a sum of money!”

Xiaobao was grateful that Xuanqing was his friend!

Otherwise, nothing would remain hidden—if he were an enemy, it would be troublesome. He’d have someone countering his every move.

...

Back in Luoyang, Xiaobao resumed his orderly routines: daily exercise, martial arts, horseback riding, weapons practice, overseeing the pharmacy, meeting friends, and occasionally visiting the Princess’s mansion.

Her residence stood by the Luo River in Shanglin Quarter—not extravagant, but tranquil. Humble among royals, she rarely wielded her connections with abandon, for her “good friend” was herself in a precarious position—her husband the Emperor was ailing, and civil and military officials watched her regency with suspicion, waiting for her to err. The Emperor’s persistent headaches and eye issues were dire; for a ruler, eyes read memorials and the mind makes decisions—when both fail, the government fell to the Empress. Yet, who would truly submit to a woman’s rule?

Thus, the Princess lived simply, often staying home. When Xiaobao visited, she was delighted.

Xiaobao was equally happy—except for the outer guards, he was the only male in the inner quarters. The princess’s wild side seemed absent from her residence, to Xiaobao’s relief.

...

Their soap business progressed steadily under Lady Ding Eleven’s supervision in Green Forest Manor, with constant experimentation to perfect the formula.

A pig farm was established, housing a thousand animals—a significant venture.

With the Princess’s prestige, three veteran pig keepers were recruited (likely purchased from other nobles), joining her Green Forest Manor as tenant farmers. They were given land, and after raising pigs for her, only owed a tenth of their income.

All affairs were handled by these professionals—good results were rewarded, poor ones punished.

Xiaobao accompanied the Princess to inspect the pig farm, and seeing the rows of tidy pigsties, he gestured like a future son of fortune, brimming with the confidence of a modern entrepreneur inspecting fish farms, shrimp ponds, aquaculture companies, and candy factories, instructing experts with gusto.

His chatter left the old pig keepers helpless—they knew Xiaobao couldn’t raise pigs, but had to listen anyway, inwardly cursing him as a “pretty boy,” “face merchant,” and “useless.”

Despite so many curses, Xiaobao showed no sign of sneezing—his luck was robust, beyond the reach of three old men.

“A feed plant must be built, carefully selecting feed for the pigs. Our pork will be top-quality; we can’t let them eat anything unclean. Use good feed—fresh greens, oil cakes, bean cakes, peanut cakes, distiller’s grains, animal bone meal, rice bran. They’ll grow fast and stay healthy.”

One pig keeper protested, “But we’ve always raised pigs this way—it saves…”

Xiaobao immediately retorted, “That was then, this is now!”

The Princess chimed in, “His words are mine!”

With that, the three old pig keepers fell silent.

Xiaobao pressed his advantage, turning to hygiene: “Keep strict boundaries—outsiders can’t enter the pig farm casually. When people like us visit, we must change clothes; deliveries must stop at the gate. When you return from outside, you must bathe and change before entering! Hygiene is essential—before handling pigs, always wash with soap. Wash the pig farm daily, keep both pigs and pens clean, and don’t discharge wastewater indiscriminately…”

Bathing! Washing hands!

Such luxury, the old pig keepers glanced at each other in disbelief.

The Princess spoke up again, “Yes, use the soap we produce. For all my enterprises…” She paused, then corrected herself, “Our enterprises…”

She instructed Lady Ding Eleven, “All our enterprises must follow the same hygiene standards. Draft regulations—strict boundaries, daily cleaning and disinfection.”

Lady Ding Eleven replied coolly, “Yes.”

Soon after, she submitted the “Pig Farm Hygiene Standards,” which Xiaobao revised and implemented. Daily cleaning of the surroundings, the pig farm, washing feeding tools, personal hygiene, feed and water cleanliness, disinfection—these became routine.

The standards she drafted became the hygiene benchmark for the Princess’s businesses, and were later promoted throughout society. Handwashing before meals and after using the restroom became a basic requirement, and many industries adopted the “Hygiene Standards” as fashionable practice.

As the initiator, the Princess was immortalized as the “Mother of Hygiene” in history, while Lady Ding Eleven, the true creator, faded into obscurity.

Lady Ding Eleven’s abilities were formidable; she simply heard Xiaobao’s hints and streamlined the operations of the Princess’s businesses. For example, distiller’s grains from the brewery fed the pigs, pig manure was put into biogas tanks, the resulting biogas heated soap, and the leftover slurry fertilized crops and flowers—lowering costs.

“Biogas!”

When Xiaobao introduced this concept, everyone was astounded.

“It’s something I saw in the countryside…” As Xiaobao explained, everyone wanted to know which village.

“They ferment manure in sealed pits, which produces biogas that can be ignited. The residual slurry is excellent fertilizer!” That was Xiaobao’s casual explanation. He never needed to do it himself; his subordinates handled everything, while he claimed all credit, proudly bearing the title of “inventor of biogas.”

How blissful it was to be a wicked slave master!