My Emperor Father Can Read Minds
Chapter 24

Because he needed Assistant Liu to help write things down, once the carriage entered the inner city, it headed straight for Liu’s residence.

Originally, Wei Yu had planned to simply find a bookstore after entering the city—somewhere they could copy texts—and borrow a spot to write.

But Assistant Liu wouldn’t hear of it.

He said that such important technical knowledge couldn’t be jotted down just anywhere. Too many people around meant prying eyes and the risk of leaking it. It had to be somewhere quiet and private!

He said it so righteously and with such good intentions that Wei Yu had no way to argue, and could only agree to go to Liu’s study to write.

The Liu residence wasn’t very big—just a modest courtyard with three entrances and exits. There were only about a dozen servants in the whole household, and the furnishings were extremely simple.

Some of the roof tiles even looked like they might fall off at any moment.

Was he a clean-handed official?

Wei Yu didn’t dare jump to conclusions. If only he had a cheat code like his dad’s mind-reading ability, that’d be great.

The sudden arrival of the Ninth Prince caused a stir throughout the Liu household. Assistant Liu’s wife even sent someone to ask her husband whether His Highness would be staying for dinner.

Wei Yu was right there when the question came, and he declined directly.

“I appreciate Madam’s kindness, but I’m currently preoccupied with the matter of the colorless glass. If we don’t produce it soon to show the envoy from Xiqi, they might return home thinking our Great Wei Emperor makes empty boasts—that would damage our nation’s prestige.”

Assistant Liu nodded in agreement. “What Your Highness says is reasonable. I shall begin writing right away—please share the method.”

As for how glass was made—

Wei Yu just had to search it up on his tablet.

There were plenty of results!

The only trouble was sorting through all the entries to find the most suitable method, then summarizing it in modern-day vocabulary people could understand, so it could be written down.

Wei Yu and Assistant Liu ended up spending more than an hour in the study.

Roughly three hours—Wei Yu, who only had to read aloud, had it relatively easy and could rest now and then, but Assistant Liu was truly exhausted.

He wrote non-stop for more than sixty pages. Stacked together, they were nearly a thumb’s height—without pressing them down.

When he finally set his brush down, Assistant Liu, enduring the soreness in his arm, picked up a cup of tea and took a sip, then looked at Wei Yu with sparkling eyes and said with a smile, “Your Highness, this method is very detailed. Even someone like me, who doesn’t know the first thing about kilns, feels like I could give it a go! I imagine the kiln workers will surely be able to produce this colorless—no, this glass!”

“Glass” was a word Wei Yu had deliberately switched to while reading. “Colorless glazed ware” sounded way too old-fashioned. “Glass” rolled off the tongue better—and saved space on paper!

“This will still require effort from the craftsmen. I don’t know if it’ll work.”

Wei Yu smiled and put down the half-eaten pastry. “Assistant Liu, it’s getting late. Let’s head to the kiln factory now. I still need to report back to Royal Father later.”

Of course, “reporting back” was not going to happen. Not until the glass was successfully made—he had no intention of running to his dad just to be nagged.

Wei Yu was mainly just tired. Like, really tired.

He just wanted to go home, lie down, and laze around like a salted fish.

—

Wei Yu didn’t do much at the kiln factory—just showed his face, met with a few kiln masters, and explained that the “colorless glazed ware” was in fact “glass.”

After asking who among them could read, he handed over the glass-making guide written by Assistant Liu. He reminded them to try their best to complete the task within seven days—then left.

Was it a bit demanding?

Even Wei Yu felt like he was acting like a capitalist.

But he wasn’t one of those old-school, stingy bosses who demanded free overtime and made everyone hate them.

He was offering rewards!

Before he left, he made sure to tell all the kiln workers:

“His Majesty is strict in both rewards and punishments. Whoever can be the first to create the item His Majesty desires will receive a reward of 1,000 taels of silver, five bolts of silk, and three dan of rice…”

If you want the horse to run, you have to feed it grass.

Never tell a starving man that wealth and rank mean nothing to you; don’t lecture someone living in poverty that virtue is more important than survival; don’t just show respect to the talented while being stingy with rewards; and before criticizing someone’s lack of moral integrity, ask yourself—are they starving?

In this world, true sages who want nothing at all are extremely rare. Most people care about what directly affects their own lives.

Didn’t you see the way those craftsmen lit up with excitement when Wei Yu said all that and turned to leave?

They usually worked diligently at the kiln, yet only earned around three hundred copper coins a month. Now that there was finally a chance to receive extra rewards—especially from His Majesty himself—how could they not be excited and thrilled?!

Some rewards, when announced in advance and dangled before people, are much better at motivating their potential and drive.

As for how the old man, who had never said such a thing, would react upon hearing the news—well, Wei Yu could only say, “We’ll discuss it later.”

Paying people to get things done was only proper, especially when this glass matter concerned his father’s and even Great Wei’s honor. The old man couldn’t possibly be that stingy.

At most, his dad would scold him for making decisions on his own, right?

So…

He still had to go see the old man and plead guilty!

Wei Yu deflated.

Not even candied hawthorn could save his grief-stricken expression.

Wei Yu had left the palace in the morning and returned a little after four in the afternoon.

At that hour, not only had the Imperial Study likely already ended its lessons, even the officials were off duty.

When Wei Yu went to the Hall of Mental Cultivation to find his dad, he didn’t expect to run into anyone—yet halfway there, he bumped into his Eldest Brother.

As soon as they met, Wei Yu greeted him first.

“Greetings, Eldest Brother.”

The Eldest Prince gave him a gentle smile and reached out in a gesture of courtesy. “No need to be so formal, Ninth Brother. Are you also here to see Royal Father?”

“I am.”

Wei Yu looked up at his brother, who was around 1.9 meters tall, and smiled with an air of innocent honesty.

But truthfully, Wei Yu sincerely felt that this refined and elegant smile didn’t suit his Eldest Brother at all.

After all, the Eldest Prince had a strong, athletic build and an imposing presence. Just by looking at him, one could tell he was born to be a general.

But their father had shoved the Eldest Prince into the Ministry of Revenue for three or four years, and had managed to grind this natural warrior into someone who even mimicked the manners of civil officials on the surface!

Wasn’t that a waste of talent?

The Eldest Prince nodded. “Perfect timing—let’s go together. It’s rare to see you come to the Hall of Mental Cultivation looking for Royal Father.”

Wei Yu gave a sheepish smile, playing the part of a shy little brother and not answering directly.

What could he say?

Tell him he’d actually been busy working on the glass project today?

Tch.

Wouldn’t that be incredibly foolish?

Once glass was made and this new product appeared, the potential profits would be enormous. If his Eldest Brother caught wind of it and made moves before their father said anything, wouldn’t that turn into another father-son battle over interests?

He wasn’t about to send his own brother into the grave.

If their dad made the call himself, that’d be one thing.

So the brothers chatted idly and walked side by side toward the Hall of Mental Cultivation, neither fast nor slow.