Rebirth: Not Being a Waste - Chapter 11

It takes three and a half days to weed the yard. Since Steward Mo realizes the courtyard is far too large and that seven people alone might take forever, he hires three more workers from the street the next day.

Now with ten people, the work speeds up. What is originally estimated to take five days is completed ahead of schedule.

Once the yard is cleared, a vast expanse of freshly turned dark soil gives off a faint earthy fragrance. Not a single weed remains—each one is painstakingly removed by hand.

“Damn, with soil this good, what can’t you grow here? Why waste it on flowers? You can’t eat them, and you can’t play with them. Rich people really have some weird ideas,” Yu Xiaoliu grumbles, lounging on the bunk bed, never ceasing his chatter.

“You brat, keep quiet. Learn from Zhang Shu—work more, talk less! Do you think you can just run your mouth about rich folks?” Laiwang gives him a smack on the head, though he doesn’t entirely understand it himself.

Zhang Shu merely smiles, choosing not to comment. Over the past few days, everyone has treated him well, and no one has mocked him.

In truth, the others are a little surprised. They have heard that Zhang Shu is slow and clumsy, but after working alongside him, they realize he’s not bad at all. He’s diligent, steady, and hardworking—just not very talkative.

That afternoon, they begin tearing down the old wall. The bricks are slick with moss, and the sunny side is overgrown with weeds.

Steward Mo declares that the entire wall will be demolished and rebuilt, with the old bricks discarded.

The villagers are envious. Top-quality blue bricks—just thrown away? If bought at a kiln, each one costs two wen! Among them, only Zhang Shu’s family lives in a house made of blue bricks. The others have homes of yellow mud or stone, far less impressive.

If they can take these bricks home, they might even build a house! But they know that rich people would rather discard things than give them away. Even if they are allowed to take them, how would they transport them?

Tearing down the wall is quick. Each of the ten workers grabs a tool and swings hard. By the afternoon, the long wall is reduced to rubble. The bricks lie in heaps, still faithfully guarding the yard even in ruin.

When Steward Mo comes to inspect the progress, he notices there’s still daylight left. He orders the workers to load the bricks into baskets and dump them on a street where others can pick them up.

Zhang Shu hesitates, wanting to say something, but after a long pause, he swallows his words. His expression, however, betrays his thoughts.

Mo Ren notices. This young man is different from the others. He waves Zhang Shu over.

Zhang Shu stiffens. He doesn’t know why the Steward is calling him, but he has learned to mask his emotions. At least he no longer looks foolish.

“Young man, did you want to say something just now?” Mo Ren asks, surprisingly polite.

“Uh…” Zhang Shu instinctively wants to deny it, but something inside him urges him to speak up. Why keep his thoughts hidden?

“I think… I think these bricks don’t need to be thrown away,” he says, his face flushing.

Mo Ren is slightly disappointed. So he’s just another frugal country boy? Does he really think these old bricks can still be used for walls? They’re too damaged.

“These bricks may not be suitable for building walls,” Zhang Shu continues, “but they can be used to make flower beds.”

“Flower beds?” Mo Ren raises an eyebrow.

“Yes. When flowers are planted directly in the ground, they grow all over the place. They look nice, but they attract snakes, insects, rats, and ants, making it easy for people to be disturbed. Also, when watering and fertilizing, runoff can dirty the pathways. If the masters and ladies come to enjoy the garden, they won’t be happy. Flower beds solve this problem. By using broken bricks to enclose plots of land, we can separate different sections, keeping them tidy. Watering and fertilizing won’t be an issue, and insects will be less likely to crawl onto the paths.”

As Zhang Shu explains the benefits one by one, Mo Ren remains expressionless, but internally, he nods in approval. Not only will the garden look neater and more beautiful, but they’ll also make full use of the discarded bricks—an efficient and practical idea.

“In that case, don’t move the bricks out. Everyone, separate the intact ones from the broken ones,” Mo Ren orders before leaving. He needs to discuss this with the master.

Once he’s gone, the workers gather around Zhang Shu.

“You’re amazing! I’d be terrified to talk to Chief Steward Mo, but you spoke with such confidence—and it actually made sense! Plus, you saved us a ton of effort. That’s brilliant!”

None of them fully understand what a flower bed is, but they do understand one thing: carrying bricks is much easier than hauling them away!

By the end of the day, the workers have neatly sorted the bricks. Over a hundred are still intact, saving more than two hundred wen in costs.

The next day, Mo Ren selects two workers to accompany him to buy bricks: Laiwang and Zhang Shu.

“Can you count?” he asks.

“Yes!” Both reply in unison.

“Can you do calculations?”

“Yes!” This time, only Zhang Shu responds. Laiwang isn’t exactly incompetent, but he often makes mistakes and is slow. He’s better off moving bricks than handling numbers.

Mo Ren nods knowingly. “I thought so.”

The brick kiln is located on a slope outside the city. The two follow Mo Ren, enjoying the rare luxury of traveling by horse-drawn carriage. Two ox carts follow behind, driven by servants.

The kiln owner is already waiting at the entrance, eager to do business with a prestigious family like the Mo household.

“Steward Mo, you’re here. The bricks you ordered are stacked over there. Take a look…”

“No rush,” Mo Ren says. “I brought these two to assist. They’ll be handling the counting and loading.”

Inside the kiln, stacks of neatly arranged blue bricks await. Mo Ren gestures for Laiwang to count.

Laiwang begins counting carefully, but once he reaches four hundred, he loses track. Frustrated, he starts over.

“Zhang Shu, count as well and check for discrepancies,” Mo Ren instructs.

The kiln owner suppresses his urge to protest. How dare they suspect him of shortchanging them? But seeing how meticulous they are, he straightens his posture and takes the matter seriously.

Zhang Shu observes the stacks. Each row consists of twenty vertical stacks, with twelve bricks in each. There are four rows in total, plus a small extra pile of twenty bricks.

He mentally calculates while unconsciously scratching symbols into the dirt with his foot. Mo Ren notices the scribbles, resembling crooked earthworms, and finds them peculiar.

After a moment, Zhang Shu announces, “Nine hundred and eighty bricks.”

Mo Ren is taken aback. He hasn’t even walked over, yet Zhang Shu counts just by looking? He double-checks—the total is indeed 980, exactly as ordered.

“What’s the total price?” Mo Ren asks. With an abacus, he could calculate instantly, but he wants to see Zhang Shu’s ability.

Zhang Shu hesitates, then writes a vertical calculation in the dirt. “One thousand nine hundred and sixty wen.”

Mo Ren is astonished. Zhang Shu can do mental math—an ability even accountants rarely teach outsiders! His gaze toward Zhang Shu shifts again.

“What’s the price in silver?” he asks, clearly enjoying this.

“Uh… may I ask the current exchange rate? My family doesn’t deal in silver.” Zhang Shu scratches his head. Silver rates fluctuate, and his family has no use for it.

“Hahaha,” Mo Ren laughs. “Right now, it’s 760 wen per tael. The price of silver has been a bit low lately.”

Zhang Shu quickly calculates. “About two taels, five qian, and seven fen of silver.”

Mo Ren’s admiration deepens. This young man is definitely not ordinary.