The old tannery became Gu Liang's temporary post, secured with his first "sample shipment." Though permeated by an indelible stench of blood and decay, and stocked mostly with substandard leather scraps, this small patch of ground demarcated by priestly authority offered him the best "negotiating table" he could hope for—a respite from the relentless physical labor and constant surveillance of his previous existence.
The priest's apprentice delivered fresh game skulls (with extracted brain matter) and a small jar of wood ash daily—scant quantities that clearly signaled a trial period. Gu Liang understood perfectly: he needed to demonstrate consistent output, ensuring each batch matched or surpassed the quality of his first sample.
He settled his mind, pouring all his energy into the task. Crushing the brain matter, filtering out impurities, mixing in the ash, applying it evenly—then came the long, tedious kneading. New blisters quickly formed on his palms, bursting, scabbing over, only to be rubbed raw again. He paid them no mind. This physical exhaustion was far preferable to the mental terror and humiliation.
During breaks in the kneading, he even experimented with adjusting the ratio of brain matter to wood ash, mentally noting how different mixtures affected the softening speed and final texture of the hides. The experimental spirit of science quietly revived within this primitive workshop.
Days later, when he handed over the first batch—five or six hides processed to be supple yet resilient, uniformly high-quality—to the apprentice who came to collect them, the apprentice's eyes widened with obvious surprise. He examined each hide carefully, then said nothing, clutching the hides and hurrying away.
The next day, the apprentice arrived with significantly more materials and an extra small bag of coarse salt. "The priest said to try this," the apprentice relayed dryly.
Salt? A thought struck Gu Liang. It wasn't surprising that the priest knew salt could preserve. But using it in tanning... Salt could indeed act as a preservative and stabilize proteins during the process. The priest truly knew his stuff! He cautiously tried adding a small amount of salt during the process and found that the finished leather did seem to have improved color and durability.
His interactions with the apprentice were limited to exchanging materials and collecting finished goods—not a word more. Yet he sensed a shift in the apprentice's gaze. Where there had been disdain and watchfulness at first, now there was a hint of... curiosity, even a trace of respect. Skill, wherever it was found, always earned the most basic recognition.
Several relatively peaceful days passed. Gu Liang even began experimenting with scraps, crafting softer insole pads for his own worn-out shoes to ease the pain from constant walking.
However, A Lie clearly wouldn't stand idly by and let his "property" slip from his grasp.
Black Tooth made the first move. Accompanied by two henchmen, he strode arrogantly into the leather workshop area, calling it a "patrol inspection."
"Hey, slave!" Black Tooth kicked aside a broken waste basket lying on the ground, glaring sideways at Gu Liang who was bent over rubbing leather. "Hiding here is pretty leisurely! Who gave you permission to slack off?"
Gu Liang froze, stood up, and stood with his hands hanging limply at his sides, saying nothing. He knew arguing was futile.
"Heard you've got something special here?" Black Tooth took a few steps closer, his eyes greedily scanning the processed and unprocessed hides scattered throughout the shed. "How about offering a few to Lord A Lie? Maybe if he's pleased, he'll make your life easier."
Gu Liang's heart clenched, but he still whispered, "The High Priest... ordered... all hides... to be handed over..."
"Threatening me with the priest?" Blacktooth's expression darkened as he reached for a fine, supple hide hanging nearby.
Just then, one of the priest's apprentices appeared at the shed entrance like a ghost, his voice flat and emotionless: "Blacktooth, the priest demands an inventory of this batch of hides. Will you help carry it over?"
Blacktooth's hand froze mid-air, his expression souring. He shot Gu Liang a fierce glare, then glanced warily at the expressionless apprentice before reluctantly withdrawing his hand. "Hmph! Let's go!"
The first attempt to test the waters had been blocked by the priest's men.
But A Lie didn't give up. Days later, Gu Liang noticed the quality of delivered materials deteriorating—sometimes with visibly stale brain matter, other times with ash heavily mixed with sand. This was clearly deliberate sabotage, an attempt to undermine his work and prevent him from reporting to the priest.
Gu Liang made no fuss. He silently sifted out usable materials, calculating ratios with the precision of a laboratory technician. For utterly unusable items—like the ash jar half-filled with sand, nearly insoluble, or the brain matter emitting rancid odors with discolored tissue—he placed them untouched in the most conspicuous spot.When the apprentice came to collect the finished product and deliver new materials, Gu Liang pointed to the waste and stated in an emotionless, calm tone: "Using these, we cannot produce what the High Priest requires."
The apprentice glanced at the sand-laden ash and foul-smelling brain matter, paused briefly, then nodded and took the substandard materials away. The next batch delivered was back to normal.
A silent battle played out within the confines of the leather workshop. Gu Liang, relying on his composure and confidence in his craftsmanship, repeatedly defused the covert challenges. He understood this was A Lie testing the limits of the priest's protection, as well as gauging his own resilience.
He could not falter, much less yield. Each successful delivery was a silent counterattack against A Lie, a cornerstone reinforcing his own worth.
He even began to harbor a faint hope—a hope that the Priest would reappear one day, perhaps bringing new orders, or... greater opportunities.
But instead of the Priest, he was met by another unexpected visitor.
That day, as he was drying a batch of processed hides outside the shed, a timid figure approached. It was Fangclaw.
"Gu Liang?" Lao Zhao whispered, holding a small bundle in his hands.
Gu Liang was surprised to see it was him, then glanced warily around.
"It's safe. I checked—no one's watching this way," Lao Zhao hurriedly said, his face showing concern and a hint of guilt. "Are you okay? I heard people from A Lie came looking for trouble..."
"I'm fine." Gu Liang shook his head, his tone softening slightly. Lao Zhao's concern was genuine.
"Here," Lao Zhao pressed the small package into Gu Liang's hands. "I stashed this jerky. Take it and eat. You probably haven't had a proper meal around here, right?"
Gu Liang looked at the dried meat, feeling a warmth in his heart. He took it and murmured, "Thanks."
Lao Zhao scratched his head, his eyes brimming with admiration as he glanced at the noticeably softer hides in the shed. "You're amazing... You actually made it... Even the High Priest values you..." There was no jealousy in his tone, only pure admiration.
After a few brief words, Lao Zhao dared not linger and soon departed.
Holding the package of jerky, Gu Liang stood before the shed, watching Lao Zhao's retreating figure, silent for a long while.
This small space, though a temporary shelter from the storm, only made him more acutely aware of the turbulent currents swirling around him. A Lie's threat never faded; the priest's protection rested on a bargain that could be renegotiated at any moment. Genuine kindness like Lao Zhao's, then, felt especially precious.
He knew the peace bought with this "sample" was fleeting. He must use this time, earned with a "down payment," to repay the "loan" faster and build "credit"—that is, continuously enhance his value as a "craftsman" to accumulate more capital for the next, potentially more dangerous transaction.
Next time, when the storm came, he hoped to have heavier chips on the table. And refining his craft was merely the first step in polishing those chips.
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and then Add to home screen.