"You're wrong to say that," Cheng Yang said with a calm smile.
"Business is a matter of choice. Since kerosene burns brighter and longer than candles, it's only natural that I sell it. Progress can't be stopped just because it offends tradition."
The noble across from him, Lord Ye, a man who clearly enjoyed luxury but lacked understanding of invention, leaned forward, eyes gleaming at the warm glow of the lamp.
Though soul masters reigned supreme on the Douluo Continent, technology still lingered in the shadow of the Middle Ages.
To the nobles, even a kerosene lamp that could adjust its brightness seemed like sorcery.
"But what I'm truly interested in," Lord Ye said slowly, "is not your lamp, but the kerosene itself. This lamp," he gestured dismissively, "won't make much money."
Cheng Yang chuckled.
"That will be difficult, my lord. The process of refining kerosene is linked to several other, far more important techniques. If you can produce, say, ten million gold soul coins, I might consider selling them to you. But for most, that's an impossible sum. The kerosene alone isn't worth that much."
He leaned casually against the counter.
"If you only want the lamp's design, though, I can part with it for a hundred thousand gold soul coins. If your craftsmen can't make the glass cover, you can outsource it to my glassworks, guaranteed thirty percent cheaper than market price."
Lord Ye frowned slightly.
"You intend to drink all the soup and eat all the meat, don't you?"
Cheng Yang only smiled, eyes glinting with amusement.
"My price is fair. Everyone profits. The lamp is just an appetizer."
He gestured toward the neatly arranged shelves behind him, filled with small curiosities, each strange in its own right.
"We'll have plenty of opportunities to work together again, I'm sure."
He paused, then grinned.
"Tell you what, I'll throw in a small trick for free. You mentioned that candles need to be trimmed constantly, right? Well, mine don't."
Turning toward the back, he called, "Bo! Bring a candle."
A young boy hurried over.
Dugu Bo carried himself with a mixture of pride and awe.
Over the past few days, he had come to deeply respect Cheng Yang, not only for his strange knowledge but for his calm confidence.
The things Cheng Yang spoke of, atoms, cells, and invisible forces, felt like glimpses into another world.
Dugu Bo didn't understand all of it, but he felt their importance.
"Here, Teacher," the boy said, placing the candle on the table.
"Good," Cheng Yang said, lighting it before Lord Ye's curious gaze.
The flame flickered softly, casting warm light across their faces.
"Now watch closely."
As the candle burned, its wick slowly split into three fine strands, each feeding the flame evenly.
There was no wasted wax, no need to trim, the candle maintained its shape until the end.
Lord Ye blinked in surprise.
"By the heavens… how?"
Cheng Yang smiled faintly.
"Simple, isn't it? Twist the wick into three strands before setting it. The flame maintains itself. No trimming needed. Small ideas like this can change lives; that's what I sell, my lord. Technology. The power to improve life."
He blew out the candle and gestured toward the other objects on display.
"Each one of these has that same kind of spark behind it."
Lord Ye nodded slowly, realization dawning.
"So that's what you're really selling. Not just objects… but the knowledge that makes them possible."
"Exactly."
There was a brief silence before the noble spoke again.
"I've already taken your gift. If I don't buy, I'll seem ungrateful. You'll have your hundred thousand gold soul coins by tomorrow. Now, where are the drawings?"
Without hesitation, Cheng Yang reached behind the counter, pulling out paper and a straight-edged ruler.
His hands moved with precision, sketching clean lines, front, side, and top views of the lamp, all neatly labeled with measurements.
Within minutes, the design was complete.
Lord Ye leaned closer, fascinated.
"Your drawing method… It's strange, but clearer than anything I've seen from our craftsmen. You call this technology, too?"
Cheng Yang nodded.
"That's right. These are called 'three-view drawings.' They make complex things easy to understand. Back where I'm from"
He stopped himself, catching Dugu Bo's curious glance, and smiled faintly.
"Let's just say it's the foundation of proper design."
Lord Ye rolled up the blueprints with satisfaction.
"Interesting. I hope we can work together again, Brother Cheng. A man who sells knowledge is rarer than a spirit bone."
Cheng Yang clasped his hand firmly.
"And I still have a few treasures left that might interest you, my lord. When you're ready, come back, I'll make sure they find their way into the right hands."
Lord Ye chuckled, gesturing for his servant to prepare the carriage.
"I'll remember that. Oh, I never asked your name."
"Cheng Yang."
"Then take care, Brother Cheng," Lord Ye said, rolling up the plans and giving one last approving look at the lamp's steady glow before stepping out into the night.
As the door closed, Dugu Bo turned to his teacher, eyes bright.
"Master, was that… really worth a hundred thousand gold soul coins?"
Cheng Yang smirked.
"The lamp? Maybe not. But knowledge, Bo, knowledge always sells for more later."
The boy grinned, and the warm light of the lamp danced across his face, a promise of the strange future awaiting both of them.
That afternoon, a carriage stopped in front of Cheng Yang's little shop.
Inside were heavy chests filled with glittering gold soul coins, one hundred thousand in total.
When the coins were counted and stacked, Bing Di's eyes lit up.
Before anyone could stop her, she dove straight into the pile, laughing like a child.
"Mine! It's all mine!" she shouted, stretching her arms wide as the gold chimed under her fingers.
Her joy didn't last long. Cheng Yang sighed, walked over, and hooked her under the arms, lifting her out like a misbehaving cat.
"How many times have I told you," he scolded, "don't play with money. It's filthy, passed through too many hands."
"I don't care!" Bing Di kicked in protest, face puffed with indignation.
"Your money is my money, so I can play with it if I want!"
She wriggled furiously, but her small frame didn't give her much leverage against Cheng Yang's steady grip.
He chuckled, setting her on a stool.
"You'll understand one day," he said, brushing a few coins off her hair.
"There'll come a time when a single sheet of paper, or just a string of numbers, will excite you more than all this gold."
Bing Di blinked at him, clearly offended.
"What nonsense is that? How can paper be better than gold coins?"
She pointed accusingly at the glittering pile.
"Look at them! They shine!"
Cheng Yang only smiled, a knowing look in his eyes.
"You'll see soon enough. When that day comes, you'll laugh yourself silly over those 'worthless' pieces of paper."
She crossed her arms, unconvinced, muttering something about humans being weird.
Meanwhile, Dugu Bo was carrying the heavy boxes of gold inside, his young face red from the effort.
The servant who had delivered them barely spared a glance at Bing Di; to him, she was just another spoiled girl from a merchant's household.
When the door shut and quiet returned, Bing Di climbed up onto the counter, licking a strawberry popsicle Cheng Yang had made for her earlier.
The cold mist curled around her lips as she asked, "Hey, Xiaoyang… are you really making all these strange things just to earn money?"
Cheng Yang looked up from the ledger he was writing in.
"Not just for money."
Before she could protest, ignoring her mock glare.
"It's for comfort," he continued, his voice softer.
"For making life a little brighter. Take that ice cream in your hand, it doesn't exist anywhere else in this world. There are so many things like it still waiting to be made. If we want to enjoy them, we'll have to create them ourselves."
Bing Di's expression softened, though she tried to hide it by taking another bite.
"We have ten thousand years of life ahead of us," Cheng Yang said quietly.
"That's more than a hundred times what ordinary people get. Wouldn't it be a waste to spend all that time doing nothing new? Imagine going back to a world with no ice cream, no cooking, no stories, no lanterns…"
He leaned closer, smiling faintly.
"Would you really want that?"
Bing Di thought about it, the endless snow, the dull silence of the far north, and shivered slightly.
"No. That would be too boring. I don't even want to go back anymore."
"Good," Cheng Yang said, ruffling her hair.
"Then my plan's working."
She blinked at him suspiciously.
"What plan?"
"To keep you from getting bored, of course." His grin turned playful.
"Now sit tight, I'll tell you a story."
Bing Di perked up immediately.
She loved story time.
Curling up against his chest, popsicle in hand, she asked eagerly,
"What kind of story this time?"
Cheng Yang's eyes twinkled with mischief.
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