Chapter 88: The Shen Family’s Age of Enlightenment

Shen Residence, Creek Garden, Cloud Viewing Pavilion.

When Shen Yanxi returned to the first floor, the Shen family was still reeling from Lu Jin’s earlier remarks. They discussed animatedly, each voicing their own thoughts. Shen Yanxi said nothing, quietly taking a seat lower down.

“I wonder where our brother-in-law learned those theories,” Shen Yancheng mused. “At first they sound absurd, but on closer thought, there’s some sense in them.”

“What sense is there? How can the birth of a boy or girl be decided by a man? He’s just talking nonsense,” Shen Hao scoffed. For men of this era, such notions were difficult to stomach. Though not as extreme as later dynasties, it was still a patriarchal society.

“Oh? Why don’t you make up some nonsense for us, then? Let’s hear it,” the old madam said, turning to Shen Hao.

Shen Hao was caught off guard. He was, after all, the master of the Shen family—how could he spout nonsense so easily? Not that he could make anything up anyway.

Most present were women—either Shen Yanxi’s aunts or uncles’ wives. Shen Hao and Shen Yancheng were the only two men, clearly outnumbered. Especially with their mother present and their brother-in-law having turned traitor, their position was not enviable.

The customs of the Great Liang were not particularly conservative, least of all among noble families. Producing heirs was a grave and important duty, unrelated to private affections. So a conversation on such matters between men and women—even those of different generations—was not strange at all.

The old madam sat at the head, her eyes half-closed, finding her grandson-in-law increasingly unfathomable. Talents in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting were not so rare—whether by talent or diligence, there were always those who could master them.

But today’s argument was something she had never heard before. At first, it seemed outlandish, but on reflection, it held water.

Setting aside the witty but difficult terms, the process he described for conception was straightforward—having borne three sons and a daughter herself, she understood it perfectly. And Lu Jin had not spoken nonsense. There was no reason to dismiss what she didn’t understand as mere fabrication. Moreover, his words flowed smoothly without a pause, his explanation nearly flawless, except for those invisible black and white pieces that could not be verified.

But the young man was clearly evading, unwilling to elaborate further, and had made up an excuse to slip away.

“Xi’er, what do you think?” the old madam asked, noticing Shen Yanxi’s return.

Lost in her own thoughts, Shen Yanxi was caught off guard by her grandmother’s question. She replied, “My husband’s words seem fanciful, but I do not think them baseless. At the very least, the logic is sound.”

“That’s exactly right.” The old madam’s favoritism toward Shen Yanxi was not without reason.

“What logic is there? In the end, no one knows for sure. He just says whatever he pleases,” the family head insisted, holding fast to male dignity.

“Then, Father, do you know why apples fall from trees?” Shen Yanxi suddenly recalled the question.

“If they didn’t fall, would they fly away?” Shen Hao grumbled, feeling his daughter had changed since marrying that fellow. Her words had become just as unmoored.

“Indeed, why don’t they fly away?” Shen Yanxi’s spirits lifted a little. She found it amusing to watch others take things for granted, as she once had.

“How could they fly? They don’t have wings,” Shen Hao replied, already displeased. He thought his daughter was too far gone.

“Then why can things with wings fly?” Shen Yanxi pressed.

“I’m not a bird; how should I know?” Shen Hao snapped. He was at his wit’s end with this daughter.

The old madam, however, found it quite entertaining, knowing her granddaughter would eventually explain herself. The others looked on in confusion, wondering what any of this had to do with their earlier discussion of children.

“Grandmother, you see, so many things we take for granted, like Father, thinking they are just as they are, without ever considering why. To know that something happens but not why is ignorance. Even so-called learned men, when they do offer explanations, tend to be vague and mystical, impossible to verify or reason through.”

“My husband says this is because we lack logical reasoning. If an explanation doesn’t hold up, people just make things up…”

“Then does he know why apples fall and don’t fly away?” Shen Hao interrupted gruffly, not waiting for Shen Yanxi to finish. Such a simple matter, and yet they were making a song and dance of it. He couldn’t believe her husband could explain it.

“My husband says it’s because apples have weight—the heavier they are, the more they sink. Sinking is actually a force, and it’s because our world, the earth, has gravity. Simply put, there is an invisible force underground that pulls everything with weight toward it. The heavier something is, the stronger the pull, so it sinks more. That’s why apples fall to the ground. Now, Father might ask why apples don’t fall earlier. That’s because, when unripe, the apple is still attached to the branch, which holds it up—this is called tension. The tension cancels out gravity, so the apple doesn’t fall. When the fruit ripens, the tree naturally lets go, as if cutting the string, and the apple falls down, not up.”

Shen Yanxi explained in simple terms why apples fall, sharing what she had learned recently.

The old madam and the rest were left speechless. Something they had always accepted as self-evident turned out to have so much behind it. It felt like reading a heavenly scripture—hard to grasp, yet everything seemed to make sense.

“Isn’t what he says equally mystical?” Shen Hao was not ready to concede. At his age, this clashed entirely with his understanding.

“While we can’t see forces, it’s not mystical because we can test and reason them out. Look, Father, when I lift this fruit, why does it leave the plate? Because I exert an upward force, counteracting gravity. When I push or pull the plate, it moves because I apply force. Otherwise, it would stay still. As for why birds can fly, it’s because their wings create lift, countering their own weight.”

“Even if we can’t see these forces, can you disprove my husband’s explanations? On the contrary, he can logically explain everything, while the things we take for granted, he can overturn with ease…”

Finally, Shen Yanxi saw her family wearing the same astonished expressions she had when first hearing these explanations. In truth, she only understood what she’d just explained; her husband had given her these examples, and she still had much to learn.

The family sat in stunned silence, their minds racing with thoughts, at a loss for words.

“Xi’er, I heard you mention ‘earth’ several times. Are we living on something round?” Shen Yancheng was the first to catch on.

“Brother, my husband says the place we live is called Earth. It looks flat to us because it’s so vast. He says, if we started from Haidong and kept going east, we’d return to Great Liang from the west, having circled the globe.”

Shen Yancheng’s mind buzzed with disbelief. “If that’s true, wouldn’t we fall off?”

“Did you forget about gravity? We have weight, too,” Shen Yanxi replied, smiling.

Afterward, the family continued their lively discussion, their own scientific enlightenment quietly underway—unbeknownst to Lu Jin.

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The next day, the weather finally cleared. After the long rain, the Shen Garden was more resplendent than ever, every blossom radiant in the sunlight.

On the floating platform, Su Nian was teaching A’Li and Lu Caiwei martial arts. As for Yuan Fang and Anu, who knew where they had run off to train in secret? Lu Jin wasn’t concerned.

Watching the two children practice so earnestly, Lu Jin felt a surge of contentment—this was a power truly his own. As for learning martial arts himself? Best not—how exhausting that would be!

“Caiyun, have you missed your young master these days?” Lu Jin asked his long-absent maid in the pavilion.

“Not at all,” Caiyun pouted. She didn’t miss him; she’d been quite at leisure in his absence.

This girl was hopeless—simple and not much use.

“What about you, Zhuoyue?” Lu Jin pressed on.

“Of course I missed you, young master. Without you, this whole Chuyun Terrace feels empty and lifeless. Once you’re back, everything comes alive,” Zhuoyue replied as she poured Lu Jin tea.

“You’re the loyal one,” Lu Jin said approvingly, thinking Zhuoyue would be the perfect secretary in the modern world—competent and pleasant.

“Of course Caiyun missed you too, young master. When her work is done, she just sits and stares into space,” Zhuoyue added, coming to Caiyun’s aid.

Lu Jin turned to look at Caiyun, his oldest servant. The young maid kept her head bowed, her eyes red. Chance encounters are precious; may we cherish them as we go.

“Zhuoyue, here are a hundred taels of silver. You and Caiyun take twenty each; the rest is to be distributed among the others at Chuyun Terrace—my token of appreciation for your efforts. This is my own private money. I’ve also brought back fruit for you—one bag each for you and Caiyun.”

“Thank you, young master!” Zhuoyue accepted happily.

“But remember, this is for your own use. If you must send some home, keep at least half for yourselves,” Lu Jin instructed.

Becoming a servant here didn’t mean they had no family. Some had relatives working in the Shen household or were privately owned servants; some families were freeborn but sent their daughters into service. Aside from their own needs, most of their earnings were sent home.

Though Lu Jin wasn’t wealthy, he could afford to give his servants a little extra—but not too much. With complex human relations and established house rules, there were set standards for every rank and their monthly allowance. If Lu Jin were too generous, it would disrupt the Shen family order. So this was just a small bonus, not a new norm.

Efficient and capable Zhuoyue was also moved to tears. Daughters from modest families entered wealthy households to earn money for their families, and when it came time to marry, a dowry was needed; otherwise, daughters were burdens—especially those sent as servants. At home, they were outsiders, valued only for the money they sent back. The household here, though, was not their true home either.

“Young master, I’ve brought them,” the Creek Garden steward announced, arriving with two people as Lu Jin was speaking to the maids.

Lu Jin’s heart leapt with excitement. Would this finally bring the results he hoped for?