Chapter 186: Travel Luggage
Once Lester reached the county town, the specifics of how to grease palms and handle matters were left to him.
That Clara had so readily handed him silver to “make connections” gave Lester a small pleasant shock.
It made him realize—he was coming to understand her better.
Her moral compass was… slippery, never bound tightly by conventional rites or etiquette. As long as something served her self-interest, she could calmly ignore many details that would have scandalized others.
He suspected it had much to do with her past experience of fleeing famine and chaos. Otherwise, what normal woman wouldn’t be horrified at the mere mention of cheating? Yet she had not only stayed calm, but even helped him analyze the matter.
Weighing the silver in his hand, Lester sneered inwardly: Fairness?
Fairness meant—if everyone else greased palms, then you had to grease palms too. Otherwise, it wasn’t fair.
With Lester gone, the watermill factory resumed operations.
But the only workers were Clara and Carpenter Liew. They rotated, each taking three days to sit in the mill, just to keep up appearances so no one would think the factory had shut down.
In truth, few customers ever came in; they would open the gate, then slip back to their own homes to busy themselves with other affairs.
Meanwhile, with the Ding clan’s private academy about to open, Clara was making preparations for Adam and Ben’s schooling.
First she took the boys to Riverbend Village to hire a carter. They agreed on an annual contract: one and a half tael for both boys per year, paying half yearly. She paid the first half-year’s fare up front—seven hundred and fifty copper coins.
With “school transport” settled, the next matter was school supplies.
In these parts, nobody used cloth satchels. The custom was to use wooden school chests: rainproof, sunproof, sturdy—only flaw, they were heavy.
Clara went to Frank Liew’s house to examine Luther Liew’s old school chest. It wasn’t large: half a meter tall, thirty centimeters thick, and forty long.
Inside, clever partitions formed many compartments: small drawers for inkstones, brushes, and inksticks; larger drawers for books and paper.
One vertical slot even held a tiny hand-warmer—ingeniously designed.
Clara couldn’t help but marvel at the ancients’ wisdom.
But she also frowned. Even such a “small” chest was nearly half the size of Adam or Ben. The boys were still growing—if they lugged such heavy wooden cases every day, wouldn’t it stunt their development?
Yet a cloth bag wouldn’t do either—brushes, ink, and paper were delicate, utterly ruined by water.
Adam and Ben, though, had no complaints. On the contrary, they were delighted. It was their first time going to school—everything about it smelled sweet.
Seeing Clara fretting moved them deeply, though they couldn’t understand her dissatisfaction. To them, these chests were already wonderful. Could there really be something better?
Suddenly, Clara slapped her thigh. “I’ve got it! A travel luggage design would solve the weight problem perfectly!”
Not only wheels—even a pull-handle could be made.
After all, she had seen Carpenter Liew make collapsible stools with extendable backs—villagers carried them to the well to chat, then pulled up the rod to lean back when tired.
The thought set Clara’s blood racing.
She turned to the dumbfounded Adam and Ben. “Wait here. I’ll make you something amazing!”
And off she flew like the wind toward the factory.
Her hair streamed loose in the gusts, making her look, at a glance, like a madwoman running wild on the road.
No, no— Adam and Ben shook their heads quickly, banishing such unfilial thoughts.
“Mother… she’s alright, isn’t she?” Ben asked anxiously, staring at her disappearing figure.
Adam clicked his tongue, uneasy. “I’d better check.”
Ben nodded furiously. “Go quickly!”
Adam chased her all the way to the watermill. Just as he entered, he saw Clara dragging Carpenter Liew from his bench, clutching a strip of wood, the two of them squatting on the ground sketching with excitement.
“Look here,” Clara explained breathlessly. “We add four wheels under the chest, then a pull-handle like your stool. That way even a heavy box can be dragged with ease! Isn’t it brilliant?”
Carpenter Liew raised a hand. “Wait—wait, let me breathe.”
He set down his tools, took a deep breath to calm the shock of being hauled so abruptly, then bent to study the square diagrams on the ground.
Clara’s calligraphy was average, but her sketches were precise, even with perspective lines. Carpenter Liew, used to such drawings from her, grasped her meaning at once.
This time was no different. Seeing the design of the travel luggage, he slapped his thigh in excitement. “Why didn’t I ever think to combine these things?”
Wooden wheels—he knew how.
Joinery chests—he knew how.
Extendable rods—he knew how.
But never had it occurred to him to combine them into a dragable case!
In his excitement he slapped his thigh over and over, nearly breaking it in two minutes flat. Tossing aside his current work, he leapt to start building.
Clara called after him several times, but he didn’t even hear, already lost in a trance of creation.
Knowing he wouldn’t rest until the travel luggage was made, Clara smirked slyly and turned to fetch Luther’s old school chest from Frank Liew’s house. With it, Carpenter Liew could save time—just add the handle and wheels as a trial.
“Auntie Clara!” Adam nearly jumped when she suddenly appeared before him on the road. But he kept his face steady.
Clara blinked. “Why did you come here?”
Adam walked beside her back toward the village. “I wanted to check on you.”
“Check what?” Clara laughed, reading his thoughts at once. “You and Ben thought I’d gone mad, didn’t you?”
“No—absolutely not!” Adam declared solemnly.
Clara laughed aloud, sending him home. “I’m perfectly sane. No need to worry.”
Relieved by her words, Adam returned.
That evening, Clara rushed back after a quick meal, carrying a heaping bowl of food to the factory.
“Carpenter Liew, is it ready?” she called before she even entered.
He tucked away the pull-handle, turned with a grin, and said, “As you wished—it’s done!”
Clara handed him the packed dinner, then hurried forward in anticipation.
The old school chest now had four half-round grooves carved in its base, fitted with palm-sized wooden wheels secured by sturdy round axles.
Clara reached down and flicked a wheel—whirr, whirr—it spun silkily smooth.
At the back, near the bottom, a thick rectangular board had been added. Within it hid the key: two pull-rods.
“Try it,” Carpenter Liew urged between mouthfuls of rice, confident.
Clara tugged the rods up. The seemingly ordinary board concealed a clever mechanism—the rods extended and locked firmly at their highest point, exactly like the modern ratchet-lock handles of her past life’s suitcases.
(End of Chapter)
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