Mi So-jeo's Dumplings
The thick darkness that had blanketed Xu Province's castle overnight slowly lifted, replaced by a chilly dawn mist tinged with blue that soaked the courtyard of the Mi Merchant Guild's main compound.
I rose silently from the wooden platform in the side room. The two blackened lumps of metal I'd sweated blood over in my private Subspace Forge last night. At first glance, they looked like nothing more than worthless scrap—thick iron plates crudely bent into a C-shape and stacked together. But these were the Three Kingdoms era's first shock absorbers, infused with modern knowledge: plate spring buffers.
I wrapped the two cooled buffers, still greasy and cold to the touch, in rough hemp cloth and tucked them securely into my bosom. Slinging a thick wooden lever the size of a man's forearm over one shoulder, along with tough leather straps and a handful of heavy iron nails, I slipped cautiously out the door.
A massive rosewood carriage loomed in the courtyard through the fog—the one Mi So-jeo would ride out in today. With full preparations yet to begin, the area was deathly quiet, save for the two guards posted around it, dozing against their spears.
I crept forward, muffling my footsteps and melting into the shadows. But no matter how stealthy I was, a warrior was a warrior.
"Hey, hold it right there."
One guard's eyes snapped open at my presence. He crossed his spear to block my path, his gaze thick with suspicion toward the shady figure approaching the carriage at this ungodly hour, burdened with suspicious cargo.
"Ain't you the forge apprentice? What business you got here at the crack of dawn? This is the lady's carriage. Touch it without leave, and I'll have your head."
I didn't fluster. Flashing the cheeky grin of a typical porter, I brushed the coal dust from my hemp clothes.
"Morning, sirs. Hard at work already. Master Yeom sent me on an errand."
"Yeom's errand?"
"Yeah. Yesterday, when the lady rode it, he heard a faint crack from the wheel axle over the rough roads. She's got a long patrol today—imagine if the axle snaps on some mountain path and the whole thing flips. Who'd take the blame for that?"
The guard's bushy brows twitched. If the carriage overturned and injured the guild's real power player, Mi So-jeo, the guards' heads would roll first—no question.
"Yeom checked it yesterday and said it was fine."
"Wooden axles look solid on the outside but rot from within—that's how they go. Master wants an extra iron brace under the axle just in case. Gotta finish before departure, so if you could step aside..."
The guards exchanged uneasy glances. But with the lady's safety as the ironclad reason, they lacked the guts to object.
"Make one wrong move, and I'll spear your heart. Hurry up and get lost."
"Won't take a minute."
As they grudgingly pulled back their spears, I dropped to the cold dirt and crawled under the carriage's hefty underbelly. The space reeked of dust and horse dung. I wedged the thick lever deep between the carriage body and the axle supporting the wheels, then squeezed every ounce of strength from my core and legs to pry it down.
Crack, creak! Under the immense weight, the carriage lifted just enough—a gap of two finger widths. Teeth gritted, I braced the lever with my shoulder and deftly slid the C-shaped stack of plate springs into the narrow space. Right at the point where the wheels met the body—the spot where road shocks hit first and hardest.
"Nngh...!"
Every time the lever slipped, my shoulder felt like it would shatter, but I held firm, perfectly seating the buffers on both wheel axles. I drove in thick iron nails to keep the plates from popping loose, then crisscrossed layers of tough leather straps to bind the axle and buffers into one solid unit. From the outside, it just looked like a few crude black metal scraps tacked onto the axle—nothing to catch the eye, no different from yesterday at a glance.
"You done yet?"
The guard outside kicked the ground impatiently.
"All finished."
I crawled out, dusting off the dirt, just as torches flickered to life across the courtyard. The patrol prep was kicking into gear—workers bustling, stable hands harnessing four white horses to the front.
Instead of retreating to the forge, I hunkered behind a pile of crates in the corner, watching.
Please... let the tempering and annealing be perfect.
My buffers applied load-distribution principles to the plates. Theory was solid, but whether those thin irons could withstand this era's brutally heavy wooden carriage without snapping? Only the road would tell.
Soon, Mi So-jeo emerged from her tent in a graceful jade silk robe, supported by maids. Her pale face shadowed with dread at the sight of the carriage—memories of yesterday's hellish jolting no doubt. For a noblewoman raised on silk cushions, riding a bare plank cart over rugged trails all day was torture.
She stepped aboard with resigned poise. Silk curtains fell over the windows; dozens of guards formed up around it. The escort captain—the one who'd eyed me like vermin yesterday—raised his hand in signal.
"Move out!"
Snap! The driver's whip cracked, and the four white horses lunged, kicking up dirt. The massive rosewood carriage gathered speed, rolling out of the courtyard onto the castle roads.
The same unpaved stone path that had tormented Mi So-jeo with nausea yesterday—broad, uneven slabs jutting wildly. The wheels hit a massive protruding boulder first thing.
Now. I held my breath, staring at the wheels. Yesterday, that rock would have made the axle scream and the body lurch skyward with a thud.
Thump, sway. No ear-splitting crack, no wild bounce. As the iron-rimmed wooden wheel smashed the boulder, the layered plate springs between axle and body compressed with a shunk under the colossal weight and impact.
But they didn't snap or crumple. Last night's annealing in oil at the forge's edge had granted them tough elasticity. They absorbed the shock energy smoothly, then sprang back to their C-shape with a resilient twwang. The sharp, destructive jolt transformed into a deep, gentle wave.
Thump, sway. Instead of bucking violently, the carriage bobbed pleasantly, like a boat gliding over calm ripples. Wheels ground roughly, but the passenger compartment held miraculously level.
"Wha—what?"
The escort captain, striding tight alongside, gawked. The beast that always twisted and shrieked was gliding smoothly over the stones like a lie. He glanced at the wheels in confusion—ordinary wood, same as ever.
Inside was even more dramatic. No groans of agony yet. Then the silk curtain parted, revealing Mi So-jeo's face.
Not the pale, hand-clamped grimace of yesterday. Serene composure. Her clear, sharp eyes scanned outward, seeking the miracle's cause. They swept the courtyard... and locked precisely on me—Aman, standing calmly behind the crates, watching the smooth ride with quiet certainty.
"...Remarkable."
I caught the faint curve of her red lips as she murmured.
Sunset painted the sky as forge fires glowed red in the evening gloom. Commotion erupted in the courtyard—the patrol and Mi So-jeo's carriage returning safely. I set down my hammer from the anvil and wiped coal dust and sweat with a rough towel.
Soon, urgent heavy footsteps thundered toward the forge entrance.
"Aman! Aman, you rascal!"
Master Yeom, who'd been out all day, burst in almost at a run—far from his usual ponderous plod. In one massive, pot-lid hand, he cradled a steaming bamboo steamer like fragile treasure, fresh from the pot.
"Drop the sweeping and get over here!"
He plunked it on the steel anvil before me and flung open the lid. A dozen plump, juicy pork dumplings burst forth in white steam—thin, chewy wrappers stuffed with meat and veggie juices. Savory pork fat and scallion aroma swallowed the forge's acrid char.
In this barren age of chaos, such luxury was a year's backbreaking labor for a mere porter or apprentice—fit only for rare festival glimpses.