8. Dexterous Hands

The next morning, Shen Qingyue had only just woken up when Jiang Zhu—who possessed incredible manual dexterity and absolutely no tendency to procrastinate—had already cut three bamboo stalks and dug up a basket of bamboo shoots. He was already hard at work in the front yard, constructing a lamp stand.

By the time Shen Qingyue hobbled out with his cane, the framework was nearly complete.

"Good grief, is that skin of yours rented? Can you put on a shirt before you work?"

"?"

Jiang Zhu blinked in confusion. He set down his saw and, face flushing, reached for his top. "There's no one else on the mountain."

"You're not a young maiden; why does it matter if there's someone here or not?"

"..."

"You've been tanned into a black loach; doesn't it hurt?"

Jiang Zhu was even more bewildered. "The sawdust gets on my skin and makes me itch."

"And not wearing a shirt doesn't itch?"

"I just splash some water on myself and the itch goes away."

Shen Qingyue looked over and, sure enough, there was a water vat nearby. He was left speechless, unable to resist a remark: "It would be a miracle if you *didn't* get tanned."

"..."

Shen Qingyue found a chair and sat down to supervise. Jiang Zhu finally put his shirt on.

However, once the lamp stand was finished, he took his shirt off again to shake off the debris. Shen Qingyue couldn't help but laugh: "Have you ever considered that the reason your shirt is such a storage unit for sawdust is because it has too many patches? It’s practically a landscape of peaks and valleys now, Master Jiang."

Jiang Zhu looked down. His stitching was admittedly subpar, and the patches were uneven, but it certainly hadn't reached the level of "peaks and valleys." Unable to shake the dust off, he simply tossed the shirt into a basin, planning to wash it by the creek later.

As for the bamboo dust on his skin...

*Splash.*

A ladle of water.

"Hey, hey, hey!"

Another ladle of water.

A few more splashes from head to toe, and he was done.

Shen Qingyue couldn't bear to watch. "You're drenched in sweat, and then you pour cold water over yourself. Couldn't you at least let the sweat dry first? Your constitution—tsk, the heavens are truly unfair to us."

Jiang Zhu: "..."

"What are you staring at? Go find a dry towel to wipe off, and change those wet trousers. If my housekeeper saw you doing this, she’d nag you eight hundred times over. Next time, boil some hot water, Master Jiang."

Under the barrage of Shen Qingyue’s nagging, Jiang Zhu fled in a panic, only returning after changing his clothes to let Shen Qingyue inspect the work.

While his daily life was a mess, Master Jiang’s craftsmanship was impeccable. Shen Qingyue was genuinely stunned; with nothing but a few ragged chisels and saws, he had managed to carve three perfectly round holes into the bamboo pole, with three support struts fitting into them so precisely there wasn't a sliver of a gap.

As for the top, where Shen Qingyue had casually sketched a curved design, Jiang Zhu had actually managed to bend the bamboo into that shape. He had even carved a rather elegant hook.

After he wiped the stand clean, Shen Qingyue pointed to the curved top: "How did you do this?"

"Hm? I roasted it a little."

"Roasted it? How?"

"Just... roasted it." Jiang Zhu didn't know how to describe it. Seeing Shen Qingyue’s surprise, he grew anxious, quickly standing on tiptoe to check if he had scorched it—it wasn't burnt.

Shen Qingyue was silent. "Did it never occur to you that you could just leave a branch on to hang the lamp?"

Jiang Zhu: "That wouldn't be sturdy enough."

Shen Qingyue: "Why didn't you just insert a thinner bamboo rod like you did at the bottom?"

Jiang Zhu stared at him, bewildered. "That’s how you drew it..."

Shen Qingyue: "..."

Jiang Zhu said softly, "This looks better."

"..." Shen Qingyue held back his frustration and asked, "How old are you?"

"?" Jiang Zhu didn't know what he was getting at, but recalling the earlier lecture, he replied timidly, "Nineteen."

"Nineteen?!"

"Yes..." Was nineteen an unlucky age?

Shen Qingyue looked him up and down in shock, especially at his feet and the top of his head. "I thought you were fifteen, maybe sixteen at most!"

Jiang Zhu said gloomily, "I've already passed my seventeenth birthday by solar age."

Shen Qingyue: "..."

Fine, nineteen by traditional count.

He patted Jiang Zhu’s sturdy yet thin shoulder, and to Jiang Zhu’s alarm, exclaimed, "Do you have any idea how popular a craftsman like you would be with clients where I come from?"

Jiang Zhu: "???" What was that?

Shen Qingyue said sincerely, "Little Master Jiang, has anyone ever told you that you’re a little genius?"

Jiang Zhu: "???" A little what?

Shen Qingyue watched at close range as the young master’s face turned bright red. How could he have such thin skin?

He stared at Jiang Zhu intensely until the boy was blushing entirely, then said mischievously, "With such great skills, why don't you make me a pair of crutches next?"

Jiang Zhu scratched his head: "Sure... but I don't know how."

"It's okay, I'll draw them for you, hmm?" Shen Qingyue suddenly wrinkled his nose. "What's that smell?"

"Ah! The porridge is burning!" Jiang Zhu scrambled toward the kitchen.

"..."