Chapter 4: Cannot sit and wait for death

  In the early morning, Zhao Che followed his usual routine and strolled in the garden for more than half an hour. He was already sweating when he returned to his own courtyard, washed his hands and face, first bowed towards the north to pay respects to his parents, the Emperor and Empress who were far away, before starting to eat breakfast.

  Zhao Che washed his hands again, sat down at the dinner table, and looked at the things on it. Various silver plates were piled high with fragrant round fruits, real kumquats, pomegranates, oranges, and some fried doughnuts, oil cakes, and date cakes. However, looking good was not allowed for him to eat, these were all for display, he could only eat a small bowl of mutton porridge and a bowl of mutton noodle soup, after seeing the joy of tasting, it was his turn to eat, but he couldn't finish them all, the rules of the mansion were like this, to prevent children from eating too much and getting "stuffed", most of his days after crossing over were spent in this half-hungry and half-full state, it's pitiful to say, a prince wanting to eat a full meal was a luxury!

  After dinner, Zhao Zhan reluctantly left the table and followed Xian Xi to the large study in the front hall. The teacher who was supposed to give him a lesson was already waiting there. The teacher first made him recite the "Bai Jia Xing" he had learned yesterday, then led him to read a new passage, repeating it three times before letting him study on his own and ignoring him to read his own book.

  These things Zhao Zhuo used to recite in kindergarten, who would have thought that he still had to learn them now? It's incredibly dull, but with danger lurking everywhere, he could only endure and pretend to be stupid. If he dared to "stick his head out", he would lose his life even faster. Zhao Zhuo read the text in a loud voice twice, but his voice gradually became smaller and eventually disappeared. If this one-on-one tutoring were in a past life, it would have been the dream of many parents, but Zhao Zhuo found it utterly tasteless. In the past, from kindergarten to military school, he had always lived a collective learning life with 40 or 50 classmates, but now he faced this old man who was over 50 years old every day, and it was already not bad if he didn't fall asleep.

  The old man sitting in the front is going to take part in this year's imperial examination. Thirty years ago, he had already passed the provincial exam and thought that if he could pass the imperial examination, he would be able to live a life of "eating mutton". However, he didn't expect to fail repeatedly for so many years, and now he can't even afford to live a life of "eating vegetable porridge". He had no choice but to find a job as a teacher. The salary provided by this family is not low, eight taels per month, with meals included, teaching only one student, and the student's body is not good, so he only teaches half-day classes. This money is like picking it up from the ground. Originally, he wanted to teach this student well, but unexpectedly, this unlucky child was too lazy and stupid, unwilling to attend even half a day of class, and still hasn't finished learning "The Hundred Family Surnames". His heart has cooled down, and every day, both the student and teacher come here just to go through the motions, each taking what they need.

  "Are you done gathering all the things I asked for?" Zhao Zhan asked 'Shu Tong' who was dozing off on one side.

  "Second Master, I've found them all! I've really gone to a lot of trouble for you. Those people had never seen the things you wanted before. If it weren't for the high wages we offered, they wouldn't have been willing to do the job!" Xianji's spirits lifted when he heard this, and he leaned in to say that these things seemed useless to him, but the money spent was indeed substantial. Those trinkets would take even a skilled craftsman ten or more days of hard work to make well, but Second Master wasn't very clever and was just happy to get them made, no matter how much it cost. He never asked about the expenses, so he could always make some profit for himself, which is why he was always very enthusiastic and dedicated.

  "After eating, take me to the small study room, how much money did you spend to find the big manager? Don't teach me what to say!" Zhao Chu waved his hand and said, stopping his chatter. Seeing that he was as cunning as the logistics director who had been sent to prison when he was the head of the department, this kid thought he could fool him. However, since there was no one around to share his thoughts with, he swallowed the benefit and didn't dare speak out of turn, which suited Zhao Chu's intention, so he continued to play dumb."

  "Second Master, rest assured!" Xi Xin replied with a smile, delighted in her heart. This time, she had earned another ten taels of silver. Before being assigned to serve the Second Prince from the palace, he was just a lowly servant who swept and mopped floors. People in the palace whispered that the Second Prince was an unlucky star, whoever followed him would be jinxed. At first, Xi Xin was cautious, but soon discovered that the prince wasn't an unlucky star, rather a lucky one. At least her own purse had grown much heavier than when she was still in the palace.

  The old master looked at the two people whispering below, sighed softly, "A rotten wood cannot be carved!" He turned his face to look at his own book and came with an eye that didn't see or bother. It was hard to get through until noon, when the teacher and student left the study room like flying, everyone looking at each other was unbearable!

  Zhao Chu put all the things that Jian Xi had brought back on his desk, big and small, totaling thirty or forty pieces. As he assembled these scattered items together, he couldn't help but feel that he had underestimated the ancients. These individually crafted parts were absolutely impossible to produce in modern times without a master craftsman of the highest level. It seemed that Jian Xi was not only greedy for wealth, but also quite skilled at acquiring good things.

  Zhao Zhan only made some minor modifications to a few parts with a file, then assembled them together, and hammered the rivets that connected them. A thing that ancient people would not recognize, but a modern three-year-old child would know, appeared on the desk - it was a short-barreled left-handed revolver. The brass body of the gun shone brightly, and the yellow pear wood handle felt good in his hand. Zhao Zhan let out a long breath, weighed the gun in his hand, which felt heavy and oppressive, but with the gun in hand, his demeanor changed completely, becoming that of a killing god who could erupt in violence at any moment.

  "Hmph..." Zhao Zhanlong let out a breath, reined in his aura and quickly assembled another gun with the remaining parts. His worries were somewhat unnecessary, to prevent any deviations, he had Xian Xi make two sets of each part for replacement purposes. This couldn't be blamed on him being overly cautious, as in his past life, every time he executed a mission, he was able to return unscathed, and this was inseparable from his prudent personality.

  Zhao Yi's production of a handgun was not a sudden whim, but rather a complete preparation for dealing with potentially unfavorable situations that might arise. He did not want to put his own safety in the hands of people he didn't fully understand. The palace had no shortage of swords and knives, but the problem was that he couldn't use them effectively. The best weapon would be a small, handy handgun, but such things wouldn't appear until 700 or 800 years later, and even with money, there was nowhere to buy one. After some thought, he remembered the earliest black powder revolver, which had a simple structure and could be relatively easily manufactured under current conditions. He spent nearly two months gathering all the necessary materials.

  Zhao Zhe pulled the trigger, and the hammer accurately hit the firing pin. He pulled the hammer again, and the cylinder rotated with a light, crisp sound, entering the firing state once more. He narrowed one eye to check if the barrel and chamber were aligned properly - this was a crucial part that couldn't be neglected. He didn't have high expectations for this gun; considering the ancient manufacturing level, he knew it had many defects. The copper material was relatively soft, and the parts couldn't withstand the wear and tear caused by frequent firing. After continuous shooting, the barrel and chamber would expand due to heat, producing gaps and affecting the seal, leading to a decrease in power and accuracy. The gun's trigger mechanism wouldn't work with current craftsmanship, so he had to use substitutes. Bullets were even more of a luxury; the loading method could only be done using the earliest way left-handled revolvers were loaded when they were first invented.

  He moved a small stool, climbed up and took out a book box from the bookshelf, put it on the desk and opened it. He took out the top book, took out a small box and carefully opened it, taking out what was inside. In his previous life, these were all readily available things, but he had to work hard for them! Zhao Che first removed the magazine, blocked the firing hole with his fingers, and used a small silver spoon to fill the cartridge with gunpowder, each one filled with half of it. The ingredients of the gunpowder were obtained by Zhao Che from the pharmacy in the mansion, he did not expect that saltpeter, sulfur and other things would be medicinal materials at this time, how could the formula be difficult to get, even a special forces soldier who used washing powder could make explosives.

  After loading the gunpowder, he added some crushed wheat flour and then placed a lead bullet on top. The lead bullet was made by melting a lead kettle in the kitchen, and then he sealed the chamber with wax oil, filling six cartridges one after another. Finally, he installed the fuse at the ignition hole. The fuse he used was the common igniter paper that can be bought for one yuan today, but back then it was hard to get, and without it, he could only make a fire lance that relied on a fuse string to ignite, which would greatly reduce its concealment and practicality. It's worth mentioning that he had to thank Qingyun, the cow nose, who gave Zhao Chu what he had been dreaming of in an explosion - red phosphorus.

  With the red phosphorus, he added realgar, wood charcoal and rice paste to make a relatively stable ignition device. After loading the primer into the firing groove at the rear of the cartridge chamber, reassembling the gun, this was considered complete. Zhao Ke carefully tied the gun to a chair, and about four or five meters in front of it, he fixed a half-inch thick book. Zhao Ke tied a thin rope to the trigger, and then lay down behind the desk to start testing, being extremely cautious because he didn't know if the amount of gunpowder loaded was suitable, nor what the quality of ancient metals was like.

  A loud muffled sound, a pungent smoke burst into the room, Zhao looked at the gun still on the chair, pressed down the hammer again, pulled the trigger repeatedly, and after several more muffled sounds, the room was filled with smoke. After finishing shooting, the gun was fine without exploding, but the books placed in front were riddled with bullet holes.

  "Haha, I did it!" Zhao Xiao laughed and shouted, the Long March finally took its first step. After reloading again, he placed a tea cup for drinking water on his desk, this thing would be worth at least hundreds of thousands in modern times, but now it had become his target.

  "Bang, bang!" Zhao Ze took a dozen steps back and fired two shots in succession. The bullets didn't hit the teacup, but they did strike the edge of a fine stone mortar nearby, sending sparks flying everywhere and shards of rock scattering in all directions. "Damn it, the recoil is still too strong!" Zhao Ze cursed under his breath, taking a step forward and aiming again. This time, the teacup shattered on impact. With the next two shots, he found the trick to handling this old gun, and the inkstone and pen holder on the desk became "ghosts under the gun". For the final shot, he aimed at the pillar in the corner of the room and fired. By now, the gun was scorching hot, and his own wrist was throbbing with pain from the recoil.

  Put down the gun, Zhao Chu checked the pillar, the bullet deviated from the carved flower he aimed at by several inches, but also penetrated more than an inch deep. He made a preliminary judgment on the performance of this gun, the effective range can reach more than 20 meters, but the accuracy decreases, and that distance can only be relied upon by luck. Within ten meters, if he shoots at people, he will never miss, and armor such as body armor cannot stop the bullets shot out.

  He then checked the gun again, and as he had expected, there were scratches on the barrel. It seemed that this gun was like a work of art from his previous life, with more emphasis on appreciation than practicality, unable to withstand frequent use, only suitable for critical moments, but it had already served its purpose for self-defense.