CHAPTER 136: CHAPTER 87: I REALLY WISH THE RAIN COULD KEEP FALLING!

Harano shamelessly forced his way up, and before she knew it, Ningning had become his little apprentice. He genuinely started cultivating feelings with Ningning—but the kind being father-daughter affection—after all, twenty and seven years old, what else could they develop? What, raise a child bride?

In Japan’s Middle Ages, as long as a woman underwent a "Tang Robe Black Teeth Ceremony," she was considered an adult. They usually picked even-numbered ages, like eight, ten, or twelve. And once you were grown, you could get married.

For example, the later famous "Toshie and Matsu," the female protagonist Matsu married Maeda Toshie at just nine years old (nominally ten), or according to some records, plus another year, but even then, she was extremely young;

Another example, in "Ikkyu-san" (A Wise Man Named Ikkyu), the protagonist Ikkyu Sojun, when he was old, took in a concubine whom he was quite fond of, even wrote her a poem that got passed down to later generations. This concubine was only eleven years old at the time.

Yet another example: Oda Nobunaga’s official wife, Nongji, married Oda Nobunaga at about fourteen, but she was on her second marriage—her previous husband had already died, so her first marriage couldn’t have been much older than ten.

These weren’t special cases—this was the norm in Japan’s Middle Ages. In fact, if a woman wasn’t married off by fourteen, it was basically assumed some defect in her character or body existed, and suitors would be on high alert.

Harano knew all this—even if he hadn’t before, after getting nagged by Ah Man he certainly did now. But he still couldn’t get used to it. Even if he wasn’t rigid about following the Marriage Law after traveling back in time, it was too much to accept—at least sixteen, maybe he’d haggle down to fifteen, but anything less? Sorry, that goes against everything he’d been taught since childhood.

What’s more, Ningning wasn’t even his type. At least, not at the moment. He liked gentle and mild-tempered women; Ningning was a ways off from that, and the way she acted obedient almost seemed fake right now.

So he just genuinely treated Ningning as his "little apprentice," deliberately kept his distance, and aimed to be a proper teacher.

Ah Man, on the other hand, was shocked again; she simply couldn’t figure out what he was up to. She went off to the stables, stared long and hard at the family’s secondhand donkey, and started suspecting maybe this donkey had turned into a demon. Then she came back and complained to Ah Qing every which way: I knew he was a bit nuts, but I didn’t know he was this nuts! These Oddities really are strange. Trying to snatch someone else’s adopted daughter? If he really wanted one, he could just find his own—it’s not hard! Why steal someone else’s? I really wonder what goes on in his brain all day.

Harano overheard but didn’t bother arguing with her, this little wild kid, and as things had reached this point, his grand plan to set up Monkey had pretty much succeeded. Maybe he hadn’t destroyed Monkey entirely, but at least he’d hobbled him.

As for now, he really couldn’t do more. Besides earnestly teaching Ningning, caring for her in daily life, cultivating feelings, and grabbing the master position with both hands, he didn’t push for anything else.

Just then, the Meiyu Season finally arrived. Drizzling rain fell without end, and Owari instantly calmed down. Even the usual defenses at Takeshige Manor seemed to slacken a bit.

You just couldn’t fight wars in Meiyu Season—otherwise the Ashigaru would be stepping in a water pit on the left and mud on the right, slogging tens of miles just to reach the enemy’s castle. And if the enemy just kept their gates shut, after a night in the rain outside, at least thirty percent of the Ashigaru wouldn’t be able to stand the next day—you’d collapse without even fighting.

Besides, it was the busiest time of year for farmers, racing to plant late rice. Even though Japan mostly planted fast-growing rice now, they still had to race against typhoons—every second counted. Farmers would be out in flooded fields from dawn to dusk, every extra minute mattered.

To save time, some low and mid-ranking samurai would even go to plant seedlings themselves and gained a reputation for being hard-working and frugal in generations to come—but honestly, the samurai only did farm work this one month, and most of it was just "helping out" while supervising their Lang Faction sons to make sure they weren’t slacking. They weren’t exactly toiling away. Later, books hyped it up: "So-and-so, being such a big-shot, actually went down into the fields himself and got his feet muddy!" Made them sound like lifetime pacifist farmers, but believing all that is pure brain-damage.

Anyway, as Meiyu Season started, the once chaotic Owari instantly became a peaceful paradise.

No troublemakers, no rebellions, no conspiracies or bloody battles—everyone just hunkered down at home, dutifully tending their one acre, three shares of land.

Of course, that didn’t include Harano—he wanted to do agriculture too, but had no capital, no land, so the Meiyu Season didn’t much affect him. In fact, this time of absolute safety—no danger of war whatsoever—was a huge boon for him.

So he took this opportunity to upgrade the production line at his soy sauce workshop, started boiling down kelp broth, i.e. "umami plus soy sauce," bringing it into regular production to try and make fatter profits with these high-end products.

Besides that, he was experimenting with homemade synthesis of Shilin dyes and sulfur dyes, eyeing some money in the "clothing" sector of "food, clothing, housing, transportation."

After much observation and shameless questioning, he learned that in cloth dyeing, Japan’s Middle Ages mainly used primitive "soaking and dyeing" methods with natural dyes—colors came out weak, faded after just a couple washes, and production was super low. A few workshops did "soak plus rolling dye" for high-end stuff, but it was still basic: low yield, few patterns, high waste.

He figured this had real potential. Any of the bright modern colors, or just stuff that wouldn’t fade no matter how hard you washed it, could totally crush the old methods. He’d never worry about selling. And as long as he tightly controlled the key reagents—reducers, catalysts, etc.—there was no way other merchants could imitate, even if they stole the dye. No reducer, dye can’t dissolve in water—it’d be useless to anyone else.

So, for the time being, apart from teaching Ningning a few hours every two or three days, most of his energy went into dye synthesis. It was all kinds of strange homemade methods—things never went quite right, lab work was rough, half the time he ended up with crazy colors, and commercial scale production was a distant dream.

It was tricky—way tougher than making soy sauce with dilute hydrochloric acid hydrolysis, but he was mentally prepared and took it slow. And he had plenty to do. If he was busy, Ah Man was even busier. On his orders, she’d managed in short order to round up the first ten members of the Lang Faction. She dragged him out of the lab to inspect them.

Standing in the corridor, Harano looked them over and saw they were all sixteen or seventeen, still had baby faces, and every single one looked dead honest. He couldn’t help whispering to Ah Man: "Aren’t they a little too young? Also, why do we have to recruit them all the same age?"

He wanted guys who could go straight to battle with swords—in case you forgot, he’d seen Oda Nobunaga trip into this pit before and didn’t want to follow—Nobunaga could blame youth and inexperience, but for him, there’d be no excuse except idiocy.

Ah Man had her own ideas. She looked at the ten boys in straw raincoats and hats, standing perfectly still in the drizzle—they only managed to stand in a row and not squirm after she and Ah Qing beat them for three days—and swore with total confidence: "Young is just what we want. Older ones are slippery—you can’t domesticate them! These kids are perfect, I picked them one by one. All second or third sons of honest families, and they’re all dirt poor. Feed them a year or two, toss them a little cash sometimes, they’ll be loyal to the bone."

She paused, then added, "As for your worries, forget it! With just this handful, let Ah Qing take care of them for now—it’s plenty. When we’ve recruited a few groups like this, got them grateful to you, then I’ll bring in some battle-hardened pros. By then, most will follow only you. The pros won’t dare try anything, and if they do, you can swat them down at will. Totally stable!"

Harano nodded slowly—she had a point: get a batch of young, obedient, easily managed, honest bumpkins to set up the organization first; then bring in adult pros. That way, the "pros" wouldn’t twist things from the start. Really, not a bad strategy.

She truly was an old hand at this. Swapping her out for anyone else and they probably wouldn’t have thought it through so well.

He instantly switched to his new persona and praised her work: "Truly, you’ve worked so hard—couldn’t do it without you!"

Ah Man’s pea eyebrows twitched; she pressed her lips together and felt all her wind-and-rain running around these days was worth it. Outwardly, though, she acted indifferent, waving her little hand grandly: "No big deal. Eating your food, gotta do some work for you! We’re buddies, after all—who’s counting between us?"

Yuan Bei, Yuan Xuande: ...

You wild kid, seriously, not a shred of respect. I’m so much older, since when are we "buddies"? All the good stuff I said, you never learned—instead you pick up all my nonsense the moment I let something slip. You really are a natural born troublemaker!

Harano couldn’t help but complain inside. Still, he couldn’t say anything—people are needed, after all. Can’t be too picky. If things are informal, so be it. Face isn’t worth much—onto the real business: "So what’s your next step?"

"Here! This is the weapons and armor I’m buying them—write me a note and I’ll get Yayoi to give me the money," Ah Man had completely thought things through and was well prepared. "Next, Ah Qing will train them in basics, teach them some moves, work on their bodies. If you’re not fit, nothing else matters."

"Aren’t you going to drill formations and stuff?"

"It’s just a handful—what formations? Just follow Ah Qing. If you can win, fight. If not, just run!"

Harano once again nodded slowly—Ah Man made good sense. With so few people, no need to overthink it. Keep things simple at first—if you want to get fancy, wait a year when you have over a hundred, then worry about it.

Maybe then he’d hire some battle-hardened samurai. But that was still a ways off—no need to rush. Get this batch loyal first. No—build up some loyalty first, then talk.

Harano agreed right away. He glanced at the military gear list and wrote Ah Man a note for money, but after hesitating, he asked her: "Hey, do you think I should also train with Ah Qing?"

"You? Train what?"

"Didn’t you say to learn some moves? Help me pick a weapon too, and I’ll train along!" Harano figured it was better to plan ahead plus, with it raining every day, you could barely see sun three hours a day, the outside world was a mudpit—there was nothing else to do anyway.

Since he had free time, spending a bit each day learning some moves seemed worthwhile—not to become a master, just to up his hand-to-hand survival chances a bit.

Ah Man patted his lower back, then squeezed his joints, muttering, "Why not, you actually do need the exercise. You’re stiff as a rock—keep sitting around and you’ll die early."

So that was settled. Ah Man walked off without a second thought. As for his intent to train, she didn’t put much effort into it. Next day, she sent over a stupidly big, thick, eight-sided iron rod, must have rushed the blacksmith to make it. It was super rough, but he was told to swing it around for now—weapon upgrades could wait until he got results.

Harano was speechless. He’d originally wanted a Wild Tachi, thought it looked cooler, but he wasn’t fussy. Making do would do.

And so, his Meiyu Season lifestyle became: spend most of his time dyeing cloth in the lab, hoping blind luck would hit a home run; spend a bit of time training martial arts with Ah Qing to move his body; and every two or three days teach Ningning a few hours to work on the father-daughter bond. Quite leisurely, all things considered.

Honestly, it felt fantastic—if only Owari could stay this peaceful forever.

I really hope it keeps raining forever!