It was only after fifteen minutes that the official in charge of the Nie Palace came to pay his respects to the Emperor.
It was not that he deliberately delayed, but in accordance with Wen Yanran’s own request – whether for alchemy or for coking coal – he had to wear a specially made “alchemy robe,” and when meeting the Sovereign, he naturally had to ensure his attire was proper.
The steward of the Nie Palace was named Guan Jing, an inner official chosen previously by Chi Yi and Zhang Luo. Though not particularly clever, he excelled in meticulousness.
“This batch of coke and glass has been successfully produced. Please, Your Majesty, take a look.”
Behind Guan Jing, two palace attendants each held a wooden tray – on the left was the coke, on the right was the glass.
Wen Yanran first examined the coke. Normally, the surface of coke should have a silvery-gray sheen, but the crudely produced batch before her was of rather average quality. It also made her realize that the so-called “iridescent black” might, to some extent, be a realistic description.
However, as long as this coke was sufficient to melt silicon dioxide, its purity was of little concern.
Ren Feihong, on the other hand, was immediately drawn to the glass.
Having come from the Yun clan, she was certainly well-versed in many things, yet this was the first time she had seen crystal with such remarkable clarity.
These glass objects had been shaped into bottles of varying sizes, exuding an air of extravagant luxury.
The eunuch had just referred to these items as “glass.”
Ren Feihong only knew of “colored glaze,” but the glass before her bore almost no resemblance to it.
Wen Yanran gazed at the glassware produced this time, a slight frown on her face.
Limited by the constraints of the era, the craftsmanship of these glass bottles was rather mediocre. Among the utensils, fewer than half were usable. Since the establishment of the Nie Palace, Wen Yanran had only just managed to assemble a set of test tubes, beakers, round-bottom flasks, tubes, glass rods, and glass slides.
In truth, the Great Zhou had long possessed artisans skilled in glassmaking. However, the glass they produced was lead-barium glass, which had the advantage of a low melting point but suffered from fragility and temperature sensitivity. As a result, the finished products were unsuitable for use as experimental apparatus. Moreover, in appearance, it resembled jade more than the glass of later eras.
Wen Yanran’s judgment was correct. The artisans of ancient times also referred to that opaque glass as “medicine jade” or “medicine colored glaze,” where “medicine” described the method of smelting, and “jade” depicted its appearance.
As a transmigrator, Wen Yanran naturally used plant ash as the flux for silicon dioxide.
Unfortunately, even though she had mastered a more scientific formula, the glass produced at first remained murky in color. After some deliberation, Wen Yanran assigned personnel to clean the sand and others to sieve it carefully, minimizing impurities as much as possible. The transparency of the finished product did improve but still fell short of her requirements. She then had them experiment with different types of plant ash and ultimately discovered that ash from burned wood yielded superior results.
The artisans in the Imperial Household Department were among the finest in the Great Zhou. Under Wen Yanran’s direct supervision, they spent over two months making repeated attempts before finally producing glass that was both sufficiently transparent and sturdy in texture.
Noticing Ren Feihong’s gaze, Wen Yanran smiled and said, “The elixir refined this time is different from those on the outside. Naturally, it should be held in a crystal cup.”
The Sovereign then ordered the “alchemy utensils” she needed to be brought along before riding back to the Elixir Palace on horseback.
Ren Feihong gradually came to realize that unlike the late emperor, who had left all such matters to the alchemists, the current ruler actually intended to refine the elixir herself.
The Elixir Palace.
A tall, slender alchemist approached and bowed deeply to Wen Yanran. “Your Majesty.”
Her name was Zheng Shanyun, and she was quite renowned in the northern regions. Had it not been for Xuanyangzi’s overwhelming presence, she might have even earned herself a title as a “divine immortal.”
As a seasoned alchemist, Zheng Shanyun naturally understood how to elevate her status in the presence of nobility. The key was not to appear overly eager, lest she be mistaken for a charlatan.
But after being brought to the capital by Wen Hong, Zheng Shanyun and her ilk completely abandoned any pretense of self-importance. With Xuanyangzi’s bloody precedent fresh in their minds, they knew exactly what attitude to adopt toward the formidable emperor. Moreover, when the alchemists were brought to Jingyuan, they had witnessed the Sovereign’s own alchemical practices. Zheng Shanyun realized at once that she was in the presence of a kindred spirit – a master of the craft.
Since ascending the throne, this young emperor had been surrounded by numerous rumors. It was said that in both civil and martial affairs, the Sovereign had excelled in every aspect. Yet Zheng Shanyun had never imagined that the Emperor also possessed such profound mastery in the art of alchemy.
Wen Yanran instructed, “Minister Ren, if you wish to enter the Elixir Palace, you must also wear the alchemy robe. Moreover, there are many dangerous objects within – be sure not to touch anything carelessly.”
Ren Feihong replied, “I am grateful for Your Majesty’s concern. I understand.”
Wen Yanran gave a slight nod and then proceeded into the Elixir Palace.
Unlike before, when she had been driven by the system, today she had come purely for her own enjoyment.
The Great Zhou had no electronic devices, no novels worth reading, and not even any food that piqued Wen Yanran’s interest. Conducting chemical experiments had become the most engaging activity she could find.
To minimize the potential consequences of her experiments, Wen Yanran had no intention of creating anything new – she merely planned to refine the salicylic acid she had previously produced.
Shellac was only available in the southern regions, and its yield was extremely limited. However, both salicylic acid and allicin caused strong irritation to the stomach. Wen Yanran thus decided to go straight to the goal: producing acetylsalicylic acid that could be taken orally.
In organic chemistry experiments, synthesizing acetylsalicylic acid was undoubtedly one of the most fundamental operations – yet in ancient times, it proved exceptionally difficult.
Ren Feihong stood quietly to the side, attentively observing every move of the Sovereign.
Wen Yanran recalled that in a laboratory, acetylsalicylic acid was synthesized from acetic anhydride and salicylic acid, catalyzed by concentrated sulfuric acid. Considering the purity of the final product, ethyl acetate was also required.
Four materials – none of them easy to obtain.
A crude version of salicylic acid had already been obtained through recrystallization. Next, Wen Yanran needed concentrated sulfuric acid.
She had Wen Hong to thank for sending alchemists her way, making it relatively easy for her to acquire dilute sulfuric acid.
The ancients had a commonly used alchemical material called “stone gall,” which was essentially anhydrous copper sulfate. Alchemists could obtain dilute sulfuric acid through dry distillation, and once they had dilute sulfuric acid, concentrated sulfuric acid could be easily obtained through distillation.
This “easily obtained” referred to the chemical sense of the word in a modern context. Under ancient conditions, however, it could very well lead to some rather unpleasant consequences.
Wen Yanran said calmly, “Bring the litmus paper I prepared earlier.”
The alchemists promptly presented it – though they did not understand its purpose, they vaguely guessed it was some kind of talismanic paper from the imperial treasury.
Although many books were held in the hands of aristocratic families and had not circulated among the common people, the palace naturally kept its own copies. Thus, the Sovereign possessed knowledge entirely unknown to outsiders. As for why the previous emperor had never displayed such intelligence, that was also easily explained – it was well known that the late emperor simply did not enjoy reading…
Litmus was relatively widespread, and its extract was quite effective for testing the acidity or alkalinity of substances.
When dilute sulfuric acid was distilled to around 70% concentration, an acidic mist would begin to appear in the vapor. Wen Yanran needed to use the test paper to monitor the process – this was to prevent those nearby from accidentally inhaling it.
First, she added boiling chips into the beaker – this was to prevent the concentrated sulfuric acid from bumping violently when heated – then poured in the dilute sulfuric acid. She suspended a piece of litmus paper directly above the flask and finally began the distillation using a water bath heating method.
This would take a considerable amount of time.
During this time, Wen Yanran could first work on producing acetic anhydride.
The conditions were still far too rudimentary. Even though her academic performance back in school had been passable, she wasn’t entirely confident about successfully synthesizing acetic anhydride by hand under these circumstances.
Other methods of preparation were too demanding, leaving Wen Yanran with only two viable paths: first, heating acetic acid to generate ketene, which would then react with acetic acid to form acetic anhydride; second, adding phosphorus pentoxide to acetic acid as a dehydrating agent to directly produce acetic anhydride.
As for anhydrous acetic acid, it was relatively easier to obtain – first by distilling vinegar to increase the acetic acid concentration, then cooling the solution. With a melting point of 16.6°C, higher than that of water, acetic acid would crystallize before the temperature dropped to freezing, yielding glacial acetic acid.
After wasting a considerable amount of raw materials, the alchemists, bearing an indescribable odor, respectfully presented the obtained substance to the Sovereign before hurriedly taking turns to bathe and change clothes.
Wen Yanran gazed at the glacial acetic acid in the container, feeling a twinge of regret that Guide to Becoming a Tyrant was not a construction game. If it were, a notification should have popped up by now to mark the occasion: “[Congratulations, player! You have obtained [Anhydrous Acetic Acid].]”…
With the acetic acid in hand, Wen Yanran proceeded to produce phosphorus pentoxide – compared to acetic anhydride, obtaining phosphorus pentoxide was relatively easy. White phosphorus could be extracted from animal bones, and the product of burning white phosphorus was phosphorus pentoxide.
First, she added the acetic acid, then the phosphorus pentoxide. Wen Yanran swirled the beaker without much confidence, silently praying to the heavens that the final product would turn out reliably…
The distillation of concentrated sulfuric acid was not yet complete. Wen Yanran set the acetic anhydride aside, sealing it for preservation, and then began working on ethyl acetate.
The materials required for ethyl acetate were acetic acid and ethanol. To speed up the reaction, sulfuric acid had to be added as a catalyst.
Technically, this step wasn’t too difficult. It simply required heating the acetic acid and ethanol in a long-necked flask until boiling. If conditions permitted, a reflux condenser could be set up. As for Wen Yanran, her only option was to attach a long glass tube at an angle above the flask and manually pour cold water over it continuously – thanks to the Imperial Household, she still had access to ice, even in October.
The production of ethyl acetate would also take a considerable amount of time. Wen Yanran left the alchemists to monitor the experiment and, remembering Ren Feihong, who had accompanied her, said with a smile, “If you find this tedious, Minister Ren, you may go horseback riding.”
Ren Feihong shook her head and said sincerely, “In my view, what Your Majesty is doing here is ten thousand times more fascinating than horseback riding.” Then she added, “Your Majesty once mentioned that if I rendered meritorious service in the eastern territories, we could settle accounts separately?”
Wen Yanran nodded. “Do you have something in mind, Minister Ren?”
Ren Feihong bowed. “I wish to remain in Jingyuan.”
She had always been someone who went with the flow, wandering wherever she pleased. But after coming to Jingyuan, she had suddenly found a new goal.
Wen Yanran’s gaze sharpened slightly.
She recalled reading in the comment section that Ren Feihong was different from the typical ministers and strategists. She was professional and competent, yet lacked any real sense of loyalty – her attitude toward her sovereign was closer to that of a modern-day employee.
Players had confirmed this through technical means; someone had looked at the backend data – there was a hidden attribute in the game called “Loyalty,” and Ren Feihong’s loyalty cap was locked, maxing out at 50.
Wen Yanran thought to herself, This is exactly the kind of minister I need.
Ren Feihong had wide-ranging interests and genuinely seemed passionate about the art of alchemy. And given her professionalism, she would not waver until the last remnants of the Great Zhou’s glory had faded. Once the dynasty collapsed, she would be the first to flee.
Safe enough. Reliable enough.
Wen Yanran mused that, given Ren Feihong’s nature, she would likely live smoothly into the next dynasty. And if, by then, she still remembered some of the knowledge she had gained within the Elixir Palace, she might just plant the seeds of chemistry in that new era.
“In that case, I hereby appoint you as Jingcheng.”
Many official titles in the Great Zhou were tied to geographic locations. Those in charge of certain palaces were usually designated as “Ling” or “Cheng” – for instance, the positions held by the late emperor’s trusted minions were Yaoling and Guiling.
Wen Yanran pondered for a moment, then added with a smile, “The rank of Jingcheng is not particularly high. I shall also grant you the title of Middle Grand Master, so that you may move freely within the palace.”
Ren Feihong bowed deeply. “I shall not fail to live up to Your Majesty’s high expectations.”
