Under Tang Zhangwei's appeal, Fei Xuechun and the business magnates from all over the Tang Dynasty invested money in the construction of the shipyard, and those carpenters and sheet metal workers, as well as shipbuilders from all over the country, began to sweat and build icebreakers.

Tang Zhangwei saw the icebreaker in the dock and nodded with satisfaction.

Along with the icebreakers, whaling ships and fishing boats were built, and these huge fishing boats and icebreakers represent Datang's cutting-edge technological achievements.

Fei Xuechun said to Tang Zhangwei: "I hope that after these ships are launched from the dock, they will bring us a large amount of banknotes and gold back." ”

Tang Zhangwei said: "As long as the catch comes back, the money will be in hand." ”

There are often several stones in the kitchen fire, which can be taken out at any time to quickly heat a small amount of water or soup. Philippe explained: "Brother Paul had chilblains at the bridge, but Remigius refused to make a fire for him. He picked up a pair of tongs and took a hot stone from the stove.

Milius opened a cupboard and pulled out an old piece of leather that had been used as an apron. "Here—wrap it up."

"Thank you." Philip wrapped the hot stone in the middle of the leather and carefully carried the corners.

"Hurry," said Milius, "lunch is ready." ”

Philip waved his hand and left the kitchen. He walked through the courtyard towards the gate. To his left, just inside the Western Wall, is the Mill. Many years ago, a canal was dug upstream of the monastery to bring water from the river to the mill. After driving the mill's impeller, the water flowed through a culvert to the winery, the kitchen, and the fountain in the cloister, where the monks washed their hands before eating, and finally to the toilet next to the dormitory, then turned south and back into the river. One of the vice presidents of the year was a brilliant planner.

There was a pile of dirty grass outside the stable, and Philip noticed that the groom was cleaning up the manure and urine as he had instructed. He walked out of the gate, through the village, towards the wooden bridge.

Am I too presumptuous to scold young William Bowes? As he walked through the shacks, he asked himself. After thinking about it, he decided that he was not. In fact, it would be wrong to turn a blind eye to such disrupting prayer.

He walked to the bridge and poked his head into Paul's pavilion. "Burn your feet on this," he said, handing over the hot stone wrapped in leather. "Wait until the stone is cooler, then remove the leather and put your feet directly on the stone. This temperature can be maintained until dark. ”

Brother Paul was filled with joy and sorrow and was grateful to him. He immediately took off his loafers and put his feet on his bag. "I can feel that the pain has lessened," he said.

"Brother Milius won't care, will they?" Paul said nervously.

"I promise not."

"You've been so good to me, Brother Philip."

"Nothing to thank." Philip hurried away without waiting for Paul's thanks to become embarrassed. It's just a hot stone.

He returned to the monastery. He walked into the cloister, washed his hands in the stone basin in the south hallway, and went into the cafeteria. A monk reads a text from a scripture reading platform. Except for the sound of chanting, the meal should be silent, but the sound of more than forty monks eating formed an uninterrupted low murmur, and many others whispered unruly. Philip whispered over to an empty seat at a long dining table and sat down. The monk next to him ate so much that he made a lot of noise. He and Philip met their eyes and muttered, "Eat fresh fish today." ”

Philip nodded. He saw it in the kitchen just now. His stomach rumbled.

The monk said, "We have heard that in your little monastery in the woods there is fresh fish to eat every day," and his tone was envious.

Philip shook his head. "Eat poultry every other day," he said in a low voice.

The monk looked even more envious. "It's salted fish six times a week."

"Yes - a farm."

A servant placed a thick slice of bread in front of Philip, and then placed a fish with the spices of Milius on top. Philip's mouth was full of saliva. He was about to break the fish with a knife when a monk at the other end of the table stood up and pointed at him. It turned out to be a patrol. Philip thought: What's going on?

The inspector had violated discipline, but he had the right to do so. "Brother Philip!"

The other monks all stopped eating, and there was silence in the room.

Philip's knife rested on the fish, looking up and waiting for the following.

The inspector said: "There are rules that latecomers are not allowed to eat. ”

Philip sighed. It seems that today he is simply useless. He put down his knife, returned the bread and fish to the servant, and bowed his head to listen to the scripture reading.

For the rest of the day after lunch, Philip went to the pantry under the kitchen and spoke with the secretary, the bald head Cuthbert. The storage room was a large, dark cavern with stubby pillars and narrow windows. The indoor air is dry and full of the smell of stored food: hops and honey, aged apples and dried spices, cheese and vinegar. Brother Cuthbert is usually found here, for he was so busy with his work that he did not have much time to pray, which was contrary to his wishes, and he was a clever and down-to-earth man who had little interest in spiritual life. The priest was the material counterpart of the priest: Cuthbert had to provide all the monks with everything necessary for practical life, store the harvest of the monastic farms and granges, and go to the market to buy what the monks and hired hands could not provide themselves. This work requires careful estimation and calculation. Cuthbert didn't do it alone: Mirius, the chef, was in charge of preparing the meals, and there was a caretaker in charge of the monks' costumes. The two men were under Cuthbert's orders, and there were three other personnel who were usually under his control but had a degree of autonomy: the head of the house, the director of the convalescent staff who cared for the elderly and sick monks in a separate house, and the nurse. Despite his several assistants, Cuthbert's task was daunting; Yet he put everything in his head, saying that it was a shame to waste parchment and ink. Philip suspected that Cuthbert had not learned to read and write. Cuthbert had been gray-haired since he was young, hence the nickname Whitehead, but he was now over sixty years old, with only thick, white ear and nose hair, as if to compensate for the slightest baldness. Since Philip himself had been a minister in his first abbey, he understood Cuthbert's problems and sympathized with his complaints. As a result, Cuthbert liked Philip very much. At this time, he learned that Philip had not eaten his lunch, so he picked out six pears from a wooden barrel. The pears were already a little shriveled, but tasty, and Philip ate them gratefully while listening to Cuthbert nag about the monastery's financial problems.

"I really don't understand how the abbey can be in debt," said Philip, with a pear in his mouth.

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