CH-086

86 Cats and the Scratching Post for Cats

For Shu Li, the four years passed far more swiftly than he had imagined they would.

It is often said that once one becomes a working member of society, time accelerates dramatically compared to one's student days. The most visible evidence of this passage, to him, was how the children seemed to spring up like bamboo shoots after a rain, growing taller by the day. Finnian, in particular, grew at an astonishing rate; at just fifteen years old, he already stood as tall as Shu Li himself.

Many of the little ones who used to trail behind him, following in his wake for sweets, had now each reached the age to attend school and pursue their studies.

The academic pressure they faced was considerably more intense than that of Finnian's cohort.

In its first year, the grammar school had relied heavily on the influence of its headmaster, Bishop Hugo, to assemble its initial student body.

Many families, particularly those from impoverished backgrounds, still regarded a twelve-year-old child as an indispensable source of labor within the household and were unwilling to release them. Even those children who successfully passed the entrance examination for the grammar school often opted instead to take up apprenticeships in the city.

However, after the first year of operation, the school's distinct advantages began to manifest themselves clearly.

Firstly, the school established a comprehensive system of scholarships and provided financial aid to students from underprivileged backgrounds. Applications were submitted to and reviewed by the Savoy Church, which then covered a portion of the students' required tuition and living expenses.

Secondly, the school offered practical internship opportunities for its inaugural class of students. These included working on nearby farms, apprenticing under carpenters, assisting in bakeries, or, for those with higher academic standing, helping at the church itself. The church not only provided room and board but also offered instruction in Latin and arithmetic. The wages paid by the Savoy Diocese to these young workers were relatively generous, enabling many students to earn a significant portion of their tuition fees through their own labor.

Furthermore, the school buildings were heated during the winter months. Students required only a single blanket for sleep, and nourishing, plentiful, and affordable food was readily available.

The meals consisted not only of vegetables but also of generous portions of meat.

This was something utterly beyond the wildest dreams of these children.

At home, they had to scramble and compete for every morsel of food, and even that was often nothing more than coarse rye bread. Enticed by such favorable conditions, many of the children who had attended the grammar school for merely half a year resolved to complete at least the full six-year program, terrified at the prospect of being expelled and sent away.

They had arrived gaunt and sallow-faced, but when they returned home, their complexions were rosy, and they had grown noticeably taller.

After they spread the word among their home communities, the number of students sitting the grammar school entrance examination surged dramatically in the second year.

The school consequently embarked on expansions, adding new dormitories, a library, additional classroom buildings, and a large assembly hall.

Beyond this, the grammar school also began accepting students from outside the Duchy of the Northern Territory. However, tuition fees for students arriving from other duchies were set at three to four times the rate charged to local residents, unless they had received a specific invitation from the grammar school, in which case a reduction or waiver could be granted.

The total student enrollment at the institution grew from an initial four hundred to two thousand five hundred by the end of the fourth year.

The church experienced similar expansion—ecclesiastical landholdings had proliferated rapidly over the four-year period.

With the establishment of the new school triggering the first wave of rising land values, numerous farming households seized the opportunity to sell off their holdings and relocate to the more affluent Carson Diocese nearby.

Shu Li, seizing this opportune moment, acquired vast tracts of farmland in the name of the Church.

Shu Li understood the situation with perfect clarity: if the farmland were allowed to be converted by the nobility into ostentatious yet impractical residential estates, the entire Savoy Diocese—including both the school community and the Church personnel—would eventually find its food supply severely constrained. They would become entirely dependent upon external dioceses or cities for sustenance.

If commercial caravans could be induced to travel through with sufficient frequency, enabling the constant replenishment of supplies, then perhaps this arrangement might suffice.

But should an outbreak of a highly contagious disease occur, preventing those caravans from reaching the Savoy Diocese, they would find themselves completely isolated, trapped upon a barren island.

By the same token, in the event of war, even though the region's mountainous and forested terrain made it difficult for cavalry to maneuver and rendered it strategically defensible, if the enemy simply managed to seize control of the trade routes, it would be tantamount to clamping a hand around Savoy's throat.

An opposing army need only choke off the trade routes and wait for the populace of the Savoy Diocese to starve.

Therefore, before the nobility could transform the Savoy Diocese into their private landed estates, Shu Li tasked Leighton with orchestrating these land acquisitions. The objective was twofold: to protect the region's forest resources while simultaneously establishing a stable and robust agricultural base to the greatest extent possible.

Over the course of four years, leveraging the development and channeling of the existing ice-free river within the Savoy Diocese, and incorporating the Stonehollow Pastoral District, the Wengo Pastoral District carved out from the Carson Diocese, and certain territories directly granted by the Duke, a contiguous agricultural production zone encompassing over fifty thousand acres was gradually consolidated.

It is worth noting that the direct territories granted by Duke Claude came with specific conditions attached.

There was a small anecdote associated with this matter.

According to the land agreement reached between the two parties, in times of war, the Savoy Diocese was obligated to provide the necessary grain reserves for the Northern Territory's military forces, as one of the stipulated terms in exchange for the land usage rights.

Shu Li still recalled the original narrative of the story—

The Northern Territory was fundamentally difficult for any external enemy to invade. Its inherent geographical isolation and natural barriers made it an unlikely frontline. The flames of war would first lick at the southern borders, affecting cities such as Sidan. Furthermore, the northern campaigns depicted in the original work primarily centered on internal strife and contention within Leslie's own family.

The central plot of the story involved Leslie committing patricide to seize power, thereby plunging the Northern Territory into civil war.

Based on this premise, Shu Li's primary concern was that the diocese's agricultural resources might be exploited for military adventurism. Claude himself was a bellicose individual, and future events could potentially alter the course of history, dragging the diocese into the quagmire of conflict.

To prevent the diocese's agricultural economy from becoming a tool for Duke Claude's external expansionist ambitions, Shu Li further proposed a supplementary clause: the diocese would agree to fulfill its grain supply obligations only in the event that war actually broke out and was of a defensive nature.

"Even if the Holy Church were to declare war upon us?" the Duke retorted on the spot.

Shu Li could only remember his own stunned silence at that moment.

Nevertheless, the Duke's hypothetical scenario was entirely reasonable.

Thus, Shu Li responded candidly, "An excellent question."

Claude's expression darkened upon hearing this.

"Even if I were to guarantee now that should the Holy Church march to war against us, we would continue to provide support, such words would ultimately ring hollow."

Shu Li pointed out unequivocally that signing any agreement of that nature would be equivalent to positioning himself in direct opposition to the Church.

He would absolutely not sign such a document.

If he did, the Church would prioritize eliminating him long before any scenario involving the diocese supporting a military campaign could ever come to pass.

"In that case, the lands granted by Your Grace could be converted to a long-term leasehold arrangement. The diocese would pay an annual land rent, and in times of war, the territory would be returned to Your Grace for military reoccupation."

"That will not be necessary. Provided you can assure me that the army will not lack for provisions and fodder in critical times, this land shall belong to the diocese from this moment forward."

In truth, Shu Li had no genuine intention of rejecting the framework of this cooperation entirely.

On the surface, he was negotiating for land usage rights. Yet his deeper, underlying objective was to secure the implicit protective shield of the Northern Territory's military forces.

Based on his assessment of the future geopolitical landscape, once the Savoy Diocese's agricultural system matured and its ecclesiastical educational network was fully established, it would inevitably become one of the wealthiest and most prosperous entities in the entire region.

This very "attractiveness" also implied a corresponding vulnerability. Without robust military backing, any societal prosperity, no matter how dazzling, would merely become a "fatted lamb awaiting slaughter." The historical example of the Northern Song Dynasty served as a stark cautionary tale in this regard.

Shu Li's approach to matters was invariably characterized by foresight and preparation for contingencies.

It was akin to a chess player making a move that appears entirely unrelated to the immediate situation, yet is in fact strategically positioning pieces for the seventh, eighth, or even ninth move yet to come.

Such strategic calculations, however, were not suitable for explicit expression.

It was crucial to recognize that any action which overtly revealed a defensive need or vulnerability would immediately place one's negotiating posture at a disadvantage.

The reason for this particular predicament was that Shu Li, at his core, was reluctant to transform the diocese into an ecclesiastical institution possessing military attributes.

If he had genuinely intended to strengthen armaments, to establish his own military force or to secure access to the Duke's military resources, then the wedding gift he had presented to Claude would not have been the design schematics for promoting horse-drawn plowing techniques. It would have been detailed structural drawings for firearm modifications suitable for enhancing weaponry.

Consequently, what appeared on the surface to be a negotiation concerning the allocation of land was, in its essence, a covert exchange of resources and power. It was a psychological game played on a razor's edge, balancing high risk against profound trust.

To his considerable surprise, Claude's response was both direct and decisive. Unexpectedly, this very directness brought a certain clarity of boundaries and operational efficiency to their collaboration.

The sole inconvenience was that this individual made frequent inspection tours to the Savoy Diocese.

Shu Li was occasionally obliged to engage him in polite, if superficial, conversation.

Though the other party was, in the context of their collaboration, the most straightforward and least troublesome partner one could hope for, he was, regrettably, precisely the sort of person Shu Li found inherently difficult to get along with.

It was not a matter of opposing political stances, but rather a fundamental clash of personalities—the Duke was too forceful, too blunt, and left absolutely no room for ambiguity or retreat.

Yet, ironically, it was precisely because of this that matters advanced with remarkable speed. Even when the Duke's demeanor proved grating, Shu Li had no choice but to exercise patience and cooperate, continually adjusting and adapting in order to push the agricultural initiatives forward.

Fortunately, the returns on all this effort were tangible and evident for all to see.

Within four years, the designated region had come to encompass the cultivation of grains, legumes, vegetables, and fruits, alongside a degree of livestock husbandry. It was estimated that during a year of abundant harvests, the area could support the food supply for a population of fifty to seventy thousand individuals.

This ensured that even if the trade routes were to be completely blockaded, the Savoy Diocese would still be capable of achieving regional self-sufficiency.

From raw ingredients to processing and the utilization of by-products, the Church had established a comprehensive workshop system. This system reliably supplied the three daily meals required by the school, along with any additional needs.

Many students arrived accustomed to eating only two meals a day, or sometimes merely one. Yet upon entering the school, they were provided with a fixed schedule of three meals per day. Should they feel fatigued in the evening, a simple late-night snack was also available.

Students with discretionary funds were not obligated to dine exclusively within the school. During the midday break or the dinner hour, they were granted one hour of free time. During this period, they could choose to eat at a selection of pre-approved restaurants and dessert shops located within a designated perimeter near the school. While direct and close interaction with outside tourists or merchant caravans was discouraged, bringing food from external sources back onto the campus was strictly prohibited.

Nonetheless, even many students from less privileged backgrounds, who could not afford the extravagances of their aristocratic peers, would still choose to venture outside the school gates.

For exiting through the East Gate brought one directly to the largest church in the Savoy Diocese.

The refectory hall operated there offered foodstuffs entirely unlike anything found elsewhere, and the prices were even lower than those at the school dining hall. A substantial hot dog bun, measuring a full twenty-five centimeters in length, cost a mere five copper coins.

The bread for the buns was baked using fine wheat flour. The meat filling was dense and substantial, delivering a satisfying mouthful of genuine meat with every bite. There was no deceptive padding with organ meats; the patty was rich with savory juices and had been thoroughly seasoned prior to grilling. Even without the addition of any sauces or condiments, one could eat it and feel a profound sense of contentment and satiety.

In addition, students could present their student identification cards to receive a complimentary beverage or a bowl of soup.

During the summer and autumn months, this might be a milk tea concocted from milk and black tea, a sweetened herbal infusion of fragrant herbs, or occasionally a blended fruit juice.

Throughout the spring and winter seasons, a variety of piping hot soups with unlimited free refills were provided. These ranged from simple corn soup to hearty borscht. On fortunate days, one might even encounter fish soup or chicken soup. While the soups were not laden with an abundance of solid ingredients, the primary goal was that single sip of warmth and satisfaction. Many individuals who would otherwise have been reluctant to leave their warm heated beds would nonetheless venture out specifically to enjoy two or three bowls.

The refectory hall, open to the public, not only tantalized the taste buds of the students, reducing them to drooling anticipation, but also drew in nearby residents and even attracted visitors from other cities, all arriving for the express purpose of partaking in the food offered there.

The hours of operation for the refectory hall, however, were strictly limited. Service typically commenced at eleven o'clock in the morning and concluded promptly at one o'clock in the afternoon.

To prevent overcrowding and chaotic jostling, the diocese deployed over a dozen deacons daily to manage the queues and maintain order. Special railed queuing lanes had even been installed. With the sole exception of a designated priority access lane for students, all local residents and visitors alike were required to proceed through the same single, designated passage.

At its peak, the diocesan refectory hall served as many as ten thousand faithful in a single day.

By the third year, the number of donation boxes placed throughout the diocese had increased from fifteen to forty. Each day, they overflowed with coins from various realms and currencies.

Shu Li channeled these donated funds not only into the continued development of fundamental agriculture and animal husbandry but also into a concerted effort to address critical issues pertaining to medical care and public sanitation. His aim was to drive down the cost of medical treatment for the common populace, making it accessible to all.

Shu Li himself possessed only foundational knowledge in these areas. This endeavor required the recruitment of numerous experts, scholars, and physicians from the southern regions.

Additionally, he established provisions for taking in a certain number of orphaned children and meticulously screening suitable families to provide them with foster homes.

The successful implementation of all these initiatives was, in no small measure, attributable to the strategic acumen and masterful orchestration of Bishop Hugo, combined with the forceful and unwavering execution mandated by the governmental authorities under the aegis of Duke Claude.

Naturally, none of this progress was achieved with the ease one might idly imagine.

There were, for instance—

Natural disasters striking the crops, resulting in total harvest failure;

Individuals of poor character who, after an initial period of satisfactory performance, would, once securely employed, begin engaging in various acts of petty theft and pilfering;

Others dispatched from distant locales with the explicit purpose of stealing proprietary cooking recipes, which they would then resell elsewhere at exorbitant prices;

Individuals harboring personal grudges against the nobility who managed to infiltrate the community, lying in wait for opportunities to commit arson or murder as acts of vengeance;

Critical shortages of fuel, challenges related to sewage and waste disposal, persistent concerns regarding overall safety and sanitation, and underlying tensions and conflicts between students and faculty arising from differences in familial social standing and origin.

Furthermore, one could observe that the students, compared to their initial arrival, had each grown noticeably rounder and more robust.

Whenever large numbers of people congregate, a multitude of troublesome issues invariably arise.

Fortunately, Sister Rita and Father Leighton, who had been among the first to offer their assistance, possessed considerable experience in handling such diverse matters. Whether dealing with internal church affairs or external negotiations and interactions, they managed everything with meticulous order and efficiency.

Countless problems were identified and resolved long before they ever had the chance to reach Shu Li's desk or demand his personal attention.

For Shu Li, simply reading the final reports sufficed.

He even enjoyed a full hour of rest each afternoon. At times, under the pretext of "theological exchange," he would take the opportunity to venture out and amuse himself elsewhere for two or three days before returning. On other occasions, he would take a leisurely stroll through the school grounds, occasionally pausing to observe a class in session.

The only issue was that his unannounced appearances at classroom windows invariably startled both the instructors and the students alike.

It was rumored that merely standing silently by the classroom window was sufficient to draw the focused attention of a great many students.

After this had occurred three or four times, Shu Li, not wishing to disrupt their lessons any further, ceased his informal classroom visits.

Over the course of these four years, Shu Li had come to feel somewhat akin to the security guard stationed at the school gate. He had managed to memorize the faces of nearly all the faculty and students, along with a general sense of their individual temperaments and circumstances. Whenever someone initiated a conversation, Shu Li could readily address them by name.

Consequently, Shu Li considered his relationship with the school's faculty and student body to be, on the whole, quite amicable and harmonious.

With one notable exception: Leslie.

Shu Li could not shake the impression that Leslie's behavior was remarkably reminiscent of a cat whose affections blew hot and cold.

At certain times, Leslie would proactively approach him, offering greetings and displaying an apparent curiosity about Shu Li's activities, his demeanor notably close and engaged. At other times, he would abruptly withdraw and maintain a considerable distance, offering no discernible explanation whatsoever and appearing utterly disinclined to interact with anyone.

Thankfully, having known him for an extended period, Shu Li had grown accustomed to this feline temperament—sensitive, introverted, wary, averse to unsolicited disturbances, and preferring to keep all matters firmly within the bounds of his own controlled acceptance. Should events exceed his internal psychological threshold, he would instinctively react with resistance or withdrawal.

Shu Li had simply learned to let him be. If Leslie wished to be close, he would be close; if he chose to remain aloof, Shu Li saw no point in pressing for an explanation or pursuing the matter.

After all, what devoted cat owner has not occasionally had their face batted away by their feline companion?

This occasion was no different. Shu Li had merely teased him lightly, and Leslie had suddenly darted off to a considerable distance.

Shu Li pretended not to have noticed this reaction. Instead, he turned his attention to Kevin and Seamus, exchanging greetings with them. He had heard that Kevin was now betrothed, his intended being a young noblewoman who was also a student at the same institution.

Shu Li had occasionally observed their interactions from afar. However, given the clear distinctions in their respective stations and the significant age gap that existed between Shu Li and the younger men, the topic of romantic entanglements was one he considered inappropriate for him to initiate. He therefore never broached the subject, waiting instead for them to raise it of their own accord.

After all, they were no longer the young children who had clung so closely to his side four years prior.

At times, the passage of these four years instilled in Shu Li not so much a sense of their having grown up, but rather a peculiar kind of withdrawal syndrome within himself—

Those who had once relied upon him and sought his company had now found their own paths, cultivated their own distinct preferences, and formed close bonds with other individuals. Yet he, out of habit, still found himself occasionally glancing back over his shoulder.

This particular sentiment, however, never lingered for very long.

Shu Li simply had far too many pressing matters demanding his attention.

After exchanging greetings with Kevin and his companions, he did not tarry. He proceeded directly towards the assembly hall. Yet, just as he rounded a corner, he unexpectedly encountered Finnian.

The youth presented a picture of gentle refinement and cheerful clarity, the very paragon of a model student.

He appeared as though he had been waiting there for some time. The moment he spotted Shu Li approaching, a faint smile graced his features. "Bishop Aris, are you also heading to the assembly hall?"

"What a fortunate coincidence! I happen to be passing by myself. Allow me to accompany you!"

Shu Li raised an eyebrow and cast him a sidelong glance but offered no verbal response.

Once they had reached a more secluded stretch of the path, Finnian suddenly leaned in closer and bumped Shu Li gently with his shoulder.

This was a mischievous habit of his.

It was rather like a cat persistently knocking objects off a table merely to attract its owner's undivided attention.

"What is it?" Shu Li inquired.

Finnian wore an expression of feigned innocence as he asked, "Have you missed me?"

Shu Li's steps faltered momentarily. He shot Finnian a glance, and the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. "Did we not just see each other this very morning?"

Finnian's smile broadened into that of a sly little fox. Employing his well-honed family skill of playful pestering, he countered, "Well, occasionally, even after seeing someone, one might part ways for just a short while and still find oneself missing them, don't you think?"

Shu Li could not suppress a genuine laugh. He reached up and rapped Finnian lightly on the head. "You rascal, your silver tongue grows more formidable by the day."

Finnian blinked. "And from whom do you suppose I learned it?"

"I certainly never taught you any such thing," Shu Li protested, defending his own honor.

Slanted rays of afternoon sunlight streamed through the colonnade, casting long shadows of the two figures as they walked side by side. One shadow moved with tranquil composure, the other with a restless energy, like a living painting gradually suffused with warmth.

Finnian's eyes curved into delighted crescents. Abruptly, as though sensing something, he glanced back over his shoulder.

Just as he suspected, far in the distance, Leslie stood partially concealed behind a pillar, observing them with an expression of keen vigilance.

Seizing the moment when he believed no one else was watching, Finnian turned and pulled an exaggerated grimace in Leslie's direction. He clawed at the air with mock ferocity, his mouth silently and dramatically forming the words: "Don't you dare bully him!"

This was clearly a reaction to having witnessed the earlier scene where Leslie had abruptly recoiled and sprung away from Shu Li. Finnian's pantomime was an unmistakable expression of his strong disapproval.

Shu Li heard the soft sound of footsteps falling in behind them. He sighed quietly to himself. It felt very much like venturing out accompanied by two small cats—one with its fur perpetually bristled and on edge, the other persistently clingy and affectionate. For the entire journey, he was obliged to serve, with calm equanimity, as their mutual scratching post.