“It’s a washing machine,” Wen Mao said.

“I know what it is,” Baoshan Sanren replied. “What I want to know is, why is it on top of your mountain?”

“You don’t even have running water,” put in Lan Yi.

“Maybe your disciples can’t power such devices without it…” He yelled outside, “Run faster, Wen Jiahui!”

A crash—a series of shouts—and then the machine’s thrum shot into a higher register.

Grinning, Wen Mao hoisted Baoshan Sanren up on top of it. He tugged Lan Yi by the wrist into her lover’s embrace. “Now do you two understand the benefits?”