Xiaping Village.
It was already the third lunar month. In another ten days or so, the weather would start warming up. Right now, everyone was busy weeding the fields.
Over the winter, there had been some light drizzles, and the weeds had grown a bit. After hoeing them down, the land still needed to be turned. Every household was poor, and not a single ox could be found in several villages—turning the soil all depended on a single hoe. It was backbreaking work, but it had to be done. Only by turning the soil could it be loosened, so the sweet potatoes planted afterward would grow well and turn out a little bigger.
Even though they wouldn't get that much bigger, every extra bite was still a good thing.
Right now, the fields were even livelier than the village itself.
The sound of horses' neighs came again. Lately, everyone had gotten used to it, but they still instinctively stood up to look.
Eh?!
It was that handsome young man from before.
This time, it seemed to be a ger.
Fang Zichen had come several times before—once wandering through the village, and the other two times heading up the mountain, each time bringing only a few people. But this time, Zhao Ger had brought a full thirteen, with several large sacks tied behind the horses' rumps—no one knew what was inside—along with a table.
Zhao Ger dismounted without taking a single breath, directly sending Zhang Quan to fetch the village head of Xiaping Village, while directing the remaining twelve men to start spreading lime and marking boundaries.
The villagers stared in a daze.
"Fourth Aunt, what are they sprinkling on your land?"
"I don't know."
"Hey, they're putting that stuff on Gouwa's family's land too."
"What are they trying to do?"
Everyone wanted to know, but no one dared to go up and ask.
Fourth Aunt gripped her hoe tightly, terrified they had spread something to ruin her crops.
The village head of Xiaping Village was a man in his forties, and he arrived quickly.
"Greetings to..."
Zhao Ger turned around. Seeing it was a ger, Tieda (铁大, Big Iron) froze.
He didn't know what he was supposed to call him.
In the village, before a ger married, people mostly called them by their surname or given name followed by "ger"—like Zhao Ger or Zhou Ger. After marriage, they could still be called that, or they could be addressed by their husband's family name, such as Fang Fulang.
But Zhao Ger had brought people with him, and Tieda didn't know his surname. If it had been a man, calling him "Lord" would have been safe, but a ger...
No one called a ger "Lord."
Zhao Ger looked at him. "My husband's surname is Fang."
Tieda immediately said, "Greetings, Fang Fulang." The imperial guards ahead were still busy. "May I ask what Fang Fulang is doing here?"
"My husband is the newly appointed prefect," Zhao Ger said.
What?
Everyone froze.
Good heavens—that young man who kept coming to their area was the new prefect?
Damn it.
If they'd known, they should have swung their hoes at him a few days ago and dragged him into the grove. Then he wouldn't have kept coming and going, hopping around like that.
At this, everyone's expressions turned sour. They slowly gathered around from a distance, staring intently at Zhao Ger.
Zhang Quan stepped up behind Zhao Ger, one hand resting on the sword at his waist, his eyes cold and imposing. Everyone immediately restrained themselves and started looking up at the sky or down at the ground.
Tieda's tone hardened by a degree, losing its earlier friendliness and respect.
"What is Fang Fulang doing?"
Zhao Ger swept his gaze over the crowd. "Digging a river channel."
These words sent the crowd into an uproar.
Fourth Aunt dug in her heels at that.
"Digging what river channel? There's no water! What's the point of digging a river channel? The land you've marked off—that's my land!"
Fourth Aunt's family didn't have much land—just nineteen mu—and most of it was concentrated right here. Now, two white lines stretched far into the distance, and over two mu of her land had been enclosed within them.
For villagers, land was more precious than life itself.
The last prefect had bled them dry with taxes, and they'd barely survived. Now this new one was even worse—he wanted to take their very land.
Without land, they'd truly be doomed.
Fourth Aunt burst into tears. Others whose land had also been marked grew anxious and fearful, raising a ruckus. The imperial guards moved in to protect Zhao Ger.
No one dared to curse outright, but they slapped their thighs and talked over each other in a frenzy. Some of the women even started weeping.
"Please, Fulang, we beg you—leave us a way to survive! I..."
Zhao Ger quickly spoke up. "For any land that's taken, the government will provide compensation."
"I have two sons, and my husband has a brother—our two families have only this little bit of land... huh?" Fourth Aunt's wailing came to an abrupt halt. "Compensation? Fang Fulang, you're not fooling us, are you?"
Officials had only ever taken money from them—never once given any!
"This is my husband's official document," Zhao Ger said, pulling out the government seal as well. "This is the county office's official seal. I called your village head here so he could help measure exactly how much land each family has had taken."
Tieda couldn't read a single character. He took the document and pretended to examine it, then saw the seal stamped at the bottom and carefully looked at the official seal. It matched.
He'd been to the county office before—the seal there looked exactly like this. No mistake.
But Fourth Aunt still wasn't willing.
Villagers only sold their land when there was absolutely no other choice. Silver could always run out, but land wouldn't. If they sold it, what would their children plant in the future?
They couldn't just not think about the next generation.
But if they didn't sell...
Right now, they could still get compensation. But if they angered the officials, and they got upset, they might end up with nothing at all.
Everyone's mood was heavy.
The village head helped plead with Zhao Ger, but seeing that he wouldn't budge, he realized there was no room for negotiation. Not daring to truly oppose the government, he let out a silent sigh and called over a few men to help. Zhao Ger looked at his small notebook, then suddenly raised his head and said to him, "Measure carefully. Don't try to falsify or lie to me—I already have a pretty clear estimate in mind."
Tieda bent slightly. "Wouldn't dare, wouldn't dare. Fang Fulang, rest assured."
Zhao Ger directed the imperial guards up front to spread lime, while the village head and his men followed behind to measure. Some families had lost eight fen of land, some over a mu, and a few less—only two fen.
[1 分 (fēn) = 66.67 m²; 1 畝 (mǔ) = 666.67 m²]
Zhao Ger glanced over, saw that Tieda's measurements were off, and quickly rushed back.
The two lime lines were spaced three and a half meters apart.
But considering Anping County's heavy rainfall—especially in summer—Fang Zichen had looked back through the records of the Jing River's water levels over the years and taken the maximum value. A two-meter buffer zone had to be reserved on both sides of the river channel as flood expansion space, and those two meters would also be requisitioned.
The channel would be dug deep, which could also help with prevention. But if it were too deep, the water level would be low, making it difficult for villagers to divert water to their fields or do laundry.
This river-digging project was supposed to benefit the people, but if done carelessly, it could end up harming them instead.
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