Fang Zichen let out a long sigh.
Zhao Ger looked at him. "What's wrong?"
Fang Zichen said nothing was wrong, and went down into the field to chat with two old farmers.
He didn't really need to ask—he already knew. They got less than two hundred catties per mu. The only saving grace was that they could grow two seasons; if it were just one, there truly wouldn't be enough to eat.
To get higher yields, they had to work harder at weeding and catching bugs. If a family was better off, they could even apply some manure.
But if they couldn't even eat their fill, naturally they produced less manure too, and most of that was saved for the vegetable plots.
"If only we had chemical fertilizer," Fang Zichen said.
Zhao Ger didn't understand. "What's chemical fertilizer?"
Fang Zichen replied, "It's something even more powerful than manure. Sprinkle it on the fields, and four to five hundred catties per mu is no problem."
Zhao Ger's eyes lit up. "Does such a thing really exist?"
Fang Zichen said with utter seriousness, "Of course. I'm an honest man—I never tell lies."
Guaizai covered his mouth and snickered. Fang Zichen slapped him on the head.
The two old farmers glanced at Fang Zichen and said nothing, silently thinking:
This prefect sure knows how to dream!
Four to five hundred catties per mu—no problem? They'd been farming for decades. In the best years, with good weather and their finest care, if they got two shi per mu, they'd be grinning from ear to ear. Only the most experienced and diligent old hands could produce that much. Four to five hundred catties per mu? Impossible. Absolutely impossible.
[1 石 (shí/dàn) = 100 catties = 50 kg]
Fang Zichen's words always sounded like boasting, but so far, Zhao Ger had rarely seen him bluff. And the place he came from—it was prosperous, and the people were wealthy. They had airplanes that could carry people flying through the sky, air conditioners that could cool the air, and cars that ran without horses. How marvelous all those things were! Fertilizer that could produce four to five hundred catties per mu suddenly didn't seem so miraculous.
He immediately leaned in. "Then, husband, do you know how to make chemical fertilizer?"
Fang Zichen didn't even think before shaking his head. "No."
Zhao Ger studied him carefully and asked skeptically, "Really?"
Fang Zichen nodded. Zhao Ger poked him, then pressed close and said sweetly, "But husband, I feel like you do know. A husband who can make chemical fertilizer is the most handsome of all."
Fang Zichen: "..."
He's got me completely wrapped around his finger.
Fang Zichen cleared his throat, tossed his head back, and said with swagger, "Actually, this stuff isn't that hard. I don't know how to make it off the top of my head, but in chemistry class back then, I did learn some of the basics. I'll go study it and figure it out."
"I knew my husband was the best," Zhao Ger praised him. Fang Zichen planted his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest. "Keep it low-key, keep it low-key. How many times have I told you? Why can't you ever remember?"
Zhao Ger laughed out loud and picked two wildflowers to give to Gungun and Dandan.
---
Since he'd made such a bold claim, and failing would damage his manly pride, Fang Zichen got to work as soon as he got home.
The major nutrient elements crops needed were carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, phosphorus, potassium, and calcium. In chemistry class, the teacher had shown them a video of the production process for urea in a fertilizer factory.
But now, without machinery, everything had to be done by hand.
After the rice was harvested, it had to be sun-dried, and they also had to rush to plant the second-season rice—turning the soil and transplanting seedlings. They wouldn't be truly finished until the end of the seventh month. Over at the factory site, Zhao Ger led the imperial guards and personal guards to do what they could themselves—every little bit helped.
The young women and gers now had work to do. Since they were still young—only in their teens—Zhao Ger looked after them with extra care. When it got hot, he personally made milk tea and braised chicken feet and called them back to eat. The young workers ate happily.
No one here knew what they had been through. No one thought they were dirty. No one looked at them with pity or compassion. In this new environment, they all felt a little more at ease. Wanting to repay Fang Zichen, they worked very diligently—but it was still "a drop in the bucket."
Fang Zichen had foreseen this situation early on, so he had told Zhao Ger to prioritize Anping County first—the cement factory hadn't even broken ground yet, and the roads weren't built.
In previous years, most of the straw from the fields was burned right there, or bundled up and taken home to patch roofs. Those who raised pigs would save some to line the pigsties in winter, or use it for kindling. The rest was simply burned in the fields.
Once the grain at home was dried, a heavy rain came through, but the past two days had been clear. Everyone planned to burn the straw in the fields, then quickly turn the soil and transplant the seedlings as fast as possible—so they could finish their own farm work and go work for the prefect.
That morning, before the villagers had even gone to the fields, an imperial guard came in from the village entrance, beating a gong.
The village head went up to meet him. "What's the matter, Officer? Has the higher-up sent some instruction?"
The imperial guard announced in a clear voice: "The yamen is buying straw this year—two copper coins per bundle. Please inform the villagers: if anyone wants to sell, don't burn it."
What?
The village head thought he'd misheard. "Buy—buy straw? Not rice? Officer, are you—"
The village head wanted to ask, "Are you sure you've got that right?"
But he didn't dare say it out loud.
The imperial guard replied patiently, "Yes, it's just rice straw we're collecting. But the factory hasn't been built yet, so for now, everyone can bundle it up and keep it at home. Once the factory is finished, we'll notify you right away to bring it over."
One bundle for two copper coins. There was so much straw in the fields—each family could easily get twenty or thirty bundles!
That came to several dozen copper coins. It was practically free money.
How could this stuff possibly be worth any money? And what did the officials even want it for?
It couldn't be eaten.
Nobody understood, but if they could get money for it, that was a good thing!
So every family stopped burning their straw. They tied up every single stalk and hauled it home.
The ash from burned straw was usually used to fertilize the fields. Some villagers worried that without that ash, their crops in the second half of the year wouldn't grow well. So they went up into the mountains, cut grass, and brought it back to burn in their fields instead.
---
In late the seventh month, everyone went back to work. The cement factory in Luoshan County was now finished.
Fang Zichen went over for an inspection. Everything had been built exactly as he had instructed—the raw material workshop, the firing workshop, the finished goods workshop—no mistakes or omissions anywhere. Now the mountain outside could be quarried.
This work was backbreaking, so Fang Zichen had Yang Chengfeng bring over that gang of bandits and put them to work on it.
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