Chapter 372
The man was gasping for breath, clearly exhausted, and couldn't finish his sentence—he just kept pointing behind him with one hand.
But no one felt like asking further questions.
What was there to see? Without even looking, they knew that cement road had probably been washed clean away.
The rain last night had been torrential—like someone pouring buckets from the sky!
The speaker wasn't making things up, either. When the rain first started, the courtyard had turned muddy and slippery, so he'd made a special trip to the river to carry back several loads of sand to spread over the yard. During the spring, when it drizzled often, the sand worked really well—every time he stepped outside, the soles of his shoes stayed completely clean, without a single speck of yellow mud sticking to them.
The neighbors saw this and followed suit, carrying back their own loads of sand from the river. It worked well for a while—until the sixth lunar month came with its heavy downpours, and the sand was washed away completely, not a single grain left.
"That's not it!" the man said. "The cement road is still perfectly fine—it didn't get washed away. I just walked on it myself. It's solid, clean, and bright. In all my years, I've never seen a road like this. You all need to come see for yourselves!"
The villagers hurried over to the cement factory in a rush. There it was—a smooth, winding road, wide and magnificent, completely undamaged after the night's heavy rain.
Everyone's eyes went wide. Their mouths hung open.
Cautiously, they stepped onto it. Good heavens—it wasn't even the least bit rough on the feet.
One man picked up a stone and struck the road with it. The cement didn't crack, not even a scratch.
How could this be so miraculous?
Just a few days ago, when they'd helped lay the road, the cement they'd poured had been about as firm as mud—nothing like this hardness.
Sure, mud dried hard too, but one strike from a stone would turn it to powder.
Everyone was stunned.
Amazing. Truly amazing.
A bunch of them jumped up and down on the road, then got off to check—the cement hadn't collapsed.
Well, that settled it. From now on, whenever they went to town, they'd never have to worry about slippery roads on rainy days. The cement might get wet, but it certainly wouldn't be slick.
Word spread fast. Villagers from neighboring villages that hadn't yet built their own roads came over to have a look—and they all wore expressions of shock and excitement.
This road was fantastic!
It would be even better if they could build one right through their own village—no more mud-caked shoes every time it rained.
And this road was sturdy—maybe sturdy enough to last for decades without falling apart. If that was true, then all the hard work that went into building it would be well worth it. Perhaps their children and grandchildren would still be walking on a clean, smooth road—no longer suffering the way they did. They wouldn't have to trudge all the way to town to sell their goods, only to get held up by rain and arrive too late to find a good spot. The mud would cake up to their thighs, and when they tried to step into a shop to buy something, they'd be turned away at the door. Not because the shopkeepers refused to do business, but because villagers always haggled over every last coin, picking the cheapest goods and taking forever to pay. There was barely any profit in it—and on top of that, they'd track mud all over the store. It simply wasn't worth the shopkeeper's trouble.
The townsfolk wouldn't let them get close either, saying, "What if you brush against us and get our clothes dirty? Can you afford to pay for that?"
At times like these, everyone felt awkward, bitter, and helpless—but also humiliated. The filth was a fact, so they dared not say a word. All their grievances had to be swallowed back down.
They didn't want their children to end up the same way.
If Taiping Village could build this road, then their village would too.
Everyone grew eager.
That morning, Li Yisheng arrived by horse-drawn carriage. The moment his carriage left the dirt road and rolled onto the cement road, the contrast was immediately obvious. Just moments ago, he'd been jolted so hard he thought his testicles might shatter. Now, he could not feel a single bump. Even the horses seemed to pick up speed. After stepping down from the carriage, he walked a short distance on foot and quietly marvelled at the smoothness beneath his feet.
Back when he was in Yuanzhou, the streets had been paved with bricks. But over time, with constant traffic from carriages and horses, the bricks would crack, and weeds would sprout from the gaps. This cement road probably wouldn't have that problem. And more than that...
When he'd set out from the yamen, it had taken nearly four ke. Now, checking the time, less than two ke had passed.
[1 ke: approx. 15 minutes]
The villagers only thought about keeping mud off their shoes—surface-level things. But Li Yisheng saw a whole other dimension.
If this cement road could be built all across Da Xia, would it still take half a year to reach the capital? Merchants moving goods wouldn't have to waste the bulk of their time stuck on the road either.
This road was good.
Truly, exceptionally good.
Li Yisheng's heart could not settle for a long time.
Later, when the government sent out ox-carts to deliver cement to various places, and people saw the old yellow oxen—laden with full loads of cement—actually manage to trot along, everyone once again felt that the cement road was an absolute blessing.
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By the middle of the eighth lunar month, Zhao Ger had confirmed the "truth."
Cabbage (napa cabbage) had a short growth cycle. Half a month had passed, and the difference between those with fertilizer and those without was now strikingly clear. The fertilized ones were a full three fists taller than the unfertilized ones—lush, tender green, and robust. The ones that had received too much fertilizer had mostly died off.
Zhao Ger now understood the right dosage, and he could confirm that the fertilizer was indeed effective.
But cabbage and grain were different after all.
In the end, he went to see the village chief, offering him some silver to borrow a few paddy fields for experimentation.
The village chief didn't know what an "experiment" was, but the moment he heard it was supposed to increase rice yields, he found it absurd—pure fantasy.
"Fang Fulang, you really know how to joke with this old man."
This fertilizer was made by the prefect.
The prefect was a scholar, the sort who looked like he'd been born into a wealthy family. What could he possibly know about the ways of the fields?
And besides...
He glanced outside. Back when Old Madam Qin was still alive, she'd planted a banyan tree in the courtyard. It had been years now, and the trunk had grown tall, with branches about three meters off the ground. Fang Zichen had tied a rope around a bamboo basket, and beneath the basket, he'd fastened a swimming ring brought all the way from the capital. Guaizai sat inside, and Fang Zichen hoisted him up to the branches.
This was a homemade "drop tower." When Fang Zichen let go, the basket plunged straight down. Just before it hit the ground, he'd catch the rope firmly. The village chief had walked in right as that happened and nearly fainted from fright. Now he watched in stunned, numbed disbelief.
Guaizai shrieked with pure excitement, his voice nearly gone, his little face flushed bright red. He was having so much fun!
He absolutely loved this game!
Fang Zichen was full of wild ideas—all his games were thrilling and novel. Now that he wasn't on duty and spent his days at home, Guaizai clung to him constantly. He barely played with the other village children anymore; he only wanted Fang Zichen.
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