Zhao Ger then looked at the imperial guard. The guard who had delivered the document scratched his head in confusion, having no idea that the village head was completely illiterate.
It just went to show that everyone had their own specialty. These men from the capital were excellent at fighting and brawling, but when it came to administrative work, they weren't so good. In the capital, even the poorest commoners could recognize a few hundred characters, but in these small impoverished places, people couldn't read a single one.
Simple reason: books were expensive.
Some people went their whole lives without ever touching a book.
Lao Wang had become village head precisely because he could recognize three characters—and that was enough to earn everyone's respect.
Fang Zichen naturally knew this. On the day the documents were issued, he'd specifically instructed the guards in charge of delivery. And yet…
Zhao Ger had no choice but to explain everything again.
They'd provide one meal, plus nine copper coins in wages per day.
Even the women and gers who helped with cooking would get paid—though less, since they only worked half a day, just five copper coins.
Everyone was overjoyed, hardly able to believe it. They immediately folded their wage slips carefully and tucked them into their clothes, then patted the spot anxiously to make sure they wouldn't fall out.
On their way back, they kept glancing over their shoulders and staring at the ground, as if afraid they might have dropped their wage slips.
Once they returned to the village, naturally there was quite a commotion.
If it weren't for the fact that they'd all had a proper, filling meal at noon, and if the wages weren't yet in hand, nobody would have believed it. They had thought it was forced labor, that the men would be made to suffer, and they had been deeply worried, yet powerless—left only with misery and resentment. But unexpectedly, not only was there food, but wages as well.
It was beyond their wildest dreams—like a fantasy.
This new prefect was nothing like the ones before—he actually paid people for their work.
Even if the canal water never came, they wouldn't curse him anymore.
Some men had brought their wotous home and broken them apart for the evening meal—one bite per person. No one complained; they cherished every bite and could hardly bear to eat it. As they ate, some grew emotional and their eyes welled up with tears.
The food was well-flavored too.
At last, Hezhou had an honest and caring official, and the people finally had hope for a better future.
"Son! Work hard tomorrow. We're getting paid and they're feeding us too—no slacking off, you hear?"
"Ah, if only I'd known earlier, I'd have sent your little brothers along too this morning—even without pay it'd be worth it!"
"Keep that wage slip safe! Give it to your wife to put away—it's worth a catty of meat, can't lose it."
"No, I'll need to bring it tomorrow for Lord Fang's fulang to stamp."
"It was Lord Fang's fulang who stamped them?"
"Yeah! He's really capable, keeps everything organized. Even those guards have to listen to him—and we have to listen to him too. And from what the young master says, our prefect listens to him too."
In just one day, without anyone noticing, the villagers had gone from calling him "that bastard" and "corrupt official" to "our prefect."
It's hard for a good person to become a Buddha, but a bad person only needs to put down the butcher's knife to attain enlightenment.
[放下屠刀，立地成佛 (fàng xià tú dāo, lì dì chéng fó): lit. "Put down the butcher's knife, immediately become a Buddha"; fig. A Buddhist proverb meaning that even a great sinner can achieve enlightenment and redemption in an instant by sincerely repenting and abandoning evil.]
This same scene played out in almost every village.
Some were overjoyed; others beat their chests in regret.
For the common folk in these villages, earning even a single copper coin was no easy matter.
Still, the villages no longer regarded the prefect with the same hatred and resentment as before.
After that, when people came to work, they labored like their lives depended on it, with no need for supervision.
The canal grew deeper and deeper with each day of digging, and the mounds of excavated soil on both banks rose higher and higher.
The terrain of Anhe Town was somewhat unusual—outside the villages lay mostly gravelly land, like sandy fields. Zhao Ger thought for a moment, then instructed the workers to spread the dug-up soil thickly over the gravelly areas farther from the canal. Over time, with proper care, the land could be made fertile enough for planting.
But this approach took time and effort.
It was already the fourth month of the lunar calendar. After three days of digging, they hadn't even reached three hundred meters. At that rate, they probably wouldn't finish until the seventh or eighth month of the lunar calendar—which meant they would miss the final window for spring planting.
They still needed more workers.
As soon as the news spread, the villagers came pouring in—nearly the entire village showed up.
Men and women, young and old, all carrying hoes and shovels.
Lao Wang's eyelids twitched. He'd practically begged them to come before, and no one had wanted to. And now…
"Lao Zheng—why are you here? I heard you've been bedridden for over two months! Don't throw your life away for money—go back, go back!"
"Grandma, you can't come! You've lost all your teeth—our steamed buns are too hard, you can't chew them. You'll hurt your gums. Go back home—I'll save one and bring it back later to soak into porridge for you."
"Tiedan? The hell—you're here too? What are you even doing here?"
Zhao Ger took one look, and his expression turned just as unreadable.
A two-year-old child dragging a hoe. An old man leaning on a staff, walking so unsteadily he looked like he might topple over any second. A pregnant woman, her belly swollen...
"Anyone between the ages of fourteen and sixty—men, women, or gers—can stay. No pregnant women."
It wasn't discrimination. If it were light work, that would be one thing—these people weren't as delicate as the ladies of wealthy households. But this was heavy labor, and pregnant women simply couldn't do it.
Another few hundred people came, and the work went on with great fervor.
The neighboring villages were the same—everything proceeded in an orderly manner.
They had been digging for days. On the sixth day, Guaizai brought back a side of pork from town.
By now, he had become quite sharp at running errands. He knew the price of a catty of rice, a catty of meat, a catty of salt—everything. Zhao Ger wasn't worried about him being cheated. Entrusting tasks to him was actually more reassuring than handing them over to the Imperial Guard.
The Imperial Guards wouldn't haggle over pork, but Guaizai would. A hundred thousand copper coins in the budget sounded like a lot, but there were more than a dozen counties under their jurisdiction. They couldn't spend it all on just one county—they'd still need funds later for recruiting soldiers and equipping troops.
Zhao Ger was determined to save every copper coin he could.
The pork was handed over to Aunt Wang and the others to cook. Along with vegetables, it filled two huge woks, and the fragrant smell of meat drifted far beyond ten li.
One piece per person. No more.
When the hour came, Zhang Quan struck his gong, and everyone filed into line on their own. Their stomachs had been craving it for ages—they'd swallowed who knows how many pounds of saliva. No one dared take the first spot. Everyone had learned over the past few days that the prefect's son loved to use his privilege to cut in line—but no one minded.
He was just a child, probably hungrier than any of them. Even without the privilege, they'd have let him eat first anyway.
The little boy ate a lot, but he also worked a lot. Small as he was, he'd always be drenched in sweat from exhaustion. When told to rest, he refused, saying he wanted to work quick-quick so his father could blast the mountain, bring the water over, and let everyone grow big sweet potatoes.
Hearing that somehow made everyone's hearts tighten.
When they thought about it—back before any of this was even announced, the prefect had already made several trips to their village. It was still cold then, with the wind howling fiercely. If the prefect didn't care about the common people, there would have been no reason to make those trips at all.
Wouldn't it have been more comfortable to stay at his official residence?
And even the prefect's son... They were working hard for wages, but the prefect's son was even more enthusiastic than they were. He didn't need the money. So why did he work so hard? To grow big sweet potatoes for them—to fill their bellies.
Just knowing the prefect had the common people in his heart was enough. They were content and asked for nothing more.
Even so, they still couldn't quite believe the water could actually be brought over.
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