Chapter 387
In places like Beian, they hadn't found any limestone, so they couldn't build a cement factory—they'd have to ship it from down south. But the southern roads were under construction too, so cement supplies were likely insufficient. Fertilizer was the same—the stockpile from earlier production was still stacked in the warehouse. It looked much better now, with bags piled high, towering like a mountain. But no matter how much, it still wasn't enough. Each household needed three or four bags, and it wasn't just Anping County—there were neighboring counties, and beyond them, and up north in Beian too...
The soldiers carried orders to the factories again.
Aside from the paper mill, the other two factories had their supervisors ask the workers: if they worked through the Spring Festival, wages would double—were they willing?
This wasn't something to force.
If this were modern times, Fang Zichen would have his ancestors cursed for generations, and his photo would be stuck under his employees' shoes for daily stomping.
That evening after work, the supervisors called everyone together—they had something to announce.
No one rushed home; they all lined up at the factory gates.
The supervisors explained: after the New Year, several counties here, plus Beian, Beilu, and others, would also be building roads. Cement demand would be huge. And with spring plowing, they'd need fertilizer too. The current stockpile wouldn't cut it—they might need to keep working, with no break for the Spring Festival. But they'd pay eighteen copper coins a day. Those willing to work could sign up; those who weren't, no pressure.
Who wouldn't be willing?!
Eighteen coppers a day—that was over two catties of meat. Even without doubling the pay, people would have been happy to work. Every extra day meant more earnings. And now they were raising the wages!
This wasn't like modern times, where workers left their hometowns and traveled far, unable to return for short holidays. If you got three or four days off, fares went up and you'd spend two days just traveling—barely any time at home. Everyone longed for the long Spring Festival break to see their parents and children. If they were asked to work through it, they'd curse their boss to death.
But here, the factory workers were all from neighboring villages. They went home every day—they'd see their wives and kids plenty. So what was the problem with working a few extra days? Go home in the evening, have dinner together—that was enough. Earn a bit more, buy extra meat for the family—wasn't that good?
No one objected. On the contrary, they were delighted.
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Xie Xiaoyu was pregnant, so Li Yisheng was bound to come back. The factory would have to be temporarily left in the hands of the two imperial guards.
That evening, Zhao Ger called over Yu Ger, Dou Ger, and Da Mi.
They'd already learned how to keep accounts. Ever since coming to the household, they'd worked hard, weren't afraid to greet customers at the shop, and had grown quite bold.
Feng momo was literate. Back when Zhao Ger was still in Anhe County organizing the locals to dredge the river, he'd sent her a letter asking her to teach the young ones to recognize characters in her spare time. It wasn't easy to learn, but they knew how rare this opportunity was, so they cherished it and were overjoyed—so excited they couldn't sleep for several nights. The other servants didn't get such treatment.
Back in their village, there hadn't been a single literate person. And even if there was, only the boys got to learn—never the girls or gers.
Every night after coming back from the shop, they studied late without a single complaint.
Zhao Ger had asked Xie Xiaoyu and Feng momo about them, and they'd said Dou Ger and the others were very honest. Seeing them looking a bit nervous now, he softened his tone.
"Don't be nervous. I didn't call you here for anything serious—just wanted to ask if you'd be willing to go to Beian."
Da Mi was the boldest of the bunch and spoke up at once: "Will Zhujun and the master be going too?"
"We'll stay here for now," Zhao Ger said.
If they were going to build a chemical fertilizer factory in Anping, they'd naturally have to send their own people over. The Imperial Guards belonged to the Emperor, and the Qin Family soldiers belonged to the Qin family. Right now, they were a bit short-handed.
Managing an entire factory with just a few people was a big step up from working at the shop—and it showed that Zhujun trusted them. Yu Ger and the others couldn't help feeling excited and happy. But they truly saw this place as home. They'd been bought by Zhao Ger when they were barely in their teens and brought into the Fang family. Zhao Ger and Fang Zichen had always treated them kindly, never beating or scolding them. Leaving would be hard.
Still, they understood the family's situation. They had to go. The master and Zhujun had been good to them, and now that they were needed, they had to step up.
Zhao Ger knew what they were thinking and smiled. "It's not like you'll never come back. We're just short on hands right now. Once we hire more people, we'll transfer you back."
Da Mi said, "We're willing to go, but all we know is manual work."
Dou Ger and the others nodded too. They could boil water, cook meals, and do chores—but manage people? Just thinking about it made their heads spin. No clue where to start, no experience, no plan. And they all knew that the chemical fertilizer factory in Anping Village had over a hundred workers alone. Back in their day, the most impressive person they'd ever seen was a restaurant manager. When they used to go to town to sell firewood and vegetables, they'd pass by the restaurant and sneak peeks inside—a man in a long robe standing behind the counter, seemingly doing nothing, yet making several taels of silver a month. They'd been so envious. But even he only managed about a dozen people.
Zhao Ger said, "If you're willing to go, head over to Anping Village in a few days and learn how the factory runs. I've already arranged everything on that end."
That settled their worries. Yu Ger and the others let out a breath of relief. "Zhujun, we're willing to go. We'll study hard and won't let you down."
Just as he'd expected. Zhao Ger said, "I'll send someone to go with you, so don't be afraid. Once you're there, the three of you must look out for each other—you're family. Discuss things together when issues come up, understand?"
"Don't worry, Zhujun. We understand."
"Then go get ready. Set out on the third."
"Yes."
With Yu Ger and the others transferred over, the shop here would be short-staffed. Fang Zichen had brought a few people back from Shunan earlier, and Zhao Ger was thinking of putting them in the shop so they could slowly start interacting with people. Otherwise, they'd just keep toiling away in the back kitchen, never seeing anyone—that wouldn't do.
Fang Zichen handled the big-picture decisions, while most of the day-to-day affairs fell to Zhao Ger. He'd been thrown into the deep end—he had no choice but to manage, because there was simply no one else. Fang Zichen was hit-or-miss at best, and right now he'd probably taken the kids out somewhere to play.
Just as Zhao Ger entered the inner courtyard, he saw Xiao Feng sitting under the eaves, looking thoroughly dejected.
Zhao Ger walked over. "What's wrong?"
Xiao Feng stood up. "My watercolors... are all gone. I came to find—Uncle Fang, but he wasn't, around. Guaizai's gone too."
Back when Fang Zichen had made painting brushes for all the kids, Xiao Feng was the only one who kept at it every single day. He wasn't really interested in much else—painting was his one true love.
Fang Zichen had personally taught him sketching, and now he was exceptionally good at it.
The painting brushes were meant for children's doodling—the colors didn't look great on figures. So Fang Zichen had made him special watercolors, stored in little boxes that could be mixed in pairs to create other shades. The results were quite lifelike.
Xiao Feng absolutely loved them. Fang Zichen had spent a good long while back then figuring out how to make those watercolor paints, and Xiao Feng had always used them sparingly. But even sparingly, they ran out eventually.
He'd used up the last of them last month, but Fang Zichen had been busy, so Xiao Feng hadn't said anything. Now that it was New Year and everyone had some free time, he'd come looking—only to find nobody home. If he'd known, he would've brought it up at the dinner table.
Uncle Fang went out to play and didn't even take me! Hmph!
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