"Lao Wang, what does the spicy sour noodle taste like? Tell us!"
"Let's stick to business first."
"Let's talk about the noodles first! That's what I'm more interested in right now."
"Yeah, yeah!"
Lao Wang: "..."
How was he supposed to describe it?
All he could say was "delicious." If pressed, he still only had "delicious."
"Lord Fang says that if we plant them, he'll give us one copper coin for every two catties."
Before, a single mu of land couldn't even produce two hundred catties of sweet potatoes. But now that the water had been brought in, the fields had moisture, and the sweet potatoes had grown well. Last month they'd dug them up—one mu weighed in at close to a thousand catties, almost two thousand.
Two catties of sweet potatoes for one copper coin sounded like very little. But here in Hezhou, grain was only four copper coins per catty.
And usually, nobody even had grain to sell. At this price, it was a good deal.
Lao Wang continued: "Lord Fang also said that once spring comes and we plant sweet potatoes, we can buy some chemical fertilizer to apply. The yield should double again."
Everyone's eyes went wide.
Some barely dared to breathe, asking cautiously: "Can that fertilizer be used on sweet potatoes too?" Isn't it only for grain crops?
Why couldn't it be used?
Organic fertilizer and chemical fertilizer—besides having no effect on people—could be put on just about anything. They could even feed it to pigs without worrying about killing them.
At two thousand catties per mu now, doubling it would mean four thousand catties. At one copper coin per two catties, that was two taels of silver per mu.
Growing grain yielded a little over four hundred catties, earning barely more than one tael.
Someone quickly did the math. With the village chief and the elders all confirming it...
Let's do it!!
What was there to worry about selling? Lord Fang had leveled a mountain to bring them water—he'd done the impossible. If Lord Fang believed the sweet potato noodles could sell, then they trusted him.
Things were going smoothly on Zhao Ger's end, but Fang Zichen was swamped with work. Piles upon piles of reports from the deputy prefect kept arriving.
Guaizai was an understanding child. He crouched by the window, peeking through with his small eyes, and saw the mountain of documents piled in front of Fang Zichen. He'd originally come to play and because he missed his father. But now he didn't make a sound. He quietly finished his lessons, then took his two younger brothers out to stroll around, keeping them from disturbing Fang Zichen.
Xiao Feng and Uncle Tang had taken people to town to buy New Year's goods for the factory workers.
Guaizai had just taken Gungun and Dandan by the hand and reached the paper mill when an imperial guard hurried over.
Spotting Guaizai, the guard bowed. "Greetings, young masters."
Guaizai could see he seemed a bit anxious. "Uncle Wang, has something happened?"
The guard nodded. "There are people causing a disturbance at the gate of the chemical fertilizer factory. I couldn't talk them down, so I came back to report to Lord Fang."
Guaizai furrowed his little brows, thought for a moment, and said, "Father is very, very busy. Guaizai will come with you to take a look."
---
The ones causing trouble were the villagers. The imperial guards had their orders—under normal circumstances, they were not to lay hands on common folk. Besides, the woman wasn't even cursing at them; what she said actually made some sense, so the imperial guards didn't know what to do. Fighting and escorting—those the imperial guards were good at. But when it came to dealing with a shrewish village woman? Truth be told, even he was terrified. By now, he was soaked in sweat.
Guaizai carried Gungun on his back and had an imperial guard hold Dandan, then headed toward the chemical fertilizer factory. The two villages weren't far apart—a short walk and they'd be there. Even before they arrived, they could hear the commotion up ahead, with a crowd of people gathered around.
An old woman stood with her hands on her hips, her voice loud as a brass gong.
"You there—which family are you from? I'll go pay a visit myself and see what kind of family raises children like you! Married and not staying home to serve your husbands and in-laws—instead you come running over here? This fertilizer factory is full of men! Aren't you ashamed? Have you no shame at all?"
A few young women and gers stood before the factory gates, faces flushed red. Some were even wiping away tears. A large crowd stood behind the old woman, while they were only a few, looking utterly helpless and alone.
"What gives you the right to say that? How are we shameless—"
The old woman's loud voice cut right over them: "If you had any shame, would you be here? What do the townsfolk say? Oh, right—'showing your faces in public.' Showing your face in public means not guarding your virtue! Not staying home to serve your family is simply wrong! If you ask me, you're nothing but a pack of wanton hussies—your men can't satisfy you at home, so you come here to seduce other men, is that it? Pah! Shameless!"
The young women and gers weren't nearly as fierce. The old woman's voice was loud, her words piled on top of each other, spittle flying everywhere—they didn't even get a chance to speak. And with so many outsiders pointing and whispering, they were already panicked and frightened. Whatever they'd tried to say earlier had been shouted down, so now they couldn't get a word out at all.
The old woman was clearly a seasoned bully, acting as if her loud voice made her right. Seeing that no one could talk back, she grew even more arrogant.
The imperial guard let out a low scoff. The crowd parted, and Guaizai walked in with Gungun on his back.
Guaizai had never come to play in this village before, but who didn't know who he was?
He was the young master of the prefect's household. Just a few days ago, he'd gone with some village boys to poke a wasp nest and gotten his head covered in stings—his face was still swollen, making him easy to recognize. And the only ones who dared walk ahead of the officials, aside from the prefect and his fulang, were the young master himself.
Guaizai set Gungun down and looked up at the old woman. On the way, the imperial guard had already told him the whole story.
"Granny, what are you making a fuss about here?"
"Oh my, Young Master!" The old woman's face shifted instantly into a smile. "This old woman isn't making trouble!" She pointed at the group. "I just couldn't stand by—I was trying to talk them into going back home!"
Guaizai studied her carefully. He noticed two men standing beside her who looked like her—and understood immediately.
"Why should they go back?"
"This fertilizer factory is full of men! It's not proper for them to work in here. And anyway, since when do wives and fulangs go out to do labor? It's just not right." The old woman wore an expression that made her seem like she was thinking of everyone else's good.
Guaizai asked again: "What's not right about it?"
"Well... that is..."
She couldn't quite say.
It just wasn't proper. Since ancient times, a married woman's place had been indoors—she was meant to serve the men of the household and tend to domestic chores. Men, on the other hand, handled work outside.
When Fang Zichen had first set up the factory, he hadn't thought that far ahead. Later, when recruiting workers became a big task, he'd been there for both the paper mill and the fertilizer factory. Zhao Ger had stared at the hiring lists with a worried frown. Fang Zichen thought for a moment, then said: even though the villagers were all poor, there were still degrees of poverty.
Take Xiaohe Village back then—also poor. But the village chief and the He Daleng family were the "wealthy households" of the village. They were worse off than outsiders, but better off than the other villagers—more farmland, not well-fed but at least able to fill their bellies. Meanwhile, the few families at the west end had little land and couldn't even eat their fill. Their children, eight years old, had no clothes or shoes, running around bare-bottomed. They were old enough to feel ashamed, but without proper clothing, they didn't dare come into the village for fear of being laughed at—they stayed hidden in the hollows between the hills.
Back when Fang Zichen passed the imperial exam and earned a land-tax exemption, the village chief had taken charge and distributed that exemption to these very families.
Now, when hiring workers, the priority should be poverty relief—first those with little land and many mouths to feed.
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