Chapter 397
What did officials want? First, to bring honor to their ancestors and raise their family name, to stand second only to the sovereign. Second, to be loved and supported by the people.
They'd spent most of their lives as officials, yet they'd never experienced this kind of treatment before. It was the stuff of dreams. Never in their wildest imagination did they think a trip to Hezhou would bring them this.
Earlier, they'd been afraid that if their identities were exposed, the locals might beat them...
"Thank you, uncle and auntie." Guaizai was used to being handed things. In the past, when he took a walk through the village empty-handed, he'd come back with a handful of leafy vegetables in one hand, a cabbage in the other, a bunch of long beans balanced across his head, and a bamboo basket slung on his back stuffed with all kinds of goodies.
So this was routine. He crunched on a cucumber, but when he saw that the old men beside him hadn't spoken and were just staring at the cucumbers in their arms, silent for a moment before lowering their heads to wipe tears, he got worried and forgot all about his cucumber:
"Old grandpas, what's wrong? Why are you crying? Don't you like cucumbers? Then Guaizai will eat them for you—please don't cry!"
The old men: "..."
This child—did they look like they were crying over cucumbers? They weren't Gungun and Dandan.
Lao Gu and the others headed out to the fields for one more look. They'd already asked Zhao Ger everything there was to ask about fertilizing—whether using more would increase the yield, and whether the current amount was the best possible. Zhao Ger didn't know either, so they'd have plenty of work to do once they returned to the capital. But knowing something in theory was one thing; they just couldn't help wanting to see it with their own eyes.
The crops really did change day by day.
The chemical fertilizer contained lime, which drove away insects. The leaves were free of bug holes and growing splendidly.
In early sixth month, a letter arrived from Xiao Feng. He said the factory was finished, workers had been hired, and production had begun. The first batch of instant noodles was successfully made at the end of last month. Everything was going well, so Fang Zichen and Zhao Ger didn’t need to worry.
After covering business, he asked how Guaizai, Gungun, and Dandan were doing.
Guaizai was clinging to Fang Zichen's back, his chin resting on his shoulder. After reading the letter along with him, he asked when Fang Zichen would write back to Xiao Feng. He wanted to write a letter to Xiao Feng himself.
Gungun and Dandan chimed in with their usual chaos: "Gungun write too!"
"Dandan write too! Tell Big Bwother bring instant noodles back, Dandan loves him."
Fang Zichen shooed them like a herd of sheep: "Shoo, shoo, shoo. You even know how to write? Go play in the mud outside."
The rolling duo were not pleased: "Father looks down on us! We're gonna tell Daddy on you."
Fang Zichen stared at them: "Go on, go. If you do, next time I'll hang you both in the outhouse."
Gungun and Dandan immediately fell silent, then sidled up to Fang Zichen all cozy-like. One pounded his right leg, the other pounded his left. They grinned up at him, cheeks full of baby fat: "Father, we were just kidding, yo. Gungun loves Father the most."
Fang Zichen rolled his eyes at him. Then Dandan suddenly clutched his butt cheeks and yelped: "Father! Dandan needs to uh-uh."
Fang Zichen stood up: "Big uh-uh or little uh-uh?"
"Little uh-uh."
So you need to pee. Then why are you grabbing your butt? This damn kid.
Fang Zichen took him. The outhouse was dangerous, even though Gungun and Dandan could usually pee by themselves—when they went to the village with Guaizai, they were just like the other kids: when nature called, they'd run to the roadside, drop their pants, and let loose. They were still little, so it was no big deal—all the village children did that.
But at home, Fang Zichen always carried them over. He did not want to fish a kid out of the cesspit again. So this time he carried Dandan into the outhouse, pulled down his pants, and held him in a squat. Dandan gave him a milky little reminder:
"Father, remember to spread Dandan's legs a little bit, yo. Last time Big Bwother carried me, he held too tight and squeezed Dandan's legs together, so Dandan's pee couldn't even squirt out. Little birdie almost got squished flat!"
Fang Zichen: "..."
How did my son even come out with something like that?
And how did he know about "little birdie" in the first place?
Oh, right—it was from that time I was bathing the two boys, and they suddenly pointed and asked what that thing was. And I actually told them.
"Don't say that next time. If your daddy hears it, he'll smack you."
Dandan's big eyes were full of confusion: "Why-o?"
Why? Because your daddy's an ancient man.
Modern folks teach their kids from day one—what's what, who's allowed to touch where, what can be shown and what can't. All that.
Could ancient people do that? They are deeply taboo about such matters.
When Zhao Ger came home that evening and read the letter, he personally picked up his brush to reply. He told Xiao Feng to take it steady, go slowly, don't rush, and take care of his health.
Over at Zhou Ger's place, the first batch of sweet potato noodles was also finished—over nine hundred jin (450 kg) in total.
The neighboring villages got wind of it and all came over to ask if they could buy some.
They were simply too curious!
Earlier, Zhao Ger had made sour-spicy noodles and invited the villagers over to eat. After that, those few people had been going on and on in the village about how delicious it was, driving everyone else crazy with craving!
Lots of people asked, but Zhou Ger couldn't decide. Fang Zichen was planning to ship goods out of town in the ninth month, but Zhou Ger had forgotten to ask how much he'd need. Nine hundred jin seemed like a lot to him, but he still didn't dare make the call on his own, so he sent a letter to Zhao Ger.
They could sell a batch now.
When the time came to take the goods out of town for sale, of course they wouldn't bring too large a quantity. The ninth month was still a ways off, and they could turn out several more batches before then.
With Zhao Ger's approval, Zhou Ger went ahead and sold a batch.
Each bundle weighed one jin and cost thirty copper coins. He called it a promotional price for the very first batch.
The price probably wouldn't stay that way later.
Everyone understood—if it sold well, the price would go up.
They'd all made money from selling sweet potatoes earlier, so they had silver to buy now. But back in the day, thirty copper coins would have scared people off instantly. A jin of meat only cost a few copper coins—wouldn't it be better to buy meat? Meat put some oil in the belly and left a person feeling properly satisfied.
But next month, the sweet potatoes would be ready to dig...
They wanted to try the sweet potato noodles too, just to have a real sense of things—to feel grounded and reassured. Not just say they believed it on the surface, while secretly feeling anxious, imagining all sorts of scenarios, afraid the goods wouldn't sell and the sweet potatoes would have been planted for nothing.
So everyone gritted their teeth and bought a few liang, or half a jin—just to get a taste.
When they cooked it up at home, the texture was genuinely delicious. Never mind adding all sorts of seasonings—just a pinch of salt and a splash of soy sauce, and it was tasty even plain-boiled.
And half a jin made several bowls!
At first they thought it was expensive, but now they all felt it was worth it.
Especially the old folks with missing teeth—they could really dig into those noodles with gusto.
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