Chapter 93: Credit (Part 2)

The statistics from the first issuance and recovery of work-point vouchers came in quickly: 815.3 points issued, 334 points recovered—a forty percent same-day recovery rate. It was understandable that first-time recipients would be eager to convert their paper slips into tangible goods. Over the following days, the remaining tokens gradually trickled back, though far more slowly than Wu Nanhai had anticipated. He breathed a sigh of relief nonetheless. On issuance day alone, he had consumed roughly sixty extra kilograms of rice and grain to meet demand.

But the work-point voucher's credibility had been essentially established. Though some remained skeptical, these paper slips genuinely purchased extra food from the food cart each day—proof enough for most. Encouraged by this success, Wu Nanhai introduced locally-produced rice wine to the exchange system: five points for a 250-gram bottle. To prevent drunken incidents, he limited sales to one bottle per person per week. Yet sales proved surprisingly poor, which puzzled him greatly. The batch had come from Zhang Xingfu's prisoner-affairs tribute, and he had specifically consulted with prisoners who unanimously agreed it was among the county's better rice wines. If quality was not the issue, why were sales so dismal?

After weeks of working alongside the Production Team, Wu Nanhai could now communicate in a rough Lingao-Mandarin hybrid. When he asked around, most gave the same answer: "Too expensive—can't afford it."

Hearing this report, Wu De laughed with genuine delight. "That's actually good news."

"What's good about it?" Wu Nanhai had been counting on the wine to reclaim some vouchers and reduce grain consumption.

"It means they recognize the voucher's value," Wu De explained. "They think of it as real money now—that's precisely why they feel this way. If these were 1949 Gold Yuan Certificates, would anyone care about prices? Just being able to buy anything at all would be enough."

The realization struck Wu Nanhai, and he chuckled ruefully. It had never occurred to him to see it that way.

"You didn't think from their perspective—and frankly, many of us here haven't either," Wu De continued with a wry smile. "We assume these people should naturally trust the voucher's value. It's always about what you think they should do, what I think they should do. Everyone forgets these are living people with their own calculations. Why should they easily trust us?"

"True enough."

"So we must proceed carefully. Credit isn't something you build in a day or two."

Just then, Lin Xing's voice called from outside, requesting entry.

"Come in."

The new Production Team captain appeared wearing brand-new homespun clothes styled after the transmigrators' training uniforms. The handiwork was rough, but they fit reasonably well.

"What is it?"

"I—I—" Lin Xing's Mandarin had improved considerably, though it still carried a slight Guangxi accent reminiscent of Xiong Buyou's. "I have a request for the Master."

"Go on."

Lin Xing knelt and kowtowed before speaking. Many Production Team members were tenant farmers, he explained, and they had been away for over a month now. The autumn harvest loomed imminent, and many worried desperately that without returning home to help, their families would lack the labor to gather grain and pay rent. If their landlords evicted them for failing to meet obligations, entire families would starve.

"Everyone chose me to beg the Master's mercy," Lin Xing said, kowtowing again. "Let everyone return to see their families and finish this season's farmwork. Then we'll come back."

The request did not surprise Wu De. Unattached singles were a minority among the workers; most Production Team members owned no land of their own but had families they could not simply abandon. Their concerns were entirely reasonable.

But once released, would they actually return? Wu De could not be certain. Intelligence gathered on laborer attitudes suggested most felt that working here was similar to laboring for landlords, and that implementing the work-points system had genuinely increased their enthusiasm. But how many would commit to working for the transmigrators long-term—permanently?

He hesitated, then dismissed Lin Xing for the moment.

"This is difficult to handle," Wu Nanhai agreed. "Should we request instructions from the Committee?"

That evening, the Committee convened an expanded meeting specifically to discuss letting laborers return home for farming. Opposition came swiftly from many professional groups—especially the Industrial Committee divisions now entering their peak construction and installation phase. Losing this labor force would drastically slow progress. The brick-kiln's new cement vertical-kiln project was already short-handed; suddenly releasing a hundred trained workers would create an impossible gap to fill.

Wu De found himself torn. Releasing them would clearly hurt current production. But Lin Xing had come specifically to petition on behalf of the workers, which showed this issue carried strong sentiment within the Production Team. Refusing would severely undermine the goodwill he had worked so hard to build.

Unable to reach a decision on his own, he laid out all his thoughts and concerns before the assembly. Finally, he offered his conclusion: better to let them return this once. Even if many never came back, demonstrating righteousness and trustworthiness would earn the transmigrators recognition among the local population.

"Righteousness and trustworthiness?" someone sneered. "We're timespace invaders, and we're talking about that?"

The speaker was Comrade Xiao Bailang from the Machinery Group—fair-faced and rather delicate, somewhat effeminate in appearance. His face was flushed now, and he spoke with aggressive intensity.

"So we should be despicable instead?"

"Oh, save it," Xiao Bailang retorted immediately. "Let's be honest about what we came here for. Stop pretending you're all here for communist ideals or to bring democracy and freedom to the Chinese people. Everyone came for wealth and lolis, right?" He scanned the attendees with knowing contempt. "I'm sick of this inexplicable benevolence-righteousness-propriety-wisdom-faithfulness bullshit. We should conquer Lingao and grab everyone for labor. Not enough? Take villages one by one. We'll soon mass-produce explosives—yet here we cower, discussing credit with natives. Ridiculous beyond ridiculous."

"Enslavement can't build anything lasting..."

"What's wrong with enslavement? Didn't the Qing rule China for three hundred years through brutal Han enslavement? If pig-oiled, pig-skinned Tungusic savages could do it, why can't we 21st-century moderns?"

"I absolutely oppose this!" Cheng Dong rose to his feet in fierce objection. "Though ends sometimes justify means, basic moral bottom lines should exist. This would lose us the people's hearts!"

"The people's hearts?" Xiao Bailang scoffed. "Unfortunately, by historical patterns, hearts aren't necessarily a match for force. Whenever hearts have defeated force, it's only because the force wasn't sufficient! Ancient commoners could rebel—but have you seen any successful modern civilian uprisings? At most you get 'collective walks' or 'mass incidents.' Our technology and industrial capability compared to this era's people is like Zentradi versus Earth—do Zentradi care about Earthlings' hearts?"

This inflammatory speech stirred resonance in more than a few attendees. Seeing whispers spread through the room, Xiao Bailang grew bolder still.

"I propose we not only refuse to release people—we should immediately launch 'Hunting Operations'!" He waved his arms forcefully. "Mass-capture labor and organize them for forced work. Can't meet quotas? No food. Resist? Beheading..." His spittle flew as he grew increasingly excited.

"I object!" Wu De could not let this continue. Hearing these proposals grow ever more extreme, he feared his two-plus months of careful work would be destroyed in a single night. "We need the locals' loyalty. Without their support, how do we rule with just five hundred people?"

"What's to fear?" Xiao Bailang dismissed the concern with a wave. "Collaborators are always abundant—Green Standard armies, Peace Armies, Imperial Collaboration Armies. Give them food and you can recruit as many fighters as you want—"

Cheng Dong, the pacifist, could bear it no longer. "So you want us to match the moral standards of Tungusic savages or Japanese devils?"

"What do you think we are?" Xiao Bailang snorted. "What right do we have to be here? By what authority do we occupy this land? Is Lingao the transmigrators' 'inseparable territory since ancient times'? We're timespace invaders—stop with the cosmetic pretense!"

The meeting threatened to spiral out of control. So far, no one had publicly supported Xiao Bailang's position—but clearly his words carried dangerous appeal. Wen Desi sensed the peril immediately. This naked, morally-indifferent, interest-supremacist expression had powerful mass resonance. Deep down, he did not actually dislike Xiao Bailang's speech—it was essentially correct, after all. But some things could not be said so nakedly. It was dangerous.

As he cast about for a way to halt the escalation, Zhan Wuya stood up and called out: "Little Xiao, stop talking! People should have some bottom line—we can't just do whatever benefits us."

"Bottom line? Everyone came here to do what—poverty alleviation?..."

"Bullshit!" Zhan Wuya exploded in fury. "Two days ago, if I hadn't rushed over to cut the power, you'd only have one hand left today! By your logic—how many hands you have, why should I care?!"

Xiao Bailang deflated instantly. Wen Desi silently thanked whatever luck had delivered this intervention. Honestly, continuing that debate could have led anywhere. Though Xiao Bailang's extremist proposal would never pass, the rifts exposed by such a debate would be hard to mend. Fortunately, Zhan Wuya had stepped in—Wen Desi knew nothing about the incident he referenced—but there was no time for details. Seizing the pause, he rose quickly to his feet.

"Everyone, please stop arguing and focus on the topic at hand. How can we maximize our interests while ensuring our environment remains stable over the long term?"

This reframing set the tone for subsequent discussion. Various others expressed their views—some agreeing with Wu De's proposal, some not. The split was roughly half-and-half, with each side explaining their reasoning from different angles. Finally, the Committee called for a vote. The results came in: those supporting release carried the day, if only slightly.

Leaving the conference room, Wu De found himself drenched in cold sweat. He had gotten what he wanted—they would release the workers. But whether the outcomes would match his expectations remained deeply uncertain. After all, between him and these seventeenth-century natives lay four hundred years of history.

(End of Chapter)