Chapter 103: Mobilizing the Masses (Part 3)
Yet Xi Yazhou remained confident. "We'll handle government connections. Don't worry." Actually, he had long planned—trying to outwit the ancients would not work. Only force could break through.
The salt villagers exchanged glances—clearly skeptical. Still, these short-haired Masters were not pushovers. Defeating hundreds of militia at Bairren Rapids—maybe they really could do it. Xi Yazhou was not anxious to prove anything.
"If we reclaim salt-tax rights, can your hearts unite? Once we do, the Gou brothers definitely won't accept it—they'll come cause trouble—"
"Who's afraid of that?" Tan Chengqing flexed his shoulders decisively. "His handful of men—any village lad could handle three!"
Tan Guihuang sighed. "But without weapons, our village has suffered enough. Empty fists—no weapons even to vent our frustrations."
"Weapons—we have plenty," Xi Yazhou said.
"Then we can unite." Tan Chengqing felt heat rising from within. "Damn it, everyone dies eventually. Living like this is too pathetic. Real men can't suffer losers' bullying. If we had weapons—" he gritted his teeth, "—we'd at least take down a few."
"Good!" Xi Yazhou said excitedly. "Now the problems are: one, getting everyone fed; two, somehow rescuing the village head and others first. After that, we'll discuss other matters."
"Right!" they said together excitedly. "Once hearts are steady, anything's possible."
"How many people are in the village now?" Xi Yazhou asked Tan Guihuang. "How many able-bodied, women, children?"
"About four hundred—mostly women, children, and the elderly. Able-bodied men are mostly outside hiding and farming—about two hundred total."
Excluding outside workers, just the village's four hundred needed feeding. At minimum half a jin of rice per person daily, that meant 250 jin daily—a significant amount for the transmigrators, whose grain reserves were already half-depleted. Plus they needed to rescue the arrested people. Clearly, Landlord Gou had to be confronted!
"If all the able-bodied men return," Xi Yazhou asked Tan Guihuang, "how much salt daily?"
Father and son calculated. "Over 2,000 jin daily. Recent weather's been good—perfect for salt-making."
Xi Yazhou thought: roughly one ton daily—substantial for manual labor, but for the chemistry departments, one ton would not cover a small chemical plant's daily raw-material consumption. Salt-making methods clearly had much room for improvement. But that was for later. Currently, salt as a commodity was needed to quickly exchange for grain and cloth.
Lingao itself could not consume so much table salt—actually, most Hainan salt was exported to the mainland. They needed markets. No news yet from Xiao Zishan in Guangzhou. Even urgently notifying him about large salt supplies would be "distant water can't quench immediate thirst." He thought, then asked, "Do merchants who used to buy your salt still come?"
"Who'd dare!" Tan Guihuang said. "After Landlord Gou colluded with pirates and raided a Leizhou salt ship—killed all the merchants and crew—no one dares buy our salt anymore."
"Any familiar ones? Invite them to buy—we can provide armed protection." Xi Yazhou pledged solemnly. Seeing their doubtful eyes, he added, "What—our big iron ship, afraid of petty pirates?"
Tan Guihuang nodded, as if steeling himself. "Alright! I handled those salt merchants before—I know their firms. In Leizhou, there's a Fujianese named Liu Gang—a small merchant. Though he has salt licenses, he often smuggles on the side. He might be bolder. I'll go to Haikang!" (Note: Leizhou had two subordinate counties: Haikang and Xuwen)
"Let me go instead—you're too old." Tan Chengqing, seeing his elderly father would have to travel far, tried to stop him.
"Going to Haikang just means crossing the sea. The village needs people too."
"Tomorrow we'll send you across by ship." Xi Yazhou knew this was somewhat extravagant—from Ma'ao to the Leizhou Peninsula, even a rowboat took less than half a day. But this was precisely the time to demonstrate transmigrator strength.
"Chengqing," Xi Yazhou addressed Tan Chengqing, "please go tomorrow and call back all the scattered able-bodied men. We're forming a militia!"
"Militia?"
"Yes—if the Gou family can have household guards, a big salt village certainly needs its own armed force. Even without the Gou family, there are still pirates to defend against. Tomorrow we'll bring weapons from Bairren Rapids."
"Okay! I'll handle this tomorrow." Tan Chengqing grew excited.
"Good—now let me discuss the rescue." Xi Yazhou's voice grew serious. "Rescuing people isn't hard. But once we do, you'll have openly broken with the Gou family. Are you determined to fight to the end?" He deliberately added, "If not, you can use softer methods—gather 200 yin of salt first, then ransom them." This was a provocation.
Father and son looked at each other, then spoke in unison. "Let's fight! We've given an inch; they've taken a mile. If we don't bring them down, sooner or later this salt field and village will become Gou property!"
"Good—then we'll arrange the rescue. Tomorrow, find me people familiar with the Gou household's situation."
"Okay! We'll go tell the villagers and arrange things."
The visitors disappeared into the night; the tent atmosphere grew lively. Everyone was pleased at the day's breakthrough. Xi Yazhou discussed more matters with everyone—deciding tomorrow to first ship grain from Bairren Fortress for relief, weapons too—the transmigrators could not use these captured arms anyway.
Next morning, the village showed life. Team members continued building camp while watching the beach, where silhouettes were already working. Compared to yesterday's desolation, their confidence grew. Many had been skeptical or mocking about yesterday's propaganda work; now they fully respected Xi Yazhou's "old-fashioned policies."
The sunlight illuminated the churning waves, reflecting a dazzling, flickering radiance. This unremarkable new day meant, for the salt-field residents, the beginning of a new era.
Outside Ge Hong Temple's ruined walls, curious children gathered—unlike the suspicious adults, these short-hairs who brought sweet-sour candy balls seemed like visitors from another world. They watched intently as these people worked with strange tools—everything looked so refined, so luxurious. Even the candy balls came wrapped in colorful transparent paper. Since last night, the children had spontaneously begun collecting fruit-candy wrappers. Whenever a short-hair passed, everyone held their breath, watching to see if he would produce a candy ball. They would fixate on the lucky recipient, watching him eagerly stuff the candy in his mouth while clutching the wrapper like treasure.
"These children could be our future new blood." Wang Luobin told Xi Yazhou. Seeing these sallow, half-naked children, his long-envisioned first comprehensive industrial-technical school idea resurfaced.
"Then let's establish one," Xi Yazhou said. "How do land-reform teams work? Struggle against landlords, distribute land—and run night schools—"
"Right!" Wang Luobin nodded excitedly. "I'd forgotten." He said somewhat embarrassedly, "I kept thinking of formal schools—buildings, dormitories, cafeterias, laboratories... So every time, I felt materials were still scarce—the timing wasn't ripe. Actually, teaching just needs one room and one blackboard!"
"Our thirty people can all teach children," Xi Yazhou said. "Otherwise, wouldn't everyone be bored to death at night?" Running night schools served education and gave everyone something to do in the tedious evenings—killing two birds with one stone.
"Good—I'll start preparing immediately." Wang Luobin walked off excitedly.
The transmigrators' first construction task was still energy. For a small seaside outpost, wind power was optimal. Lingao had rich wind resources.
He Ying and his team used primitive lever-and-pulley methods to hoist a heavy crate onto a stone platform. From the platform's appearance, it had once been a bell-and-drum tower, though the building had long since collapsed. Only thick rubble and soil covered the platform. He Ying wiped his sweat and measured the altitude—including this 5-meter-plus platform, the elevation above sea level was nearly 10 meters. The foundation was solid; the windward side open. The wind was strong—sweat dried quickly. He shivered involuntarily. This seemed a suitable spot.
An hour later, a 2-meter-tall frame resembling a power-line tower had been erected. Two hours later, the frame had a head resembling an electric fan installed on top. Two and a half hours later, the blades were attached to the head. Below the frame sat a black box. A thick cable connected to the frame's "fan."
He Ying, foot braced on the frame, released the blade safety. The "fan" whooshed into rotation; the black box emitted a long beep. Clean Energy Facility #1 began operating.
This wind turbine had been purchased ready-made. The blades were fiberglass; the generator was a small DC motor; the box below contained batteries. Actually, the generated power first charged the batteries, then supplied power—this stabilized the voltage. Output: only 400 watts. Four hundred watts, beyond lighting, could only run computers and such—sufficient for now. Per Energy Department planning, once the salt-field situation stabilized, a small thermal generator would be installed here—supposedly domestically produced. The Machinery Group was currently drawing boiler blueprints.
This domestically produced generator better not cause trouble. He Ying muttered to himself while installing—he personally would not be coming to install it. He had brought his own small generator, but it had been requisitioned by the Planning Committee upon landing. Because of that generator, he had become an Industrial Department Energy Group member.
(End of Chapter)