Chapter 394 - Circuit Tours to the Countryside

Fortified compounds like Liu Family Stockade were common in Lingao and throughout contemporary China. These strongholds had strong independence—paying taxes and grain levies in full to government, but government could barely manage internal affairs. When the transmigrator collective convened the Political Consultative Conference, Liu Family Stockade sent representatives and elected liaisons; delivering grain and providing laborers, they appeared very compliant. During rural bandit suppression, the Stockade politely refused work team residence, but cooperated well—whether summoning militia or providing supplies, they responded instantly.

But such compliance didn't satisfy the transmigrator collective—their ideal social form was absolute grassroots control. Though these strongholds wouldn't oppose any ruler's demands, they were subjects with zero loyalty, closing gates to rule themselves. Whether bandits, Imperial troops, or transmigrators, all received the same treatment. Once situations changed, they'd switch sides faster than turning pages.

"Without securing rural strongholds, we're just Sengoku daimyo." Wen Desi stated at the Civil Affairs meeting. "These stronghold masters may secretly be colluding with bandits, pirates, and government. At the slightest disturbance, they'd turn against us!"

Now that Liu Youren had personally come for training, Wu De decided: send the most capable people into Liu Family Stockade for agricultural guidance and social work. Break through from this angle, gradually winning over these semi-independent strongholds.

"We've also opened an agricultural supply store. Interested parties can visit the first floor." Wu Nanhai said mysteriously. "Just received a batch of farm tools..."

The training attendees immediately emptied the classroom—Lingao iron tools were scarce goods. Besides, these were Australian tools, renowned for quality.

The Heaven and Earth Society supply store occupied the first floor. Various agricultural supplies were displayed—all recently produced by the Machinery Factory and Woodworking Factory. Nothing yet counted as "game-changing"—only familiar items. But modern industrial manufacturing's advantages in quality, appearance, and design still mesmerized indigenous customers.

"Same hoe, but the Australian one looks so refined." Fu Buer marveled.

"So refined—might not be durable though?"

"Not durable? Australian goods' quality is famous."

"Right—look at this steel edge. Much better than Blacksmith Li's hoes—his are so brittle!"

"I'll take this one, and this, and this—"

"Never mind—I'll take three of everything." This from someone wealthy.

Some without money could only hang back watching. Such fine goods surely weren't cheap.

"This batch totals only fifty pieces. Each household limited to four, one of each type." Ye Yuming said.

A collective sigh of disappointment.

"How much silver?"

"No silver." Ye Yuming said. "This store only accepts Lingao Grain Circulation Vouchers."

Everyone was dumbfounded. Circulation vouchers—they all knew about these. Australian paper currency. Outside East Gate Market, nobody used them—a piece of paper as money felt unreliable.

"Can't use silver?"

"No—vouchers only." Ye Yuming smiled warmly.

Murmuring below, then someone proposed exchanging silver for vouchers.

"Silver can't be exchanged for vouchers, but grain can." Ye Yuming said. "Visit Delong Grain Exchange—one jin of rough rice equals one yuan."

Immediately some ordered servants to fetch grain. Not everyone had silver, but grain was plentiful. Iron tool prices ranged from 50 to 100 yuan.

For those who couldn't immediately produce rice, Grain Exchange Manager Yan Ming promoted Delong's micro-agricultural loans. Unsecured, monthly interest at 2%, with principal due after autumn harvest.

Such interest roughly matched current Lingao market levels. Yan Ming believed this interest wouldn't burden planting-plan participants.

Delong lent vouchers and collected vouchers. If borrowers lacked vouchers for repayment, they'd first exchange grain. This extra step was the Finance Department's strategy: using lending to forcibly expand voucher circulation.

Yan Ming talked himself hoarse, but no response. This sudden good fortune left everyone uncertain. Nobody dared be first—borrowing from Shorn Bandits couldn't be the same as borrowing from neighbors.

Finally, unable to resist iron tools' temptation, with Yan Ming's guarantees and Zhang Youfu's pledge that there were no tricks—plus the transmigrators' carefully cultivated credibility—the remaining people took loans. Yan Ming was exhausted.

"Xiao Ye, your Heaven and Earth Society really isn't easy." Yan Ming felt deeply.

"Actually much better now. This past year, we haven't broken faith."

"I say we should put effort into intensive collective farms." Yan Ming looked at his pile of fingerprinted loan documents. "So complicated. Just force all these farmers into bankruptcy, then hire them as laborers."

"You're ruthless! But we suffer from too few people. The Agricultural Committee started this Society plan to cultivate private intensive farms, so we don't do everything personally—we just control the superstructure."

"I see!" Yan Ming nodded. "I'm beginning to understand the Executive Committee's thinking."

Fu Buer returned from training extremely excited. He'd not only learned new farming methods but toured the farm—eye-opening.

Only his wife brought more trouble. The several hundred jin of grain spent on tools earned him tongue-lashing. Enraged, Fu Buer beat his wife soundly, then ignored her. He ordered household tools organized, oxen washed and fed, preparing for the agricultural technician's arrival.

His anticipation finally brought his longed-for seeds and technician. When a young Shorn One appeared alone at the village entrance carrying a large pack, all Meiyang Village was in uproar—Shorn Bandits had never come here! Young women were called home. The village's richest man simply pretended illness.

This was Wan Lihui.

Wan Lihui's beautiful dream of becoming Governor of Japan hadn't materialized—not only no governorship, but no freely playing with guns. He'd been issued one pistol with only six bullets. The farm had SKS-D rifles, but aside from monthly training's five-round allowance, he couldn't touch them.

Wan Lihui and his recruited brother worked as stockmen on the farm, tending animals daily. Plus composting and processing rotting fruit arriving as earthworm feed. One or two boats of jackfruit arrived daily from Leizhou. Leizhou Sugar Company bought it cheaply; vast quantities rotted in fields.

This dripping, foul-smelling stuff arrived by the basket for the brothers to process. Handling this daily, despite masks, Wan Lihui smelled that sickly-sweet stench everywhere—losing his appetite.

Hearing the Society was assigning him as circuit agricultural technician for countryside tours, Wan Lihui nearly cried with joy—finally no more composting!

"Brother, the livestock farm is in your hands now." Wan Lihui solemnly told his masked, strongly-odorous brother. "This concerns new agriculture's great cause!"

After these pompous words, Wan Lihui quickly escaped.

The Society's circuit tours used rotation—each technician covered five or six villages, staying several days in each, cycling continuously through the production season.

Wan Lihui received his field kit, configured per recommendations. For water-safety issues, his luggage included water-purification tablets and bleaching powder. The Health Department had given technicians basic medical-hygiene training, equipping them with medicine kits.

"You agricultural technicians are not only modern technology's instructors, modern science's sowers, but also our transmigration enterprise's propagandists!"

Ma Qianzhu spoke thus at the farewell banquet. The technicians felt uncomfortable—too much responsibility!

Circuit technicians' villages were mostly within 40 kilometers of Bairren—the Blue Zone. After continuous suppression and patrol establishment, this area was quite safe. Solo technician visits posed no security problems.

Those five kilometers from the patrol drop-off took Wan Lihui two and a half hours. Rainy-season field paths weren't just muddy but extremely sticky—every step required great effort. Wan Lihui had prided himself as a true farmer's son, but 17th-century Lingao countryside conditions shocked him. This unremarkable footpath alone showed how vast the several-century gap was.

Wan Lihui despairingly watched his feet sunk in yellow mud. His boots constantly threatened to separate—losing combat boots was a serious loss! He simply removed shoes and socks, tying them around his neck.

Walking barefoot on mud paths was indeed more comfortable.

Wan Lihui entered Meiyang Village looking like this.

Fu Buer's Meiyang Village was one of many small villages scattered along Wenlan River, situated on a small hillock. Surrounded by thorny bushes, with a small river encircling it—even a simple drawbridge. Since security improvements, the strongmen guarding the bridgehead had been withdrawn.

Fu Buer stood at the bridgehead with his servants, welcoming this "Chief." Women and curious children stood watching in the distance, observing and discussing his clothes and appearance.

Wan Lihui heard occasional laughter from the women's group. His face reddened involuntarily.

Wan Lihui exchanged pleasantries with Fu Buer, then followed him home. Most village houses had bamboo-slat walls and straw roofs. Several prosperous households were visible. Village layout was casual; dirty water and garbage covered the ground; pigs and chickens wandered leisurely.

"This environment!" Wan Lihui thought, recalling his vaccinations.

"This is it." Fu Buer led him to a compound. Fu Buer's household was among the village's better-off. Inside was a large courtyard; center stood a three-room brick-and-tile main building, flanked by wing buildings.

Fu Buer had cleaned out one wing room for Wan Lihui. He judged the environment reasonably clean and decided to stay.

Just after opening his backpack, he heard a woman rapid-firing Lingao dialect—then pig-slaughter-like screams.

"The master is beating his wife." The speaker was Fu Buer's servant girl Fu Xi—a teenage girl of thirteen or fourteen, dressed raggedly but neatly, with two black braids. She carried a teapot in and curtsied.

"You speak Mandarin?" Wan Lihui was surprised. Fu Xi's Mandarin wasn't standard but communicable.

"A little. I attend Fangcaodi."

"School? You're a Citizen Academy student."

"Yes, the master sent me to study." Fu Xi helped organize his luggage. "Master said you were coming, and the household needed someone understanding Mandarin, so he called me back."

"Will you return to school after I leave?"

"Of course. The Citizen Academy is much more interesting—better food, not dirty." The girl pursed her lips. "Only our household is clean in this village. Master became cleanliness-obsessed after returning from the prisoner camp last year."

"Your master is quite enlightened, sending a girl to school." Wan Lihui said.

"He just didn't want to lose Fu Qing and Fu Xiang's labor. So he sent me to learn reading, abacus, and bookkeeping. Also wanted me to learn spinning or something."

Fu Buer's household had four servants; besides these three, one called Fu Fu had been sent to serve the transmigrators during spring conscription.

"Apparently he's serving in the Security Corps." Fu Xi said. "Once enlisted, hearts grow wild. Master was counting on his military salary, but didn't get a single coin—made him curse up a storm." She giggled.

(End of Chapter)