Chapter 758 – Homecoming (Part 6)

Fu Bu'er had not only become a trailblazer of new agriculture but had inadvertently pioneered rural finance as well. His loan exceeded the combined total of all other loans in Meiyang Village. Because the amount was unprecedented—beyond the credit line granted by Delong Bank—Wu Di, head of the credit department, had traveled to Meiyang Village in person to assess the situation before approving the agricultural loan.

A residence built at such expense was naturally extraordinary. The locals had never seen a house so rationally laid out or so comfortable to inhabit—it was an eye-opener.

Following Wan Lihui's guidance, Fu Bu'er's wife had planted pumpkins in the backyard. The trellises ran up onto the roof, maximizing sunlight while saving land. The Fu household had always raised ducks; Wan Lihui had taught her to compost their manure and use it to cultivate earthworms—the Tiandihui supplied the starter worms and purchased the finished product. Sometimes the mistress privately thought the Tiandihui a bit simple-minded; they spent money buying all sorts of useless things—earthworms among them, along with feathers, bones, and eggshells. She had no idea that the specialty feed she bought to make the ducks lay more eggs was manufactured from these very "useless things."

In the front courtyard, she had planted several fruit trees and raised over fifty laying hens. The coop and the hens' exercise yard had been built under an agricultural technician's guidance, with a trellis overhead—also for growing pumpkins. Besides serving as a vegetable and coarse grain, pumpkin made excellent feed.

The chicken manure was fermented and fed to pigs. The Fu household kept a dozen "Australian pigs" supplied by the farm's breeding station. Following the model of the old "small poultry loans," the Tiandihui also issued "pig and goat loans," providing piglets and kids to farming families. Fu Bu'er's household, of course, needed no such entry-level assistance—he had bought the animals outright. Owing to the abundance of wasteland and wild grass in the area, the Tiandihui also encouraged sheep-raising; the Fu family kept about ten head.

Pig and sheep manure, along with all the residue from the courtyard's circular economy, was dumped into their biogas pit, which also processed the family's human waste, yielding fuel and fertilizer. The Fu household was the first in Meiyang Village to cook with biogas. Even the worldly-wise Fu Fu and Fu Xi were startled when they first witnessed it.

Fu Fu stepped into the spacious, bright parlor and eyed the glass set into the windows. The master's really made it! he thought. Such amenities were found only at a few top merchants' shops in the East Gate Market; he had never seen an ordinary local household with them.

The furniture in the parlor was so-called "Australian style"—a trend now spreading across the region and even into Guangdong. Rattan sofas and a coffee table, purchased from a rattan-and-wood-products shop in the East Gate Market, were well suited to Lingao's warm climate. Since it was winter now, cotton cushions had been laid over them. The floor was no longer bare earth but paved with square bricks. Fu Bu'er, affecting a touch of refinement, had even bought a color woodblock print of "Sunrise over the Holy Ships" from the East Gate Market and framed it elaborately. A four-panel screen divided the parlor, each panel affixed with a color propaganda poster: "The Officers and Men of the Fubo Army." The images depicted soldiers of the Army, Navy, and Marine Corps, as well as a transmigrator officer.

Every figure—enlisted or officer—sported heavy brows, big eyes, and muscular builds. One held a bayoneted rifle; another clutched an artillery shell; the transmigrator officer brandished a saber, pointing his men forward. Slogans and catchphrases ran along the bottom, all printed in red.

This type of poster was now being produced in small batches by the printing house as part of political propaganda. The new, gaudy posters were cheap, with excellent paper quality and printing, and they had already captured much of the market from traditional Guangdong New Year prints. Families like Fu Bu'er's were especially eager to display these "new prints" as a way of advertising their special relationship with the Australians.

No one was home; everyone was out working. Fu Yijin fetched water for Fu Fu to wash his face while Fu Xi hurried off to brew tea—tea-drinking had gradually taken root in the Fu household.

Fu Fu unbuckled his web belt and set down his pack, feeling a wave of relief. When Fu Yijin brought the washbasin, he grew shy, murmuring, "Thank you, Sister Yijin." He took the towel from his satchel; as their hands brushed, Fu Fu steeled himself and gave her fingers a squeeze.

Fu Yijin shot him a reproachful glance. Fu Fu grew bolder. Two years in the army, well fed and well trained, had built him a strong body, and he was young—physiological urges ran strong. Usually they were suppressed by strict discipline and endless labor, but now all that was gone, and the urges surfaced at once.

Gathering his courage, he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Sister Yijin!" he called, and his hands began to roam. She gasped—broad daylight, inside the house, parents and siblings liable to return at any moment, Fu Xi outside boiling water. If anyone walked in, the disgrace would be complete.

She shoved his hands away. "Are you crazy?" She clutched at her clothes. "What if someone sees?"

"Sister Yijin—"

"If you're going to behave like this, I certainly won't be spending time alone with you," Fu Yijin said, assuming the prim air of a "young lady." "Just what do you take me for…"

Fu Fu was about to profess his "sincere intentions" when Fu Xi's footsteps sounded outside. He had no choice but to release her and sit down awkwardly, already scheming about how to broach the subject with the master later.

Fu Xi came in with the tea, apparently noticing nothing amiss. Fu Yijin brought out some dried sweet-potato slices from the cupboard to serve him.

"I don't dare touch them," Fu Fu joked, covering his embarrassment. "The mistress hasn't given permission yet."

"It's fine—she doesn't fuss over little things anymore," Fu Xi said casually. "Pinching pennies won't make you rich. The mistress has finally figured that out."

Fu Fu's return stirred a small commotion in the village. A bond-servant boy sent off in ropes to join the army, now transformed into an impressive soldier—news spread in an instant. Fu Fu had barely eaten a few bites of dried sweet potato before over a hundred villagers crowded into the Fu courtyard: some to gawk, some to hear the news, some who had heard military life was good and wanted to enlist. They packed the parlor doorway more tightly than when Wan Lihui had first visited the village.

Everyone marveled at the change in the former bond-servant, murmuring that the Australians truly could turn stone into gold. Man or thing, whatever passed through their hands emerged gleaming. Fu Fu had been thin as a monkey, dark and wizened, clumsy at work, mumbling when he spoke. Now he was sturdy and handsome, his voice full and articulate. His fluent "New Speech" alone eclipsed everyone's dialect.

What interested the villagers most was the recent fighting. The county-wide war mobilization had reached Meiyang Village; some village militia had been called up to repair roads and haul supplies around Bopu, but they had not seen combat. The closest anyone had come to the front was guarding prisoners at Ma'ao. The militia's gossip hadn't satisfied their curiosity. Later the Village Office had received a "Special Edition" of the Lingao Times devoted to the great victory at Chengmai, and the agricultural technician had read it aloud to everyone—but people still felt unsatisfied. The special edition was too brief, offering only a bare outline of events and outcomes. What the villagers craved was vivid, storyteller-style detail.

As a soldier of the 1st Infantry Battalion, Fu Fu had participated directly in the battles around Chengmai and elsewhere; he had plenty of material. Now that he had an audience, he launched into a performance as if he were a professional storyteller. He described the march, the battle beneath Chengmai's walls, the chase all the way to Qiongshan. Infantry squares against cavalry, fire-arrows from ships burning Chengmai's walls, the rout of tens of thousands of government troops—he even boasted grandly about the Baisha Stockade sea battle, which he hadn't been anywhere near. The villagers listened, rapt.

Then came questions about army life. Fu Fu embellished freely—people tend to polish their circumstances. He extolled three meals a day, meat at every sitting, and the sights he had seen on campaigns across the region. The young men's hearts itched; they all wanted to enlist and see the world. As for training and work-support assignments, no one minded—farm work at home was hard labor too. Several asked on the spot what the requirements were and how to sign up.

Amid the hubbub, Fu Bu'er arrived with Wan Lihui. Because Fu Bu'er had become a "model farmer," Meiyang Village was one of the few that still enjoyed direct guidance from an elder-level agricultural technician. Most Tiandihui clients now received only training from naturalized technicians; only complex or important issues warranted an elder's visit.

Wan Lihui didn't mind his frequent trips to Meiyang Village. Since the Fu house had been rebuilt, living conditions were vastly improved—nearly up to East Gate Market standards. And there were lovely girls to attend him. Spending a few days here offering technical guidance was quite pleasant. This visit was partly to promote winter-wheat cultivation, partly to coach farmers on courtyard economics and the "plant every margin" initiative—especially growing castor and flax in every patch of spare ground. Both crops were urgently needed oil sources for Lingao's industrial system.

(End of Chapter)