Chapter 1356 - The Tea-Picking Women

Wang Siniang exchanged greetings as she walked up the mountain. The tea gardens preferred high, open environments, so Phoenix Mountain Estate's tea plantations were all in the upper reaches, near the summit. The flagstone path wound upward, flanked by newly planted saplings—some bought from nearby nurseries, but most unloaded from the large ships docked at the riverside pier below.

Wang Siniang had never understood why Master Zhao disliked locally sourced seedlings. The saplings planted on Phoenix Mountain Estate—especially the income-generating varieties—were almost all shipped in.

It was spring now, with flowers of all kinds blooming in competition. Walking along, she felt as if she were passing through clouds and rosy mists. She passed a grove of plum trees planted last year—not yet as tall as a person, but already in bloom. Powdery white blossoms floated like clouds along the mountain's slope, their faint fragrance wafting over from time to time. Among the trees sat several beehives, with bees shuttling through the blossoms. These plum trees had also been specially shipped in and planted by the master. Wang Siniang knew something of literati ways; she thought the master, though a merchant from Guangdong, must be quite the refined gentleman.

In fact, Zhao Yingong had planted plum trees on the mountain not for refinement at all. He hadn't arranged the plantings himself; they had been planned by agricultural experts from the Agricultural Committee who had personally surveyed the site. The guiding principle was to ensure hillside greening while also achieving a certain economic return. These several dozen mu of plum groves might be suitable for composing poetry, but their primary purpose was to harvest plums for making pickled sour plums.

Following the path up the mountain, she passed all sorts of newly planted seedlings. Some fast-growing species had already developed considerable presence. Bamboo transplanted the year before last had become a grove, lush and verdant.

The mountain path wound along; in the irrigation-and-drainage channel beside it, stream water gurgled, carrying down fallen leaves and blossoms.

Wang Siniang had broken a light sweat. Looking around, the landscape was already vastly different from when she had first arrived two years ago. Among the trees, farm workers were busy—some pruning branches, some loosening soil and fertilizing, others collecting dead branches and clearing weeds. A bustling scene of spring labor.

Wang Siniang climbed until she reached the area near the summit, where a large tea plantation spread out. Most of it had only been developed last year; the tea seedlings had been specially purchased from the Longjing area.

Tea bushes planted just a year ago naturally couldn't be picked yet. She was heading to a different tea garden—one that someone had cleared on the mountain years ago but that had gradually been abandoned because the tea quality was mediocre and didn't sell. When Zhao Yingong acquired land in Phoenix Mountain, he had bought this plot as well. After renovation, pruning, and fertilization, last year's tea bushes had grown vigorously. They hadn't picked spring tea then, only summer and autumn tea. This year would be the first spring harvest.

Before last autumn's tea came in, Cai Shi had specifically sought her out, asking her to pick and process six hundred jin of premium autumn tea—the master needed it for gifts.

In a few more days it would be Qingming Festival; this was the best time to pick "pre-Qingming" new tea. Though Cai Shi hadn't come with instructions this time, Wang Siniang still planned to carefully select the finest pre-Qingming tea as she had done last autumn, process it, and present it to the master around Qingming.

Over a dozen women of various ages, all dressed identically to her, had already gathered at the tea garden entrance. Seeing her approach, they rose with smiles to greet her. These were all refugees taken in during last year's great drought in northern Zhejiang. Many had tea-farming backgrounds, so they'd been kept on the estate specifically to work in the tea garden.

Wang Siniang was an "old hand" at the estate and a "foreman"; the tea-picking women naturally deferred to her. The younger ones called her "Fourth Sister"; the older ones, not daring to address her directly as "little sister," at least called her "Fourth Sister-in-Law."

Before she could even settle herself, several of the quicker girls swarmed around her: one took her tea basket, another quickly brought water, and a third, realizing she'd missed those opportunities, hurriedly spread her own towel on a stone and pulled her down to sit.

Wang Siniang had long since grown accustomed to this attention. She smiled and waved her hand: "Tea later. The weather is nice today—perfect for the first picking of new tea. This pre-Qingming tea—one bud, one leaf. This tea may be for the master's personal use or for gifting. Everyone must work carefully."

"What are you saying, Fourth Sister? Never mind that it's tea for the master's use—with you here supervising, would any of us sisters dare anything less than our utmost?" A tea-picker spoke with a beaming smile. "Please rest here. We'll start picking now."

"That won't do." Wang Siniang was clever. Though she'd had little direct contact with Master Zhao, what she'd seen and heard told her he deeply disliked servants who lorded it over others. So she was always careful. She stood up. "Everyone to work. After picking, we still have to process through the night. Let's put in the effort."

"Very well," the women answered in unison.

Tea picking had to begin around noon—too early or too late was unsuitable. After picking, the leaves had to rest for about two hours before processing could begin. Freshly picked tea leaves were generally not left overnight. Seventeenth-century tea-processing techniques were already essentially the same as in later eras; the only difference was the lack of electric pans, making temperature control difficult. Thus, tea processing depended even more heavily on the workers' experience. Fortunately, last year's great drought in northern Zhejiang had produced refugees of every background. They'd managed to recruit two master tea processors. Wang Siniang's own skills were barely passable—enough to assist the master processors. So every day during the tea season, Wang Siniang and the women workers were busy until the second half of the night before they could sleep.

The processed Hangzhou new tea was being produced as a special supply for the Executive Committee's General Affairs Office, provided by the Hangzhou Station. Zhao Yingong was contributing to the Executive Committee in this way, burnishing his own credibility among the transmigrators.

Though it was called "special supply" tea, given the Executive Committee's characteristic stinginess, it still had to be the "one bud, one leaf" variety. Wang Siniang was quite skilled at tea picking: sharp-eyed and nimble-fingered. As she picked, she coached the novices beside her: "Use your fingertips to pluck—don't pinch with your nails!"

Tea picking was exhausting work. Though the spring sun was gentle, prolonged exposure still made one feel uncomfortably hot—especially working in the dense, poorly ventilated tea bushes. After standing in place for an hour or two, hands and eyes moving without pause, some of the frailer women were soon flushed and pausing to catch their breath.

"Take a few sips of water and rest a moment! Don't stop—catch up right away!" Wang Siniang called out while she worked, urging on those who were falling behind.

As the foreman, Wang Siniang had the authority to schedule rest breaks, but she wouldn't call a halt lightly. Each team had a daily work quota requiring both quantity and quality. And the quota was set at a level just barely achievable.

Her team had some experienced pickers but also plenty of novices. Without relentless prodding, they couldn't possibly meet the picking quota before nightfall. And the daily harvest had to be sent to the processing room—the processing masters had their own quotas too. Fail to deliver sufficient tea leaves on time, and the whole chain would fall behind. When evaluations came, the entire team would have wages docked. As the "foreman," her own losses would be even greater: besides wages, she'd lose her management bonus. If quotas were consistently missed, her foreman position itself would be in jeopardy.

Capable workers who did good work were everywhere; people who could lead others while still doing good work were rare. To keep her position, Wang Siniang had no choice but to push her team relentlessly.

Basket after basket of fresh leaves was carried by a dedicated transport team down to the processing workshop at the foot of the mountain. Wang Siniang worked without pause until the estate's steam whistle had sounded fourteen times before she announced a break.

"Everyone grab a quick bite and drink, wipe your sweat. Then we continue!" Even exhausted herself, Wang Siniang didn't forget to encourage the others.

They gathered under the shade of the rest tree. Hot tea had already been prepared in an insulated barrel, along with a small rattan box of snacks.

These snacks were actually a type of Lingao military ration, characterized by high sugar and salt content. For field laborers with high energy expenditure, they served as quick-replenishing "energy bars."

Wang Siniang sipped from a bamboo cup while eating her snack, eyeing the blackboard with the tally marks—the total weight of tea picked so far. At this pace, they had completed barely forty percent of the quota.

There was about an hour and a half until afternoon work ended. If they pushed hard, they could still make it. With a general sense of how the day's picking was going, she began calculating how to reassign each worker's picking route this afternoon to maximize their speed.

The break was officially thirty minutes, but rarely did anyone rest the full time. Once water was drunk and snacks consumed, everyone rose voluntarily to get back to work—falling short meant wage deductions, but exceeding the quota meant bonuses. Tired as they were, motivation remained high.

For the next hour and a half, picking resumed according to her newly adjusted assignments. Hands never stopping, they worked until dusk began to gather and the steam whistle had sounded seventeen times. Only then did the day's picking end.

But picking had ended—their work had not. The processing workshop still awaited. There they would help with spreading leaves, pan-frying, stem-picking... all the auxiliary tasks. Phoenix Mountain Estate didn't operate on a sunrise-to-sunset schedule. The basic workday here was twelve hours. Wang Siniang had clocked in at eleven; under the twelve-hour system, she wouldn't clock out until eleven at night.

After gathering their tools, the group filed down the mountain. The younger girls were so exhausted they couldn't speak. On a relatively flat area at the foot of Phoenix Mountain, various buildings and courtyards had been constructed. This was Phoenix Mountain Estate's general administrative center and the location of its various workshops.