Chapter 46: The New Farmstead (Part 3)

“Alright, let’s start by taking stock of our assets,” Wu Nanhai proposed at the first general meeting of the Agriculture Committee.

The committee had a ledger, but in the fifty-odd days since their arrival, the numbers and types of items had changed, and it was in dire need of an update.

In terms of seeds, they had 100 kilograms of hybrid rice. This supposed “great weapon” of transmigration wasn’t as miraculous as the legends claimed. It was essentially the “mule” of the plant world—full of advantages, but sterile. Wu Nanhai’s goal in bringing it was to secure a bumper crop in the first year and stabilize their grain reserves. With grain, they could do anything.

They also had 50 kilograms each of various other rice seeds, totaling 1,000 kilograms. These included high-yield, lodging-resistant varieties like Guangguichao and Shuanggui, which were widely planted in Lingao during the 1960s and 70s and were well-suited to the local soil and climate.

They possessed 100 kilograms of high-yield sweet potatoes, which they planned to promote widely. Sweet potatoes had likely been introduced to Hainan by 1628, but these were high-quality seed potatoes. They also had 100 kilograms of potatoes. Lingao wasn’t ideal for potato cultivation, but the crop was versatile—it could be a vegetable, a staple food, or animal feed, with great potential for promotion on the mainland later on. Additionally, they had 20 kilograms of kudzu vine and 20 kilograms of high-quality alfalfa seeds.

For other grains, they had 100 kilograms each of corn, wheat, and barley seeds, along with 10 kilograms each of various beans: soybeans, mung beans, adzuki beans, black beans, and more.

Their vegetable seed collection included 1 kilogram each of green peppers, tomatoes, cabbage, carrots, pumpkins, cucumbers, onions, various scallions, and garlic.

Spices were readily available through maritime trade in Southeast Asia, so they had only brought 10 kilograms of red chili and Sichuan pepper seeds, spanning ten different varieties.

Before setting sail, he had also purchased several large, one-kilogram bags of fruit seeds suitable for Hainan’s climate.

Finally, he hadn’t forgotten his own little indulgence: tobacco. Ten kilograms of tobacco seeds would give him a monopoly on the future tobacco industry. Wu Nanhai was already dreaming of producing his own brand of cigarettes.

All the seeds were in their official packaging, with a shelf life of at least two years. Some varieties, not suited for the local climate, were intended for more northern regions and were vacuum-packed to last for seven to eight years.

“That’s it for the seeds,” Ye Yuming said. “We also have some seedlings that need to be transplanted to the nursery as soon as possible.”

They had brought a considerable number of seedlings: 50 coconut saplings, 50 rubber tree saplings, 20 coffee tree saplings, 20 cocoa saplings, 20 coca plants, 50 cinchona plants, and 5 poppy plants. They also had various timber, fast-growing, and fruit tree saplings, as well as sugarcane and banana stalks for cultivation. These plants were all incredibly valuable, but managing and planting them would be a challenge. Wu Nanhai recalled his tropical crops professor mentioning that when they cultivated cinchona seedlings at an educated youth farm in Yunnan, the germination rate was less than 5%. Cinchona seeds were said to be more expensive than gold. Quinine, the drug derived from it, was essential for treating malaria. Without it, their plans for colonial expansion, from Taiwan to Southeast Asia, would be dead in the water. To be safe, they had brought seeds as a backup to the seedlings.

In terms of livestock, they currently had six pigs: two pairs of Landrace pigs and one pair of Northeast Folk pigs. The Landrace, a lean-meat breed from Denmark, would serve as the sire for crossbreeding. The Northeast Folk pig, a hardy local breed from the Northeast, was resistant to rough feeding and had large litters, making it an ideal dam. It also had a high-fat deposition rate, which was perfect for rendering animal fat. They also had four local piglets.

The Agriculture Committee’s official roster listed only one pair of Tieling draft horses. This breed was a rarity in ancient China. The two racehorses Nick had brought weren’t originally under their care, but after “Blue Lightning” died, a heartbroken Nick had entrusted “Aranch” to the committee. At first, Wu Nanhai was annoyed by Nick’s endless list of care requirements—feeding five times a day, providing warm water—until Yang Baogui pointed out that the old racehorse still had value. She was a mare.

“If she were a stallion, she would have been castrated at two or three to begin her racing career. She’d be useless now,” Yang Baogui said, quite pleased with the horse.

“How old is she?”

“Thirteen or fourteen, I think,” Yang Baogui said, flipping through his notebook. “I haven’t checked their teeth yet. Horses can live to be thirty. She’s past her prime for racing, but she can still be a broodmare.”

The three captured local horses were identified by Yang Baogui as Dian horses, all around seven or eight years old. Two of them were geldings, ready for immediate labor.

“We need more horses,” Wu Nanhai said, looking at the collection of small agricultural machinery that lay unsorted in the courtyard. They had hand-held tractors and larger ones currently being used by the engineering department, but for the long term, they needed draft animals. They had to transition to an era of mule and horsepower as soon as possible, before their mechanized resources ran out. This was not just for their own needs, but also for the local farmers who would eventually adopt their new farming methods.

“There are too many things that require horses, but Hainan isn’t a good place to raise them,” Yang Baogui said, shaking his head. “The climate is too hot, and the rainy season is too humid. Horses are incredibly delicate.”

“What about breeding mules?” Ye Yuming suggested. “Don’t we have a pair of donkeys?”

“Please, I’m not about to go and help a donkey get it on…”

“Help a donkey?” Ye Yuming looked confused. Even Wu Nanhai, usually a serious and upstanding man, couldn’t help but chuckle.

“That’s right, and you have to ‘push the buttocks’ too!” Wu Nanhai recalled the horse breeding lecture from his animal husbandry class. The course had made all the post-80s girls blush.

“What? You’ve done it?” Yang Baogui asked Wu Nanhai with a grin.

“No, just saw the educational videos.”

“Let’s put mule breeding on hold for now. The horse breeding season doesn’t start until March. Besides, these animals are high-strung. They’ve been through a lot. Let’s let them rest, fatten up, and get used to their new environment first.”

Beyond the large animals, there were a few smaller, but equally useful, creatures: two pairs of rabbits (one for fur, one for meat), four roosters of different breeds and twenty hens, two pairs of ducks, two pairs of turkeys, and ten homing pigeons—another of Nick’s private contributions. Lastly, there was a calico cat, brought by some girl who seemed to have forgotten about it. A beautiful bow was still tied around its neck.

In addition to the living creatures, they had a precious collection of life in a cellular state: a liquid nitrogen tank containing the sperm of goats, sheep, and high-quality beef and dairy cattle. The tank was currently stored in the ship’s cold storage, but they had no way to produce more liquid nitrogen. They had to find suitable local dams for insemination as soon as possible.

After taking stock of their assets, the 21st-century farmers got to work leveling the land and building simple poultry sheds. The free-range yard, paved with sand and enclosed by a dense bamboo fence, was soon covered with trellises for loofahs, hyacinth beans, and gourds. This would not only provide shade for the chickens and ducks but also yield a harvest of vegetables—killing two birds with one stone.

The poultry, however, were listless and had poor appetites after their long journey. The constant disruption had taken its toll. They hoped the open space and fresh air would help them recover quickly. The men were eagerly awaiting fresh eggs.

Wu Nanhai set up a grape arbor in the courtyard walkway. Fruit trees were planted in the open spaces on either side, and beneath them, he established several garden plots for herbs and medicinal plants.

“Are you planning to tear up the whole yard?” Huang Dashan asked, pushing his two-wheeled cart. He had just been transferred to the Agriculture Committee, and his luggage was piled on the cart.

“Hehe, soon this place will be fragrant with flowers and fruit,” Wu Nanhai said, looking proudly at the messy frames of bamboo poles and ropes. He turned to the newcomer, a man with thick glasses.

“You are?”

“Huang Dashan. Here’s my transfer order.” Huang Dashan pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket.

“Welcome, welcome!” Wu Nanhai remembered him. He had applied to the Agriculture Committee several times, citing his skill in cultivating edible fungi and the many strains and culture media he had brought. “So, you’re in charge of fungal cultivation?”

“No,” Huang Dashan said with a harmless smile. “My profession is a biochemical laboratory technician. My specialty is the in vivo cultivation of bacteria and viruses in animals. Cultivating mushrooms is just a sideline to make some extra money.”

“Then let’s make your sideline your main business,” Wu Nanhai said, delighted with this new addition to his team. “Where do you think we should build your mushroom shed?”

“We can cultivate them right under the fruit trees. The grape arbor would be the most suitable place,” Huang Dashan said, looking around. “Let’s start with the easy-to-grow Pinggu mushrooms. They’re high-yield and don’t need a dedicated shed. Later, when we have the resources, we can build proper cultivation sheds. I’ve brought plenty of strains. But you have to give me a room for a laboratory. I’ve brought all the standard equipment for a biochemical lab.” He added, “It would be best if it’s a relatively independent building, a little far from the other living things…”

“Hmm?” Wu Nanhai didn’t quite understand, but he nodded anyway.

Yang Baogui was assigned a room for his veterinary clinic, with an attached bedroom. He had been tirelessly lugging his tent around, even in the prefabricated house. Now, the large and small boxes he had painstakingly carried all this way finally had a safe home. Inside was a full set of animal medical equipment and reference books. Wu Nanhai planned to clear out another room to serve as a dedicated agricultural library, storing the books, planting manuals, and instructional videos they had brought.