Chapter 51: Visitors from Lingao

“These past few days, I have been watching. Most of you are good people, working diligently. But some…” Chang Shide pointed to a group of seven or eight individuals lying on straw mats, their swollen buttocks and thighs a testament to the government’s justice. They moaned weakly under their straw curtains.

“After a few full meals, they grew complacent. We made them village cadres, a sign of our trust. Had they done well, they would have been given more responsibility. But they did not appreciate it. They thought a steady meal was not enough and dipped their hands into the company’s coffers. The government has dealt with them, and we will not pursue the matter further. However, their positions are gone. The money they embezzled will be added to their debt. It may take them seventy or eighty years of labor to repay it.”

“As for those who knew their wrong and voluntarily returned what they had stolen, we will not punish them further. They will be dismissed from their posts, and their term of labor will be extended by one to five years. We are lenient. Whoever committed the crime will bear the responsibility. Their families will not be implicated.” Chang Shide had already made arrangements with the few who had confessed. As soon as he finished speaking, they began to cry and shout:

“The masters are benevolent!”

“Wuwuwu, I am worse than a pig or a dog!”

“From now on, I will work for the masters with all my heart, even if it means jumping into a pit of fire!”

The raw emotion infected the crowd, and the meeting grew lively. Chang Shide felt the effect was quite good. The manual “How to Propagandize and Agitate” was proving to be quite effective.

“You sugar masters…” His finger swept across the group. In the “killing the chicken to scare the monkey” operation, Wen Tong, to protect his technical personnel, had not arrested any of them, but all had been forced to watch the brutal punishments. Upon their return, they had all rushed to return the embezzled sugar. To their surprise, Master Chang, with a mysterious smile, had refused to accept it, only asking them to write a confession. It didn’t matter if they were illiterate; there were pre-written forms. They only had to fill in the numbers and press their thumbprint. They had been on edge for days. Now, being called out, they could no longer hold it together. They fell to their knees, their pleas for mercy echoing through the courtyard.

Then, Chang Shide revealed his true intentions. He wanted them to join the Leizhou Sugar Company, to become full-time employees, not temporary workers. Their treatment would be the same as the immigrants: food and wages. The sugar they had skimmed would be considered an advance on their salary.

He portrayed himself as incredibly lenient, but the men were not fools. They knew that to refuse would mean having their confessions used against them. They would be dragged to the yamen, beaten half to death, and left in a cangue to feed the flies. Willing or not, they all declared, “We are willing to join the sugar factory.”

“Work hard, and you will not be treated unfairly,” Chang Shide said, looking at the dejected masters, thinking he had made a rather good deal.

Next, he reappointed the vacant village cadre positions. Wen Tong had wanted to keep some of the less problematic ones, but Chang Shide insisted on a “zero tolerance” policy. It didn’t matter if the new appointees were less capable; they were no worse than the last.

“Serve our Leizhou Sugar Company well, and you will not be at a loss!” He then announced a new profit-sharing plan, modeled after Guo Yi’s businesses in Guangzhou. The profits would be divided into thirteen shares: ten for the shareholders, and three for the bonuses and welfare of all employees. Everyone, from the sugar masters to the field laborers, would get a share.

He also implemented a new wage system, with a grading system for agricultural and sugar workers. Salaries were based on individual abilities, with an additional allowance for positions like village chief or militia captain.

To further boost productivity, he launched a labor competition among the plantations, with monthly rewards for the one that harvested the most sugarcane and produced the most sugar with the least loss.

Wen Tong, keenly aware of the importance of grassroots cadres, launched a rotation training program. The newly appointed village cadres were brought to the South China Sugar Factory for training in literacy, sugarcane cultivation, and sugar production.

After this combination of stick and carrot, the company entered a period of stability. Morale improved, and sugar production climbed steadily. A constant stream of boats and carts carried raw sugar, molasses, and bagasse to the South China Factory. This previously unknown business became a topic of conversation among the sugar merchants of Haian Street.

Chang Shide grew somewhat complacent. He started a teacher training class, preparing to open a primary school for the children of the factory workers. Too lazy to teach them himself, he decided to use the female slaves. He appointed Wen Xiu as a teaching assistant and began the training. Classes were held during the day, with evening classes continuing at night. Wen Xiu and A’Zhu were excluded.

“Teacher, I was wrong, please forgive your student,” he would hear, the Mandarin still a bit stilted.

“Let me punish you properly, you bad child.”

Wen Tong often heard this incongruous yet ecstatic dialogue when he passed Chang Shide’s room at night.

“You big pervert,” he would mutter, scornful of this S&M cosplay. Fortunately, Chang Shide had the decency not to drag A’Zhu to his night classes. Wen Tong was in favor of her attending the teacher training. He was so busy with the factory that by the time he returned to his courtyard, he just wanted to sleep. He didn’t even have the energy for A’Zhu. Old Chang’s constitution was truly robust. Busy day and night. Wen Tong couldn’t help but feel a wave of sorrow. The difference between people… why is it so great?

Wen Tong’s focus was on the technical reform of the sugar factory. He had already achieved his first goal: producing white sugar. The process was backward, the output low, but it was suitable for their current industrial level. The next step was to increase the yield of sugarcane juice. Modern factories used steel roller presses, with an extraction rate of over 70%. He decided to eliminate the wooden rollers at the South China Factory. He considered stone, but the efficiency was not much higher, and the consumption of ox power was equally immense.

A multi-roller steel press was the best choice. He remembered that the Zhanjiang area had only begun to replace their primitive ox-drawn stone rollers in the mid-1960s, with two-roller or three-roller small presses that achieved an extraction rate of over 60%, and later 72-73%. Compared to the 45% extraction rate of the stone rollers, this meant a 60% increase in sugar output without changing the sugarcane yield.

The number was too tempting to ignore. And the equipment was simple enough for their industrial capacity to produce.

But a three-roller steel press required a power source, something stronger than a water buffalo. The presses in Zhanjiang were driven by 20-horsepower diesel engines. With diesel scarce, Wen Tong considered water power. He inspected a nearby water-powered mill but was disappointed. It was a simple water wheel, with no canals or dams, and its efficiency was very low.

The South China Factory was on a river, but the flow was gentle. To install a water turbine capable of driving a three-roller press, they would have to build a dam, which would inevitably lead to conflicts with upstream and downstream users and potentially a protracted lawsuit. He vetoed the idea.

A steam engine was the better choice. A water turbine could only be used to press sugarcane. A steam engine could power a variety of efficiency-improving devices. The steam itself could be used to heat the sugarcane juice, reducing the risk of scorching.

He sent a carrier pigeon to Zhang Xin in Guangzhou, outlining his ideas and requesting the necessary machinery, as well as cement, steel bars, and bricks. To upgrade to semi-mechanized production, they would have to expand.

The Executive Committee quickly approved his request.

Two weeks later, a large ship arrived at Haian Street. Its design caused a stir. It was the size of a 400-liao ship but had a shallow, almost flat-bottomed draft. The deck was wide, with no protrusions apart from the sterncastle and two masts. The deck was piled high with boxes and large, canvas-wrapped cargo, all secured by a massive net. The sight of a cargo ship with all its goods piled on the deck was a novelty and attracted a crowd of onlookers. Who was the shipwright who had come up with such a design? Wouldn’t the cargo get wet in a storm?

Seeing the flat-decked ship, Chang Shide thought it was a bit too anachronistic. As he watched, the ship approached the pier. The sailors set up a gangplank, and a familiar figure walked over.

It was Bei Wei, the captain of the Special Reconnaissance Team. He had once been a common sight, leading his team on various missions, but he had become increasingly mysterious. The last time Chang Shide had seen him was during the political consultative conference, where he had been securing the high ground.

What was such a man doing on a ship to Leizhou? Was there a secret mission? Did the Executive Committee have designs on Leizhou? But they hadn’t even taken over all of Hainan…

As his thoughts ran wild, Bei Wei approached. He was dressed as a common laborer. He was followed by a few unfamiliar, able-bodied young men, probably members of his team. As Chang Shide was about to speak, Bei Wei gave him a look, signaling him to be silent. He then led his men and blended into the team of laborers preparing to unload the machinery.

Next came the real leaders of the transport mission. One was Mei Lin from the Lingao Construction Company, here to oversee the civil engineering. The other two, from the machinery department, were here to install the equipment. All three wore straight robes, wigs, and headscarves, looking out of place and uncomfortable.

“Welcome, welcome,” Chang Shide hurried forward. Now that he was “stationed abroad,” he had to be enthusiastic towards the cadres from the “capital.” “Old Mei, on a business trip, are you? And these two are…”

“They are from the machinery factory,” Mei Lin introduced them. “This is Xiao Gui, here to install the steam engine, and this is Chen Tianxiong—”

“My name is Chen Tianxiong,” the man said. He was nearly forty, with a calm demeanor and a strong build. “The Executive Committee has transferred me to Leizhou to be responsible for the operation and debugging of the factory’s machinery. I’ll also train a few workers.”

“This is great! I was worried about maintenance!” Chang Shide glanced around. “This is not the place to talk. Let’s go to the tea shed.”

He had booked a tea shed as a place to supervise the unloading and rest, guarded by Qiwei escorts.

“I didn’t expect you to be so fast,” Chang Shide said, making small talk as Wen Xiu brought tea. “Have some water. Have some water.” He sat down. After Wen Xiu had left, he asked, “Is all the equipment here?”