Chapter 169: Earthworms

“Once the county’s miscellaneous grain production increases, I’ll manufacture and sell complete compound feed directly to the farmers, so they don’t have to mix it themselves,” Wu Nanhai declared, his ambition burning bright. “This will further increase output, reduce technical difficulty, and make promotion easier.”

With that, Wu Nanhai, mounted on his 28-inch bicycle, led Wan Lihui to a corner of the farm. A large plot of land had been leveled, surrounded by rows of young trees and newly dug drainage ditches.

The most conspicuous feature was the mountain of large baskets piled near the flattened ground. Though covered with straw mats, they still emitted a pungent stench. A foul liquid seeped onto the ground, and a swarm of flies danced merrily above.

Wan Lihui immediately spotted his brother, Wan Lihuang, sitting idly in a grass shed, wearing a straw hat and occasionally swatting at the flies.

Wan Lihui covered his nose. “Why the terrible smell?”

Wu Nanhai, however, seemed completely unfazed, leaning his bike against a tree.

“Little Wan, from this day forward, you and your brother will be in charge of this earthworm farm.”

“Alright,” Wan Lihui thought, a wave of indignation washing over him. Great, another stinking, dirty job has fallen on our heads. Is it because we come from a peasant background? His dream in this new time was to play with guns, to feel the thrill of combat. Now, he was back to the drudgery of farm labor, a gun nowhere in sight.

Though his heart rebelled, his face remained a mask of compliance. He quickly assured Wu Nanhai that he would resolutely complete the task assigned by the organization.

Artificial earthworm farming was a new agricultural technology. Its primary purpose was to provide a low-cost protein feed for livestock, poultry, and fish, while simultaneously processing organic waste, turning refuse into fertilizer, and mitigating environmental pollution. It also had the added benefit of improving soil fertility.

The earthworms Wu Nanhai planned to raise were red worms, a common species in vermiculture. They belonged to the manure worm category, favored consuming livestock manure, had a strong affinity for fertilizer, and were well-suited for artificial cultivation.

“Look, these are the red worms we’ll be raising,” Wu Nanhai said, opening a wooden box. Inside, several 90-150 mm long, purplish-red earthworms wriggled.

“These creatures are very easy to raise, provided the feed is prepared properly,” Wu Nanhai said, leading them to the baskets, the source of the atrocious smell.

“The feed for the earthworms,” he explained, “can come from a wide range of sources. Any non-toxic, disease-free organic waste will do. Livestock manure, plants, fruit peels, sugarcane bagasse, rotten fruits… Red worms particularly enjoy rotten fruits and vegetable leaves—they have a preference for sweet and sour flavors.”

“Rotten fruit is not common around here,” Wan Lihui mused. Ever since Wu Nanhai had launched his comprehensive fertilization plan, it seemed no organic matter could escape his grasp. He wondered how Wu Nanhai intended to allocate this precious resource to the earthworms. He had no idea what was in the baskets, but it stank to high heaven.

“Rotten vegetable leaves will do just fine. And wild fruits,” Wu Nanhai said, seemingly having thought of everything. “We’ll have a few boatloads of jackfruit transported from Leizhou—they have tons of it there, along with sugarcane bagasse.” With that, he pulled back the mat covering one of the baskets.

Inside were rotting jackfruit and a large quantity of sugarcane bagasse. The cloying, sweet, sour, and foul smell made him cover his nose.

“This needs to be composted quickly too,” Wu Nanhai frowned.

Organic matter used as feed had to be fully fermented. Earthworms are omnivorous annelids and could only consume this waste after it had been composted; otherwise, it would cause a mass die-off. A major task for the Wan brothers, therefore, was composting and fermentation.

Wu Nanhai grabbed a shovel and began demonstrating the composting process, shoveling out the various organic wastes.

Before fermentation, all livestock and poultry manure had to be sprinkled with water and broken up. Crop stalks and rice straw were chopped into short pieces with a hoe. Rotten fruit and sugarcane bagasse could be used directly. After piling them up, they were watered and mixed evenly to ensure they were thoroughly moist, then piled on the ground to a height of one meter. The pile was kept loose, not compacted, to facilitate the breeding of high-temperature bacteria. Then it was sprinkled with water again, maintaining a moisture content between 50-60%.

Once the feed was piled, it was covered with a plastic sheet to retain heat and moisture. Since large plastic sheets were unavailable, this advanced item was replaced with straw mats, which were then sprinkled with water to keep them moist.

“After three to four days, the temperature inside the pile can rise to 50-60°C,” Wu Nanhai said, opening his briefcase and taking out a rod-like object wrapped in straw rope. He carefully unwrapped it, revealing a huge glass rod—the latest alcohol thermometer from the glass factory. Its ugly appearance was reminiscent of a vibrator, enough to send the minds of the otaku into a frenzy of imagination.

“A thermometer. You need to monitor the compost temperature daily. Too low or too high is unsuitable. Turn the pile once every half a month and add water. After three or four turnings, the mature compost should be dark brown, odorless, loose, and not sticky. Then it’s ready to use.”

Wan Lihui watched as Wu Nanhai opened a small pile and grabbed a handful of mature compost. “Just like this.”

This action inspired a sense of admiration in Wan Lihui: Not bad, this is what an agricultural technician should be.

Next, Wu Nanhai demonstrated how to make an earthworm bed. He piled the mature compost into ridges 80 cm wide and 200-300 cm long, then watered them. Finally, he poured the earthworms from the wooden box onto the bed. The worms immediately burrowed into the feed.

“If they refuse to enter, it means the feed isn’t properly fermented,” Wu Nanhai explained. “This batch is the breeding stock we brought with the ship, only a few dozen. Normally, each earthworm bed can be inoculated with a thousand worms. In about three to four months, you can reach 15,000 worms per square meter. At that point, you can start harvesting. Soon, the earthworms can be used as feed, and their castings can be used as feed for fish and shrimp, as well as fertilizer.”

Wu Nanhai then handed him a mimeographed booklet titled “Earthworm and Maggot Farming Techniques,” with a line printed on it: “Internal Material, for Agriculture Committee Use Only.”

“Earthworm farming is relatively simple. The main concerns are maintaining temperature, moisture, and ventilation, and processing the feed.”

“Farming them this way, it will take at least a quarter to reach mass production. Will that be in time?”

“It will be,” Wu Nanhai said. “Our lending scale will be very small at the beginning—we don’t have that many chicks, so the demand for formulated feed won’t be large.”

After giving his instructions, Wu Nanhai gave him an inventory list of all the tools needed for earthworm farming—rakes, shovels, and a few masks from the pharmaceutical factory.

“These are now under your name. The masks can be replaced as needed—make sure to protect yourselves. Take good care of the farm tools.”

He then hopped on his bicycle and rode off. The Wan brothers sat by the earthworm bed, looking at each other.

“Brother, didn’t you say we could get guns and shoot Japanese invaders for fun when we came here?” Wan Lihuang looked at his brother. “Why does it seem like we’re doing farm work all day long…”

“Well—” Wan Lihui was at a loss for words. The reality was a far cry from casually using Japanese soldiers as target practice. “Let’s just focus on building the new countryside for now.”

“Then why did we come here to build it? We could have just gone back to our hometown…”

“Enough with the ‘whys’!” Wan Lihui finally lost his patience. “Go compost!”

And so, the Wan brothers began their new rural construction work in this new time and space.

Wu Nanhai rode his bicycle leisurely along the ridges of the fields, frequently encountering his farm workers. They were all used to this “iron-wheeled vehicle,” and no one came over to gawk. They just stood respectfully and waited for him to pass. Wu Nanhai would, as usual, greet the workers. This wasn’t a show of “being close to the people,” but his naturally kind and generous nature.

This time, he didn’t return to his office at the farm but went to the newly built breeding farm instead.

Previously, the breeding farm was just a small part of the main farm, a courtyard-style operation. Subsequently, through spoils of war, trade, and other means, the number of livestock and poultry had steadily increased. Furthermore, in the spring, under the guidance of a professional veterinarian like Yang Baogui, the Agriculture Committee had launched a large-scale artificial insemination campaign. The results were significant, and it was clear that the population would expand further by late summer and early autumn. The Agriculture Committee decided to establish a permanent breeding farm before then.

The breeding farm was located near the stables originally built for Nick. In fact, the Agriculture Committee had its eye on this piece of land for a long time. When they built the stables for Nick, they had considered buying it all at once.

However, within this large expanse of wasteland, there was a plot of about two hundred mu that had an owner. Some peanuts had been planted on it, but it looked as if it had been abandoned for a long time.

Ownerless land could be claimed with a deed from the county government after some paperwork and a small fee, but negotiations with the owner of this plot took a considerable amount of time. This landlord was a stubborn character. When Wu Nanhai, accompanied by Zhang Youfu, visited him, he couldn’t believe the man was actually a landlord—his house had a thatched roof. Though he was as poor as any small peasant, the landlord refused to sell this piece of land that he no longer cultivated and had no ability to cultivate. It was said that if he sold it, he would no longer be considered a landlord. To maintain this empty title, he resolutely refused to sell. Multiple negotiation attempts were fruitless. Dugu Qiuhun, upon learning of the matter, even considered using his police force to seize it by force. Zhang Youfu suggested that if the transmigrators didn’t want to get their own hands dirty, they could forge a deed and, through Wang Shiye’s connections, spend a hundred taels of silver to file a lawsuit at the county court—a guaranteed win.

“No, absolutely not,” Wu Nanhai shook his head as soon as he heard it. He was unwilling to engage in such collusion with officials and bullying tactics. The others also felt that these methods were too dirty and would seriously damage the image of the transmigrator group. The rottenness of the Ming Dynasty was the Ming Dynasty’s problem; they were in the primary stage of a revolution and needed to maintain their great, glorious, and correct image.