Chapter Nine: The Farm Couple

Wu Nanhai stood before a kapok tree sapling, which he had planted just over ten days ago. The sapling, taken from the farm’s nursery, already had a trunk as thick as a fist. The wilted leaves from the transplant had turned green again. Good fertilizer had been buried at its roots, and this tree was destined to grow into a towering giant, a testament to his and Chu Qing’s happy life.

A gentle breeze rustled the leaves. A smile of contentment touched Wu Nanhai’s lips.

“Master—” Chu Qing called from behind him. “It’s still cool in the mornings and evenings. You should put on another layer.” She draped a civilian-issue M65 jacket over his shoulders.

“No matter how cold it gets, it’s still seventeen or eighteen degrees. What’s there to be afraid of?” Wu Nanhai took Chu Qing’s small hand. Her skin was rough, with calluses. As one of the farm’s earliest employees, she had always been Wu Nanhai’s capable assistant, not only participating in management but also doing much of the physical labor herself. The farm’s café, which had grown from nothing into the Senators’ favorite unofficial leisure spot, owed much of its success to Chu Qing’s efforts.

Chu Qing had to manage the farm’s tertiary industries with great care, handle the logistics for the farm’s employees, and look after the daily lives of the biology-focused Senators who ate, drank, and practically lived at the farm as if it were a hotel. Finally, there was her “master”—Wu Nanhai. She took care of all his daily needs, from fetching his wash water in the morning to sleeping with him at night, satisfying all his needs and desires.

Wu Nanhai felt that if Chu Qing did so much and didn’t receive a proper status, he couldn’t face his own conscience. So he decided to formally marry her. Although some Senators questioned whether Chu Qing’s humble origins were suitable for a Senator’s official wife, Wu Nanhai stood firm: “Her status in this world has nothing to do with us!” This was driven by both his gratitude and affection for Chu Qing and a practical consideration: making a maid with no family ties, who didn’t even know her own surname, his official wife, absolved him of all obligations to his wife’s family. A wife from a too-prominent family with powerful relatives could become a ticking time bomb for the Senate in the future.

“Master—” Chu Qing lowered her head shyly but didn’t pull her hand away. A few days ago, in the newly completed small chapel, she had formally married Wu Nanhai. The wedding was officiated by He Ying, and in attendance were Xiao Zishan, the Wan brothers from the agricultural department, Ye Yuming, Dugu Qiuhun, and a group of biology-focused Senators led by Huang Dashan who were long-term residents of the farm. There were also a few fellow Christian converts, including Lei En. The core of the farm’s naturalized citizen workers, led by Wang Tian, was also present. Finally, Bai Duolu represented the Catholic Church at the wedding, presenting them with a leather-bound, deluxe edition of the Bible, signed by Wu Shimang and printed with the support of the Jesuits.

The wedding ceremony was simple. At Wu Nanhai’s request, the couple placed their left hands on the Bible and their right hands on the Transmigrators’ “Common Program,” and then recited their vows together. The vows were drafted by Wu Nanhai himself:

“Before God and all the witnesses here today, I, Wu Nanhai/Chu Qing, take you to be my wife/husband. From this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, I will love you and cherish you, and I will be faithful to you, forever and ever. Amen.”

The couple signed the vows, and the ceremony was complete. Afterwards, Xiao Zishan presented them with the “Senator Marriage Certificate” number 002, issued by the Deputy People’s Commissar for Civil Affairs, Liu Muzhou. After the ceremony, a simple banquet was held at the farm’s café to entertain the guests. The next day, Wu Nanhai personally distributed wedding candy to all the Senators in Lin’gao and to all the naturalized citizen workers in the agricultural department. Everyone was overjoyed.

“Don’t call me Master. Call me Nanhai,” Wu Nanhai whispered. “We are husband and wife now, not master and maid.”

“Mm,” Chu Qing replied. Although she was no stranger to his affections, this time it was with a proper title, and the nourishment of his love felt different from before. Her face was like a peach blossom, her eyes like spring water, exuding an indescribable charm and tenderness. She whispered, “Nanhai.”

“That’s right,” Wu Nanhai said, putting his arm around his new bride’s shoulder. Although he was very familiar with the body in his arms, the feeling was different now.

Behind them stood the newly built Protestant chapel. Wu Nanhai had paid for its construction himself. There were a few Protestant Christians among the Senators, so from the beginning, Wu Nanhai had intended for the farm’s chapel to be a place of joint worship, not belonging to his own denomination alone.

Wu Nanhai was aware of the strong anti-religious sentiment in the Senate. “All monotheistic religions are cults” was a common refrain among many Senators. If it weren’t for the practical benefits and advantages that came from collaborating with the Jesuits, and the consideration of preparing a religion for the Li and Miao people in the interior of Hainan Island, such cooperation would have been difficult to tolerate.

Therefore, Wu Nanhai kept a very low profile regarding his church. He had paid for the construction of this small chapel himself, striking a deal with Mei Wan over dinner. When Mei Wan heard it was a small project and that Wu Nanhai was paying for it himself, he immediately agreed. As long as it didn’t involve the use of controlled materials and tools, the Lin’gao General Construction Corporation had the right to undertake local construction projects on its own.

The church was a colonial-style wooden structure, a single story with a small bell tower, designed by Zhang Xingpei, a Chinese-American architectural engineer and a true “sea turtle” (a term for Chinese who have returned from studying abroad). It was very small and could only accommodate fifty people for worship at a time. The stained glass was purchased from Mo Xiao’an, and the cross was made by a carpenter Wu Nanhai had found. There were no other decorations. Fortunately, among the Protestant denominations, only the Anglican Church placed much emphasis on decoration, so they made do with what they had.

A plaque was nailed to the church door: a “Religious Site Permit” uniformly produced and issued by the Religious Affairs Office. All religious sites had to register with He Ying’s Religious Affairs Office. After paying the registration fee, information collection fee, and license production fee collected by the office, they had to sign a guarantee to pay the “three taxes”—the religious tax, the religious site use tax, and the believer head tax. They also had to sign a declaration agreeing to accept the “Senate’s Religious Affairs Officer” as the “protector” of their church and pay an annual “management fee” to be legally registered.

Wu Nanhai had spent a whole day running around for this matter, finally bringing back the plaque marked “006” to the farm, giving the small chapel its official status. The night before the wedding, in the presence of a few fellow believers, Wu Nanhai conducted a Protestant baptism ceremony for Chu Qing in the small chapel. Of course, he had reported it to He Ying beforehand—all believers had to be registered one by one, as a basis for collecting the religious head tax.

“Director Wu is not very happy,” He Ying said with a smile after completing the registration.

“He’s a pseudo-believer,” Wu Nanhai scoffed. “I don’t care if he’s happy or not. He just wants to create a state church. If he really becomes the Pope of Lin’gao, he’ll have me and Lei En and the others roasted.”

He Ying laughed, and the matter was dropped. However, this did serve as a reminder to Wu Nanhai: making a big show of it would do him no good. For now, he should keep a low profile.

“Chief, Chief Ye is here. He’s waiting for you for a meeting,” a maid appeared from beside the church and reported respectfully.

“Alright, tell him to wait a moment. I’ll be right there,” Wu Nanhai replied, letting go of Chu Qing.

Ye Yuming sat in the small conference room of the Nanhai Farm. Here, Wu Nanhai’s farm and the department were one and the same. It was more accurate to say that the Ministry of Agriculture was located at the farm rather than the farm belonging to the Ministry of Agriculture. This small conference room was where the core meetings of the entire transmigrator group’s agricultural sector were held.

As the head of the Tiandihui, Ye Yuming had an independent office in the East Gate Market, but the roots of the Tiandihui were at the farm, and he still primarily worked from the farm.

“Old Wu, you’re really glowing with happiness,” Ye Yuming noticed the joyful look on Wu Nanhai’s face and teased him.

“Stop joking around. Let’s get down to business,” Wu Nanhai said, sitting down with a plop. He noticed that they were the only two in the conference room. “What? Just the two of us for a meeting?”

“Dugu and the Wan brothers will be here in a moment. I wanted to give you a heads-up first,” Ye Yuming said. “The Hong Kong development project has been approved at the Executive Committee’s work meeting. It has been decided that the Colonial and Trade Department will lead the development for now. The Planning Institute is currently drawing up the entire plan.”

“Isn’t that Old Si’s business then?” Wu Nanhai didn’t remember Hong Kong having any modern agriculture. “I’ve been to Hong Kong many times. The place lacks water and is not suitable for large-scale agriculture.”

“Even if it’s not suitable, we still have to do it. Si Kaide’s idea is to establish some agricultural settlements and carry out appropriate agricultural development to increase Hong Kong’s self-sufficiency rate.”

Wu Nanhai nodded. “There’s enough sunlight for agriculture in Hong Kong, and there’s still some suitable land for planting. The key is to build reservoirs to store water. This is not something our Ministry of Agriculture can handle alone. I think we should start with subsidiary food production: growing vegetables and raising chickens.”

“Why not raise pigs…”

“You’re still the head of the Tiandihui. Pig farming is a high-water-consumption industry. We can’t afford to raise them without a sufficient water source at the beginning,” Wu Nanhai said. “But Hong Kong has an advantage. It’s backed by the Pearl River Delta, an agriculturally developed area in this era, so it’s very convenient to obtain feed. We can develop large-scale animal husbandry there, starting with poultry like chickens and ducks. I think quail are very good. They are easy to raise, and we can promote intensive farming in Hong Kong.”

“Let’s not talk about what kind of agriculture to develop for now,” Ye Yuming said, seeing the topic shifting to a professional field and fearing it would get sidetracked. “I want to create a land reclamation system.”

Wu Nanhai’s interest was piqued, but he remained outwardly calm. “Oh, land reclamation?”

Ye Yuming nodded excitedly. “Isn’t land reclamation perfect for developing a place like Hong Kong?”