Chapter 46: A New Look for the Farm

Leaving his home, Wu Nanhai found Liu Ashui already waiting with the rickshaw in the square outside the guardhouse of the residential area. This was a human-powered rickshaw, a research and development prototype from the Ministry of Light Industry’s vehicle factory. Only a few had been produced for trial so far. Due to the lack of rubber, the wheels were made quite large, similar to the original “tōyōsha” (Japanese rickshaw).

Originally, the vehicle factory had wanted to promote the “Dongfeng” two-wheeled horse-drawn carriage, as envisioned by Transmigrator Hong. After the Jeju Island campaign, the supply of horses was no longer as tight, and a large number of horses had been transported to Lingao for use.

However, keeping a horse specifically for pulling a carriage required space, personnel, and a lot of feed. The expense was too great for private use, even for the Transmigrators. Therefore, apart from a few of Lingao’s “nouveau riche,” passenger horse-drawn carriages were only used for official business by various departments.

But there was still a great demand for cheap, short-distance transportation. Both public horse-drawn carriages and the Lingao urban railway had a “last mile” problem.

The vehicle factory then settled for the next best thing and designed and manufactured a human-powered rickshaw. The rickshaw had a simple structure and was easy to repair. It didn’t need feed and took up little space. The puller not only ate less than a horse but could also do other work besides pulling the rickshaw.

This vehicle was named the “Type Zero.” The Type Zero utilized new technologies developed, or rather, “restored,” by the Machine Works, particularly a new shock absorption suspension system that minimized the jolting caused by the hard wheels. Since it was human-powered, the Type Zero faced the problem of insufficient output power from the very beginning. Coupled with the considerable weight of the new suspension system, reducing weight became the main challenge for Jiang Muzhi and Li Chiqi.

To make the body as light as possible, the two of them racked their brains during the design process, trying to reduce weight in every possible place. First, they changed the wheels to steel, which was lighter and stronger than wood. Because it was human-powered and primarily used on roads, the body strength did not need to be too high. They abandoned the original iron-framed wooden carriage design and instead used hollow iron tubes to build the frame, with a body woven from rattan. However, this body was prone to water damage, so the design was improved to use bamboo strips.

The standard configuration of the Type Zero included a retractable oilcloth canopy and a bell. The deluxe version also had a kerosene lamp and a foot-operated bell. Because the deluxe version had a golden five-pointed star on the back as a symbol, it was also known as the “Gold Star Type Zero.”

Wu Nanhai thought this vehicle was quite good. He often had to travel between fields and had a great need for short-distance transportation. The bicycle he used to ride was a public vehicle of the Agriculture Committee. Now that there were more agricultural technicians and their daily work was busy, he couldn’t occupy one of the few public vehicles for his own use for long periods. So, he simply ordered a deluxe version as his private vehicle.

The dormitory area was quite far from the Agriculture Committee’s office, equivalent to walking from one end to the other. The Nanhai Experimental Farm, where the Agriculture Committee was located, had expanded considerably in area. In particular, taking advantage of the last typhoon, the Agriculture Committee had annexed a large amount of scattered land, extending its fields all the way to the “school lands” on the outskirts of the county seat, connecting these plots into a single large piece.

With land in hand, the experimental farm began a major construction boom, adding many new infrastructure facilities. The entire Nanhai Farm, directly under the Agriculture Committee, now had more than a dozen entities: a rice farm, a dry-crop farm, a vegetable base, an economic forest plantation, an orchard, a tropical crop garden, a medicinal herb garden, a nursery, a freshwater aquaculture farm, a livestock farm, a poultry farm, breeding stock farms for both livestock and poultry, a fungus culture center, a crop breeding farm, a biochemical laboratory, a sewage treatment plant, an experimental pesticide and fertilizer plant, a tea factory, a veterinary station, and so on. There was also a dairy farm and a vegetable garden specifically serving the General Office’s special supply needs.

The multitude of units and the large number of farm workers gathered here had actually formed a quite prosperous satellite town on the banks of the Wenlan River.

The rickshaw pulled onto Agriculture Committee Avenue, the main street of the entire Nanhai Farm. From it, four branch roads radiated out, connecting all the units and institutions of the farm.

After several years of development, the farm’s population had surged, and as a result, the commercial activity on this main street had become very lively. Most of the newly built commercial properties on both sides had been leased out, bringing a considerable income to the Agriculture Committee.

The various shops on the main street had already opened for business. Wu Nanhai sighed with some regret. He had originally wanted to establish a rural commercial cooperative under the Agriculture Committee, but the Executive Committee, in order to curb the practice of various departments setting up their own businesses and becoming “small and self-sufficient,” and to nip the “enterprise-run society” problem in the bud, only allowed state-owned commercial enterprises under the Ministry of Commerce and private enterprises to conduct commercial operations.

It seemed that only the Tiandi Hui system, this “government-guided private cooperative organization,” could “save the nation by a roundabout route.” Wu Nanhai mused. Ye Yuming had discussed with him several times the plan to expand the Tiandi Hui’s business scope. It seemed he had to hurry up and implement it.

Although it was still only 7:30 in the morning, small stalls were already being set up on the street, and peddlers carrying their wares on poles were beginning to hawk their goods along the street.

All the peddlers’ stalls had a uniformly made standard wooden sign hanging from them. This wooden sign was the newly introduced business license for mobile vendors from the General Administration of Taxation. All mobile vendors operating on the streets of the towns in Lingao County had to have one.

The color of the wooden sign indicated the area of operation. Red meant they could sell in all areas, yellow meant they could only sell in the county seat, blue meant they could sell in Dongmen Market, and so on. A fixed daily business tax, ranging from 7 to 20 cents in circulation coupons, was collected based on the peddler’s trade and area of operation.

On the back of the business license was a monthly calendar. For each day’s tax paid, the police officer responsible for collection would stamp the corresponding date on the calendar. The tax could be paid daily, or weekly, monthly, quarterly, or annually, with different discount rates for each. But if they were found to be three days overdue, they would be sent to the public security court and, according to the “Provisional General Rules of Tax Law,” sentenced to a number of days of punitive labor in a labor camp, calculated by multiplying the number of days of tax evasion by three. Therefore, the peddlers were all very eager to pay their taxes in advance.

The rickshaw rolled along the road. After passing the farm’s residential area, the sides of Agriculture Committee Avenue became open again. On the road were farm workers, horse-drawn carts, and agricultural machinery heading to their work sites. As far as the eye could see on both sides were large, well-maintained fields, ditches, and forests. Every time Wu Nanhai passed by in the rickshaw, he would pay attention to whether the land by the road was being fully utilized and whether the basic agricultural infrastructure, such as windbreaks, ditches, and roads, was in good condition.

Liu Ashui ran with steady steps, and soon the Agriculture Committee’s main compound came into view. The farm’s office space had recently been expanded, with several new two- and three-story buildings added, giving the entire complex a grid-like layout. The buildings facing the street housed the offices of the Agriculture Committee, the experimental farm, and the Tiandi Hui. The buildings in the back housed the biochemical laboratory directly under the Agriculture Committee and the warehouses for first- and second-class controlled agricultural items, which were, as a rule, managed by personnel sent from the Planning Commission.

Wu Nanhai was very fond of this place. Over the years, he had continuously carried out greening and renovation projects in the surrounding area, planting a large number of economically valuable trees, fruit tree groves, and bamboo forests. He had also opened up a flower garden, where, besides ornamental plants, he also grew various herbs and spices: oregano, basil, thyme, perilla…

Years of management had turned the area around the Agriculture Committee and the farm’s office into a place of lush green trees and fragrant fruit trees. The nearby lotus pond was a sea of green leaves, with ducks playing on the water. The natural environment was very beautiful. The Nanhai Coffee House was located in this idyllic rural setting. Of course, he also had a small personal motive: the small chapel he had built was hidden in the bamboo forest here. Besides holding small-scale religious activities, it also served as his small villa. He would sometimes come here with Chuqing to rest and enjoy a rare moment of relaxation.

Entering the Agriculture Committee compound, Wu Nanhai got out of the rickshaw, thanked Liu Ashui, greeted the workers sweeping the courtyard, and walked with steady steps towards his office.

Wu Nanhai held multiple positions, but his most important “main job” was the People’s Commissar for Agriculture. All matters related to agriculture were under his responsibility. He was a ministerial-level leader who could attend the State Council meetings. In the Lingao regime, a high-ranking and powerful Transmigrator meant there was an endless amount of work to do. Therefore, Wu Nanhai needed a large number of administrative staff to help him handle specific affairs, forming a large administrative team, abbreviated as the “Wu Office.”

At this moment, Zhang Xingjiao, the director of the “Wu Office,” and Wang Tian, the deputy director of the Nanhai Experimental Farm, were already waiting at the door of the “Wu Office” with their folders, as usual.

Zhang Xingjiao and Wang Tian were among the earliest naturalized citizens. Zhang Xingjiao had contributed a great deal to the Senate since he surrendered at Gou’s Manor. However, he had never held a fixed position and had long served as a translator and consultant. Eventually, Wu Nanhai took him in. Zhang Xingjiao was a scholar who could write and do arithmetic. He also came from a farming family and had personally participated in labor, so he was not unfamiliar with agricultural production. He was barely qualified to be a writer and general administrator for the Agriculture Committee. As for Wang Tian, he was the leader of the farm workers and the captain of the production team when the farm was first established. In terms of ability, he was a capable and competent “leader.” Over the years, Wu Nanhai, Wanli Hui, and other Transmigrators from the agriculture department had taught him a lot of agricultural science and technology by hand and sent him to cultural training classes. Wang Tian was also a hard worker and had earned a “B-grade” diploma. Wu Nanhai had appointed him as the deputy director of the farm, specifically responsible for the farm’s daily production.

But Wu Nanhai was not entirely satisfied with either of them. They were, after all, “re-educated” as adults. It was difficult to completely transform their concepts and thinking. Although they absolutely obeyed orders, their execution was sometimes off the mark, and sometimes they couldn’t understand at all.

In comparison, he still placed more value on the current group of young people under the age of 20 who had graduated from the administrative training class. However, they were still a bit green and needed a period of training.