Going to the confinement room to check on Na Rimu, upon seeing her husband, Na Rimu aggrievedly shed tears. Pouting, she complained to Yun Ye, saying people outside were calling her Zhuoya “Kelp,” and demanding her husband go break all their legs.
That wouldn’t do. If he wanted to turn half of Chang’an’s people into cripples, before taking action, Li Er would definitely turn Yun Ye into a cripple first before the Yun family could act. Besides, Kelp wasn’t bad. Wealthy families all gave their children lowly names—like Qing Que, like Chou Niu, like Gou Zi. The Yun family’s young miss being called Kelp was also fine. So many people blessing the Yun family’s Little Kelp—what was wrong with that?
Yun Ye praised Kelp to the heavens, finally making Na Rimu break into laughter through her tears. Holding her precious darling, she called out “Kelp” with every breath, her loving appearance making people like her from the bottom of their hearts.
The confinement room was a big problem. The smell inside truly wasn’t pleasant. Such an environment was very suitable for bacterial growth. Xinyue wanted to use perfume to neutralize it, but Yun Ye strictly forbade this. The baby’s various organs were all extremely delicate. If she was harmed by the terrible smell after fragrance and stench neutralized each other, that would be bad. The Yun family’s young miss would in the future become a fragrant-smelling little beauty, not a little wild child who couldn’t distinguish fragrance from stench.
Wanting to open the windows for ventilation, he was verbally attacked by the whole family until utterly defeated. The power of habit was strong. Even a thousand years later, the smell in confinement rooms would be much the same.
The Emperor didn’t allow Yun Ye to go out—perfect. He’d stay home and live his small life. The potatoes had already begun being harvested. After removing the withered yellow vines and following the raised earth ridges, digging with iron spades revealed fruits abundant beneath the earth. The Yun family had planted a full hundred-plus mu. This was specially approved by the county magistrate. The entire county was waiting for the Yun family’s potatoes to mature so they could weigh some out to take home as seeds. Next year, if Lantian County didn’t plant potatoes throughout the entire county, that would be the strange thing.
Harvesting potatoes—this kind of work didn’t require the Yun family’s involvement at all. The county magistrate, chief clerk, and county lieutenant, along with all the county’s ward chiefs and village elders, did it themselves. Farming families also had their little shrewdness. Without personally watching potatoes being dug from the fields, they wouldn’t believe this thing’s yield. They only believed what their own eyes saw.
County Magistrate Hua had really placed heavy stakes this time. The court had repeatedly ordered common people to carefully cultivate potatoes, saying this thing wasn’t yet mature. Only after wealthy families planted it for several more years and it was thoroughly problem-free would common families plant it on a large scale. County Magistrate Hua had risen from minor clerk, so he’d long tired of hearing such nonsense. He naturally assumed this was the court securing benefits for wealthy families. Look what price potatoes had risen to—the distinguished nobles were heartlessly raking in money, all of it the common people’s hard-earned cash.
Li Er’s good intentions were treated by the common people like donkey liver and lungs buried in the latrine pit to ferment as fertilizer. Lantian County had the Yun family, this major household. The county magistrate, chief clerk, and county lieutenant came calling every few days, begging the Yun family to open a convenient door—plant more potatoes this year, keep more seeds, so next year Lantian County’s common people could also plant them and at least eat a few full meals.
Yun Ye wasn’t home. Xinyue didn’t dare make the decision. Old Grandmother spoke up: the potatoes harvested last year, the Yun family absolutely must not eat—store them all in the cellar to keep as seeds. This year at the beginning of spring, plant the southern slope full. If there were any problems, the old woman would take responsibility.
Old Grandmother’s Guanyin Bodhisattva-like action made the county magistrate cry several times. Like he’d been injected with chicken blood, he charged into the Jingzhao Prefecture, took a rope and wrapped it around his neck to threaten his superiors—if next year the common people weren’t permitted to plant potatoes, this excellent grain, he would hang himself on Zhuque Avenue.
Whether he died or not, no one cared, but hanging himself on Zhuque Avenue was no joke. This bastard would immediately be left in history books with a reputation for pleading for the people, eternally fragrant for ten thousand ages. So ah, never assume County Magistrate Hua lacked the courage to hang himself. In this era where reputation was more important than life, for the sake of future descendants, County Magistrate Hua would hang himself with great laughter. After hanging, his tongue wouldn’t stick out, his eyes would close tightly, smiling in the nine springs.
No need to think about it—his future descendants would definitely be respected generation after generation. Even if impoverished to begging, going to others’ homes to beg would be more righteous and confident than being a bandit.
The Jingzhao Prefecture pushed this matter to the Secretariat. County Magistrate Hua, who usually upon seeing the various bigwigs wanted to kneel down and lick their toes, now had his back ramrod straight and tone resolute as he urged the bigwigs to decide swiftly—farming seasons wait for no one!
Having put down a life-and-death document, County Magistrate Hua got his wish and obtained priority rights to plant potatoes first. Surrounded by common people, he returned to Lantian County. The Yun family planted a hundred mu—the government would purchase ninety-five of them. The remaining five mu of land would be left for the Yun family—this also counted as a preferential policy.
Clerks pulled the land-measuring rope tied with red silk, cordoned off one mu of land. Ward chiefs, village elders, the county magistrate, chief clerk, county lieutenant, along with bailiffs, picked up the dug-out potatoes into baskets.
Picking and picking, the county magistrate sat in the field holding a potato weighing a full three or four catties and wept loudly. Everyone surrounded him crying. Such a good thing—why were common families not permitted to plant it? The yield per mu was still unknown. Just the potatoes the county magistrate himself picked probably totaled five or six dan already, not counting what others picked.
One mu of land was quickly dug completely clean. Those ward chiefs and village elders even crushed larger clods of earth to search for potatoes. After confirming everything was gathered cleanly, the yield of over three thousand catties left everyone stunned and tongue-tied. Who’d heard of one mu of land producing twenty-five dan?
The Yun family had also planted potatoes in dry land on mountain slopes. This year’s rainfall was average yet still had this kind of harvest. If all planted in first-grade fields, what kind of harvest would it be?
County Magistrate Hua’s lips trembled. He pointed to a plot of land in the distance and ordered, “Measure out another mu of land. We’ll continue watching the output. Perhaps this plot was fertile and the output extraordinarily high—it can’t be counted.”
All were old farming hands. Just looking at the soil, one knew whether it was good land. The soil was whitish, mixed with sand and stones—clearly not good land. But no one spoke up. Together they transferred positions and went to continue digging in the plot the county magistrate designated.
An ox cart slowly drove over from the distance. The driver was an old man with snow-white hair wearing servant’s clothing. Seeing the fields were very lively, he deliberately made a turn and drove this way.
The old servant cupped his hands and bowed to an old man from Yun family estate watching the excitement, asking, “This brother, why are there government people everywhere in the fields? What are they doing?”
The old man turned his head and saw someone even older than himself, so he quickly returned the courtesy saying, “Old elder brother is also here to watch the excitement? Here, these are some people who haven’t seen the world helping my family dig the fields. Potatoes—you’ve heard of potatoes, right? They’re good things my family’s Marquis obtained from the old immortal. Just now one mu of land yielded over twenty dan, which delighted that county magistrate into fainting. Even with this, he still doesn’t believe it and plans to dig several more mu to look. This old man is just watching the excitement.”
“This year’s rainfall was scarce and affected the harvest. Last year my family’s one mu of land yielded four thousand catties. With just this three thousand catties of output, the county magistrate fainted from delight. If this old man told him my family harvested four thousand catties, wouldn’t that cause deaths?”
Regarding County Magistrate Hua’s performance, the Yun family tenant farmer was quite dismissive. Potatoes as a vegetable to eat were of course a good thing. Though they could also be eaten as grain, who could stand eating them every day? Only those who’d been frightened by hunger would regard potatoes as life itself.
“So speaking, you also planted quite a bit this year? Your household must be prosperous enough to make others envious.” The old servant spoke very well. The two found tree stumps to sit on and began chatting.
“Aiyo, my old elder brother! Potatoes—that thing’s yield is high, but it also harms the land. After planting one season of potatoes, you must plant a year of alfalfa to nourish the land. My family this year just planted half a mu of land, enough for the whole family to eat. The imperial family doesn’t permit casually selling potatoes. Only a few black-hearted wealthy families take them out to secretly sell—I hear they make quite a bit of money.”
“Such good grain, yet you don’t plant more—what a pity. One year harvesting over twenty dan, even planting for one year is more profitable than planting two wheat seasons.”
“What’s there to pity? Potatoes—this thing is for eating some during disaster years. Whose family eats that thing day and night? Besides, next year we’re planting corn. If the Yun family planted all potatoes, how would other people survive? The estate master said our Yun family estate won’t compete for those bitter foods. Next year let them plant. We’ll plant corn.”
“Corn? What is this thing? This old man has lived so many years, farmed for quite some time too—how have I never heard of this grain? Could it also be new grain your family’s Marquis obtained from the old immortal?”
The Yun family tenant farmer laughed heartily and said, “That’s right! My family’s Marquis is a greedy-mouthed person. Previously following the old immortal running everywhere, everywhere looking for good food to eat. He inadvertently ate corn but couldn’t remember where he ate it. As a result, in his own bag, he actually discovered several uneaten corn kernels. Treating a dead horse as if it were alive, he casually threw them into a flower pot and buried them. Who knew that by autumn, there was actually a harvest? Hasn’t this drawn out such a large patch?”
The tenant farmer pointed at that large patch of cornfield laughing uncontrollably. Corn was delicious—the Marquis said so. Even someone as refined and precious as the Marquis said it was delicious—how bad could it be? Next year with seeds, they’d definitely plant more. The imperial family only said not to sell potatoes but didn’t say not to sell corn.
The old servant shook his head, thanked the tenant farmer, and returned to the ox cart. He quietly told the person inside the cart something, from time to time pointing to the busy county magistrate in the distance, then pointing to the cornfield, seeming very excited.
After hearing the old servant’s report, the cart curtain lifted. A cloth-robed elder wearing a tall hat climbed down from the cart. His bald head had only sparse strands of hair, not a single eyebrow hair, a lion mouth, garlic-bulb nose, and several white beard hairs on his chin unevenly distributed left and right—a comical appearance, yet dignified and awe-inspiring.
One with poetry and books in the belly naturally has an elegant bearing. This was Old Master Yan Zhitui. Having descended from the cart, he glanced at the sun in the sky and stepped toward the county magistrate. Arriving at the field, seeing the plump county magistrate already covered in mud picking up potatoes into baskets, he nodded with satisfaction, cupped his hands once and inquired, “County Magistrate, covered in mud from head to toe—for what purpose?”