Zhù Ying and her party had spent most of the day outside the city before they returned. By the time they came back to the county yamen, the sky had already grown dark. The faces of everyone behind her showed none of the excitement of a country outing. Even Cao Chang’s eyes carried a look of quiet distress.
Deputy Director Guan was waiting in the yamen. He seemed not to notice the expressions on Xiao Wu and the others’ faces at all, and as politely as ever gave Zhù Ying his report on the day’s work. He also mentioned: “The academician and instructor both came to call, waited until noon without finding the Magistrate, and left.”
Tong Bo was stooped forward, and at the right moment extended the two visiting cards that had been left behind.
Zhù Ying opened them and glanced: “Oh, those two.”
Deputy Director Guan asked: “Shall this subordinate summon them now?”
Zhù Ying said: “It’s getting late. Don’t bother — you’ve had a long day too.” She kept the two cards, making a mental note of one more thing to take care of — going to the county school.
Back in the outer study she handed the two cards to Xiao Wu to file away, then took out a sheaf of paper and began writing and sketching. First she sketched a rough map of the trial fields she had scouted. The second page was a summary of Fuklu County’s general situation — the fields inspected today, and the crops she planned to try growing.
When she had finished those two pages, she said to Cao Chang: “Tell me what you saw of the land today.”
Cao Chang looked gray and downcast. He was not the sort to exaggerate, nor the sort to lie, and said: “I’ve never farmed land like this…”
Zhù Ying said: “You said that once already out in the fields. I haven’t farmed this kind of land either. Tell me what you do know.”
Cao Chang was only about twenty this year. He had farming experience — but it was experience with the broad, flat, unbroken plains of the north. Put him in Fuklu County and he was at a complete loss. He had already listed all the differences throughout the day: the climate, the soil conditions, the fact that he had never seen wheat growing here and doubted it could survive.
He had genuinely no idea what else Zhù Ying wanted him to say.
Zhù Ying was still writing quickly, filling in notes from what Cao Chang had said about the differences between the two regions. In no time she had filled two more pages. Key points down, she saw Cao Chang still hadn’t spoken, and prompted him: “Tell me about the seeds Gan Ze sent over.”
Those Cao Chang was slightly more familiar with — though he had mostly grown millet, wheat, and beans, he had at least seen other grain crops. He began: “The wheat I’ve grown comes in two kinds — spring wheat planted in spring and winter wheat planted in autumn and winter. They’re different varieties…”
He went on to speak of another grain crop he had grown more often — millet. “Millet is drought-resistant…”
He spoke of beans and other crops as well.
On the crops he had grown more, he had more to say. On the ones he had grown little of, he managed two or three sentences and then dried up entirely, standing there flushed. Zhù Ying did not press him. Of all the people in her household, Cao Chang knew the most about farming. So she asked him specific questions about what she wanted to know, letting him fill in details.
Such as: “How long until harvest?” “Does it need more water than rice?” “Does it need full sun?” “Can it not have rain when it’s setting grain?” Cao Chang thought things through as he answered, and then said: “Fuklu County has far more rain than home — and it comes earlier too. The timing of planting will have to be worked out carefully.”
Xiao Wu, seeing the sky growing darker, pushed open the door and stepped out — and ran into Tong Bo coming along with a bamboo basket, filled with candles. Xiao Wu took two of the thick ones: “I’ll bring these in.”
Tong Bo asked: “You have a flint?”
“Yes.”
Tong Bo carried the basket off to elsewhere in the yamen. Candles and lamp fuel in the county yamen were distributed in tiers. The gate lanterns each held a candle. The county magistrate’s study and official desk received candles as well. Other places — the duty rooms, the gatekeeper’s post — used oil lamps. The lamp oil was rationed too, one large jar per month, to be refilled as needed.
Previously there had been people who would sneak off with little bamboo tubes and little pots to steal the oil — you took a bit, I took a bit, and between everyone, the large jar issued monthly was empty within days, making things quite an embarrassment. Miscellaneous expenses of similar sorts — paper, brushes, ink, brooms and so on — also drained away faster than they should have, not so much used up as lost.
Last year, Deputy Director Guan had confessed to Zhù Ying that he had been skimming a cut off the top — but he deeply felt the injustice of shouldering the blame alone. He had only skimmed some benefit. The majority of what went missing was not taken by him! So he had suggested that more costly items such as candles be distributed daily; writing supplies be drawn personally. The arrangement had been put in place, and Tong Bo was first to bring candles to Zhù Ying’s quarters, then to the county police chief who was on duty tonight, handing over two candles there as well, and then going around to distribute lamp oil to each station.
Xiao Wu brought in the candles and lit both. Zhù Ying asked: “He’s still going door to door?”
Xiao Wu said: “Yes. In a couple of days I’ll go over the accounts with Accountant Qi again — no losses guaranteed.” He then half-complained, half-truly said, that when he first arrived people were always calling him “crafty” for being from the capital, while claiming the local people were “simple and honest.” And yet? He had never once stolen lamp oil from the county yamen. Plenty of those “simple and honest” folk were perfectly happy to take small advantages wherever they could.
Zhù Ying said: “That’s because they’re poor — it’s not that they’re especially greedy by nature. Take lamp oil, for example: your family doesn’t need it, so your father and your sister would never dream of sneaking oil home from the Court of Judicial Review. Here? Even the cooking oil is in short supply — who could afford to buy lamp oil for the home? Plenty of families here cook and do their evening tasks by firelight. Past forty, many people’s eyesight starts to fail. In the villages it’s even more telling — only a few wealthy households in each village can actually afford a lamp. People walking at night don’t bother with lanterns at all. They snap off a pine branch or something similar and fashion a simple torch.”
She said this and let out a quiet sigh: “Still too poor. Being able to produce a little more grain would help.”
Cao Chang said: “If there’s too much grain, the price drops…”
Zhù Ying thought inwardly: Fuklu County’s grain was nowhere near the point of falling prices. Not enough to feed the people yet — that was more the problem. But the oranges would need selling too.
She pulled out the rough sketch she had drawn earlier and ran her finger along it a few times, silently calculating.
She had arrived last year — and between the journey and getting the county in order, the first year of her posting was already gone. A term was three years; this was the second year. The grain she planted today — she already knew in her heart that most of it would yield poor results, either from inexperience or from the soil not agreeing with it. That left only the final year of this term to make real use of.
She was young; she had many years ahead of her. But the term in Fuklu County, even at a full six years, felt desperately short for farming purposes. Not enough to take a piece of wild land and bring it to a state of steady, even modest, yield.
Working out what else would grow well in Fuklu County was a slow business, and her time was limited. One or two growing seasons a year — she had no experience, Cao Chang’s experience was limited, and between the two of them, if they ruined these crops, a full year’s work would be wasted.
The quantity of seeds was also limited. There wasn’t enough of any one variety to put under cultivation at scale.
She planned to keep records for each crop, plant them all simultaneously as a trial, and note the situation at planting time for each — if there was a good harvest, the records could be used to guide wider cultivation; if it failed, the notes could be used to identify the cause.
The site was one she had chosen herself — a stretch of “uncultivated land” near an area of official farmland. Not entirely wild — it had been farmed for a few years at some point and then abandoned, left untended because of drainage problems, a shortage of labor, and similar issues. With no one claiming it, Zhù Ying had designated it as additional official farmland and was using it for her trial plots.
The bulk of it she intended for grain crops, with a small section set aside to try growing fruit trees — particularly orange trees. The two baskets of oranges she had bought from the market at the New Year had been a mix of sweet and sour with no consistency, and trying to sell oranges like that at a premium would have customers overturning her stall. Something would have to be done.
Even without ever having farmed, she knew that trees took far longer than crops. She had asked the sellers: to get a tree bearing fruit at all required at least two or three years; for reliable, stable production, even longer. And there were pests and diseases on top of that.
Zhù Ying asked Cao Chang: “Have you ever grown orange trees?”
Cao Chang said weakly: “No…”
Zhù Ying said: “Never mind — I haven’t either. I don’t know how. Let’s go and ask a few old farmers from the townships. They’ll know!”
For farming in Fuklu County, someone with a modest education could find a little use in consulting the almanac — looking up the solar terms, checking when it said to plant and harvest. But the local land had its own ideas, and it did not take orders from the almanac. The day of the “Great Snow” would see no snow; on “Grain Rain” it might just as easily give you a downpour. Watching for that would be a genuine surprise.
Here, the almanac was often less useful than a local farmer who had spent a lifetime working the land.
Zhù Ying said: “Where’s the list from when we distributed rice and meat over the New Year? Xiao Wu — go and find it. From that list, send invitations to people in the villages. Make sure you bring a cart — the old people shouldn’t have to walk all the way here. Old Man Ding from East Township looked vigorous when we visited him — he was still sorting millet when we arrived. And there’s…”
She named seven or eight people, all in their seventies but still in reasonable health, and told Xiao Wu to make sure to bring them when he went to issue the invitations. “For the rest, use your own judgment.”
Xiao Wu was struggling to keep track of this many names, starting to panic. Zhù Ying said: “Don’t panic. Find the distribution list — once you see it, you’ll remember. Go look for it. And remember — you can’t summon people without giving something in return. Give each household five sheng of rice. Bring them to the county seat; food and lodging are the yamen’s responsibility. Clear out two of the duty rooms and get some bedding ready. Three meals a day, with rice and meat. When they go home in a few days, the bedding goes with them.”
This Xiao Wu could keep track of. He said: “Understood. I’ll see to it right away.”
Zhù Ying said to Cao Chang: “Since we’re bringing them all in, we can’t only ask about growing orange trees. They know how to grow rice here — they know this local soil and climate. When they arrive, you’ll need to talk with them properly too. You’re the one who knows farming. Ask them about other things as well — when the rains are good, for instance. Even if they don’t know how to grow wheat, ask them other questions while you’re at it. No stone left unturned — we’re not spending this money for nothing.”
Cao Chang said: “Understood.”
——
With the arrangements for the visiting farmers made, Zhù Ying immediately pulled out the county’s farmland registers and related documents. As county magistrate, the spring plowing arrangements were also her responsibility. Having already brought all these village elders in, she might as well make full use of the opportunity and consult them on that as well, after reviewing the county’s situation again first.
There was nothing but benefit in listening more.
Once all of that was done, the sky had gone fully dark. From the back quarters, Dà Jiě had come to call three times already. Zhù Ying put down her brush, tidied up the documents, locked them away, checked the lamps, and then went to the back for dinner.
Zhang Xiangu grumbled as she came in: “Took three calls to get you here — what on earth was keeping you? No superior is standing over you right now, so why the rush? If you starve yourself, then what?”
Zhù Ying said: “Getting things ready for the spring plowing.”
Huajie knew this was serious business: “Now? Isn’t it a bit early?”
“Fuklu County is warmer than the capital — it didn’t even freeze last winter, no snow at all. The warmth comes back early too.”
Huajie said: “Oh, I’d nearly forgotten that difference.”
Zhang Xiangu said: “Even so, it’s not something that couldn’t wait another day. Look at your father — he was about ready to chew his chopsticks.”
Zhù Da said indignantly: “You were the one calling her back to eat.”
“And who reached for his chopsticks eight times?”
Dà Jiě had long since stopped paying any attention to this. She carried up the dishes on a large tray, setting them out one by one, and said: “Qi Niangzi and her family said they’d eat over there — they didn’t come.”
Zhù Ying asked: “Did Accountant Qi do something again to upset her? That child worries too much. Accountant Qi can’t really cause anyone serious trouble — being that anxious about him must be exhausting for her.”
Huajie said: “Accountant Qi’s robe had a hole in it. Xiao Qi wanted him to take it off so she could mend it, and Accountant Qi felt it was too much trouble. Trivial things.”
“Oh.”
Dinner passed peacefully. Afterward Zhù Ying read for a while and prepared for the visit to the county school the next day. The farmers wouldn’t arrive for two or three days — she would deal with the school matter first.
The next morning, Zhù Ying dispatched Xiao Wu and several constables to go out and issue invitations. She authorized a few of them to draw travel expenses and rice from the stores, then asked Deputy Director Guan to arrange lodging for the incoming farmers. With the yamen’s business settled, she got on her horse, took Cao Chang with her, and rode to the county school.
The mood at the county school was anything but bright.
County school students received some subsidy from the yamen and had always taken some private pride in that. In the past, they had been able to blame their deficiencies on “the county magistrate being absent from the county and neglecting the school’s affairs,” while the academician blamed it on “the county magistrate being absent, which allowed wealthy families to send undeserving students to fill the rolls.”
Now there was a new county magistrate who took things seriously — even adopting blind grading and open enrollment to select the finest minds from across the county. After selection, students were even given bedding, which by Fuklu County’s standards was quite a generous provision. No more grounds for complaint about conditions.
Teacher and students alike had no one left to blame, and they all looked ashamed.
When Zhù Ying arrived, the academician hurriedly drew her into his own room and asked the question he was most concerned about: “Magistrate — those examination papers…”
Zhù Ying said: “A chance for you all to warm up. They’re from the National Academy.”
“Fuklu County is a remote place; it has always lacked the culture of learning. I am ashamed — my own scholarship cannot compare to that of the great scholars of the capital. The students I have taught fall somewhat short. They are what they are now. Having them examined like this won’t improve things. If the Magistrate has great ability, you might personally instruct them. Just examining without teaching — how will anyone improve?”
Zhù Ying said: “Isn’t that exactly why I’ve come? I have something I’d like to discuss with you — I obtained several crates of books from the National Academy. The inventory is here. Please gather the students and ask about each person’s intentions. Some may want to continue sitting for the Presented Scholar track. Others may want to try a different path. The Presented Scholar track is difficult — people have spent their whole lives in pursuit of it. Some families can afford to keep a student for that long, and for them that’s perfectly fine. But the county school can’t support a student indefinitely. After a few years, students move on — so what happens to those who leave? If they can make progress in the Classics-interpretation, law, or other tracks, that might well be a viable path. I want to ask their intentions.”
The academician said: “Yes, absolutely!” He also said: “But I’m afraid even if they switch tracks, nothing will come of it. I’ll be honest, Magistrate — there was a case before. Someone wanted to switch, switched, nothing happened, and then switched back. Then gave up entirely and ended up doing legal work on behalf of clients. Deputy Director Guan thought he was causing trouble, stirring up the simplicity of local customs, and sent him away.”
Zhù Ying said: “The past is the past. Let’s talk about now. Gather everyone — I’ll go through the papers with them. I got these books from the National Academy, and I’ll keep bringing them to you over time. You’re to keep a record and preserve them carefully. Students may borrow them to read. Make sure no one hoards a book without returning it so others can’t borrow. Set clear rules about how many volumes each person may borrow and for how long.”
She then began going through the papers with them. Yue Miaojun came from a family of deep scholarly tradition, and with Liu Songnian living nearby — these papers were built to refuse entry to anyone who hadn’t worked through the Five Classics to their very bones.
Zhù Ying went through the questions one by one and invited questions. Gu Tong, young and ambitious, wanted to test this “graduate of the law track” magistrate’s true abilities.
He thought: if she had prepared this all in advance, of course she could lecture fluently. And besides, the papers were brought by the county magistrate herself — she might well have another person’s written answers in hand. I’ll take the question and extend it into something else — and ask about other books…
He raised his hand.
Zhù Ying called on him. He followed his plan and began asking — avoiding the Analects, since those were too foundational and most people had to memorize the original text. He turned to the Spring and Autumn Annals, focusing on the Commentary of Zuo. From there he also raised the Commentary of Gongyang. The Gu family was prosperous by county standards, and had a considerable private collection, and Gu Tong also referenced it.
Zhù Ying responded without hesitation, citing the relevant passages from memory. The students, who at first resented Gu Tong for monopolizing the precious opportunity to ask questions, gradually heard something different in the exchange and, shaking off the heaviness that the examination had left on them, let their natural youthful curiosity be stirred. One after another, ten or more students began raising questions. They shifted away from the Spring and Autumn Annals.
Those from wealthier families had a few miscellaneous books at home. Zhao Su asked about the Historical Records. Zhen Qi, who came from poverty and had only been able to borrow access to Elder Zhao’s household tutor, asked questions about the Elder Dai Rites and the Younger Dai Rites. Lei Guang — wanting to make a point — deliberately chose an arithmetic problem and asked about chickens and rabbits in a cage.
Zhù Ying saw through all their motives but said nothing. After this session she might be redirecting some of them onto other paths — if she couldn’t win their respect first, changing their ambitions was bound to breed resentment.
She answered each one. When she came to Lei Guang, she asked: “You like arithmetic?”
Lei Guang hadn’t been thinking about whether he liked it — he was stumbling over his words. “I — I mostly help the family look over the accounts…” which was to say — moneylending.
Zhù Ying nodded. “All right — that’s enough for today. Read carefully; I want you all to have the Five Classics memorized. In a few days we’ll sit another examination! After that examination, I’ll have individual conversations with all of you.”
The students dared not be slack. They bowed and said yes — even those like Lei Guang who didn’t particularly like this county magistrate, who had a bit of a “not good enough” feeling toward her, found that they had been won over by her actual learning.
Zhù Ying sent another set of papers to the county school. This time the students still performed poorly, but none were as despondent as the first time. The academician had already hinted at “the future” to them, and the sharper-minded ones were already considering changing tracks. Contrary to what Zhù Ying had expected, most of the county school students were not strongly opposed to switching.
County school students had a defined quota of spots, came with some yamen subsidy, and those who performed well received additional rewards. Students were different from court officials — officials tended to grow more valuable with age, as experience and seniority deepened. Students, though like officials in that they neither tilled nor wove, had none of the official’s functions of maintaining order and governing the people. Students only grew more useless with age. So after a period of time — say, ten or twenty years with no result, or upon reaching a certain age — they were dismissed. The authorities would not maintain idle people indefinitely.
When the time came, if you couldn’t produce results through books and couldn’t serve as an official — and had been expelled from the county school on top of it — the first half of life had amounted to nothing but a dream.
If you switched tracks, and if this county magistrate had any real ability — and if she were willing to offer some guidance — maybe…
They were still young, after all, and still had ambition. Aside from Zhen Qi, who was seriously wavering, the others still wanted to try for another year or two. Books were available now, the county magistrate’s abilities appeared solid, and she had even opened a path to the National Academy. What if they succeeded?
The county school students, for all their various calculations, had not yet abandoned the idea of studying. Each one weighed their own examination records and discussed with their parents: should they just ride out these few years and then go back to the family business? Or get closer to the county magistrate, follow her lead, and try for an official career? The advantages of being an official — the first being exemption from taxation and labor service — were very clear to every family.
Every household was running arithmetic sharp enough for the calculation examinations.
——
Zhù Ying had not pressed the students to make their decisions immediately. But the old farmers she had sent people to invite had arrived!
The farmers had been given their New Year gifts in person by Zhù Ying herself, and now a cart had been sent to bring them to the county seat. Every one of them was very pleased with themselves. Stepping down from the carts at the county yamen and seeing a crowd of onlookers, some drew themselves up, cleared their throats, and spat on the ground with great ceremony to prepare for seeing the magistrate. Others tugged their jackets down to cover a hole in their trousers.
The poverty of Fuklu County’s remote villages was stark. Many people were doing well just to have clothes and trousers — nothing like the presentable upper-and-lower-garment ensembles of wealthier regions. Most of them wore short working clothes, patched, barely adequate against the cold. Rough hands, rough legs — the look of people who did heavy labor.
Zhù Ying met them at the yamen gate. She swept a glance over the group — fourteen men had been brought in. She said: “Thank you all for coming such a long way. I have things I want to ask you, which is why I invited all of you here. I know you’ve had a tiring journey. Please come in and rest first.”
One of those who had seen a little of the world said: “Magistrate, what are you saying? When you call, we come. We’ve never seen an official who treated us so well!”
Zhù Ying stepped aside to let them pass: “Things were rushed, there wasn’t time for much preparation. You’ll stay here — the bedding is all new. When you leave in a few days, the bedding goes home with you.” She noticed that none of them had brought any luggage. Three of them were carrying something — wooden sticks they were using as walking staffs. On impulse she added that last sentence.
Each man was settled into a room — fourteen people, two rooms, seven to a room, on shared sleeping platforms. But each had their own set of bedding. The rooms had tables, chairs, and basins with towels. The old men looked around the rooms curiously and quickly sorted themselves by whom they knew, settling into the two rooms without fuss. With no luggage to put away, they were all eager to try the new sleeping platforms.
New bedding was not an easy thing to come by in the village.
But Zhù Ying said: “Come, let’s eat first.”
Zhù Ying sat at a table at the head; the old men sat at two tables below. Several large bowls of food were already laid out — everything braised until very tender. Large buckets of steamed rice and braised meat were set at the sides for seconds. Each person was also given a cup of wine, though kept small so as not to muddle the proceedings.
Zhù Ying said: “You’ve all walked a long way and must be hungry and tired. Eat first.”
The old men ate with an energy that gave no sign of their age, and finished three large buckets of food before they pushed back from the table, rubbing their stomachs. More than a few had already begun to belch.
At this point an elder who had maintained some composure at first — but who had been undone by the speed of the eating on all sides, and by the food being cooked until very soft and easy on old teeth — now stood up red-faced: “Magistrate, what are you bringing us old bones here for?”
Zhù Ying said: “Spring plowing will be here soon, and I have questions about farming I’d like to ask. There’s no rush — once you’ve eaten, please rest and get some sleep. Tomorrow we can talk. We may even need to go out and look at the land.”
At this, some of them, emboldened by the wine, said they didn’t need to rest — they could talk right now! And some were actually crying, saying they had never in their lives come across an official this good, that they could work right now if needed.
Zhù Ying still had Xiao Wu and the others escort them to their rooms to rest.
Dinner that evening was not a shared feast, but each man received two dishes and a soup, with as much rice as he wanted.
When Zhù Ying sat with them again the next morning — everyone having eaten and slept well and looking remarkably refreshed — there had clearly been much thinking done through the night. When she came in, some immediately moved to kowtow, others to swear loyalty. It took a good while before the situation settled.
Zhù Ying began by asking them about spring plowing in the county. She had arrived too late in the year to witness last year’s spring plowing and did not understand local conditions.
She also called Cao Chang over: “Listen carefully.”
The old men talked over each other, and Cao Chang thought his ears might start to smoke — but a glance at Zhù Ying showed her listening with great attention and frequent nods.
Inwardly she thought: lucky I asked these old men. Without this, her spring plowing arrangements would have amounted to less than simply doing nothing.
She asked what to watch for in farming, and the old men erupted into all talking at once. Zhù Ying sorted through the noise and drew out a few key points: water, heat, soil, fertilizer, seed, labor, and draft animals.
Plowing required a great deal of draft-animal power.
The old men spoke at length about draft animals: “There aren’t enough oxen and horses!”
The county had both ox-plowing and horse-plowing. Having an ox or horse for spring plowing marked a family as one of the better-off in the village. Families without draft animals pooled resources to rent one for a few days. There were even specialists who rented out oxen and horses. And then there were those too poor even for that — who harnessed themselves to the plow.
The strength of a person compared to an ox or horse — there was no comparison. The ground tilled by a person pulling a plow would never be as good. And reaching the point of harnessing yourself to a plow meant the family conditions were already very bad — it usually wasn’t many years more before the land was mortgaged away too, and the people couldn’t hold on either.
Zhù Ying thought this over. She had heard Wang Yunhe speak of this — officials were supposed to provide some draft animals for the people to rent. A county that could supply oxen was already doing its job adequately.
She had overlooked this.
The county she had inherited from Magistrate Wang had precious few government-owned oxen and horses. Whatever there were, they were needed first and foremost for the official farmland — the source of all the yamen officials’ clothing and food, and of Magistrate Wang’s comfortable life in the prefectural city.
Zhù Ying had no regrets. Even if she had set animals to breeding the very day she arrived last year, they would still not be of working age now.
Not until you roll up your sleeves and start does it become clear just how many things you need to attend to as a county magistrate.
She added another item to her mental list: livestock.
The old men talked about spring plowing on the first day. Zhù Ying also asked them about conditions in each of the townships.
On the second day, she asked them about orange trees.
Some of the old men bluffed — pretending to know. Some said they had never grown them. There were a few who had, and they said: “Fruit trees are no small trouble to look after! Once picked from the branch, the fruit goes bad quickly — at most ten days. We’d go around asking people if they wanted any when the oranges weren’t quite fully ripe. If someone said yes, we’d pick them; if no one wanted them, they’d stay on the branch for now. Even then you can’t leave them too long — once they’re fully ripe and no one picks them, they fall to the ground and rot.”
Zhù Ying noted it all down. Then she produced the seeds brought up from the north, taking a handful of each variety to show them and ask their opinion. The old men, who had been considerably more relaxed after two days, all changed color at once: “Magistrate! Don’t go switching up what we grow!”
They spoke over each other in a rush. Zhù Ying sorted through the noise and understood: what they were growing now was enough to barely get by. If they switched to something else and it failed, even a two- or three-year drop in yield would mean a bad harvest year after year. And it wasn’t as though families had grain stockpiles — only landlords did. Ordinary farming folk were already surviving on wild vegetables through the spring by the time the new crop came in. A slightly worse harvest could genuinely mean people starving to death.
Zhù Ying said: “I’ll grow two mu myself and try it — I won’t make anyone else change.”
The sound of the old men collectively exhaling filled the entire room.
Zhù Ying said: “Good — since there’s no misunderstanding, shall we go look at the land tomorrow?”
At this, one of the old men said: “I grew wheat once — the year the harvest wasn’t great, but still, it did grow.”
Once one spoke up, another followed. They agreed that on the official farmland, rice ought to remain the main crop: “We’re used to tending rice here. It’s reliable. If you want wheat, wait until after the rice is in and then try.”
Zhù Ying said: “I won’t use good farmland. I’ll find a piece of marginal land and try it there first.”
The old men looked at each other and nodded: “We want to go and see.”
On the third day, she took the whole group out of the county city.
The old men looked at the land and shook their heads; or sighed; some said what a pity it was; some said with a bit more work it could be decent ground. They told Zhù Ying: to turn poor land into good land took labor and time — years of working it, building up the soil and manure. This land, they said, had probably been left fallow — only marginally better than true wasteland. They also pointed out where a small channel should be dug to bring in water for irrigation.
Even the most drought-resistant crops still needed water — “just less of it — that’s not the same as needing none at all.”
The old farmer who had grown wheat before told Zhù Ying the dates she could plant. He thought she could go ahead with rice right now.
Zhù Ying spent several consecutive days walking the fields with them in the daytime. Come evening, she lit the lamp and organized her notes.
She wanted to write all of this down — together with her own future notes from actually trying to farm the land — and in the end compile a practical agricultural guide for Fuklu County. Even if she herself did not remain here long, the people who came after would be able to use it. She also planned to record the differences between the planting times indicated by the traditional almanac’s solar terms and the actual local conditions.
For the trial planting notes, she made a table — which piece of land growing which crop, when planted, how many jin of seed, how many laborers, how much water — all recorded, along with the growth timeline: when it sprouted, when it set grain, when it was harvested.
By this time spring plowing was fast approaching. Some of the old men were growing anxious — they wanted to go home and help. Even if they couldn’t pull a plow, they could at least help repair tools or boil a pot of water. It would be something.
True to her word, Zhù Ying sent them all home with the bedding. She also gave each an additional two sheng of rice. With the same care that had brought them, the carts sent them back. She made a particular arrangement with the old man who had grown wheat and two others who still looked comparatively strong: “Once spring plowing is done at home and things calm down a bit, come back and help me keep an eye on the fields.”
As the old men set off on the road home, Zhù Ying sent out written invitations to all the county seat’s wealthy households, asking them to come and discuss a certain matter.
The wealthy families who received those invitations were no longer especially anxious when they arrived. They also wanted to build better relations with the county magistrate. And more than a few had been thinking about the county school situation and had become more convinced that the county magistrate was determined to make a mark here. Since the achievement she was aiming at was not stripping their families bare, they might as well cooperate. There could even be something in it for them.
Zhù Ying hosted a meal at the county yamen — but it was all for one purpose: draft animals.
Wealthy households kept more than one or two oxen and horses. They needed them for their own lands in spring — and they had tenant farmers too. Who didn’t need draft animals for spring plowing?
Zhù Ying was not here to take theirs. She was here to negotiate: “Once your own land is done, the county yamen will pay to rent your oxen and horses. Anyone still reduced to hauling a plow themselves — how long will it take to finish? Put a good ox to it and half a day is all you need.” Missing the right moment for one day means missing the harvest for the year. A delay in plowing almost certainly means a dent in that year’s yield.
Zhù Ying laid out her proposal: “I won’t wear your animals out — and I won’t play tricks in the accounting. I’ll work from the household registers, as always, and assign animals to poor households nearby. It’s all verifiable. How much is used, that’s how much you’re paid. You may send your own herdsmen along. The yamen won’t take a cut of the rental fees. When the animals are in use, I’ll count them out clearly for your records, and after harvest I’ll see that the payment is returned to you in full. You can take payment in coin, cloth, or grain — your choice.”
Elder Gu and the others were taken aback. What Zhù Ying was proposing was not entirely new to them. Many local officials did something like it — the government provided oxen, those who could pay rented them, the fees went to the yamen, and those who couldn’t afford to rent simply went without. An official who could provide oxen at all was already doing a reasonably decent job.
But Zhù Ying was thinking about every person in the county. From the way she was talking, she seemed to want to make sure everyone in the county got to use an ox — and she was going to advance the rental fees herself without charging the poor farmers interest?
Elder Gu felt moved. He was the first to step forward: “Count me in!” And he added: “Spring is when oxen and horses are in highest demand — prices go up. Let’s set a fair price right here between us, and no one is to gouge.”
Elder Zhao and the others all agreed. Zhao Feng said: “Count me in as well. What’s more — the tribal people over there also have oxen and horses, though they don’t use them for farming. I’m willing to act as middleman and negotiate for more to be brought in.”
Zhù Ying said: “Excellent. If the Qixia clan has any conditions, they are welcome to negotiate with me directly.”
“Understood.”
Zhù Ying smiled: “Please — be seated.”