novelSusiti Chapter 6: From Wasteland to Thoroughfare
Chapter 6: From Wasteland to Thoroughfare
The following morning, southeast of Pingyuan County.
The morning mist had not yet dissipated.
The seven hundred acres of wasteland were covered with withered yellow wormwood that was half a person tall, interspersed with a few crooked willow trees shivering in the wind.
This land had been abandoned for two years. Although the soil was still fertile, it was overrun by weeds and severely hardened.
More than four hundred men stood at the edge of the field, holding various farm tools sent by the Zhang family.
The plowshare is old, and the blade is dull;
The hoe handles were worn smooth and shiny, some even with cracks, and were carefully wrapped with hemp rope.
These items had been piled up in the Zhang family's warehouse for who knows how long, and now that they were in the hands of this group of refugees, they exuded a somewhat chilling aura.
Zhao Yun, dressed in full military attire, stood at the front of the ranks with his hand on his sword.
He didn't waste any words, and said in a deep voice:
"Ten men form a 'shi' (什), and a 'shi' leader is appointed; one hundred men form a 'tun' (屯), and a 'tun' leader is appointed."
"Obey orders and move at the sound of the drum. From this day forward, you are no longer refugees, but the militia of Pingyuan County."
"On the day of land reclamation, we were given two meals of dry rice each day, which were all we could eat. After the autumn harvest, the land was distributed to each household."
"Providing meals is more useful than anything else," this statement immediately caused a stir among the crowd.
Li Zhao stood on a nearby earthen slope, watching this scene unfold.
Standing behind him were Sun Fu and Zhang He, the steward of the Zhang family.
Zhang He watched this scene with a somewhat hesitant expression.
"The Ming court has clever methods."
Zhang He said with a forced smile, "General Zhao is skilled in military administration; these beggars have actually become somewhat respectable under his command."
Li Zhao didn't turn around, but said calmly, "When people have a way to survive, they naturally take on a certain appearance."
He turned around and looked at Zhang He: "Manager Zhang, what brings you here in person today?"
"Hey, it's just that the master is worried."
Zhang He chuckled and said, "This wasteland is difficult to cultivate. My master is worried that these refugees are clumsy and might ruin the farm tools, which is a minor matter, but missing the planting season is a major one. So he specially sent this old man to come and see if there's anything I can do to help."
"Thank you for your trouble, Mr. Zhang."
Li Zhao smiled and pointed to the bustling scene ahead.
"Since you're here, Manager Zhang, why don't you take a look around?"
"This method of land reclamation may come in handy for the Zhang family in the future."
Zhang He's smile froze for a moment.
At the front, Zhao Yun gave the order, and the hundred men of the first garrison charged into the wasteland with shouts.
Without oxen, they used human power to pull the plow.
Three strong men pulled the rope in front, while the man holding the plow drove the plowshare deep into the soil. Behind them, more than a dozen people wielded hoes and picks, breaking up the clods of earth and digging out the grass roots.
No one was slacking off. Not far behind them were two large iron pots, filled with porridge that smelled deliciously steaming.
Zhang He glanced at it, and the smile on his face gradually disappeared. He thought it was just for show, but he didn't expect them to be serious. They were working so hard. If they could open up these 700 acres of land and plant grain...
Zhang He felt very uneasy.
He glanced at Li Zhao, but the young magistrate remained calm.
"The Ming Dynasty."
Zhang He tentatively said, "This kind of land reclamation, with people and horses fed, will cost money."
"Can the grain merchants of Bohai Commandery afford to supply them?"
Li Zhao's tone turned colder.
"If Steward Zhang has any grain he can't finish, he can go back and talk to Master Zhang and ask him to lend him a few hundred more bushels, can't he?"
Upon hearing this, Zhang He quickly replied, "Your Majesty is joking. The Zhang family's grain is also..."
If you're not going to lend it, then don't worry about it.
Li Zhao changed the subject, saying, "I have my own way of dealing with the grain issue."
"Manager Zhang just needs to keep a close eye on these farm tools and make sure no one steals them."
Zhang He laughed and shut his mouth awkwardly, but he felt increasingly uneasy.
……
into the night.
The soup kitchens in the south of the city were removed, and the refugees were relocated to shacks at the foot of the city wall.
In the backyard of the county temple, at the door of Li Zhao's small house, hung an oil lamp.
Li Zhao stood there in front of him, where several empty sacks remained on the ground.
He closed his eyes and brought up the system panel.
[Li Zhao, Magistrate of Pingyuan]
[Registered population within the jurisdiction (including migrants): 12150]
Daily rice production: 12150 liters
Current grain reserves: 40500 shi (a unit of dry measure).
The porridge distribution and the dry food provided by the agricultural settlement team over the past two days have consumed a considerable amount of food, but with the influx of refugees, the daily increase in food supplies is also increasing.
Grain reserves have increased rather than decreased.
But the problem also followed.
The grain from before can be considered either previous stockpiles or small-batch purchases.
Nowadays, hundreds or even thousands of people eat every day, consuming dozens of bushels of grain daily.
With such a large quantity, moving it out of this small house in the backyard will inevitably expose the deception sooner or later.
That old fox Zhang Mao has his eyes on more than just the wasteland.
Li Zhao opened his eyes, having already figured out a solution.
"Sun Fu".
He called out towards the door.
Sun Fu pushed open the door and came in, carrying a food box in his hand.
"Mingting, have you not eaten yet?"
"Leave it for now."
Li Zhao pointed to the empty sack on the ground.
"Go find Zhao Zilong and have him choose twenty of his most trusted brothers, bring these sacks, and wait for them at Wulipo outside the South Gate at Hai Shi (9-11 PM)."
Sun Fu was taken aback: "Ming Ting, this is...?"
"Receive the grain," Li Zhao said in a low voice. "Tell Zilong to keep his mouth shut."
"Just say it was delivered overnight by a caravan from Bohai County."
Sun Fu was a clever man. Having followed Li Zhao for two years, he knew what he should and shouldn't ask.
Without saying a word, he picked up the sack and went out the door.
……
At 9 PM, the moon was dark and the wind was high.
Five miles outside the south gate of Pingyuan County lies a mass grave.
Normally no one would dare to come here, but tonight there were about twenty people standing there.
Zhao Yun stood at the forefront with his hand on his sword, followed by twenty strong men.
These men were all local militia who had come from his hometown of Zhending with him. He knew them well and they kept their mouths shut.
Sun Fu stood beside Zhao Yun, holding a bundle of burlap sacks, shivering from the cold.
"General Zhao, the Ming court said it's right here?"
"Hmm," Zhao Yun responded, his eyes scanning his surroundings warily.
About fifteen minutes later.
Zhao Yun's ears suddenly twitched: "They're here."
Everyone's spirits lifted, and they all looked ahead.
A figure slowly emerged from the darkness.
There were no carriages, no caravans, only one person.
He wore a green robe with a loose belt and walked with a leisurely pace.
It was Li Zhao.
Zhao Yun was taken aback for a moment, then quickly went to meet him.
"Brother Li, where is the caravan?"
Li Zhao stopped and looked around to make sure there were no outsiders present.
He smiled slightly: "Here."
He had barely finished speaking when he flicked his sleeve.
Everyone felt a blur before their eyes.
Twenty bulging burlap sacks suddenly appeared on the once empty grassland.
It was piled up like a small mountain.
A deathly silence.
Sun Fu's mouth dropped open, his jaw almost dropped to the ground, and his eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost.
The twenty men behind him all took a step back, and some of them almost dropped the knives they were holding.
Even Zhao Yun, who was usually unfazed by the collapse of Mount Tai, had his pupils shrink and the veins on the back of his hand, which was gripping his sword, bulged.