MLMD -Chapter 108 A Bountiful Harvest (Part 1)

July, the sixth year of Chongzhen.

Much had happened in the Great Ming during the months of June and July that year. First, the Sichuan commander Deng Qi was ordered to suppress the roving bandits. He advanced to Jiyuan and shot dead the bandit leader Zijinliang, forcing the rebel forces to retreat to Lin County. Yang Yuchun pursued them but fell into an ambush and was killed. The bandits then stole his banners and used them to lure other government troops into traps. The Sichuan forces suffered a crushing defeat, and on the fifth day of the month, the army of the native chieftain Ma Fengyi was also defeated by the rebels at Houjia Village.

By July, the Later Jin forces had captured Lüshun. At the time, the Lüshun garrison was commanded by the general Huang Long. Because fighting had broken out along the Yalu River, Huang Long dispatched his navy to provide support. Kong Youde and others learned through reconnaissance that Lüshun was left undefended, and so they led the Later Jin troops in a surprise attack on the city. Huang Long fought several battles but was defeated each time. When his ammunition was exhausted, he took his own life. The guerrilla commander Li Weiluán burned his own family alive and died fighting. With this, the Great Ming’s last major stronghold in the northeast fell, marking the complete loss of Ming control over Korea.

This string of military disasters shocked the Ming court. The Chongzhen Emperor flew into a rage and issued an edict ordering the Ministry of War to reprimand the incumbent Minister of War, Yang Sichang, and commanded him to look for an opportunity to retake Lüshun.

However, these distant events meant little to the common people of Yingzhou. Their attention was focused instead on Wuli Village, because that year Wuli Village had welcomed a bumper harvest. Nearly all the tenants of Yue Family Manor and Wuli Village, along with many farmers, were immersed in the joy of abundance. Laughter and smiling faces could be seen everywhere.

On the sixteenth day of the seventh month, the harvesting of rice officially began throughout Wuli Village. To prevent any mishaps, Yue Yang specifically ordered the troops to halt training. Aside from the two thousand soldiers left behind to guard the city, all other forces went down to the fields to help the tenants rush the harvest.

In the fields of Yue Family Manor in Wuli Village—

Although the tenants harvesting the grain were drenched in sweat, smiles of joy spread across their faces. The heavy, golden rice stalks bent their backs low, but every bit of hardship was worth it.

Yue Yang walked along the edge of the fields with Hailanzhu, the Linglong sisters, and Yue Laifu, Shunbao, Hailou, and the rest. Gazing at the endless golden sea of rice, his heart brimmed with happiness.

Hailanzhu was wearing a sapphire-blue ruqun today, looking both beautiful and lively. She held Yue Yang’s arm and looked out over the vast golden fields, her eyes filled with delight. Smiling, she asked, “Yue Yang, no wonder you Han people are so wealthy. With so much rice, it should be enough for us to eat for a whole year, right?”

Yue Yang nodded, a trace of joy appearing on his face as well. Looking at the scene of abundance before him and the busy figures in the fields, a deep sense of satisfaction rose in his heart. It seemed there would be no need to worry about food this year.

Walking at the rear, Shunbao said excitedly, “Young Master, this year’s harvest is absolutely the biggest I’ve seen in my entire life. If I had to guess, each mu should yield at least eight hundred jin.”

“Eight hundred jin?” Yue Laifu, standing behind Yue Yang, shot his son a smug glare and said, “You little brat are really underestimating the seeds Young Master brought back. What’s eight hundred jin? The rice harvested this morning has already been reported—our average yield per mu has reached one thousand and twenty jin.”

“What?”

“Hiss…”

“How is that possible?”

Exclamations rang out around them. Most of the people present came from farming families and knew very well how much grain a mu of land could normally produce. Shanxi lay north of the Yangtze River, where a mu typically yielded only about three hundred jin. Even in the so-called land of fish and rice in Jiangnan, four hundred jin per mu was already considered excellent. Yet here, the yield had reached a thousand jin—something that seemed like a dream to them.

Shunbao stood there dazed for a moment, then suddenly slapped his thigh and shouted, “My heavens, a thousand jin of rice! How much food is that!”

Only Hailanzhu, who came from a Mongolian background, failed to grasp the significance. Blinking her large, pretty eyes, she asked curiously, “Shunbao, is a yield of a thousand jin per mu really that impressive?”

“Uh…” Faced with such near-ignorance, everyone could only laugh helplessly. In the end, Yu Ling quietly pulled Hailanzhu aside and softly explained what it all meant. Once she finally understood, Hailanzhu stuck out her tongue apologetically at Yue Yang and smiled.

When Yue Yang reached a plot of land, he saw an old farmer clutching a handful of heavy rice grains, wailing loudly right there in the field. As a man who had tilled the soil his entire life and was accustomed to the miserable harvests of the past, he had never imagined that after switching to the seeds provided by the young master of the Yue family, the yield would be so abundant.

He had also heard reports from fields that had already been harvested—one thousand jin per mu! He did the math: his family had five members and farmed five mu of paddy land. At this yield, five mu would produce five thousand jin of rice. After handing over fifty percent as rent, he would still keep two thousand five hundred jin. That was enough for his family to eat their fill for an entire year. For someone who had lived in a state of perpetual half-hunger, how could he not be overjoyed?

At this moment, the fields were filled with tenants and farmers laughing and crying at the same time. For them, having grain in hand meant peace of mind—an unshakable truth. With such a harvest, they could finally enjoy a good year.

Yue Yang and his group spent the entire morning inspecting most of the fields in Wuli Village. He was already satisfied with the results. By his calculations, Yue Family Manor controlled over twelve thousand mu of land. Even at an average of five hundred jin per mu, that amounted to six million jin of rice. With a seventy percent milling rate, he would obtain 4.2 million jin of polished rice—enough to feed his eight thousand troops for a year with plenty to spare. The remaining grain could support the cement plant, black powder factory, and military workshops. In this way, he could essentially achieve self-sufficiency. By next year, once the several thousand mu of land he had purchased from Wang Shoucheng and the newly reclaimed wasteland also began producing, his strength would surely undergo explosive growth.

“Yue Yang, I’m talking to you—what are you thinking about?” Hailanzhu’s voice suddenly sounded beside his ear.

“Oh, I was lost in thought,” Yue Yang replied, startled, turning to look at her. “What is it, Hailanzhu?”

After marrying Hailanzhu, her open, forthright personality and her balanced use of kindness and authority quickly won over nearly all the servants in the Yue residence. Even the old matriarch was very pleased with her. The only thing that displeased the matriarch was that Hailanzhu always addressed Yue Yang by his name instead of calling him “husband” or “my lord.” In the old lady’s eyes, this was extremely improper. She scolded Hailanzhu about it several times, and although Hailanzhu always agreed at the time, she soon forgot again.

But Yue Yang himself hardly cared. Having grown up in modern society, he was extremely open-minded about such things. Not only between husband and wife—abroad, even fathers and sons or brothers sometimes addressed each other by name.

Seeing her husband look over, Hailanzhu’s face flushed slightly. She glanced around and, seeing no one nearby, said a bit shyly, “Yue Yang, since you’ve had such a big harvest, when autumn comes, could you sell some grain to our tribe? Don’t worry, we won’t take it for free. My father said we can trade cattle, sheep, and horses for it. What do you think?”

“Grain?” Yue Yang’s heart stirred, though he put on a troubled expression. After hesitating for a moment, he asked, “How much grain does my father-in-law intend to buy?”

Hailanzhu fidgeted slightly and said, “My father said at least three hundred thousand jin. If you could sell him six hundred thousand jin, that would be best.”

“Six hundred thousand jin is too much,” Yue Yang shook his head. “If I take out that much, I won’t have enough on my end. You know my expenses are huge—nearly eight thousand soldiers to feed, plus several thousand workers in the factories who all need wages and rations. The outlay is enormous. I really can’t spare that much grain to support my father-in-law.”

Hearing this, disappointment appeared on Hailanzhu’s face. Strictly speaking, before the Khorchin tribe had dealings with Yue Yang, life was poor but still manageable. However, as the saying goes, it’s easy to go from frugality to comfort, but hard to go back. Since last year, after exchanging large amounts of supplies with Yue Yang and enjoying a good year, Zaisang and the Khorchin tribe had tasted the sweetness and were naturally unwilling to return to their former hardships—hence sending their daughter to whisper into her husband’s ear.

Sneaking a glance at Hailanzhu’s expression, Yue Yang felt the timing was right. Dragging it out any longer might backfire. Smiling, he said, “But don’t worry, Hailanzhu. Since we’re married, I can’t just sit by when your father is in difficulty. How about this: write to your father and tell him that six hundred thousand jin is impossible, but I can sell him up to four hundred thousand jin of grain, along with salt and tea bricks. In exchange, he’ll need to trade two thousand warhorses and some cattle and sheep. What do you think?”

“Really? That’s wonderful!” Hailanzhu’s emotions rose and fell like a roller coaster. She couldn’t help but throw her arms around Yue Yang and kiss him on the cheek, saying happily, “Yue Yang, thank you so much! On behalf of the tens of thousands of herdsmen of the Khorchin tribe, thank you!”

“No need to thank me—what are we, after all?” Yue Yang laughed. But anyone familiar with him would have known from the look on his face that he was plotting something again.

In truth, Yue Yang had no pure intentions in selling grain to the Khorchin tribe. Anyone with even a basic understanding of modern geopolitics knew that the best way to control a power—or even a country—was not through military conquest, but through economic, political, and other forms of control. The Khorchin tribe was no exception.