In the autumn sunlight, a group of people could be seen from a distance carrying mud on the river embankment.
Among them was a round-faced man, none other than Zhang Luo, the Cavalier Attendants-in-Ordinary within Jianping.
After Chi Yi returned from the front camp, Zhang Luo, following the Emperor’s decree, came to the canal to oversee the first batch of government-registered laborers’ evacuation.
To maintain order at the construction site, besides personnel from the Ministry of Works, there were many soldiers from the Right Camp stationed here.
The conscripted laborers had nearly completed digging the section from Jianzhou to the Tuoqing River in Yong Province. The southern climate was humid, with many marshes, so officials from the Water Management Bureau in charge of canal affairs personally surveyed the area and marked out a plot of flat land. This land was primarily composed of marshland and was fifteen miles away from the Tuoqing River. They dispatched workers to dig two canals connecting the marsh to the main canal, draining the accumulated water while also channeling water from upstream to irrigate the land.
If viewed from above, the canals, the flat land, and the main canal formed an irregular trapezoid.
The Water Management officials sent to the Tuoqing River were no novices. The newly constructed Liubo Canal, stretching hundreds of miles, had employed the innovative well-canal method and was completed in just over a year. Now, building two small canals of fifteen miles each was an exceedingly simple task.
Thus, this marshland could be transformed into fertile fields resistant to both drought and flooding. Zhao Qushu, the Water Management Bureau official in charge of the project, made a rough estimate and concluded that, even with the most conservative approach, it could irrigate twenty square kilometers of land.
One qing of land is equivalent to one hundred mu – a total area of about 166 acres. Aside from the 50,000 acres of land that is protected against both drought and flooding, there are also other uncultivated wastelands in the vicinity. If all these lands could be utilized, they would certainly be able to support a great many people. However, since the accumulated water here has only recently been drained and no one has yet farmed it, development will need to proceed gradually.
Before his departure, Zhang Luo received explicit instructions from Wen Yanran, granting him the authority to act as he saw fit. Upon the completion of the canals, he immediately began allocating land to the first group of commoners whose labor conscription period was about to end, enabling them to settle down locally.
The land allocation plan was also decided by the Sovereign in consultation with the Ministry of Revenue. Each able-bodied adult was to receive approximately 5 acres of crop land and 1.6 acres for mulberry and hemp cultivation, with the land being non-transferable.
Strictly speaking, these commoners were still government-registered laborers at this point, which made it convenient for Zhang Luo to make various arrangements for them. Once the land was distributed, new regulations were promulgated: after settling, they would be exempt from taxes for the first year. Starting from the second year, for the first three years they would need to pay thirty percent of their harvest, in the fifth year twenty percent, and from the sixth year onward, the tax rate would be permanently set at ten percent.
The commoners here could not fully grasp the significance of shifting the tax system from a poll tax to a land tax, but they were nonetheless uplifted by the renewed hope of rebuilding their lives.
Moreover, these people were accustomed to organized living, which made them easier to instruct. Xin Bian, the official in charge of the canal project here, came from a humble background and was skilled not only in hydraulic engineering but also knowledgeable about agricultural matters. She had the mud dredged from the canals set aside to be used as fertilizer for the fields and taught these people how to use plant ash and green manure.
As nearly a thousand people – mostly able-bodied adults – were to remain in this area, the local magistrate, after reporting to the court, specially established a new administrative division for them. Among the veterans of the Right Camp who were getting on in years and unwilling to return to their hometowns, the authorities selected those of upright character to stay here and temporarily serve as unit chiefs and ward leaders.
In addition, Zhang Luo, in his capacity as the envoy from Jianping, publicly declared that henceforth, all wasteland reclaimed along the canal would be allocated according to this standard.
In truth, among the officials of the Ministry of Works, quite a few held negative views regarding the Emperor’s consumption of massive manpower to construct the canal. However, even those who opposed this undertaking clearly recognized that granting land to the common people was a benevolent policy.
Those who perceived this most keenly were, of course, the commoners themselves who received the land.
Having migrated here from the eastern lands over a thousand miles away and labored arduously to dig the canals, many had naturally harbored feelings of resentment. Yet after truly obtaining land of their own, their former discontent gradually began to subside.
“There is no hope left for our cause.”
On the river embankment, a sturdy youth dressed in short clothing sighed and shook her head.
Those sent to build the canal could generally be divided into two categories. The first were members of powerful clans from the eastern lands who had refused to submit to the Emperor’s rule – once their labor service ended, these people would naturally have to return to their homeland. The rest were ordinary commoners.
If the powerful clans wished to rise up, they would of course need to use the commoners as their foot soldiers. Unfortunately, the authorities had already begun granting land to the poor. With their bellies full, ordinary people found it difficult to harbor thoughts of rebellion.
Although only a small number of commoners had received land so far, the mere fact that the authorities had demonstrated their intention to grant land caused the tacit alliance between the powerful clans of the eastern lands and the common people to crumble without anyone even realizing it.
“Attendant Zhang.” Xin Bian, the Vice Minister of the Water Management Bureau, caught sight of Zhang Luo and politely clasped her hands in greeting. “You’ve been working hard.”
For some time now, this imposing imperial attendant – usually so close to the Emperor – had donned short clothing and personally labored on the river embankment.
Zhang Luo was not merely putting on a show to gain a reputation for virtue. In his heart, he understood that the Sovereign enjoyed sending her close attendants out to gain practical experience. Now that the Emperor had specifically dispatched him to the canal, it was naturally an opportunity to temper himself.
The round-faced young man temporarily set down his back-basket filled with gravel and said with a cheerful smile, “How can I claim to have worked hard? It’s you, Vice Minister Xin, who comes to inspect every single day.”
Xin Bian said, “You have been here for a month now. May I ask when you will be returning to the capital?”
Zhang Luo replied, “Since I’ve come, I ought to wait until matters are concluded before leaving. I’ve already written to the capital, requesting Her Majesty to permit me to stay here a while longer.”
Every postal station had relay horses, and Zhang Luo’s personal guards raced along the route, delivering his letter to Jianping with utmost speed.
The letter was first delivered to Taiqi Palace, then forwarded to Gui Palace, and finally sent to Jingyuan – where Wen Yanran, having finally found time for some personal recreation, paused briefly from her busy schedule to write four words on the memorial: “I acknowledge this.” She then immediately threw herself back into the joyous endeavor of rubber boiling.
The Western Tribes had finally located the rubber dandelions she had requested. After confirming exactly what this plant looked like, Zhong Zhiwei personally oversaw the operation, arranging several shipments and dispatching a large batch to Jianping.
The rubber in these plants was concentrated primarily in their roots.
In truth, Wen Yanran’s understanding of rubber was quite limited – she had picked up bits of relevant knowledge only when technicians from other companies came to line their equipment with rubber.
Unlike rubber trees, where one simply cuts the bark and collects the latex directly, obtaining rubber from plant roots required a far more complicated preparatory process.
The simpler method was to extract rubber using acid-base processing.
Wen Yanran cut the roots of the rubber dandelions into pieces and boiled them in hot water for a full hour to extract carbohydrates. She then separated the root bark from the root pulp, treating the bark with wood ash water and the pulp with dilute sulfuric acid. Afterward, she chopped, ground, stirred, and filtered the processed materials.
Throughout this rubber extraction process, the alchemists within Jingyuan took turns attending at her side, hoping to absorb as much precious arcane knowledge of imperial secret alchemy as possible.
They watched intently as the Emperor confidently and decisively tossed various materials into containers – first herbs, then sulfur – executing each step with practiced skill. Their hearts swelled with admiration. If anyone dared to claim that the Sovereign was not a master of alchemy, such words would surely fall on deaf ears.
Since rubber is less dense than water, after all the procedures were completed, the latex Wen Yanran needed floated to the top.
If left alone at room temperature, the collected latex would naturally coagulate on its own – but this only yielded raw rubber.
To obtain cured rubber suitable for use as chemical experiment equipment, an additional process called vulcanization was required.
This so-called vulcanization naturally required sulfur.
Wen Yanran silently thanked the naming convention of “putting the required materials right into the process name,” which allowed her, even after transmigrating, to quickly recall the above knowledge simply from the name itself.
By adding an appropriate amount of sulfur powder to raw rubber and heating it, one could obtain cured rubber.
After extensive comparative experiments, Wen Yanran finally found the right material ratio. On the very day she produced her first rubber tube, the long-silent Guide to Becoming a Tyrant suddenly flashed another notification –
[System:
Player has achieved the achievement [Current content cannot be displayed].]
Wen Yanran: “…”
The notification was a long-lost friend, but the game’s censorship mechanism remained as familiar as ever.
What Wen Yanran did not know was that besides this message, another notification had been perfectly smothered by the censorship mechanism in its infancy –
[System:
Due to the player’s unremitting efforts, [Great Zhou] has seen the emergence of modern scientific thought. [Technology] +4.]
If this message had been posted in the game’s comment section, it would surely have been dismissed as photoshopped – aside from Wen Yanran herself, no other player had ever seen the attribute value called [Technology] in any notification.
It was simply not a statistic that could possibly see significant improvement on the eve of a dynasty’s downfall.
As for the achievement name that was censored in the first message, it was [The Emergence of Modern Chemistry].
The appearance of these two messages was not solely due to the rubber tube, but rather the cumulative effect of Wen Yanran’s continuous efforts since her transmigration – small steps building up, until finally quantitative change led to qualitative transformation.
Zhang Luo submitted a memorial in early winter requesting permission to return a bit later. Without needing to calculate the time precisely, Wen Yanran understood that he definitely would not make it back for the New Year, but would likely be able to attend the spring hunt.
Most of the time, she could accurately predict her subjects’ actions – but this time, she made a miscalculation. For many farmers, the fourth year of Zhaoming was not a good year. Starting from March, rainfall had been very scarce, and the Grand Astrologer had even predicted a severe drought this year.
A great drought would inevitably affect crop harvests. After learning of the drought, many ministers submitted memorials one after another, requesting that the Sovereign temporarily suspend canal construction.
The current Sovereign was a wise and enlightened ruler who could accept any suggestion beneficial to the country – yet this seemingly surefire piece of advice had consistently failed to receive a positive response from the Emperor.
Wen Yanran understood that the memorials urging her to stop the canal construction were largely expressions of loyalty. However, she had already made up her mind to continuously elevate her level of slacking off. The more earnestly her ministers pleaded for the sake of the nation and its people, the more she felt inclined to go against their wishes and act tyrannically.
The ministers waited anxiously for half a month, but from the palace – there was still no response.
Wang Qishi couldn’t restrain himself and went to the Central Secretariat to inquire about the situation. Upon arriving, he casually pulled aside an acquaintance and asked, “So? Has Her Majesty issued any response these past two days?”
The Central Secretariat official, a protégé of the Yuan family, shook his head repeatedly. “Among all the memorials submitted, any that concern the canal have been retained by Her Majesty without reply.”
Wang Qishi hesitated, seeming about to speak. Having been thoroughly humbled by experience many times before, he ultimately swallowed the words “How has the Sovereign become so willful?” Yet anxiety gnawed at him – the state had only just stabilized for a couple of years, and now Her Majesty was expending massive manpower and resources on the canal while unfortunately encountering drought conditions. This could easily lead to turmoil. The current emperor’s foresight and insight were unparalleled – so why was she so slow to issue an edict suspending canal construction?
At that moment, Wang Qishi, deeply worried for the nation’s future, failed to realize that his thoughts were decidedly too loyal…
The Emperor, whom the ministers pondered countless times each day in their hearts, had actually made some response to the drought – she had directly called off the spring hunt.
Since the spring hunt had been preserved as a traditional activity, it also carried a superstitious significance of seeking good omens. Mindful of this, Wen Yanran simply transformed this year’s sporting event into a sacrificial ritual instead. She went to the Tianfu Palace and offered three sticks of incense to the ancestors of the Wen clan, hoping they would bless her to achieve her game objective of overthrowing the Great Zhou as soon as possible.
Wen Yanran inserted the incense sticks into the burner and casually remarked, “Brother, won’t you ask why I’m not going to the Northern Park?”
Wen Jingmei inclined his body slightly and replied with a composed expression, “Your Majesty naturally wishes to reduce palace expenditures by acting thus. It absolutely cannot be because you have grown weary of hunting matters.”
Wen Yanran chuckled softly and said, “The city is sweltering. Will you accompany me to Gui Palace this year to stay for a couple of days?” Then she added, “Here in Jianping, Old General Tao is unwilling to relocate, and Minister Lu can hardly move the Ministry of Revenue’s documents back and forth – let the two of them remain in the city to handle affairs. Among the imperial clan, have the Marquis of Fengsu stay behind as well.”
Eleventh Princess had now reached the age of twelve and was granted the title of Marquis of Fengsu. The Great Zhou dynasty had a tradition of restraining the feudal lords of the Wen clan. In the early years of the dynasty’s founding, most of the Emperor’s children could still be enfeoffed as princes, but by the time of Wen Yanran’s generation, the titles granted were mostly marquisates.
The Tianfu Palace was elegantly decorated, and on the desk in the study sat a vase of late-blooming apricot blossoms. Wen Yanran only glanced at them from a distance, and an alert attendant attending nearby immediately lifted the vase for the Emperor to examine more closely.
Upon hearing the Emperor’s words, Wen Jingmei understood that she had already made thorough plans and that there was no room for refusal, so he naturally acquiesced. At the same time, he pondered inwardly what exactly the Emperor’s purpose might be in making such arrangements…
Just as Wen Jingmei was lost in thought, he heard the Emperor’s voice drift languidly from behind the vase of apricot blossoms. “I have been rather obstinate and self-willed lately, which has caused no small unease among the ministers at court. I’ll take you along with me out of the city to escape the heat, so they won’t come clamoring at Tianfu Palace.”
