Wen Yanran was equally stunned by the news of Xiao Xichi’s grain delivery.
The moment this memorial arrived at Jingyuan, the Emperor, who had been focused on alchemy, immediately returned to Gui Palace and issued an edict to relocate the core of the court back within the city, making it more convenient for her to handle official affairs.
Officials could be moved around, but relocating documents was more troublesome. Most of the Ministry of Revenue’s records were kept within the imperial city. It was only after returning to the city that Wen Yanran could order the farming and grain records of Qingyi, Chongchang, and other provinces to be retrieved and reviewed.
The population and arable land in the south were limited. Even though grain yields had increased by several tenths due to green manure and plant ash, they remained severely constrained by the climate. In the event of a severe drought, it would be all too easy to end up with no harvest at all.
Moreover, Qingyi and Chongchang were both key border defense provinces, requiring the maintenance of local grain reserves to prepare for potential conflicts. Under normal circumstances, it was already commendable that they did not need grain shipments from the southern court; how could they possibly reverse course and send grain to the Central Plains?
Just as the central government was deeply perplexed, Xiao Xichi’s second memorial arrived, detailing the source of the grain.
Previously, acting on the Emperor’s orders, Xiao Xichi had strictly controlled Luonan and paid particular attention to the crop issues in the South Coastal area.
She recalled how Wen Xun and others had previously sought solutions to the gu sickness by consulting local inhabitants. Considering that the southern regions were hotter than the Central Plains and the water conservancy projects of vassal states were certainly inferior, their ability to thrive and gradually defy Central Plains’ orders must stem from a growing surplus of domestic grain. Curious, Xiao Xichi wondered how the local people of South Coast had actually solved their own food problems.
The new ruler of Luonan had been appointed by Xiao Xichi on the orders of the Sovereign, which naturally allowed her to firmly grasp the reins of the region’s governance, with none daring to defy her authority.
Upon detailed inquiry, Xiao Xichi discovered that the rice varieties in South Coast differed from those of the Great Zhou.
The people of Luonan did not build irrigation systems, understood nothing about transplanting seedlings, and were ignorant of composting. Essentially, they sowed their fields haphazardly, leaving the harvest entirely to the whims of nature.
They called the rice variety prevalent in their land “early rice.” This cultivar was vastly different from the ordinary rice Xiao Xichi knew.
Early rice was drought-tolerant and not particular about where it grew; it could be planted on both hillsides and flatlands. More importantly, its growth cycle was short – the shortest maturing in just sixty days, and the longest taking only about a hundred days. If one had to name a drawback, it would be its poor taste.
Xiao Xichi reflected to herself that, as Her Majesty had said, every place has its own customs. The locals, having lived here for generations, naturally developed their own methods to adapt to the environment.
Luonan’s technological backwardness was a shortcoming, yet it had inadvertently led to the selection of grain varieties tolerant to both drought and waterlogging – a blessing in disguise.
Xiao Xichi was someone who could be regarded as a renowned official and capable general. Although she had initially been detained in Jianping as a hostage, she had not wasted her time. She devoted herself to reading and studying, gaining knowledge not only in warfare but also in governing regions and administering state affairs.
Within Luonan, the struggle between old and new factions was fierce, and inevitably some great clans would be ruined in the conflict. Seizing the opportunity, Xiao Xichi relocated the able-bodied men that those defeated clans had secretly concealed, moving them to Yong Province to dig irrigation canals. She also took the rice seeds from their households and planted them, confirming that the claim about the early rice – that it could grow in almost any soil – was indeed true. Its drought resistance was genuine as well: even on a small plot of poor land of about one-sixth of an acre, one could easily harvest around thirty pounds of rice.
Half a bushel wasn’t a large amount, but the seed required virtually no additional care during sowing. Furthermore, early rice grew quickly, and its planting and harvest seasons could be staggered with the regular busy farming periods, ensuring it did not compete for labor.
After obtaining the grain seeds from the South Coastal region, Xiao Xichi first conducted a year of trial planting in the Chongchang and Qingyi areas. These were frontier defense regions with abundant land, but where farming was not as meticulous as in the Central Plains. Under normal circumstances, one acre of land could yield about 300 pounds of grain. With the introduction of early rice, the average yield per acre directly increased to 500 pounds.
With more grain available but no significant population increase, Xiao Xichi arranged for all the surplus rice to be sent out, totaling approximately 400 million pounds.
Of this, 300 million pounds were sent directly to the canal zone to serve as rations for the laborers. The remaining 100 million pounds were distributed as seeds for trial planting in various regions.
Under suitable temperatures, early rice could be harvested multiple times a year. This year, due to the widespread cultivation of traditional rice varieties, the southern regions had suffered severe production losses from the drought. Local authorities first organized the populace to plant wild barnyard grass in the fields to stave off famine. Now, taking advantage of the still-passable temperatures, they hastily planted a round of the short-cycle early rice, hoping for at least some harvest.
Within the Western Yong Palace.
Wen Yanran closed the memorial and fell into silence.
She pondered for a moment and concluded that this couldn’t really be considered her fault. At most, it was a case of unforeseen circumstances and serendipity. If she absolutely had to find a scapegoat, the main blame should fall on Chen Guda, the former powerful minister of Luonan.
Why did that man insist on staging a deposition in a vassal state? If he absolutely had to carry out a deposition, couldn’t he have patiently waited until she had squandered her family’s legacy before making his move? If Chen Guda hadn’t been so determined to play the traitorous minister, she wouldn’t have thought to interfere in Luonan. Xiao Xichi wouldn’t have gone to South Coast to investigate local crops, and consequently wouldn’t have obtained the high-yield improved rice seeds.
Furthermore, the blame also lay with this year’s unfavorable climate. The journey from a crop’s discovery to its widespread adoption typically required a long time – years, decades, or even centuries. The reason early rice had been so rapidly accepted, aside from its inherent adaptability, was closely tied to the severity of the recent drought. Unwilling to face a total harvest failure, farmers had no choice but to accept the new seeds. After trying them and discovering the grain’s high yield and strong resistance to various abnormal weather conditions, they would naturally continue planting it.
Wen Yanran thought to herself, if only the system from the Guide to Becoming a Tyrant could influence the climate of the Great Zhou. If there were no natural disasters like droughts or floods, wouldn’t it be much easier for her to bring about the fall of her kingdom?
Looking at it this way, the situation in the south was already somewhat severe. Fortunately, most of these matters revolved around Xiao Xichi. Previously, there had always been officials in the Censorate submitting memorials impeaching her, hoping the court would impose restrictions on frontier generals to prevent them from building up their power with their troops.
As a tyrant lacking ruling experience and accustomed to crossing the river by feeling for loyal ministers as stones, Wen Yanran thought to herself: Those censors were right. When the personal prestige of a general wielding military power rises, the prestige of the central government declines. No matter how favorable the situation in the south, the primary advantage still rested with Xiao Xichi. Perhaps the Bad Ending for this playthrough would be “Qingyi Replaces the Zhou.”
Having basically adjusted her emotions, Wen Yanran sighed within the hall. “It’s all because of the drought…”
Wen Yanran was not alone in the Western Yong Palace; accompanying her was Gao Changjian, an Assistant Secretary. He could sense a trace of genuine gravity in the Emperor’s tone.
The discovery of improved grain seeds was clearly excellent news, yet the Emperor showed no signs of complacency or pride. Instead, she remained worried about the disaster-stricken populace.
Gao Changjian thought to himself: Recently, there has been no shortage of criticism of the Sovereign from both the court and the public. Some even assert that the current emperor is repeating the mistakes of Emperor Li, wanting to dig a canal and build a new capital for personal gain. However, as a close minister, Gao Changjian had always seen clearly that the Emperor was genuinely concerned for the realm. To reduce palace expenditures, she had even canceled her own birthday celebration. The decision to build the canal at this time must certainly have other important considerations.
