Zhao Sheng finally managed to wrestle his breathing under control, his scholar's frame trembling from the exertion. "Saintess... I have come... to petition the Tianzun."
Gao Yiye smiled. "Go ahead and speak. The Tianzun is right above, listening."
Zhao Sheng looked up at the low-hanging cloud, a familiar marker by now, and performed a deep, formal bow.
After several days in Gao Village, he had learned the signs. A cloud hovering at around two hundred meters meant the Tianzun was watching. No cloud meant the divine attention was elsewhere.
"Tianzun," Zhao Sheng addressed the sky, his voice earnest. "This lowly one has been walking the slopes beyond Refugee Valley these past few days, pondering the future of my three thousand fellow countrymen. Although you have graciously provided them with various kinds of work, the village now has four thousand mouths to feed. The daily grain required is... a staggering number."
(Fact: Feeding 4,000 people in the late Ming was a monumental task. A single adult required roughly 1 dan (about 60 kg) of grain per year under normal conditions. 4,000 people meant needing over 240,000 kg annually—a logistical nightmare even for a wealthy prefecture, let alone a single village in drought-stricken Shaanxi.)
"All this grain," Zhao Sheng continued, bowing again, "is currently provided by your celestial hand. We are eternally grateful for your benevolence. But this lowly one cannot help but think... what if one day, you are occupied with other divine matters and cannot attend to Gao Village? What will these four thousand people eat? Relying solely on Gao Village's current farmland, even including the fields of Zheng Family Village and Wang Family Village... it is far from enough."
Li Daoxuan mentally gave him a thumbs up. Good thinking. Forward-looking. Responsible. This is why I keep scholars around.
Zhao Sheng took a deep breath, his plea heartfelt. "I humbly beg the Tianzun to permit us to reclaim wasteland, to open new fields. We must have enough farmland to sustain over four thousand people. It is a necessary preparation for everyone's future. With more fields, you could reduce, or even cease, sending celestial grain. It would save you effort."
Li Daoxuan was about to give his immediate approval when Gao Yiye, ever practical, chimed in.
"Master Zhao, I'm sure the Tianzun will agree to reclamation," she said, tilting her head. "But... the land here in Chengcheng County... there isn't much that's suitable for farming, is there?"
Zhao Sheng's expression turned sheepish. "You are correct, Saintess. The land around Refugee Valley is... somewhat poor. It manages weeds and wildflowers well enough, but for crops... it is lacking. However!" He straightened, his eyes shining with conviction. "My countrymen are all diligent. If we have land—poor or not—we will find a way. We will discover what crops suit it and make it work."
Li Daoxuan had already looked up Chengcheng County's geography. It was part of the Weibei Loess Plateau, its landscape dominated by dry, crumbly loess terraces.
Farming on loess was back-breaking, soul-crushing work. The soil was alkaline, eroded, and held water poorly. The few decent patches around—like Gao Village's own wheat fields—had been claimed centuries ago. Finding more good land was nearly impossible.
But!
Li Daoxuan's research had revealed a key fact: in modern times, Chengcheng County's agricultural支柱 (pillar) was corn (maize). In the 21st century, corn plantations there covered over 200,000 mu (about 13,000 hectares).
No matter how poor the loess is, you just stick a corn seed in it, he thought. Add some fertilizer, and it'll grow like a weed.
He couldn't provide modern hybrid corn seeds from outside the box—the mysterious rules turned any living thing to dust during transit. Seeds were definitely "living things."
However...
By the late Ming, corn had already been introduced to China from the Americas. It existed in this time period. It just had to be found.
Since Zhao Sheng had the drive to tame the loess, Li Daoxuan saw the perfect opportunity to introduce this game-changing crop.
"Yiye," he spoke. "Isn't Xing Honglang preparing to leave the village soon for another trip to Xi'an?"
"Yes!" Gao Yiye looked up. "Sister Xing sets out tomorrow."
"Good. First, tell Zhao Sheng I grant them permission to reclaim wasteland. They may develop the land around Refugee Valley into fields as they see fit. Then, go find Xing Honglang. Tell her that on her next trip to Xi'an, she is to search for a crop called 'corn' or 'jade rice' (yumi). If she can buy it, she must buy a large quantity, and quickly. Before long, it may become impossible to find."
(Fact: Corn entered China via two main routes in the 16th century: the Silk Road from the northwest and through Portuguese traders in the southeast. By the late Ming, it was still a novelty, grown mostly in Fujian and Yunnan. Finding it in landlocked Shaanxi would be a challenge, making Xing Honglang's mission a race against time and geography.)
Gao Yiye nodded, relaying the messages.
"Master Zhao, the Tianzun has granted your request. Reclaim the wasteland around Refugee Valley to your hearts' content."
Zhao Sheng's face erupted in joy. He let out a whoop and immediately turned to run. "I must tell my countrymen!"
"Run slower!" Gao Yiye called after his retreating back. "Don't get all breathless again!"
"I can do it! I'm strong... huff... very strong... puff... such good news must be delivered... wheeze..."
He made it about two hundred meters before doubling over, hands on his knees, gasping like a landed fish. "Oh... mother... I need... to rest... just a moment... maybe... deliver the news... slowly..."
Gao Yiye burst out laughing. "Hahaha!"
Li Daoxuan couldn't help but chuckle. With this level of physical fitness, he actually led a rebellion. Who would believe it?
That evening, after the Qingjian refugees returned from their day's labor, they received the heavenly news: the Tianzun permitted them to reclaim land.
Even though the land around Refugee Valley was poor, barren loess, the villagers were ecstatic. They were "refugees"—landless, rootless people. To be granted permission to claim and work land was an act of grace beyond measure.
For some, the call of the earth was irresistible. Eager villagers grabbed their hoes and left the valley immediately. Tired from a full day's work? No matter! The chance to carve out a plot of land that could become theirs was a powerful motivator. First come, first served.
But others, especially those with artisan skills, did the math.
"Let's see," muttered a young carpenter, counting on his fingers. "If I spend all my time working my trade, Steward San pays me about three taels of silver a month. That's thirty-six taels a year."
"But if I spend my time farming that wretched loess... in a good year, I might harvest one or two dan of grain. Even with grain prices high during famine, that's only a few taels of silver."
"Working is clearly more profitable than farming. I have a skill. I don't need to break my back on that poor soil. Let those who love farming do it. I'll be a wage-earner for life."
Thus, the village began to subtly diverge. Artisans and skilled workers saw their future in wages and workshops. Farmers and the landless saw their future in the stubborn, unforgiving earth. From a single starting point, their life paths began to branch like the limbs of a tree.
At dawn the next day, Xing Honglang gathered her small trade caravan, ready to depart for Xi'an once more.
This time, she wasn't smuggling salt. The new, irritatingly diligent Inspector Fang Wushang had made that trade too risky. Besides, why bother? Selling "celestial sugar" was more profitable anyway.
Gao Yiye saw her off at the village gate. "You must find the corn. Also, bring back any rare or unusual goods not found in Gao Village. The village is wealthy now; novelties will sell well. Most importantly—craftsmen, teachers, people of talent. Lure them here by any means necessary, regardless of cost. Those are the Tianzun's exact words."
Xing Honglang threw her head back and laughed, a rough, hearty sound. "Don't you worry! Leave it to me."
(Fact: Xing Honglang represents the vibrant, often overlooked world of Ming frontier merchants—especially female traders. Operating outside the formal "broker" (yaren) system, these itinerant merchants connected remote communities, transported news, and were vital cultural and economic arteries. Her mission to find corn and talent is not just a shopping trip; it's a testament to the power of trade as a vector for change in a crumbling empire.)