By the time the tour of the steel factory ended, Qiu Qianfan felt as though someone had reached into his skull and shaken his brain.
Not violently.
Just… relentlessly.
He let out a long breath and said the only thing that still felt safe to say.
"You treat your workers… extraordinarily well."
This was not praise.
This was a statement of alarm.
"How," he continued slowly, "do you feed them like that? Every meal meat and vegetables together — where does so much grain come from?"
Gao Yiye smiled, unhurried.
"We have Celestial Fertilizer," she said lightly. "It increases yield. Master Qiu already knows this."
"Yes, yes." Qiu Qianfan nodded. "The grain, I understand. But the meat…"
He paused, as if recalling trauma.
"All that meat."
Gao Yiye laughed softly. "Meat is still relatively scarce. That's why you saw the cooks shaking their ladles earlier."
"…That was because of a shortage?"
"Yes."
Qiu Qianfan stared at her.
"With a shortage," he said carefully, "you still served that much?"
Gao Yiye tilted her head. "Then I suppose we'll have to invite Master Qiu to see our chicken and pig farms."
She added politely, "Though I should warn you — those places are dirty. And smelly. I worry you might find them… unpleasant."
Qiu Qianfan straightened immediately.
"If a distinguished lady such as yourself can endure it," he declared, "then what hardship could possibly defeat this humble official?"
Gao Yiye smiled.
"Very well," she said. "Then this afternoon, we'll visit them."
They headed west, toward the Gudu Ferry.
About two li out, before they even reached the buildings, the wind arrived first.
Qiu Qianfan's face stiffened.
The smell hit him like a physical object.
Chicken droppings.
Warm.
Dense.
Unforgiving.
A lifetime of refined incense and clean courtyards did absolutely nothing to prepare him for this.
He raised his sleeve instantly and clamped it over his nose.
His feet slowed.
For one fleeting, shameful moment, retreat tempted him.
Then he remembered his words from earlier.
If she can endure it…
He gritted his teeth and walked on.
The sign read: Yongji Chicken Farm.
Inside, Qiu Qianfan froze.
The chickens weren't running around.
They weren't pecking the ground.
They were stacked.
Layer upon layer of wooden-and-bamboo cages rose before him, each divided into neat compartments. Several chickens occupied each one, calm, contained, productive.
Qiu Qianfan stared as though witnessing a minor heresy.
"They… don't come out?"
"That's right," Gao Yiye said cheerfully. "It simplifies management, allows large-scale breeding, and produces more eggs."
"…And the pigs," Qiu Qianfan asked cautiously, "they're not raised like this too, are they?"
Gao Yiye shook her head.
"Pigs require more space. Their pens can't be stacked. That's why meat is still somewhat limited."
She gestured toward the next compound.
"But once the pig farms improve efficiency, supply will stabilize."
Qiu Qianfan followed her inside, nose still pinched.
Rows of pigsties stretched ahead — large, small, some reinforced, some newly built. Fat pigs lounged inside, snorting contentedly, unaware they were the foundation of a fiscal revolution.
Qiu Qianfan sighed inwardly.
Steel… cement… glass… textiles… paper…
These weren't workshops.
They were towns.
Entire satellite settlements bloomed around Puzhou like stars circling the moon.
If he visited all of them…
He didn't finish the thought.
Instead, he sighed aloud.
"I feel… pressure," he admitted. "Puzhou may already be beyond what I can manage alone."
He turned to his strategist.
A Shaoxing man — clever, efficient, and usually unflappable.
This time, the strategist looked embarrassed.
"My lord," he said quietly, "the scope here is… unprecedented. With my limited abilities, I fear—"
He hesitated.
"—you may need two or three more strategists."
Qiu Qianfan went silent.
So this was no longer a matter of finding help.
It was a matter of assembling a team.
The strategist leaned closer and lowered his voice.
"My lord, the people you need… should come from their side."
Qiu Qianfan blinked.
"From them?"
"These enterprises defy conventional understanding. Ordinary strategists would only add confusion."
Before he could respond, a young man appeared at the pig farm entrance.
"Ah!"
He waved cheerfully.
"Oh—Saint— cough—Lady Li! What brings you here?"
Gao Yiye turned and smiled.
"Chen Yuanbo," she said. "What are you doing in Shanxi?"
It was an old classmate.
The first middle school graduate of Gao Family Village.
Chen Yuanbo scratched his head. "Looking for work. I've been visiting farms the past couple of days."
They exchanged a few words, relaxed, familiar.
Then Chen Yuanbo sighed.
"If I'd known earlier, I might've gone for that strategist post under the Governor."
Gao Yiye laughed and shook her head.
"I wouldn't recommend it. Xi'an is complicated. Old systems. Your talents would rot there."
Her tone was casual.
Her words were not.
Qiu Qianfan snapped his head around.
"Mr. Chen," he said quickly, "did you say Wu Shen and Shi Kefa recommended you?"
"Yes," Chen Yuanbo replied. "But I declined. Too old-fashioned."
Qiu Qianfan's heart leapt.
"Then," he said earnestly, "would my humble office have the honor of employing you?"
Gao Yiye's eyes brightened.
"Oh?"
Chen Yuanbo paused.
Puzhou wasn't Xi'an.
Here, factories rose daily. Systems evolved weekly. Ideas mattered.
Rank meant less than relevance.
He glanced down at the embroidered Dao Xuan Tianzun on his chest.
The stitched mouth looked oddly pleased.
He smiled.
"I accept."
Qiu Qianfan bowed deeply.
"I am greatly indebted to you, sir."
Thus, Gao Family Village's first middle school graduate quietly entered officialdom.
One Shaoxing strategist and one graduate were still not enough.
More would come.
Puzhou would become the first city under Gao Family Village's soft military control — the testing ground for systems yet unnamed.
By dusk, the tour ended.
Qiu Qianfan returned to the city starving.
Everyone else was full.
He rubbed his stomach and sighed.
"…Perhaps I'll dine at the brothel tonight," he murmured.
"And listen to 'Carp's Account.'"
At least something today would be familiar.