While Jishan County bustled with optimism—hammer blows ringing, furnaces roaring, the chemical factory expanding at a pace that made accountants dizzy—
Xi'an Prefecture was quietly proving that progress did not travel well.
Trouble had arrived at the government-operated Celestial Fertilizer store.
During their previous inspection tour of Chengcheng County, Wu Shen and Shi Kefa had carefully discussed the fertilizer trade with Liang Shixian. Afterward, Gao Family Village's first batch of middle school graduates—children who now treated abacuses like extensions of their fingers—had calculated costs again and again, squeezing margins until even a magistrate would nod approvingly.
The final price was reasonable.
Painfully reasonable.
Almost offensively honest.
Shi Kefa personally oversaw the procurement of a large batch of Celestial Fertilizer and arranged its transport to Xi'an, where it was sold through the official state store.
Last year, Chengcheng County had supplied Xi'an with free fertilizer for trial use. The results had been so dramatic that farmers began speaking of it in reverent tones, as if it were halfway between manure and divine intervention.
Thus, when the store reopened this year, it became an instant sensation.
Farmers from the Wei River basin—whose lands had narrowly escaped drought—queued from dawn. Some came carrying baskets, others sacks, some simply stood in line clutching coins as if afraid the fertilizer might evaporate if they blinked.
Everything was proceeding exactly as planned.
Which was precisely why something had to go wrong.
Land ownership in the Great Ming did not end with the common people. The gentry owned land. Officials owned land. And above them all stood the imperial nobility, whose estates were so vast that maps politely pretended not to notice.
In Xi'an Prefecture, there was one estate that towered above all others:
The Prince of Qin's Mansion.
At present, Prince Su of Qin, Zhu Yihuan, was deceased. The new Prince of Qin had yet to be formally enfeoffed—a delay born of the Emperor and civil officials locked in one of their habitual stalemates. As a result, Zhu Cunji, the heir apparent, effectively governed the estate.
And govern it he did.
The Prince of Qin's mansion controlled enormous tracts of land. The richest fields surrounding Xi'an—especially those hugging the Wei River—were almost entirely under its banner. Even in famine years, even during disasters, those fields produced grain with insulting consistency.
Naturally, such an estate had its eye on Celestial Fertilizer.
Not a little.
Not "enough."
They wanted all of it.
And preferably, they wanted it cheap. Or better yet—free.
Thus, on this perfectly ordinary day, a minor steward from the Prince of Qin's estate arrived at the fertilizer store with a large entourage of household retainers.
"Arrived" was perhaps too gentle a word.
Tables were smashed first.
Chairs followed.
Then the fertilizer.
Clubs rose and fell with professional enthusiasm.
By the time the dust settled, the store manager lay on the floor, blood streaming from his scalp, painting half his face red.
The steward prodded him with the end of his club, like a butcher testing meat.
"We offered you a chance," the steward sneered. "Sell to the Prince's estate at a discount. You refused. So tell me—wasn't this your own fault?"
The manager clutched his head, voice trembling. "Y-you can't do this! This shipment was personally overseen by Lord Wu Shen and Lord Shi Kefa! The price is fixed by decree—unchangeable—"
Thwack.
The club came down again.
"Wu Shen?" the steward barked. "Shi Kefa?" He laughed. "Who the hell are they? And who the hell do you think I am?"
The manager fell silent.
At that moment, a furious shout rang out from the doorway.
"STOP THIS AT ONCE!"
Shi Kefa strode in, snatched the club from the steward's hand, and thundered, "Have you gone mad?! This is a government establishment! You assault people openly—has the law ceased to exist? Is there no justice left in Xi'an?!"
The steward looked him up and down, unimpressed.
"Well, well. Lord Shi." He smirked. "I suggest you don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong."
"Doesn't belong?" Shi Kefa shook with rage. "I am the Judicial Commissioner of Xi'an! Criminal law is precisely my business!"
The steward laughed softly. "Then tell me, Lord Shi—does your authority extend to the Prince of Qin's estate?"
Shi Kefa snapped back, "Even the Prince of Qin must obey reason!"
The steward's eyes hardened.
"Today, I choose not to."
He turned and shouted, "Move it!"
The retainers immediately resumed hauling fertilizer.
"STOP!" Shi Kefa roared. "Who dares lay a hand on it?!"
For a heartbeat, the men hesitated.
Then the steward laughed louder. "Move it all! I want to see what Lord Shi plans to do about it!"
Shi Kefa spun and shouted, "Guards! Arrest them!"
Silence.
He turned.
The constables and yamen runners who had followed him were gone.
Vanished into the crowd like mist.
They were local men. And local men knew one thing very well:
You could offend an official.
You could not offend the Prince of Qin's estate.
Shi Kefa stood frozen.
The steward burst into laughter. The retainers followed suit, hoisting sacks and crates. In moments, the store was stripped bare—every last grain of Celestial Fertilizer carted away under broad daylight.
Shi Kefa could only watch.
"I will memorialize this!" he shouted hoarsely. "I will impeach the Prince of Qin's mansion! Just you wait!"
The steward waved dismissively. "Go ahead. See where that gets you."
The street fell silent.
The manager and his assistant lay groaning on the ground. The onlookers stared, faces tight with suppressed fury—but no one spoke. No one stepped forward.
The farmers scattered, hopes crushed beneath their feet.
Tears streamed down Shi Kefa's face.
"How… how could this happen…?"
The fertilizer had been purchased with imperial funds.
And Shi Kefa knew—absolutely knew—it would never be recovered.
Even if the Emperor heard of it, nothing would happen. The Emperor always felt he owed the Prince of Qin. To trouble him over fertilizer? Unthinkable.
The Celestial Fertilizer meant for the people had been swallowed whole by the Prince's estate.
Next year, the peasants' fields would yield barely enough to pay taxes.
The Prince's lands, enriched by stolen fertilizer, would double their harvest—and contribute not a single copper to the treasury.
A perfect cycle had existed. Buy fertilizer cheaply. Sell at a modest profit. Reinvest. Increase yields. Increase taxes. Feed the state.
That cycle had been smashed in an afternoon.
Shi Kefa collapsed, sobbing.
"Why… why must it be like this…?"
Snow began to fall.
Xi'an's endless winter rain finally surrendered to snowflakes drifting down in silence, whitening the streets, burying blood, burying footprints, burying everything.
Through the haze, Shi Kefa recalled Gao Yiye's words at Gao Family Village:
"Advanced productivity requires an equally advanced political system.
A rotten structure will strangle progress."
Why did those words surface now?
He was a loyal subject of the Great Ming. Surely—surely—there was a rebuttal.
He searched his mind.
Found nothing.
He sank into the snow.
By the time Wu Shen arrived, Shi Kefa was half-buried, a silent, hunched snowman.
Wu Shen pulled him up, brushed snow from his robes, and sighed.
"Come," he said softly.
"Let's swallow our pride… and go back to Chengcheng County."
Snow continued to fall.