RPAGF Chapter 514 The Land of Ouyue 2
Chapter 514 The Land of Ouyue 2
Fusu's heart skipped a beat. When he handed the pottery jar to Acang, his tone carried a hint of urgency that was barely perceptible: "Have the caravan transport more sugar to Shu and exchange it for some good iron. Tell them the price is negotiable."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the ship skeletons being built in the dock. "We're going to open three more ironworks in Minyue, so the ironware in the dock needs to keep up."
Ou Luo was taken aback for a moment, then nodded vigorously: "I'll listen to you, young master! I guarantee it won't cause any problems!"
The rain gradually subsided, and a crack appeared in the sky, revealing a pale blue light. Fusu stood by the dock, gazing at the sugarcane and rice fields glistening after the rain, and suddenly recalled that winter when he first arrived in Ouyue. Back then, he suffered from acclimatization problems, coughing uncontrollably all day long. Even wrapped in a brocade quilt at night, he felt cold. The herbal medicine sent by the Yue people was unbearably bitter; a bowl of it would make his tongue numb, yet he forced himself to drink it—at that time, he only thought about conquering this land as soon as possible and proving to his father that he was not just a bookish prince.
Little did he expect that three years later, the three Yue regions of Ouyue, Yuyue, and Minyue would all be incorporated into his territory. Now, standing here, watching the rain patter on the rice paddies and listening to the boatmen's chants, he has long regarded this place as his home.
The letter from Jiayang's younger sister, written just the day before yesterday, was still warm from his body heat. In the letter, he said that his fiancée, Li Yanran, was studying extremely hard at the Daqin Women's Academy. She had not only mastered the Book of Poetry and the Book of Documents, but was also studying mathematics with a doctor, and could calculate faster than the palace eunuchs.
It is also said that Yanran organized several banquets for women, originally intending for everyone to compose poems and write essays, but in the end they turned into debates, arguing about "whether women should learn farming" and "whether merchants can be good citizens".
The letter also mentioned some interesting things happening in Xianyang: the craftsmen of the Qin Dynasty had built several giant ships that could carry thousands of people out to sea, and they should have already sailed around the East China Sea and gone to more distant islands.
Thinking of all this, Fusu quickened his pace. He wanted to conquer the entire Baiyue region as soon as possible, to manage its rice paddies, sugarcane fields, and docks in an orderly manner, and then take the rice and sugarcane of Yue back to Xianyang.
He missed Xianyang, missed the way his sister Jiayang acted coquettishly towards him, missed the lamp on his father's desk that never went out all night, and missed his fiancée whom he had only met a few times but whom Jiayang had praised highly in his letters—he had heard that she was only seventeen years old but had already been able to refute a group of old scholars in a debate, so she must be a bright-eyed and fiery girl.
"Young master, it's time to return to the manor," A-Cang reminded him softly, handing the raincoat in his hand forward a little further.
Fusu hummed in agreement and turned to walk back. As he passed a millet field, he saw several Yue children chasing each other on the ridge, their bare feet splashing in puddles, holding little horses woven from sugarcane leaves, running joyfully. Their laughter was crisp and clear, like birdsong after a rainstorm, echoing softly on the wet rice leaves.
He suddenly remembered the palace walls of Xianyang, those strictly ordered halls, and the mountains of memorials piled on his father's desk. There was power that everyone in the world longed for, and the majesty of war, but there was no vitality like that of this land—the sugarcane making a soft rustling sound as it took root in the soil, the rice carrying a sweet fragrance as it grew in the rain, the Yue and Qin people working side by side on the ridges of the fields, speaking their broken Qin and Yue languages, and even the air was filled with a sweet hope.
“Ah Cang,” he suddenly stopped, raindrops dripping down the bamboo strips of his straw hat, gathering into small ripples in front of him, “Tomorrow, send someone to Yue to harvest all the rice seeds there, selecting the plumpest ones. We will cultivate another thousand acres of paddy fields in Ouyue, using our Qin people’s plows and learning the Yue people’s methods. The rice we grow will surely be more than this year.”
A Cang quickly replied, "Yes, young master. This old servant will make arrangements immediately, and we will set off first thing tomorrow morning." Looking at Fusu's back, he suddenly felt that this young master from Xianyang had already incorporated a lot of the sunshine and rain of Baiyue into his scholarly air, like the rice on the ridge, taking root.
The wind rustled through the sugarcane fields, like countless people whispering. Fusu gazed at the distant, mist-shrouded mountains, once the settlement of the Minyue people, now dotted with villages where smoke curled from chimneys. He knew that before long, the granaries of this land would be overflowing with millet and rice, and the shipyards would be laden with sugarcane, sailing to faraway places. The past barriers and prejudices would eventually melt away with the bountiful harvest and the sweetness of life.
The rain stopped completely, and sunlight streamed through the gaps in the clouds, illuminating the damp sugarcane leaves and refracting a rainbow of colors. Fusu took a deep breath; the air was filled with the fresh scent of earth, grass, and sugarcane—the aroma of the Baiyue people, and also the aroma of the future.
In the early morning at Xianyang Palace, before the thin mist had completely dissipated, Ying Wuyou was already sitting at his desk reading the latest issue of the "Great Qin Economic Daily".
The front page was filled with dense economic zone trade data, the middle column listed the grain price fluctuations in Honggou and Jishui, and the last page even copied the judgment of the Qin-Wei commercial dispute, with even the details of "the oranges sold by Chu merchants were moldy, and they had to compensate the Qin people with three shi of millet" written in detail.
"Princess, three more caravans have arrived from Chu, carrying Yunmengze brocade, as well as baskets full of tangerines and sugarcane." The maid Cui'er's voice was as soft as mist. "I heard the tangerines are very sweet, and they were surrounded as soon as they were unloaded."
Ying Wuyou nodded, her brush writing swiftly on the paper, recording "Chu merchants increased by three, and goods increased by silk, oranges, and sugarcane" in the ledger. As a soul that had traveled through time, she knew better than anyone else that this seemingly ordinary trade was a rope more resilient than iron cavalry.
The footsteps outside the corridor were heavy as falling stones. Without looking up, Ying Wuyou knew it was Ying Zheng. His black casual robe swept across the corner of the desk, and he casually picked up a newspaper. His gaze swept over the neat numbers and simplified trade route map, and his tone was much gentler than during the court assembly: "Jiayang, reading the newspaper again?"
Ying Wuyou hurriedly stood up and bowed: "Father, I am keeping track of the developments in the economic zone. These will be useful in a few days."
"With merchants coming and going like a weaving cloth, aren't you afraid that spies from Chu and Qi will infiltrate?" Ying Zheng's voice was deep and powerful. His knuckles tapped lightly on the paper, making a crisp sound, as if each tap was striking Ying Wuyou's nerves.
Ying Wuyou met Ying Zheng's gaze without flinching. His eyes were firm and confident, and he answered with certainty, "With Qin patrol guards watching every merchant caravan, and me checking for unusual transactions daily, I believe that as long as we maintain strict control, we can minimize the risk of spies infiltrating."
He paused briefly, then continued, “The State of Chu lacks our farming tools, while we need their silk, sugarcane, and copper; the State of Qi is famous for its fish and salt, while we have ample millet and books. Through this mutually beneficial trade, in the past two years, the people’s granaries have been full, and their clothing has become much thicker. Such benefits far outweigh the slightest possible risk.”
Ying Zheng listened quietly to Ying Wuyou's explanation, his gaze gradually softening, and the previously tense lines of his face relaxed slightly. Deep within his eyes, a barely perceptible hint of approval lingered.
Of all his children, only Ying Wuyou was unlike those pampered flowers who lived a life of luxury in the deep palace; instead, he possessed some of his youthful courage and strategic acumen. Even the way he stared at the business newspaper at this moment revealed an unwavering determination.