RPAGF Chapter 510 The Madness of the Chu Surname
Chapter 510 The Madness of the Chu Surname
The autumn harvest in Chu should be a time of rolling rice paddies, but now it has become a sea of sugarcane.
From the shores of Dongting Lake to the edge of Yunmeng Marsh, stretching for dozens of miles, the fields originally used for growing rice and millet have been completely occupied by sugarcane that is taller than a person. The thick green leaves rustle in the wind, revealing the stalks filled with sweet juice inside, and from a distance, it looks like an endless green veil.
"Old Li, have you switched your three mu of paddy fields to sugarcane too?" A man with a machete at his waist passed by and couldn't help but ask the old man who was bending over weeding on the edge of the field.
Old Man Li straightened up, wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, and smiled broadly: "It's been changed! You don't know, last month when the Qin people came to buy sugarcane, the money they gave was equivalent to three years' worth of rice in previous years!"
He weighed the money bag in his hand, the Qin half-ounce coins inside clinking together with a crisp sound. "Besides, growing sugarcane is so much easier. You don't need to water it every day, and the Qin people come and collect it right away after harvesting. Unlike growing rice, which depends on the weather."
The man grinned: "My family is also planning to change. My wife went to town yesterday and bought Qin people's soap, saying it would make her skin whiter. I noticed that my wife's face does look a bit smoother, tsk tsk..."
Such conversations were commonplace in the villages of Chu. Ever since a group of merchants from Qin came and taught them how to grow sugarcane, and set up sugarcane warehouses in the county seat, the people had become obsessed. In previous years, after paying rent and taxes, the remaining grain was barely enough to survive; now, growing sugarcane not only brought in money but also a share of grain—who wouldn't be happy?
But in the prefectural granary, the magistrate looked at the empty granary, his face growing more and more grim each day. He held in his hand the reports from various counties, densely covered with words like "sugarcane planting area increased" and "grain fields decreased by 30%", the handwriting stinging his eyes.
“Sir, if this continues, we may face a food shortage next spring,” the registrar said worriedly. “The workshops pay a lot for sugarcane, but we can’t eat silver.”
The magistrate sighed and slammed the document on the table: "Who says otherwise? I submitted a memorial last month saying that this matter needed to be addressed, but I haven't received a reply yet." He looked out the window, where the sugarcane fields in the distance were dazzlingly green.
The workshop district in the west of Xianyang is now bustling with activity.
A dozen huge earthen stoves stood in a row, with iron pots on them steaming and bubbling with sugarcane juice. Craftsmen dressed in coarse cloth and short jackets, sleeves rolled up, were stirring constantly with long-handled wooden spoons. The rising steam filled the air with a sweet aroma, which even passersby couldn't help but stop and take a few deep breaths.
"Foreman Zhang, how much brown sugar can we produce today?" A merchant in a brocade robe approached, a fawning smile plastered on his face. He had started his tea business last year and had been frequently visiting the workshop lately, hoping to mix brown sugar into his tea for sale, which was said to be very popular among the nobility.
Foreman Zhang wiped his face, his dark face smeared with sugar frosting: "It's at least two hundred catties! If you want it, you'll have to wait for the next batch. The palace just sent someone over, saying that the Empress needs it urgently."
The merchant pursed his lips but dared not say anything more. Ever since brown sugar became a tribute to the imperial court, the workshop's doorstep had been practically worn down by visitors. He stared at the brown sugar gradually solidifying into blocks in the iron pot, its color remarkably similar to the finest agate, and couldn't help but mutter to himself: Is this stuff really made from those coarse sugarcane from the Chu region?
Meanwhile, in a side hall of Xianyang Palace, Ying Zheng was holding a piece of brown sugar and gently sniffing it.
"This stuff is quite sweet." He said casually, a smile unconsciously creeping onto his face as he thought of Ying Wuyou's plans for Chu.
At Langya Port, Ying Wuyou was arranging for her maids to prepare for her return to Xianyang when Zhou Xun came to report: "Princess, news has come from Chu that 500,000 mu of sugarcane seedlings have been planted."
Zhou Xun presented a confidential report, his voice extremely low, "It seems that the Prime Minister of Chu has become suspicious and sent people to investigate why Qin merchants only accept sugarcane."
Ying Wuyou took the secret report, a faint smile playing on her lips. This was exactly the effect she wanted.
As early as two years ago, Ying Wuyou began promoting a sugarcane planting plan in the Chu region. After several years of development, sugarcane has now been planted in the Chu region for three full years.
Under her clever packaging, these sugarcanes from the Chu region were transformed into a magical substance that could "brew sweet wine and make candied fruit." Not only that, she also had Qin merchants secretly infiltrate the Chu region with sugarcane seeds and a promise of "high-price purchase."
It's important to understand that the people of Chu had long suffered from the ravages of war. Years of conflict had left them with food shortages and an unbearable existence. So when they learned that growing sugarcane could be exchanged for gold, silver, cloth, and even a small amount of grain from Qin, how could they not be tempted?
As a result, in just three years, large tracts of farmland from south of the Huai River all the way to the Yunmeng Marsh were plowed and planted with this "green-stemmed and green-leaved" crop—sugarcane.
The Prime Minister of Chu was no fool; he was well aware of this phenomenon. However, the people flocked to it for profit, and local officials also profited from it. Thus, with layers of protection, this "sugarcane business" gradually gained momentum.
"Tell those merchants to increase the purchase price by another 10%." Ying Wuyou tossed the bamboo slip back to the eunuch. "But there's one condition: only sugarcane in cash will be accepted. It can be exchanged for grain, but the amount of grain must be gradually reduced. If the people of Chu want to exchange for grain, let them go to the Chu state's official granary to buy it themselves."
Zhou Xun's eyes lit up: "Princess, this means the price of grain in Chu will probably rise..."
“It’s good that the price is going up.” Ying Wuyou turned around and walked down the gangway, his cloak sweeping across the wooden railing. “When the granaries in Chu are empty, the people will only have sugarcane in their hands, and our ships can carry grain to ‘help in the emergency’.”
This was her overt strategy. She lured Chu with promises of profit, causing Chu to cripple its own grain supply. When autumn harvest came, Chu's granaries were empty, and if the people couldn't sell their sugarcane, they would have to rely on Qin's grain. At that point, without a single soldier being fired, the lifeline of Chu would be in Qin's hands.
The people of Chu were not unaware that growing sugarcane would reduce grain production, but their sense of balance was shattered when they saw those around them adorned in gold and silver because of sugarcane cultivation.
On a field ridge outside Chen County, an old farmer named Qu Bo squatted in his field, gazing at the sugarcane seedlings that were half his height. His feelings were quite complicated, a mixture of joy and sorrow.
To Qu Bo's delight, when the Qin merchants came to inspect the seedlings last month, they praised his three mu of sugarcane and said that the sugarcane could be exchanged for ten bolts of hemp cloth. This was undoubtedly a considerable income for Qu Bo's family, enough for them to make clothes for three years.
However, at the same time, Qu Bo's heart was filled with worry. His gaze involuntarily fell on the millet field next to him, which he had cultivated for half his life. This land was originally used to grow millet, but now his son, Qu Hu, had secretly plowed it and planted sugarcane.