Just a quarter of an hour ago.
The morning mist at the West Market intersection of Zhenbei City had not yet fully dispersed when movements began on the dusty, gray street.
Two yamen runners carrying a bucket of paste stopped in front of a mottled earthen wall.
The short and plump one grabbed a brush and swiped the thick paste horizontally and vertically onto the wall.
The other, tall and thin, stood on his tiptoes and pasted a yellow hemp paper notice on it.
As the paper smoothed out, a vermilion seal stamped on the top right corner was revealed. It was the official seal of the Imperial Envoy's headquarters, with four seal characters pressed neatly, the ink still fresh.
The plump runner stepped back two paces to take a look, clapped the paste residue off his hands, and muttered to his companion, "Let's go, there's another one at the alley entrance opposite. Let's finish pasting it quickly and go back to report."
The West Market intersection was an unavoidable place for the commoners of Zhenbei City in their daily lives. To the east were grain shops and grocery stalls, to the west were several blacksmiths and furriers, and turning south into a narrow alley was the vegetable market.
As soon as dawn broke, those carrying loads on shoulder poles, pushing carts, and carrying baskets on their backs converged here from all directions. The sounds of hawking, bargaining, and dogs barking mixed together into a chaotic din.
But today, all these sounds were cut off by that notice.
The first to approach was a man selling flatbreads. He dropped his load by the base of the wall, tilted his head, and stared at it for a long while. Scratching the back of his head, he turned around and shouted to the crowd behind him, "Who here can read? Come read it out for everyone. What is the Imperial Envoy up to now?"
There was a burst of pushing and shoving in the crowd, and finally, a skinny old man in his early fifties was pushed to the front. He wore a washed-out blue robe and had a pair of reading glasses tied with a fine hemp string resting on the bridge of his nose.
This man's surname was Tong, and the old residents of Zhenbei City all called him Lao Tong. When he was young, he had taken the provincial examination twice but failed both times. Later, he gave up hope and made a living in the city by writing letters and doing accounts for people.
Lao Tong was pushed in front of the notice. He adjusted his glasses, squinted, and started reading from the beginning.
After reading a few lines, he cleared his throat, turned to face the crowd, and read it out sentence by sentence in Mandarin with a heavy northern accent.
"Notice from the Imperial Envoy's headquarters... There is a vast and flat expanse of land south of the Yin Mountains and inside the Great Bend of the Yellow River. The river water can be diverted, and there are a thousand miles of fertile soil... It is now proposed to open up wasteland and establish military agricultural colonies here, to consolidate border defense and enrich military supplies..."
At this point, whispers had already broken out in the crowd.
Lao Tong did not stop and continued reading, "Anyone who understands agriculture, water conservancy, and the construction of ditches, whether military or civilian, male or female, can go to the Imperial Envoy's headquarters to sign up... Those hired will first be given a settlement allowance of ten taels of silver. During the land reclamation period, rations will be provided by the government. The reclaimed land will be exempt from taxes for three years, and after three years, grain will be paid at a rate of fifty percent."
"Ten taels of silver!" the flatbread seller cried out.
Ten taels of silver was not a small sum in Zhenbei City.
For an ordinary military household, including some items converted to cash, the annual pay was only thirty taels. After deducting the portions embezzled at various levels, getting fifteen taels in hand was considered lucky.
Ten taels of ready silver placed in front of them was enough for a family of five to eat and wear for more than half a year.
But despite the exclamation, no one else present joined in the excitement.
Old Man Wang, who sold tofu, squatted next to his carrying pole. He tapped the thin tofu-cutting knife in his hand against the chopping block and shook his head, saying, "Ten taels of silver, can you even get it? That piece of land, the old folks in the city all know it. It's called the King of Hell's Vegetable Garden."
"It's easy to go in but hard to come out. You can't farm it."
The flatbread seller was unconvinced. "Why can't you farm it? The Yellow River flows right next to it. Isn't it convenient for watering the fields?"
"Convenient my ass," a hoarse voice interjected from the side.
Everyone followed the sound and saw that the speaker was a middle-aged man with a severed right leg. He leaned on a worn, smooth wooden crutch, one half of his empty pant leg swaying in the wind.
This man was named Sun Qi. He was originally an old soldier in the Zhenbei Army. Six years ago, his leg bone was chopped off by a Helian cavalryman's saber in an encounter outside the city. From then on, he left the military and lived in the city on a meager disability pension.
Sun Qi hobbled to the front on his crutch step by step, looked up at the notice, and sneered.
"When I was young, I opened up wasteland on that piece of land."
The surrounding people quieted down.
Sun Qi's gaze passed hollowly over the heads of the crowd and landed on the gray city wall in the distance.
"That was ten years ago. At that time, the one leading the team was Marshal Zhang. He allocated three thousand soldiers from the Zhenbei Army, plus over a thousand conscripted laborers, and marched grandly into the Hetao region."
"In the spring, we plowed the land, and in the summer, we diverted the water. Hoe by hoe, we dug out nearly two thousand mu of fields."
"The first year was fine. The Yellow River water poured in and soaked it for a season. Most of the white alkali crust on the surface was washed away. The millet seedlings came up neatly, and they grew passably well."
"Everyone felt there was hope and was full of drive! But in July and August, the sun was so fierce it could roast the oil out of a person. The water in the fields evaporated until only a thin layer was left. In less than three to five days, the glaring white alkali frost turned up from the soil again."
Old Man Wang chimed in, "Couldn't you just press it down by watering it?"
"We couldn't press it down," Sun Qi shook his head. "You water it on your front foot, and on your back foot, the sun bakes it. Once the water dries, the salt and alkali turn up again, thicker than before."
"The more you water, the worse it turns up. An old experienced farmer said something that I still remember to this day. He said... there's a mountain of salt hidden underground here. However much water you pour in, it will send that much salt back to you."
A low sigh rose from the crowd.
"What happened then?" someone asked.
"Then?" Sun Qi's voice lowered. "When autumn came and the millet ears were only half-filled with milk, the Helian cavalry came."
"Three hundred riders, they didn't attack the camp, they just burned the crops! A fire burned from the east end to the west end. Two thousand mu of fields were burned clean overnight."
"We chased after them. They were riding horses running in front, and you were chasing on two legs behind. Could you catch up?"
He looked down at his empty pant leg.
"In the winter, the Helian people attacked. Marshal Zhang died in battle, and out of the three thousand agricultural soldiers, less than four hundred were left. My leg was lost at that time."
There was no more laughter or jeering in the crowd.
Old Man Wang squatted by his tofu load, wiped the corner of his eye with his sleeve, and muttered, "The Imperial Envoy is a good official. She cured the strange disease in the wounded soldier camp. We all remember this kindness."
"But treating illnesses is treating illnesses, and farming is farming. These two things are not the same."
Pockmarked Liu picked up the conversation, "The Imperial Envoy has read many books and is very capable, but she has never farmed in this sandy nest. She doesn't know the bitterness involved. Ten taels of silver is a lot, but if a person dies, who will spend the silver?"
A young woman with a baby on her back had been craning her neck to listen from the back of the crowd for a long time. She finally couldn't help but speak up, "If my husband were still alive, he might go and give it a try. But he's already buried outside the city."
"It's just me and the baby left at home. If I fold in there too, this child won't even have anyone to collect my corpse."
An older woman next to her tugged at her sleeve. "Don't be silly. That place is a narrow escape even for men. You're a woman with a child, why would you go throw your life away?"
Lao Tong took off his reading glasses, wiped the fog off the lenses with his cuff, and perched them back on the bridge of his nose.
He looked at the posted proclamation, his tone heavy.
"The Imperial Envoy has good intentions, but there is more than just one or two difficulties when it comes to farming the Hetao region."
Lao Tong counted on his fingers, breaking it down point by point for the surrounding crowd of commoners.
"The first issue: the Helian cavalry comes and goes without a trace, and they are bound to pillage during the autumn harvest. Can the army protect us for one season, let alone two?"
"The second issue: although Hetao has the waters of the Yellow River, diverting it to the fields requires building large canals. Building canals takes manpower, money, and time. It will take half a year to a year at the fastest. What will we eat and drink in the meantime?"
"The third issue: even though that land is said to be a thousand miles of fertile plains, forty to fifty percent of it is saline-alkali soil. If you plant ordinary grain seeds there, it is hard for them to even sprout."
"Sun Qi was right just now. The land in Hetao is naturally soaked in brine underneath. The terrain is low and flat, with no way to drain the water."
"Have you ever seen the layer of white frost at the base of the city walls in winter? The white alkali churned up from the saline-alkali land is ten times thicker than that. Back in the Han Dynasty, someone said that this place 'is inherently a briny marsh, incapable of growing the five grains.' This saying has been passed down for over a thousand years; it was not just made up."
Lao Tong's words struck a chord in everyone's hearts.
The crowd of onlookers grew larger, their discussions buzzing together in a loud hum.
"Ten taels of silver in exchange for a life. This is a terrible deal."
Someone in the crowd blurted this out, drawing a few bitter laughs.
The yamen runner guarding the proclamation could not listen to it anymore. He picked up his brass gong and struck it. After three loud clangs, he roared at the top of his lungs, "Disperse, all of you disperse! Stop recklessly discussing court politics and disturbing military morale! How can you be allowed to question the Imperial Envoy's notice?"
The sound of the gong suppressed the chatter, but it could not suppress the faces shaking their heads and sighing.
The crowd stepped back a few paces but did not truly disperse, gathering in small groups in the distance, pointing and whispering to each other.
Sun Qi leaned on his crutch and turned to leave, pausing as he passed by Old Man Wang.
"Old Man Wang, stop setting up your tofu stand and go home! I am afraid the market will not be bustling today, hahaha."
Old Man Wang gave a sound of agreement and bent down to pick up his carrying pole.
Right at this moment, a commotion arose on the outskirts of the crowd.
Everyone looked toward the sound, only to see a woman of medium build squeezing in through the gaps in the crowd.
She walked straight up to the proclamation, raised her head, and stared at the yellow hemp paper word by word.
She silently mouthed the words written on the paper. Her pace was incredibly slow; she recognized some characters, while for others she had to stop and think for a long time. Yet, she read from the beginning to the end without skipping a single word.
Lao Tong noticed the woman and looked her up and down a few times.
"Sister, do you know how to read?"
The woman did not answer; her gaze remained nailed to the proclamation.
Old Man Wang recognized her and whispered into the ear of Pockmarked Liu beside him, "Isn't that Lin Siniang from the vegetable fields in the south of the city? Her husband died outside the city three years ago."
Pockmarked Liu tilted his head to take a look and nodded, "It is her. But she is just a woman, what is she doing joining in the commotion?"
The young woman carrying a baby on her back took a few extra glances at Lin Siniang and whispered to the old woman beside her:
"I know her. No one else goes to that alkaline land south of the city; she is the only one scratching out a living there. I heard she scraped off the white crust from the alkaline soil layer by layer, padded the bottom with river mud, and actually managed to grow a few beds of chives."
The old woman curled her lip. "So what if she grew them? Are those few beds of chives enough to support her? A widow who doesn't find a family to rely on, showing off in the alkaline fields."
Lin Siniang finished reading the last word and withdrew her gaze.
She turned around, sweeping her eyes over the surrounding faces that were shaking their heads and sighing, then glanced at Sun Qi's empty pant leg, and finally let her gaze fall upon the mottled wall where the proclamation was posted.
The yamen runner noticed her actions and frowned. "Hey, if you are done looking, leave. Do not block the—"
Before he could finish speaking, Lin Siniang, holding an earthen pot in one hand, grabbed the edge of the paper and tore the entire proclamation right off the wall!
