Chapter 13: Work for Relief, Plant Winter Wheat
"Proclamation from the Heir Apparent! Locusts have ravaged the crops. Anyone in Fengyang who dares worship the locust god will be fined two suits of armor. One jin of locusts equals half a jin of grain. Strong laborers are being recruited for work—ten copper coins per day."
The decree from Ning Que quickly spread across Fengyang. Old farmers held ceramic bowls in trembling hands, eyes wet with tears. Inside the bowls was thick, sticky hot porridge—with leafy greens, pork, and offal. They sat on the ground and devoured it like starving beasts.
Ning Que sat calmly at the gates of the county office, quietly observing. People of this era were stubborn, many preferring pride over survival. Fengshui Village was famed in the capital as a village of heroes. Nearly every family had someone who had died in war. Many others were veterans missing limbs. If you simply gave them money, they wouldn't take it. They’d think it an insult. Each one competed to endure more hardship than the next.
They lived tight, bitter lives, and still refused to beg. For them, work-for-relief was the best solution.
"Everyone, have you eaten enough?"
"Yes, we're full. Thank you!"
"Good. Then let me say a few words," Ning Que began. "Fengyang has suffered a locust disaster, and everyone is having a hard time. I have many tasks here that need doing. Ten copper coins a day and one hot meal. If your wives or daughters can cook, they can help in the kitchen. No wages for that, but meals are provided."
"Your Highness, you’ve already done so much. We can’t accept your money."
"What, you look down on me now?" Ning Que raised his brows and scolded mockingly. "In Great Feng, laborers always get paid. If you don’t want to do the work, I’ll just find someone else."
"We’ll work! We’ll do anything Your Highness says!"
Tears welled in the eyes of these blood-hardened men. Ning Que smiled and clapped his hands, standing.
"First, we’ll repair the ancestral home of Prince Ning."
That estate was located in Fengyang. Ning Que hadn’t lived there for years, and only a few old servants guarded it. But with his current status, he had many holdings in many regions.
"Second, some of Fengyang’s roads are in terrible shape and need repair. The Feng River hasn’t been dredged in years and floods easily. We’ll dig canals and use the river mud as fertilizer. Third, the fields that were burned need plowing."
"Huh? That counts as work?"
The villagers were stunned. Work-for-relief was nothing new, but the type of work usually mattered. House repairs? Sure. But repairing roads, dredging rivers, plowing fields? Those were normally assigned to forced labor. And now even field work counted?
Wasn’t Ning Que just handing out money?
But Ning Que only smiled.
The nature of work in relief programs was critical. If the labor went toward palace construction, it brought no real benefit to the people—it was disguised exploitation. But repairing roads and canals helped everyone. Plowing fields? Essential for farmers.
And now Ning Que was even paying them to do it.
"Tell me, whose land are you farming?"
"Prince Ning’s."
"Exactly."
"Huh?"
"Since the land belongs to Prince Ning, then you working it means you’re doing labor for the Prince. Of course I should pay you."
"But it’s autumn, not time for plowing…"
"Wrong," Ning Que said, pointing into the distance. "The Ministry of Works told me winter wheat can be sown now. It’s called su mai—planted in autumn and harvested in late spring. That way, by May, you’ll already have a crop. Then you can plant millet afterward to make up for this year’s losses."
"We can make it through winter?!"
The farmers were stunned, even doubting him. Ning Que was a noble, not a farmer. It was normal for him to misunderstand agriculture.
"You dare doubt His Highness?"
"We believe him! We just…"
"Then do as he says."
Uncle Fu stepped in firmly. Anyone who dared question the Heir Apparent should try remembering the many faces he’d slapped in recent years.
If Ning Que said it could be done, it could be done. If it didn’t work, then you were doing something wrong.
"Someone will teach you about winter wheat," Ning Que added. "Right now, everyone must work. Strong men labor, strong women cook. Children help catch locusts. As long as everyone works, we’ll get through this."
Winter wheat didn’t exist in Great Feng yet. People were used to planting in spring and harvesting in autumn. Some southern regions managed two rice crops a year. Historically, it was Emperor Wu of Han who adopted winter wheat after Dong Zhongshu recommended it. It greatly boosted disaster resistance in the Han Empire.
This season was perfect for it.
It was the core of Ning Que’s relief plan.
...
Farmers were doers.
After eating Ning Que’s chicken soup—no, meat porridge—they were fired up. Word spread quickly. Every household was mobilized.
They knew this was special treatment.
The men hoisted hoes and rushed to the fields. They didn’t look like farmers—they looked like soldiers.
It was their first time planting winter wheat, but specialists would teach them. For now, they had to till the soil.
The county magistrate of Fengyang had, at least, done one good thing—burning the fields had turned into a kind of fertilization. If all went well, next year’s harvest would be plentiful.
"Sweating in the noon sun, hard work isn’t fun!"
"Work all morning, and then some!"
"But for a better life, we’ll work ‘til we’re done!"
They chanted simple rhymes, arms swinging, sweat pouring over the plowed earth.
The children weren’t idle either.
Using nets made of hemp cloth, they caught locusts and tossed them into bamboo baskets.
A horse-drawn carriage stopped near the fields.
With a maid’s help, Lin Xianhong stepped down.
The scorching sun made her uncomfortable. She looked at the farmers in the distance and sighed.
Poor people, she thought. They’d just suffered a disaster, and now Ning Que was exploiting them.
She knew exactly what kind of person he was—profit-driven scum!
He had set up her father, tricking him into spending 5,000 taels at Heaven and Earth.
Now he was using that ledger to demand repayment!
He was clearly kicking them while they were down!
Watching her parents argue and fight, Lin Xianhong had no choice but to take responsibility for the debt and hoped to repay it in grain.
But the grain market had collapsed. The Lin family lost everything they had saved for years.
And it was all because of Ning Que!
Obviously, this was his revenge.
"Let’s go," Lin Xianhong said coldly.
Wasn’t Ning Que doing all this just to see her?
Fine. She was here now.