Chapter 155: Intriguing Rewards and the Rising Prominence of Sorghum (Part Two)

After Lichun, the people in the imperial estate began to feel that something was unusual. However, no one dared to report it. It was too bizarre, and they feared that something might go wrong before the crops reached full maturity, leading to an even greater disappointment after raising such high hopes.

As autumn gradually deepened, the sorghum ears began to turn a golden-red. Seeing that harvest time was not far off, they intended to report the matter, but then the major case involving Xu Jingzong broke out in the capital. Moreover, lacking a precise yield estimate, the local tenants—who were still peasants at heart—held their tongues and refrained from reporting in the face of such a high-profile scandal.

While they remained unaware of the greater political upheaval, the neighboring farmers were growing green-eyed with envy.

Only heaven knew what the final yield would be. Having farmed all their lives, they had never witnessed crops growing in such a manner. Knowing that a final tally of the harvest would eventually be required, the local farmers neglected their own plots to help the estate’s tenant farmers chase away sparrows and catch insects, determined to witness firsthand just how many shi of grain could ultimately be harvested from the land.

The Xu Jingzong case was eventually settled through various compromises involving Li Wei and others. Wu Zetian had underestimated her own prospects and grown somewhat pessimistic, though she retained her fighting spirit. Li Wei had also underestimated himself. Emperor Gaozong had good reason to be wary; through several successive events, Li Wei had attained a lofty standing in the minds of the ministers and had begun to command a certain degree of influence, though he himself remained entirely oblivious to it.

The case was swiftly resolved.

Seeing that public agitation had subsided into mere murmurs and the dust had finally settled, the estate manager pondered which official in Chang'an held the greatest authority. If Jiang Ke had not been dispatched to Liangzhou, strictly speaking, Jiang Ke wielded the supreme authority. Dai Zhide and the others were more or less on par. After inquiring further about who among them was the most benevolent and steadfast, he was told they were all much of a muchness, and that all the chancellors possessed decent reputations. After much deliberation, he hurried to the residence of Dai Zhide and said to the gatekeeper, "I am the manager of the imperial estate, and I have urgent business to see Chancellor Dai."

"Chancellor Dai has no time," the gatekeeper replied flatly, without a moment's hesitation.

One should not assume that Dai Zhide's life was leisurely. The Xu Jingzong case had left behind a multitude of unresolved administrative tangles. As soon as the case was closed, the accumulated documents piled up as high as mountains, making the chancellors even busier than before. For a humble manager of a minor imperial estate to demand an audience with a chancellor meant the chancellor would never get any work done.

The manager hastily added, "No, this is about the sorghum test-cultivated by the Crown Prince."

Outside a chancellor's residence, even a gatekeeper held the rank of a minor official. Standing before him, the manager felt deeply nervous, which made his explanation rather disjointed.

Yet upon the mention of the Crown Prince, the gatekeeper's attitude softened slightly. He inquired, "What about the sorghum test-cultivated by the Crown Prince?"

"I wish to invite Chancellor Dai to come and take a look."

"I shall pass on the message on your behalf," the gatekeeper said, though his tone was thoroughly perfunctory. The Crown Prince's experimental sorghum was merely an exemplary gesture by His Highness; what was so special about it? If the chancellor went to inspect every such triviality, would it not look like intentional flattery? Inspections were secondary; moral integrity was paramount.

Though nervous, the manager was far from stupid. Reading the expression on the gatekeeper's face, he urgently blurted out, "The chancellor truly must come to see it! The yield might reach five or ten shi."

"Oh, I understand."

"No, you don't understand—that's per mu!"

"Oh, I know, off you go, I will go and convey—" The gatekeeper had barely finished speaking when he suddenly bounded forward, grabbed the manager by the collar, and demanded, "State clearly what you mean by per mu, and what is this about five or ten shi?"

"I said those plots might yield five or ten shi of sorghum per mu!" The manager was dizzy with frustration and dropped all formal references to himself.

"Are you out of your mind?" The gatekeeper was instantly startled and suspicious, though still reluctant to believe it.

"My mind is perfectly sound, and I am quite sane. If the yield weren't astonishing, why would I come all the way to find Chancellor Dai to report it?"

"Wait here." The gatekeeper immediately turned and dashed inside. A yield of two shi could be ignored, but anything exceeding three shi would be terrifying. This was sorghum, not rice or wheat. Even for rice or wheat, a yield of three shi per mu was an unheard-of harvest.

Hurrying into the study, the gatekeeper found Dai Zhide reviewing official documents and reported, "Chancellor, the manager of the imperial estate is outside. He says that the sorghum test-cultivated by the Crown Prince this spring may yield anywhere from five to ten shi per mu. Because the matter is of grave importance, he has come to report it to you."

"What did you say?" The gatekeeper's report had been orderly and clear, yet it struck Dai Zhide with sheer astonishment. However, having long held a lofty position and possessing an exceptional demeanor, his face betrayed no overt shock as he asked once more, "Could there be an error?"

"This humble servant does not know, but that is roughly what he said. Realizing the gravity of the matter, I dared not delay in reporting it to the chancellor."

Dai Zhide did not dare to be negligent. He had not even dared to dream of ten shi, or even five; a yield of three or four shi would already warrant a formal memorial to the court. Reaching the doorway, he commanded, "Lead me there at once."

The manager brought Dai Zhide to the edge of the fields. Not every section of the sorghum grew equally well—some parts were mediocre. Even so, those subpar sections far outperformed the surrounding ordinary crops. The exceptional growth was concentrated in roughly half of the fields, specifically three plots where the sorghum flourished most vigorously.

The sorghum ears were as thick and heavy as mallets, weighing the stalks down. A single ear was easily a dozen times larger than those in neighboring fields. At first, Dai Zhide assumed his eyes were playing tricks on him. He rubbed his eyes twice before finally accepting the reality before him.

Could this truly still be sorghum? Reaching out, he plucked an ear and peeled back the husk to reveal the grains—indeed, it was sorghum. Although it had not yet fully ripened and was still half a month away from harvest, the sheer spectacle of abundance brought a warm glow to Dai Zhide's eyes. As the autumn wind swept across the fields, the towering golden stalks swayed, rippling like a forest and kicking up waves of golden ripples.

After a long pause, he asked with lingering hesitation, "How on earth was this grown?"

This sight had caused a dignified chancellor to completely lose his composure.

"It was through the methods taught by His Highness the Crown Prince. He repeatedly warned us not to plant them too densely, but we failed to heed his advice; otherwise, the sorghum across all dozen-plus mu would have been equally astonishing." The manager paused in thought before adding, "Judging from remarks we overheard from the Crown Prince, we suspect even His Highness never anticipated growth of this scale. At the time, he merely mentioned that a yield of three shi might be possible—though none of us believed him."

Indeed, under conventional cultivation methods, achieving a harvest of three shi of sorghum was exceedingly, exceptionally difficult.

After a moment of silence, Dai Zhide murmured, "Three shi? Far from it."

"Indeed, indeed! We realized this was no minor matter, which is why we dared to trouble the chancellor."

"You have done well," Dai Zhide praised, casting one more lingering, reluctant gaze over the sorghum field. So-called auspicious omens and miraculous fungi were mere illusions; this was the true auspicious omen. Patting the manager on the shoulder, he instructed, "Guard it well."

"We dare not be careless. We won't even let sparrows come near."

"Good." Dai Zhide nodded, then immediately departed the estate to summon Li Jingx玄 and the rest of the senior ministers. Upon hearing the details, their expressions were remarkably similar. Once the origins of the matter had been clarified, Dai Zhide declared, "We are saved, truly saved! Imagine if the entire nation achieved a harvest like this—what do you suppose that would look like?"

None of them could quite picture it, but they knew there would be grain in such abundance that people could consume it freely, even using it to feed pigs and horses. Of course, that was an exaggeration; favorable soil, abundant water, meticulous care, rich fertilizers, and advanced techniques had all aligned. Except for a minor deficiency in the seeds themselves, every condition for high yield had been met. Trying to systematically replicate this nationwide overnight remained an unrealistic prospect.

The ministers stood rooted to the spot in a daze, still struggling to comprehend the reality. After a long silence, Xiao Zhaode asked, "Gentlemen, what is the exact estimated yield of this sorghum?"

With the crops still standing in the field, it was impossible to thresh them immediately, making accurate estimation difficult. Li Jingxuan proposed a solution: "Let us select several comparable ears, weigh them on a scale, and count the number of stalks per mu."

"That is a sound idea. There may be a slight margin of error, but it should not be far off," Dai Zhide agreed.

They immediately set to work. Counting without the aid of multiplication tables, they slowly calculated the figures using counting rods. In truth, Li Wei had already passed the abacus formulas on to Wu Zetian, but in the wake of subsequent events and the lack of emphasis from the court, its promotion had been sluggish. As for Li Wei, with his leisurely temperament, he seemed to have forgotten the matter entirely. After a lengthy calculation, the final figures emerged.

Despite having mentally prepared themselves, the assembled ministers were still left dumbfounded, drawing sharp, collective breaths of cold air.

Dai Zhide abruptly commanded, "Dispatch guards to stand watch here, and immediately send an express memorial to the Eastern Capital."

With a yield of this magnitude... dispatching guards was by no means an excessive measure. With the chancellors arriving, followed closely by the guards, the scene became quite lively. Unlike bamboo paper production where one merely stared at stagnant ponds, a field of sorghum nearing maturity, bursting with vigorous growth and a sea of golden brilliance, was a magnificent spectacle in its own right. Soon, streams of commoners flocked to witness it. As a result of this public display, the price of rice in Chang'an plummeted by ten cash per dou within a matter of days, prompting large merchant families who had been hoarding grain to frantically dump their supplies onto the market.

There was another unexpected benefit: there was no longer any need to chase away sparrows, as the sheer crowds of onlookers frightened every bird away.

Dai Zhide and the others set to work drafting their memorial. A sorghum yield unprecedented since ancient times was about to be officially recorded. They sent inquiries to the Eastern Capital's crown prince quarters, but since the Crown Prince himself could not be reached, palace maids like Liu Qun provided vague accounts. Recalling that the Crown Prince had once invited his younger brothers to view both the bamboo paper and the sorghum plots, she pieced together fragments of what he had said. They then sought out Li Xian, who gave a very simple answer: the Crown Prince had followed the agricultural text *Qimin Yaoshu*, but like the estate workers, he had merely estimated a high yield of three shi. This was Li Xian speaking on behalf of his elder brother, for Li Wei had originally told him that three shi was likely an underestimation—one ought to remain humble in speech, after all.

Li Xian then asked, "Chancellor Dai, is something amiss? Was three shi incorrect?"

Dai Zhide laughed bitterly and replied, "It is not three shi. Half a mu of land might yield even more than three shi."

The Crown Prince had underestimated his own creation to such a degree; no wonder he hadn't even bothered to send a letter of inquiry.

"Half a mu?!" Li Xian was momentarily stunned before shouting aloud, "I must go and see this!"

Leaving Dai Zhide behind, he sought out Li Xian and Li Xulun. The three imperial brothers marched together to the edge of the fields, where a considerable crowd of commoners and over a dozen guards had already gathered. At first, the princes had suspected that Chancellor Dai had lost his mind—even sycophancy had its limits, sending guards to watch over mere sorghum! But upon arrival, they realized how mistaken they had been. The guards stood rigidly at attention, barring any commoners from approaching—truly a spectacle to be admired from afar, not touched up close. Yet the guards dared not obstruct the imperial princes, allowing them right up to the edge of the plots.

Li Xian knew nothing of farming, but having traveled extensively, he had seen plenty of sorghum. While he could usually only spot minor variations, the difference here was astronomical. He gasped, "Good heavens, is this still sorghum?"

Li Xian chided, "Third brother, maintain your composure! There are many people watching."

"Right," Li Xian snapped his mouth shut and reached out to gently stroke the stalks.

At last, the sorghum caused a nationwide sensation. Li Wei had once remarked that Di Renjie was like gold and bound to shine sooner or later; the same description applied equally well to this sorghum. Or perhaps it could be captured in verse: *A maiden of the Yang family, newly grown, raised deep within the boudoir, yet unknown. Endowed with natural grace hard to conceal, chosen one day to grace the monarch's side. A single glance back brings a hundred charms; the powder and paints of six palaces lose all their color.* As the golden waves of this sorghum rippled, all earthly cosmetics faded into insignificance, and the surrounding crops utterly lost their luster.

***

Emperor Gaozong and his senior ministers were deliberating in the Wucheng Hall on how to conduct the grand Dayu rain-sacrifices when a guard rushed in to report, "Your Majesty, an urgent memorial from Chang'an."

Upon hearing this, Emperor Gaozong bristled with irritation. Several recent urgent dispatches had brought nothing but bad news; surely another major crisis had occurred. Was the grand rain-sacrifice never to be held? Irritated, he commanded, "Bring the memorial forward."

Upon opening it, however, his heart settled immediately—it was not a bulky stack of documents. In particular, the Xu Jingzong case had traumatized Dai Zhide and the others; every previous report had been overwhelmingly thick and arrived several times a day, until Emperor Gaozong eventually grew too weary to read them, as they consisted solely of Xu Jingzong and his family's endless illegal misdeeds. Receiving multiple deliveries a day had been thoroughly exhausting.

He unrolled the scroll, glanced at it, and asked, "Could there be an error?"

Yan Liben asked perplexedly, "Your Majesty, what error?"

"It is possible that Chancellor Dai and the others made a mistake," Emperor Gaozong replied with uncertainty. Though if one person erred, it was unlikely that Li Jingxuan and the rest had all erred in unison. Besides, these men were known for their prudence and rarely committed such blunders. Yet the figures listed before him...

[Author's Note: This chapter was scheduled for automated release. The writing process spanned from slightly before 6:00 PM yesterday to past 7:00 PM today—a grueling twenty-six hours in total. Provisions consumed: three and a half packs of cigarettes, and over an ounce of strong coffee. Combat results: nine chapters, over thirty thousand words. Anticipated reward: waking up tomorrow morning to see dozens of high-flying monthly recommendation tickets.

By the way, to address a reader's question: some have asked why the Crown Prince doesn't seem imposing enough. In truth, is it likely for a crown prince to roll up his sleeves and charge into battle personally? There is no need for that. It suffices for him to employ capable men and win the wholehearted allegiance of his ministers. If this were written like a television drama of the Qianlong Emperor touring Jiangnan or Emperor Kangxi's micro-excursions—where he constantly courts danger and winds up locked in prison cells—we all know how absurd that would look. This is a novel, yet grounded in a degree of realism. The protagonist's only cheat is a vast reservoir of memorized poetry and knowledge; otherwise, many things you or I know, or that countless others could execute even better, remain just that. Such is the nature of it.]