“Reclaim wasteland and plant new crops?”
Early that morning, the county officials had been summoned to the assembly hall. In this late autumn season, most had assumed the magistrate intended to review the details of this year’s harvest. Before entering the chamber, each had examined himself, mentally reviewing whether there had been any oversight or shortcoming in the autumn collection, lest he be reprimanded during the meeting.
Unexpectedly, the magistrate summarized the harvest in only a few sentences and swiftly introduced a new topic.
“Does Your Excellency mean to encourage the county’s wealthy households to take on more wasteland for reclamation?”
“At present, quite a few gentry households have already reclaimed wasteland,” Du Heng replied. “Land must not be allowed to concentrate indefinitely in the hands of one or a few families. If that continues, before long we may see a second Wei Hongming. Tenant farmers would only increase, and land annexation would worsen. My intention is to place wasteland into the hands of the farmers themselves.”
He continued, “A few days ago, I toured the countryside and spoke with the village heads. This year, through the joint efforts of the county office and the people, our waterworks have been completed. Farming now requires far less labor. The farmers already have spare strength and are willing to cultivate more land to increase their income. Since the people possess such enterprising spirit, the county should introduce policies to support them.”
The officials nodded. That, indeed, was a good thing.
“Given Qiuyang County’s climate and terrain, I believe we cannot continue planting only common staples such as corn and rice.”
There was no department specifically responsible for agriculture, but the six offices were free to offer their views.
“Your Excellency speaks wisely. Even in abundant years, corn and rice yields here cannot compare to other regions. Reclaiming wasteland to expand production is certainly good. However, rice requires abundant irrigation. If we greatly expand planting, even if we store water in autumn and winter, it may not suffice for summer use. Crops requiring less irrigation would be better suited to Qiuyang County.”
“Precisely. That is my thinking as well.”
Du Heng distributed the booklet he had prepared. “Please review this. Based on your understanding of Qiuyang County’s climate and terrain, determine which crops are most suitable.”
The hot, sandy soil was fit for many crops: cotton, cold melons, sesame, soybeans, goji berries, sea buckthorn, jujube trees, and others.
Though there were many options, Du Heng’s view was that they should not plant too wide a variety.
If these crops were to be promoted, the county government would need to take the lead at the outset—purchasing quality seeds, teaching cultivation techniques, and organizing post-harvest sales.
If the varieties were too numerous, procuring good seeds would be time-consuming and difficult. It would also be impossible to provide unified instruction. At harvest, they would end up with many types of crops but in insufficient quantities of each, making it difficult to sell beyond the county.
If they focused on cultivating just two or three crops at scale, they could build a reputation. Not only would the produce be easier to sell in the future, but the benefits to the county would be greater as well.
“Select two or three crops you consider suitable,” Du Heng said, “and write down your reasons. Submit them to me, and I will compile the results.”
The officials examined the options. Not only had the magistrate listed suitable crops, he had even recorded their growth habits. It was clearly not the work of a single day. They could not help but admire the thoroughness of the county magistrate, and many felt a stir of enthusiasm.
Du Heng had spoken at length. While the others deliberated, he sipped tea to moisten his throat.
When Jiang Qi compiled the opinions and brought them forward, Du Heng saw that the three crops receiving the most support were cold melons, sesame, and cotton.
All three could be planted and harvested within the same year, yielding faster returns than jujube trees or goji berries. As for sea buckthorn, the county’s climate and terrain were not yet well suited to it.
Overall, most agreed that the three selected crops were appropriate.
Qiuyang County’s summers were hot. Cold melons had long been grown locally. Thanks to abundant sunlight, they were sweet and thick-fleshed. Every year they sold well in the county seat. This was a crop that could certainly be expanded.
Cotton thrived in sunlight and could be used to make clothing and quilts for warmth.
In fact, only a few years ago cotton had been grown mainly as an ornamental plant. Later, skilled artisans discovered its use for warmth, and it gradually gained popularity.
Although Qiuyang County’s winters were mild and local demand for winter goods was limited, other regions depended heavily upon them. Export would be highly suitable.
Then there was sesame.
This crop had wide applications, and Du Heng strongly supported its cultivation. It could be used in cooking and pastries, pressed for oil to season dishes, and its oilcake residue could serve as fertilizer. Sesame oilcake was even more potent as fertilizer than rapeseed cake.
In abundant years, the oilcake could enrich the fields; in lean years, it could even be consumed by people. Its benefits were numerous.
Now that the crops had been chosen, policies had to be introduced swiftly. During the slack farming season, wasteland could be reclaimed so that crops might be planted the following spring.
After the meeting dispersed, the officials chatted among themselves.
“I thought that with this year’s good harvest, we might enjoy a bit of leisure during the slack season.”
“I have come to understand—our magistrate is not one who can remain idle. The slack season is precisely when he undertakes major initiatives.”
The clerk laughed. “The magistrate acts with thunderous decisiveness. In such a short time since taking office, he has already eliminated the county’s major evils. Now that no one stands in his way, how could he allow us all to rest?”
“That is well enough. The common people have hope, and the county officials have something to look forward to as well.”
In early October, the county issued a new proclamation.
The county office opened the right for farmers to claim and cultivate wasteland. For the first three years of cultivation, they would receive a ten percent reduction in wasteland taxes.
After three years, the wealthy households who had claimed the land would generally purchase it from the county at a fair price for wasteland. If they failed to pay on time, the county would reclaim the land.
Only local registered farmers whose household land allotment was less than five mu per person could apply. Draft animals such as oxen, mules, and donkeys could be counted as one person each.
This was designed to prevent a rush of farmers eager to claim land solely for the policy benefits. If they overextended beyond their capacity, they might not manage spring planting properly, leaving both the reclamation and their existing crops neglected—a net loss.
When the notice went up, more people came to read it outside the county office than had gathered for the spring imperial examination results.
“Big brother, you can read it for us who can’t, can’t you? Does it really say we can claim wasteland first and pay later?”
Those who could read loudly repeated the proclamation for the illiterate farmers.
“This is wonderful! We can cultivate first, harvest, and then pay the county. That way, everyone has some breathing room.”
“The policy is good, but our household is too small to meet the eligibility requirements.”
A lively discussion broke out. Some rejoiced, others fretted. The more diligent immediately prepared their paperwork to claim wasteland at the office.
Inside the office, it was bustling. Applicants were not only farmers from the villages but also townspeople. Many city residents had little land, relying on small stalls for income or doing manual labor. Though living in town, their lives were hardly easier than those in the countryside.
They had long thought of buying land to cultivate but had been unable to afford it because most land was concentrated in the hands of wealthy gentry. One mu of land cost a small fortune, impossible for ordinary people to acquire.
Now, this opportunity was irresistible. Even if the wasteland was hard to cultivate and produced little for the first two years, the future prospects were promising.
Wasteland was priced affordably—at least half the price of dry or fertile fields—and payment could wait until harvest. Such terms were naturally very attractive.
Though Qiuyang County was vast and there was much land to reclaim, not every plot was good. Some were overgrown with grass, others strewn with rocks. Those who arrived early could stake out the best plots by drawing lots.
…
“The office is so busy with land claims, everyone seems happy. I, idle as I am, might as well apply for a couple of acres myself instead of sitting around with those family gatherings—it’ll be fun to break some ground.”
Du Heng was reviewing documents in his study, checking where the county could procure quality seeds. Qin Xiaoman, who had been tending the chrysanthemums by the window, suddenly appeared at his side.
“You were so interested when you went to admire the chrysanthemums recently,” Du Heng said. “Why not spend time with them now, and suddenly you want to dig land instead?”
Qin Xiaoman pouted. “I never liked those social gatherings. You know I speak my mind. I only went before to help you deal with the county’s unruly elements. Otherwise, I wouldn’t sit in circles with all those households all day.
“If I encounter people who barely know a few characters, that’s fine. Chatting about family affairs is tolerable. But if I meet someone educated, quoting poetry and clever lines, it’s a headache.”
Du Heng smiled at the boy, whose eyes looked mournful and lips slightly pouted. He reached out to wrap an arm around his waist. “I’ll make sure Jiang Qi sets aside wasteland for you to choose.”
Qin Xiaoman raised his eyebrows, a light returning to his eyes. “Really?”
“Do you think I’d lie? This is within my power.”
He swung his leg over and sat on Du Heng, giving him a delighted kiss at the corner of his mouth.
Du Heng looked at how close the boy was, and his smile grew. “In the future, the county will encourage commerce, and the city will certainly become lively. If you’re free, you could also pick up a few affordable shops. When the county grows busy, you could rent them out or resell them for a profit.”
“All right, I’ll check them out in a couple of days,” Qin Xiaoman said.
Du Heng held his hand, catching a faint sweet scent in the air. He leaned close and sniffed at Qin Xiaoman’s neck. “What’s this smell? It’s so fragrant.”
“Nothing, just the pineapple pastries I brought back for Chengyi,” Qin Xiaoman said.
Du Heng thought it smelled wonderful and leaned closer again, only to have Qin Xiaoman pinch his nose and sneak a hand into his clothing.
He quickly caught the hand. “We’re in the study, behave yourself.”
Qin Xiaoman bared his teeth playfully. “Acting so proper—don’t think I don’t know you.”
Du Heng’s cheeks reddened. It was broad daylight, and they were not even in the bedroom.
He glanced toward the corridor window; some were already scheming. The windows were shut, leaving only two flourishing chrysanthemums by the sill.
He tried to restrain Qin Xiaoman, but with him sitting on top, he was at a disadvantage.
Seeing Du Heng’s flushed face, Qin Xiaoman playfully pushed but dared not use full force, resembling a small child from the village, blushing and trying to reason but failing.
He leaned closer. “Shall I give you another little treasure?”
Du Heng’s fingers held Qin Xiaoman’s hand. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, silently acknowledging the sweetness of the moment.
When Qin Xiaoman saw his expression, he stopped what he was doing. It had only been flirtatious teasing at first, but judging by Du Heng’s face, it seemed he had struck right at the heart of the matter.
“Is it really that bad?!”
Du Heng wrapped his arms around Qin Xiaoman’s waist. “You’re ready to explode at the slightest thing—I haven’t even said anything yet.”
Qin Xiaoman lowered his eyes slightly. “Then why do you look so miserable? What, are you worried you can’t afford to raise another one?”
“Listen to you—how could I not afford it?”
Du Heng laughed softly.
They were both still young. Their two little ones were not very old, though they were beginning to understand a few things.
If they had another child now, they would still have the energy to raise the baby. And the age gap with the two older brothers would not be large—that would be nice.
Besides, Du Heng had once hoped for three little children, a lively household full of noise. It was just that…
“Of course having another baby would be wonderful. But when you gave birth to Dan Ce, it was so difficult. Watching you, my heart was in my throat. I don’t want you to take that risk again.”
That earlier childbirth had terrified him. Sometimes, even now, when he looked at their two children, the memory still made him uneasy.
Medical conditions were not exactly reassuring these days. He feared something might happen to Qin Xiaoman.
Hearing him speak so earnestly, Qin Xiaoman said, “When I gave birth to Dan Ce, I thought what you said then was just to comfort me. I didn’t think you truly meant it.”
Du Heng brushed the hair from his forehead. “Do you want another baby? I’ll follow your wishes.”
Qin Xiaoman fell silent.
His own father had died in childbirth. Even though he had safely delivered two children, that shadow had never fully left his heart.
All his life he had believed that men were responsible for providing and carrying on the family name, while women and ge’er were meant to bear children and continue the bloodline.
Du Heng had now become an official. No matter what others might say, he had remained faithful, honoring the promise he made years ago to marry him and stay by his side.
Qin Xiaoman only felt that Du Heng had treated him so well there was nothing to fault. If he did not give him more children to strengthen the family line, it almost seemed unfair to him. If they had another baby who bore Du Heng’s surname, perhaps it would set his mind at ease.
Even though childhood fears still lingered in his heart, he wanted to think of Du Heng first.
“But families of officials have so many children,” Qin Xiaoman said. “Concubines’ sons and daughters filling whole courtyards. We only have two.”
Du Heng replied, “It’s not about having many. If children grow up unfilial and defiant, the more there are, the more trouble they bring. If they’re sensible and obedient, even one is enough—peaceful and close to your heart. What matters isn’t quantity, but upbringing.”
“I know you’re afraid deep down. Our life is already good. Don’t think that just because I’ve become an official, my thoughts have changed. My heart is the same as when I first said I wanted to marry you.”
He rubbed Qin Xiaoman’s back gently. “If you’re worried that when Chengyi grows up and marries, Dan Ce will be alone and the house will feel empty, then we simply won’t let Chengyi leave. We can bring in a son-in-law instead.”
He smiled, half amused, half troubled. “Our Chengyi is so lovable. It shouldn’t be too hard to find a man willing to marry into the family.”
Qin Xiaoman shot him a sideways glance. “Weren’t you the one who guarded Chengyi like a hawk before? Now you’re already planning his future.”
Du Heng nuzzled his neck. “All for you.”
“Then let’s leave it to fate. We won’t deliberately try. We’ll avoid it if we can. If not… we’ll follow Heaven’s will.”
“Alright.”
By the end of the tenth month, the first group of commoners who had completed the paperwork and received wasteland plots had already begun clearing their fields.
Qin Xiaoman had originally wanted to claim more land, but he preferred plots close to the county seat. Those were in high demand and scarce, so he did not wish to compete with the local people.
In the end, he took only two mu.
Du Heng agreed to let him work the land partly to set an example for the commoners and partly so they could later teach cultivation techniques from practical experience.
Late autumn and early winter were the most comfortable seasons in Qiuyang County. Farmers carried hoes and sickles, battling the stubborn foxtail grass rooted deep in the earth.
First they cut down the wild growth. Then they turned the soil, digging out roots and stones.
To ensure the soil was loose and fertile, it had to be crushed and sifted to remove gravel.
Reclaiming wasteland was no easy task. If it were simple, land would not lie abandoned everywhere.
The people knew how exhausting and difficult it was. Without supportive policies from the county office, who would dare waste precious labor on barren ground?
Qin Xiaoman led by example, shouldering a hoe himself. The women and ge’er clearing the land were greatly encouraged. What had begun as a dull, sweat-soaked struggle on the wasteland soon filled with scattered singing. Spirits were high.
Du Heng was no less busy. He compared seeds purchased from various regions and finally selected batches of sesame and cotton seeds from Pingjiang Prefecture and Nanyin Prefecture.
As for cold melons, Qiuyang County’s local seeds were already excellent.
Before the New Year recess, the county office issued a new notice.
Households that had reclaimed wasteland would be provided with sesame and cotton seeds. They were encouraged to plant cold melons on the newly cultivated fields.
During planting season, cultivation techniques would be taught. At harvest time, the county office would assist in selling the crops.
The office gave farmers ample time to consider. Those interested could bring the necessary paperwork in early spring to collect seeds.
Du Heng stipulated that once seeds were collected, the reclaimed land must be planted with those distributed seeds. This prevented farmers from taking them for free and failing to plant them.
They did not mandate that all farmers must grow these crops. No one should abandon their usual rice, corn, or sweet potatoes all at once. Change required gradual progress.
Some conservative farmers still planned to plant their newly acquired land with rice, corn, and sweet potatoes. But households with enough existing fields to support themselves were eager to try the county’s new seeds.