Chapter 19

Chapter 19

As the village chief of Luoyu Village in Anqiu County, Luo Yu had always presided over a community much like other border villages—about four hundred households, totaling roughly two thousand people. Life revolved around farming, with some villagers growing forage, melons, and vegetables in their spare time, all simply to fill their stomachs.

Luo had long been troubled by this. The taxes imposed by the magistrate’s office grew heavier with each passing year. Forget about improving living standards; just managing to eat half full was considered a blessing.

But now, all those worries seemed to fade into the background.

In his fifties, Luo bustled about, clearing out his own home to accommodate the magistrate’s wife and the scribe’s wife. They hadn’t come to make demands—they had come to teach the villagers how to make honey candy.

And so, the plan was set in motion.

On the fifth day of the seventh lunar month, every beekeeper household in Luoyu Village was mobilized. Those who could simultaneously farm and tend bees were among the village’s most industrious families—the same ones who had first embraced planting rapeseed.

Led by the local militia leader, Gong Chunrong, their enthusiasm for learning was palpable. Just days before, some had grumbled that all the hard work of beekeeping was pointless since honey couldn’t be sold for a good price in Anqiu County. But then Magistrate Ji declared, “Who says honey is worthless? I’m going to teach you how to make honey candy!”

Tao Lewei, who was in charge of teaching, felt a bit nervous. She glanced at her husband, who gave her an encouraging nod. “Making candy isn’t difficult. The key is to change the honey’s texture into a hard candy. We’ll start with the original flavor, keeping the size and taste uniform—this makes it easier to sell.”

She had rehearsed these words many times, like preparing a lecture, so despite her nervousness, she delivered them smoothly. Gradually, the villagers listened intently, their own nervousness melting away.

Instructions on candy-making, storage, and standardizing shape and size were given. Within three days, all the women from the beekeeping families in Luoyu Village had mastered the process.

For those used to hard work, these tasks were a breeze. The remaining time was spent turning all their stored honey into candy.

At first, the children of each household were delighted—after all, they had plenty of honey to eat, and now there was honey candy, too.

But after just a few days, the village children began to refuse the sweets.

Why? Because they had simply eaten too much!

Some of the elders chuckled, “Who ever heard of children getting tired of candy? When we were young, a little sugar once a year was enough to make us happy for half a year.”

Once all the honey candies were made, Gong Chunrong went door to door to collect them. He was entrusted by Magistrate Ji to handle the collection and sales. For every family, he issued a receipt noting the amount of honey candy received, its price, and the distribution of profits.

To do this, Gong Chunrong had hurriedly learned to read and write—while others learned candy-making, he learned characters.

Though straightforward and honest, Gong Chunrong was not naturally suited to business. But since Magistrate Ji entrusted him, there must be a reason. His sincerity and good relations with the villagers earned their trust.

The villagers of Luoyu busily produced the candy, then delivered it to Gong’s home, awaiting his trip to the prefectural city for sale.

He did not disappoint. Carefully recording every transaction as ordered by the magistrate, he and his brothers hitched up ox carts and headed toward the prefectural seat.

Candy of any kind sold well; the problem was transportation.

Once delivered, profits were slim.

For instance, some wealthy merchants in the county town asked: “The whole village makes candy together, and the villagers haul it to the city for sale—how much money can they actually make?”

The answer was twenty taels of silver.

And that was the gross profit.

Selling the entire cartload of honey candy brought in twenty taels.

“Is such a small trade really worth all this fuss?”

The more calculating ones deducted transport and labor costs, figuring that among the thirty-one beekeeping households of Luoyu, each would net at most half a tael.

Even the county clerks questioned, “Why does our magistrate bother with such petty trade?”

One clerk didn’t even look up. “If your family made an extra half a tael, would you be happy?”

“Of course!”

“And if ordinary farmers made an extra half tael, would they be happy?”

Not just happy—they would be overjoyed.

These two answers settled the clerk’s doubt.

For the county’s wealthy, half a tael was just the cost of a meal. For officials, perhaps a month’s household expense. But for ordinary people, it was the sum they might save over an entire year.

So though small, this money could not be dismissed.

Moreover, this was only the beginning.

The first step is always the hardest.

Twenty taels this time—what about all of Anqiu County?

Once the people tasted success, how much more could it be?

The clerk felt his narrow perspective expand.

By then, Gong Chunrong and his group arrived at the prefectural city.

Without delay, they followed Magistrate Ji’s instructions and went to the home of Zhang, the former Anqiu magistrate and now a judicial officer.

Zhang was initially puzzled, but after reading Ji’s letter, he breathed a sigh of relief. “Rest easy. Stay here. I’ll find a way.”

“Don’t worry. Candy is never in short supply of buyers, and the hardest problem—transportation—has already been solved by your hard work.”

Indeed, the candy itself sold easily; the challenge was moving it.

If Anqiu could solve transport issues, thousands or even tens of thousands of pounds could be sold in no time.

That very afternoon, a shop offered to buy the entire batch. They even said, “If you have more candy of this quality, we’ll take as much as you can bring.”

Gong Chunrong immediately asked, “Really? What if there are tens of thousands of pounds?”

“Thousands? No problem. My family owns merchant ships. If we get this quality candy to the dock, we can ship it all over the land.”

After all, once beyond the northwest, reaching the prosperous lands of Pinglin Kingdom, prices would easily double.

“I’ll also buy honey—as long as you can bring it over.”

Gong shook his head. “The roads are poor, so there are losses in transport. That’s why we make hard candy—it’s easier to ship.”

The shopkeeper nodded, “The roads are indeed a problem. A few years ago, the official roads were better, but lately no one’s maintained them—they’re full of potholes.”

With twenty taels of silver in hand, Gong and his group beamed with joy.

They had sold the candy!

Yet Zhang the judicial officer looked on with a hint of sadness.

For ordinary people, that money was significant.

Where merchants wouldn’t venture, these villagers were willing to risk their sweat for silver.

Why did Zhang agree so readily? Because of Ji’s letter—or perhaps because of the guilt Ji had sensed in him.

That subtle remorse in his previous letter had been keenly noticed by Ji.

If there was a wrong done to Anqiu’s people, it needed to be made right.

Though perhaps not directly responsible for the heavy taxes, Zhang had benefited from them.

Ji would not cut ties but would make use of him when needed.

When the prefectural finance office learned of this, they frowned.

“Is Anqiu County really that poor? A trade worth twenty taels requires the magistrate’s direct involvement?”

No wonder the taxes were so low this year.

“They still owe 31,000 taels of taxes—will they ever pay?”

Zhang didn’t know.

Other officials didn’t know either.

In the prefectural bureaucracy, the impression of Anqiu was stark: poor, extremely poor.

Ji was unaware of these judgments; even if he knew, he would probably just nod agreeably—yes, poor indeed. Perhaps the higher-ups should donate or reduce taxes.

Now, he was listening to Gong’s report.

Ten days there and back marked a promising start for Anqiu’s honey candy trade.

Especially for the county’s beekeepers, it was tremendous good fortune.

Don’t talk about low prices—being able to sell at all was a victory.

An extra penny is still money.

The thirty-one beekeeping households of Luoyu Village clutched their small earnings, euphoric.

Hard work had finally borne fruit.

This was the reward for their toil!

Even those who had once been reluctant to keep bees were now tempted.

If it could make money, why not keep bees too?

After all, they lacked nothing but labor.

The rest of Anqiu County was the same.

Some beekeepers had even planned to quit next year, as beekeeping yielded no profit.

Now, hearing this, they would continue.

As long as they had honey, the magistrate would find ways to sell it. What reason was there not to keep bees?

Gong Chunrong resumed his busy routine.

First, the magistrate’s wife and others taught candy-making; then Gong and his team collected the goods and shipped them to the prefectural city.

The first batch earned twenty taels.

The second batch, one hundred taels.

By the third and final batch of the year, honey candy sales totaled three hundred taels.

More than two hundred beekeeping households in Anqiu County benefited.

Each family looked at their silver with disbelief.

Could a year’s hard work really earn money?

That silver was more than currency—it was food and clothing for their families, warmth for winter fires, repairs for leaky roofs.

To them, it was not a small sum but a much-needed windfall.

In early August, the county school’s entrance was crowded with farmers eager to learn beekeeping.

Before, some had come to learn, but never in such numbers.

Everyone could see the benefits.

They wanted to learn too!

They wanted to keep bees and make candy!

Ji Chu stared at the throng, dumbfounded.

He had promoted beekeeping and candy-making merely as a side effect of planting rapeseed—to improve crop pollination.

Making money was incidental.

Now, even before the rapeseed harvest, many villagers’ lives had already improved.

Master Li marveled at Ji Chu’s skill, but Ji said, “There’s a problem.”

“What problem?”

“More beekeepers mean fewer crops, which leads to less honey.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

Ji nodded thoughtfully. “It’s like dough-making.”

“If crops are abundant but honey is scarce, pollination is insufficient and grain yields drop—the farmers have wasted their labor.”

“If crops are scarce but honey is abundant, there isn’t enough pollen, honey yields drop, and beekeepers’ efforts are wasted.”

“It’s like too much flour needs more water, and too much water needs more flour.”

Ji rubbed his forehead.

Enough said.

They needed to control the number of beekeepers.

And continue reclaiming wasted farmland.

Looking out at the rapeseed fields beyond the village, the honey from the rapeseed had already benefited more than two hundred beekeeping households.

Meanwhile, rapeseed itself was grown by every family in Anqiu.

When harvest day came, that would be the true cause for celebration.

Whether Anqiu’s people could enjoy a prosperous year depended on the coming September.