Chapter 49

Qiao Yan’s gaze fell on Xi Zhicai’s hand, still itching from the hives, and she asked, “Are you only allergic to the yam skins, or can you not eat the yams altogether?”

“Is there even a difference?” Xi Zhicai asked, perplexed.

He had to admit, although he was quite clever, he knew nothing about farming or medicine.

So that night, the very “sample” that led Qiao Yan to decide on planting yams ended up as a stew ingredient.

No cooking technique from the Han Dynasty could compare to the later times, but boiling soup seemed like a foolproof plan.

To prevent anything bad from happening to her self-sabotaging strategist over a minor yam, Qiao Yan very carefully got the county doctor on board, only letting him eat a little. When he didn’t have any allergic reaction, she finally relaxed.

Choosing to plant yams was not just because they could stave off hunger but also due to their medicinal properties.

Xi Zhicai’s premature demise was undoubtedly tied to the common people’s malnutrition, along with his own neglect of self-care. Since Qiao Yan wouldn’t dare to meddle with medicine without a divine physician around, she figured she could give dietary supplements a shot.

Seeing he wasn’t allergic, Qiao Yan breathed a sigh of relief.

But saying they were going to plant yams wasn’t the same as making it happen in a blink.

She had already thought the process was a hassle and was using it to help settle the Black Mountain Bandits’ restless vibes, but now she really had to prep for the troublesome issues.

Like, the land.

In modern times, with reasonable conditions to supplement soil, yams required a crop rotation every two to three years. Considering the many limitations of ancient times, restoring soil fertility within five to ten years was pretty remarkable.

But Qiao Yan needed a quick accumulation of resources that served both edible and medicinal purposes, and land previously used for yams could later be filled with soybeans to restore nitrogen or just left to recuperate for two years.

It turned out, the high yield of yams could offset these downsides.

Moreover, in the unpredictable tides of the late Han, having something in hand was the most practical.

Of course, that assessment was one thing; with the first year likely being trial-and-error, Qiao Yan decided to split the suitable land for yam cultivation into two parts, planting one this year and the other next year.

This was the first time Xi Zhicai saw her create a terrain model since he started advising her.

He finally understood why Yang Xiu had acted the way he did back then.

But when he laid eyes on this model, it wasn’t about strategizing for battles—it was just for farming, and for some reason, he felt something was off.

But he ended up captivated by this high-precision terrain model, which made him overlook that odd feeling.

“This is the area we’ll plow this autumn and winter,” Qiao Yan pointed to the marked region, saying, “The remaining part will be used for planting next year.”

This was also the first task she planned for the Black Mountain Bandits.

Yam planting required deep tillage in the winter of the previous year, meaning those hefty laborers would have to dig up the section Qiao Yan indicated and pre-mark the locations for the ditches.

Of course, this was merely land; they still needed to find yam seed tubers.

Luckily, the Taihang Mountains had the right conditions for yams, especially in the areas covered by the Qin Shui and Yellow Rivers—specifically the original habitat of Iron Rod Yam.

It was still August, so gathering enough planting tubers before the end of October was entirely feasible.

While searching, the Black Mountain Bandits also had to construct the “warehouse” for storing yam tubers over winter, prepare enough fine sand, and get the support materials ready for next year’s yam vines.

Additionally, they needed to finish Qiao Xuan’s ancestral temple before winter so that Officer Bao Hong could return to Luoyang.

Counting it all up, the number of those Black Mountain Bandits was just barely sufficient.

Still, calling them Black Mountain Bandits didn’t quite fit now since they were all lured in by the promise of free meals; maybe “Black Mountain Labor Reformation Team” would be a more suitable title.

After they were captured by the military and county folks from Leping, the remaining Black Mountain Bandits still up in the Taihang Mountains were also brought down under the pretense of being tricked.

Of course, saying “tricked” might not be the most appropriate term; after all, Qiao Yan promised them that as long as they completed their labor, they’d get enough food, and she never went back on her word.

But these guys coming down from the Taihang had no choice but to follow Qiao Yan’s directions.

They split into several teams, with no chance for direct contact between them.

Thus, even though when all their numbers were combined it was quite sizable, they really had no opportunity to grab food and collectively rebel.

Zhang Niujiao was feeling a bit gloomy.

He was a bit too carefree, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t see that everyone else building the ancestral temple with him was pretty satisfied with having food to eat now. After all, the county officials brought in by Qiao Yan were distributing food based on their workload.

With this almost fair distribution, even though he used to be the head of the Black Mountain Bandits, he couldn’t get an extra bowl of rice at mealtimes and had to just work fast and well alongside everyone else during the day.

In this situation, he felt it was unlikely he’d have the chance to talk them into running away together.

After all—if working hard could keep one alive, who wouldn’t want to earn a living by their own abilities?

Although most who took to banditry had a bit of luck on their minds, hoping to taste the spoils in this chaotic time, many were willing to conform and work when they saw that the majority were doing so.

But… how should I put it, the food was actually pretty good.

Zhang Niujiao sincerely stated.

This ancestral temple, which had already been two-thirds completed, quickly topped out after ten days of efficient labor.

The “Inscription of the Yellow Axe” and three delightful inscriptions written by Cai Yong had already been transcribed onto stone and sent by Qiao Yan to Jinyang City to find skilled craftsmen for engraving, and now it was all sent back.

As Qiao Yan caressed the engravings on the stele standing in front of the temple, she couldn’t help but sigh silently in her heart.

In this world, the name Qiao Xuan was no more, but the evaluation of him as “strict yet not cruel, commanding yet not fierce, willing to enact benevolence upon hearing it, and dwelling in righteousness upon witnessing it” would undoubtedly be passed down through the ages.

As for her? What kind of legacy would she leave behind for future generations?

Qiao Yan couldn’t predict the answer to that.

She only knew that she was walking a steady path towards developing Leping, and what role this gradually developing Leping would play in the coming chaotic times was something she couldn’t definitively answer either.

But overthinking was of no use.

For now, all she needed to do was to send those who were supposed to build the temple back to other work projects after breaking them up.

So, as Zhang Niujiao passed through Leping County and just saw Chu Yan learning to weave bamboo baskets, he was taken to a site where they were building a storage warehouse for yam.

According to Qiao Yan, since they were all in the construction business, it could be considered as practice.

Zhang Niujiao figured, after training in Leping, he might transition from a bandit leader to a construction worker, while Chu Yan could likely become an expert in weaving.

What sort of situation was this!

He polished off his bowl of rice and overheard the manager say that next spring, the yam to be planted in Leping County would yield quite a lot, and if it weren’t for that, they wouldn’t be feeding these potential bandits so well.

Zhang Niujiao perked up his ears, still feeling it was a bit unbelievable. But maybe it was because he was captured by Qiao Yan’s people that he thought this young county marquis could pull off anything.

Who knows, she might actually be able to make it happen.

So he thought for a bit and found himself a reason to stay.

He wanted to learn how to plant this special and high-yielding crop, and then take the chance to escape with his people.

In this unclear motivation of justifying his actions to himself, September rolled around.

As September deepened, the time for the yam harvest came. Qin Yu and Xu Fu received a task from Qiao Yan to head to Huaiqing Prefecture and returned to Leping in the second half of September.

There were indeed a lot of wild yams in Huaiqing Prefecture; aside from carefully harvesting the mature Iron Rod Yam, they even brought back a handful of yam beans.

From a planting perspective, this should be called tuber, which can also be used for planting, but most of the yam produced like this is used as seed tubers, meaning it requires another year.

In that case, since they already had enough seed tubers, these yam beans were better used for food.

Later, after learning from Qiao Yan that yam beans also have the benefit of nourishing the spleen and strengthening the body, this stuff became a snack for Xi Zhicai to enjoy with his drinks, making her want to roll her eyes.

It was hard not to feel like watching someone drink ice-cold cola and thinking no energy at all.

Luckily in Leping, while they hadn’t halted research on the liquor business, they hadn’t developed a brewing industry either; getting Xi Zhicai to drink too much in one go was nearly impossible.

As Qiao Yan pondered on how to use yam peels to curb his drinking, she directed the workers to place the yams into the storage warehouse they had built earlier, stacking them with layers of fine sand and yam to keep them safe for next year.

After finishing all this, it was already October.

And it was in this month that a message from the capital reached Leping County.

Due to the prior Yellow Turban Rebellion, which had caused enormous upheaval across the kingdom, the Emperor of the Han, situated within the Eight Passes, decided to change the era to Zhongping, signaling hopes to eliminate the remaining factions in the aftermath of the Yellow Turban Rebellion, or perhaps celebrating the delayed downfall of Zhang Jiao and others.

But whether for the above reasons or to seek auspiciousness, this seventh year of Guanghe now bore another name, Zhongping Yinian.

Changing the era often meant a general amnesty and also signaled changes in posts within Luoyang.

No matter how comfortable Bao Hong felt in Leping, without much pressure, he had to hurry back to the capital because of some ambition.

However, before leaving, Qiao Yan asked him to take a letter to Luoyang.

“This letter is?”

“Could you please deliver this letter to Palace Attendant Bi Lan, General Bao?”

Qiao Yan pointed to the now partially constructed mountain and said: “I heard from Mr. Yuanhua that the yam doesn’t need much water when it breaks soil, but it does when the branches and leaves grow lush. However, Leping is not as easy as Huaiqing Prefecture in this regard.”

“Palace Attendant Bi Lan has some brilliant ideas regarding construction; I want General Bao to send this letter so I can ask him if he has any inventions that could be useful here.”

This task was not troublesome at all, and Bao Hong agreed immediately.

But little did Bao Hong expect, as soon as he opened his mouth to agree, he became a laborer, as Qiao Yan wanted to send letters not just to Bi Lan.

By the time he left Leping, his group included gifts for Fu Shou, gifts for Ma Lun, thank-yous for Liang Hu, gifts for Grand Commandant Yang Ci…

And a box he had to present to Your Majesty, as well as a memorial that Qiao Yan drafted with a few strategists.