Chapter 226

Chapter 226

This level-up came much sooner than the last. With tens of millions of experience points required, Wang Ying had originally thought it would take several years to level up again.

Unexpectedly, the two books he had written were incredibly effective. Once they began circulating, experience points poured in like a river, increasing day by day. In just over two years, he'd reached level nine.

Wang Ying hurried into the experimental field to see what new features had been added with the upgrade.

[Experimental Field 03]

Level: 9

Linked User: Wang Ying (Chen Qingyan)

New Reward 1: Three hundred catties (approx. 400 lbs) of potatoes (Dongnong 303: Dongnong 303 is an early-ripening variety, typically taking 85–90 days from sowing to initial harvest. It boasts strong moisture tolerance, high resistance to mosaic virus disease, and mild susceptibility to leaf roll virus disease and bacterial wilt.)

Wang Ying stared in disbelief. Did the system just give him a basket of potatoes?

No—the Wu Dynasty had no potatoes. This was actually a basket of seeds!

Wang Ying was thrilled. This was truly a treasure! Potatoes are high-yielding, filling, and can fully serve as a staple food.

Moreover, potatoes taste delicious and can be made into fried potato chips, french fries, stewed with chicken, braised with meat… Wang Ying's mouth watered. God knows how much he had loved this food in his previous life.

He picked out a few of the best-looking, biggest ones to eat the next day and would plant the rest as seeds in the experimental field.

Wang Ying continued reading and noticed there was another reward labeled as a special reward.

When he clicked to open it, his head spun. A large line of red text read: Return to the Modern Era.

Return to the modern era?

Could he really go back?

If he went back, what would happen to Wang Ying in this era?

Without even thinking, Wang Ying closed the page immediately.

If he had been hesitant the first time he faced this choice, now he had lived here for thirteen years. Here, he had his loved ones and his child—how could he ever leave?

Anyway. He would treat his past life as nothing more than a dream.

Continuing to read, he saw that this upgrade did not further enhance the basic functions of the experimental field.

Perhaps it had already reached the highest level. The experience required for the next level stretched into nine digits. Wang Ying’s eyes blurred as he counted—it seemed the next upgrade wasn't happening anytime soon.

Wang Ying grabbed the potatoes and prepared to leave, just as Chen Qingyan entered.

"I didn’t see you in the room, so I knew you must be here." Chen Qingyan had just finished bathing and was still drying his hair with a cloth.

"You’re here?"

"Did the experimental field upgrade again?" Although Chen Qingyan had usage rights for the experimental field, he didn’t have control permission, so he didn’t know what rewards had been given.

"Yes, it’s level nine now. It gave a basket of potatoes as a reward." Wang Ying handed him one, deliberately keeping quiet about the special reward.

"What is this used for? It looks drab and gray, like a dirt clod."

"This is a treasure! Don’t let its ordinary appearance fool you—it tastes extraordinary. Plus, it’s high-yielding and grows well in poor soil. On average lower-quality land, one mu can yield about seven to eight dan (approx. 1,000-1,200 lbs), while on fertile high-quality land, it can yield around fifteen dan."

"That much! If we promote this to the people, wouldn’t every family have enough to eat?"

Wang Ying shook his head. "It’s not without drawbacks. Although potatoes yield highly, they can easily get diseases and lose quality. So, they aren’t suitable for large-scale cultivation but can work as a backup crop. Still, they can indeed help feed many more people."

Chen Qingyan looked seriously at the potato. If what A-Ying said was true, this was incredibly important—it could save many people during famine years.

"It’s getting late. Let’s go back to sleep first. Tomorrow, I’ll let you taste what potatoes taste like!"

*

Early the next morning, Wang Ying brought a basket of potatoes and tomatoes to the kitchen. The kitchen staff quickly stood up to greet him. "Good morning, sir. If there’s any dish you’d like, just tell us what you want."

Wang Ying said, "No need. Today, I’ll cook myself."

Rolling up his sleeves, he first peeled and washed the potatoes, then sliced them into finger-sized strips. He fried them in hot oil until golden brown, and just like that, the fries were ready.

He also cooked down tomatoes into sauce. Wang Ying tried dipping a fry into it—the taste was absolutely amazing.

Besides fries, Wang Ying also stir-fried a plate of sour and spicy shredded potatoes and prepared a pot of chicken stewed with potatoes. During the morning meal, Old Liang looked at the food on the table curiously and asked, "What is this?"

Wang Ying deliberately played coy. "Try it and see how it tastes."

Liang Boqing took a bite of the sour and spicy shredded potatoes to taste. "Hmm? Isn’t this radish shreds?"

Wang Ying laughed. "No, it’s not. How does it taste?"

"Not bad—sour, crispy, and delicious." He couldn’t resist taking another bite, eating it with the millet rice in his bowl eagerly. As older people tend to prefer bolder flavors, the sour and spicy taste was especially appealing.

Yuanbao picked up a fry and examined it. "Father, how do you eat this?"

"Dip it in that tomato sauce."

Yuanbao tried dipping one slightly and took a bite. The crispy, fragrant texture of the fry instantly won him over. "It’s delicious! This is really good!"

Indeed, whether in ancient times or modern, children simply can’t resist the taste of fries.

Chen Qingyan also couldn’t resist picking up a piece of potato from the stewed chicken. Stewed potatoes tasted even better—infused with the flavor of chicken yet retaining their unique texture. It was completely addictive.

Old Liang couldn’t wait. "Little Wang Ying, tell us, what exactly is this made from?"

"This is called potato. I discovered it back in Shan Zhou."

Old Liang didn’t press further. "It tastes good. Let’s have it again tomorrow."

After the meal, Chen Qingyan went to work at the Ministry of Revenue for his duties. His official rank hadn’t yet reached the fourth level, so he wasn’t required to attend morning court sessions. He didn’t need to wake too early; arriving before the maoshi third mark (approx. 6:45 AM) was sufficient.

As soon as he arrived at the ministry, his subordinates brought over a stack of account books. "These are the account books for Hu Zhou, Liu Zhou, and Yang Zhou from the past three years. Since they involve salt taxes, there are quite a few…"

Chen Qingyan rubbed his forehead. "Just leave them there for now. By the way, has Lord Zhou arrived yet?"

"Not yet—he hasn’t returned from court. He should be here soon."

The Vice Minister of Revenue was his superior, named Zhou Yun, a man in his sixties. His daily refrain was: "Why haven’t I retired yet? Qingyan, hurry up and learn—once you’re ready, I’ll make way for you."

Every time, Chen Qingyan found it both amusing and frustrating. For someone his age, the workload at the Ministry of Revenue was indeed heavy. He had to handle matters related to land taxes, tariffs, transit duties, government bonds, currency, and money shops from across the country—equivalent to the later-era Ministry of Civil Affairs and Ministry of Finance.

The Ministry of Revenue had very few departments—only four. Each department had one director, and Chen Qingyan was one of them.

He was primarily responsible for land taxes and revenue, making his department the busiest of the four. Of course, it was also widely regarded as the most promising, essentially a fast track to becoming a Vice Minister. If the opportunity arose, he might even advance to Minister someday.

Around 7–9 AM, Lord Zhou returned from the palace and sighed as soon as he entered.

"Vice Minister, Gentleman Chen Qingyan is looking for you."

"Ask him to come in."

Shortly after, Chen Qingyan entered his office. Before he could speak, the elderly official began to lament, "Every day at court, it’s the same thing—everyone just asks for money. The border needs funds for military expenses, the southern regions need relief for floods, and this spring, the north hasn’t seen a single drop of rain. It’s likely we’ll face a drought. They all treat the Ministry of Revenue like a money box, expecting us to hand out funds to anyone who asks."

"What did the Minister say?"

Zhou Yun scoffed, "What can he say? He just acts as a mediator." The two had served together for over thirty years, and Zhou Yun had always been overshadowed by Minister Sun. Now, in his old age with no hope of promotion, he no longer feared him.

"He readily agrees to every request for funds, but does he even know if the Ministry of Revenue has any funds left? The Empress Dowager’s sixtieth birthday is approaching, and the Emperor plans to host a grand celebration, which will inevitably cost a fortune. Even if we tighten our belts, we can’t come up with that much money!"

Chen Qingyan knitted his brows, his mind preoccupied with the potential drought in the north. Since the aristocratic families moved south, the fertile lands left behind were concentrated in the northern regions of Jizhou, Yanzhou, Laizhou, and Zhengzhou.

Tens of thousands of acres of fertile land supported nearly half the country’s population and were the primary source of the court’s annual tax revenue. If a drought were to strike, reducing taxes would be the least of their worries—the real tragedy would be the people starving.

Zhou Yun waved his hand dismissively, "Enough of this. There’s no use discussing it further. What did you need me for?"

"I heard that the Ministry of Agriculture is recruiting. Do you know what the requirements are?"

"I haven’t heard about that. I’ll make some inquiries when I have time." The Ministry of Agriculture was, after all, a branch under the Ministry of Revenue, responsible for agricultural affairs.

*

Meanwhile, in Chen Village, Qingshui Town, Jizhou.

Several elderly farmers were hauling water to irrigate their fields. It hadn’t rained for four consecutive months, and the wheat seedlings in the fields were turning yellow and withering. The villagers were so worried they could hardly eat.

Dun Zi's family owned a plot on the hillside, making it particularly difficult to carry water. He and his wife had started working before dawn.

After a whole morning of labor, they had only managed to irrigate two acres. Many others were in the same situation, but their efforts were like trying to put out a fire with a cup of water. The river was nearly dry, and without rain, there was little hope.

An elderly man who had experienced such conditions before lit a pipe and sighed, "This year’s spring was ill-fated. With only one dragon governing the waters, it’s not enough. We should stock up on grain—it looks like the harvest will fail."

Chen Village was relatively fortunate. Over the years, the villagers had saved some reserves, and every household had surplus grain. Still, no one knew how long the drought would last.

By June, the winter wheat in the north had failed entirely.

For six consecutive months, not a drop of rain had fallen north of the Qinling Mountains, leaving over ten million people affected by the disaster.

The court began organizing relief efforts, with the Ministry of Revenue at the forefront. However, distributing 800,000 shi of tax grain was like a drop in the bucket. Without rain, autumn crops like soybeans couldn’t be planted, and if the planting season passed, the year would yield no harvest at all.

Not only was the Ministry of Revenue anxious, but the Emperor was also so worried that blisters formed in his mouth.

Having just endured a war two years prior, the national treasury was already depleted. Now, faced with such a severe drought, it was feared that millions would starve to death.

Such turmoil would inevitably weaken the nation’s stability. Moreover, the aristocratic families, forced south, were beginning to stir. Rumors spread that the four great families intended to support the Emperor’s cousin, the Prince of Pingnan, in claiming the throne...

"Your Majesty, the Minister of Agriculture requests an audience."

Emperor Wuping raised his hand, "Let him in."

Shortly after, the Minister of Agriculture entered and knelt, kowtowing. "Your humble servant pays respects to Your Majesty."

"Rise. What is the matter?"

Wen Yanping hesitated for a moment before speaking, "This drought is a calamity for the north. The Ministry of Agriculture has failed to share Your Majesty’s burdens, and I am deeply ashamed."

"There is no need for such words, Minister. This is a natural disaster—what does it have to do with the Ministry of Agriculture? I am not an unreasonable tyrant who would blame you for this."

"I have another matter to discuss today. I wish to recommend someone for a position in the Ministry of Agriculture."

"Who is it?"

Wen Yanping clenched his fists, gathering his courage. "This person is the husband of Chen Qingyan, a Gentleman of the Palace Secretariat in the Ministry of Revenue, and the author of *Qi Farming Techniques*, Wang Ying."