Chapter 154 Wages

Chapter 154: Wages

After hearing his thoughts, Song Tingzhou asked the village head, who actually found a place.

"This child's parents went into the mountains and never returned. He lives with his grandmother, and their house has a few spare rooms. If Lord Song and his husband find my place too cramped, you could stay at his house instead. But the house is rundown and needs repairs," the village head said, somewhat nervously. The county magistrate had condescended to visit their village, yet they hadn't even arranged proper lodging.

Song Tingzhou crouched down to look at the scrawny little boy before him. "May we stay at your place for a while? As compensation, we'll fix up your house."

The boy shrank back, but behind him was emptiness—no parents to stand in front of him and shield him. So he had to face this "important person" alone.

"O...okay."

Realizing that his conversation might cause the child more distress, Song Tingzhou simply stood up and let him leave, then went to speak with the village head. "We'll buy the tiles and bricks ourselves, but when it's time to renovate, we'll need a hand from the villagers."

Tiles and bricks could be bought in town; he could have Tao Si and his brothers handle it. Four days should be enough to haul everything back by oxcart. The timber needed for repairs would have to be seasoned and processed, so even if they cut it down now, it wouldn't be usable right away. The village head did have some on hand, and they wouldn't take it for free—they'd pay market price.

These tasks could be left to the Tao brothers; he and Meng Wan had more important things to do.

"Certainly, certainly. There are plenty of able-bodied men in the village; we can have the house rebuilt in a few days."

The village head's surname was also Tong, but his family had been cut off from the Tong family in town for generations. The Tongs in town didn't bother to be polite to him; aside from returning to the ancestral home for worship each year, the two sides rarely met.

He had somehow heard that a member of the Tong family had been arrested, and feared that Lord Song might take it out on him just for sharing the surname. He spoke with constant trepidation. Of course, it could also be that ordinary folks were simply in awe of officials in this era.

Song Tingzhou was an efficient man. Since the house renovation was settled, he immediately had Qin Jiao go find Tao Si and the others, telling them to rest for a bit and then head to town early the next morning to buy tiles and bricks.

The next morning, Song Tingzhou changed into a short jacket and went up the mountain to guide the villagers in building terraced fields. It wasn't that difficult, but the location and some finer points still needed explaining. Once a few terraces were successfully built, the villagers' confidence soared, and he no longer needed to supervise every step.

Meng Wan slept until he woke up naturally. After Bi Yun helped him wash up, he found the village head at home, who looked hesitant.

To be recognized by the villagers as their leader, the village head must have had a sense of responsibility. He genuinely wanted the villagers to live better lives. The terraced fields had given them hope, and the whole village was now grateful to Lord Song, treating Meng Wan with great respect.

"Village head, please speak your mind," Meng Wan said as he took the porridge bowl Bi Yun handed him, sitting casually on a small stool in the yard, eating and talking.

The village's able-bodied men were all busy clearing wasteland, leaving only the elderly and children at home. Kids of three or five ran wild around the village without adult supervision. Those a bit older, seven or eight, already did what they could for the family—washing, cooking, feeding the chickens, pulling weeds and picking stones from the fields.

Though the village still had an air of poverty, it inexplicably buzzed with life as spring arrived. People's eyes were full of hope for the harvest.

The village head rubbed his calloused palms, stammering for a moment before finally saying, "I heard from Tao Er in the village that the Tong family's land has been rented by Meng Fulang."

Meng Wan took a sip of the thick, fragrant rice porridge, looking at the children running around the village. "I remember telling Tao Er to inform everyone last month not to worry about the land lease. Although I've rented the Tong land, I'll still hire everyone to farm it for me. And you don't have to worry about the harvest; I'll pay you in silver."

"Yes, yes. Tao Er did say that." But everyone was still worried it wasn't reliable. When they planted crops on land they rented themselves, the harvest was truly theirs. But now, how did this work? They weren't even renting the land anymore—they were becoming hired farmhands?

In fact, if Song Tingzhou hadn't taught them to build terraces and announced that all reclaimed wasteland would be their own land, with a three-year tax exemption, the villagers—out of respect for Lord Song—would have already stormed the village head's house to demand an explanation from Meng Wan.

Meng Wan thought while holding his bowl. "How about this: I saw a large open space in the village. Please tell everyone to gather there after dinner tonight, and anyone who wants to know the details of my hiring plan can come listen."

"Alright, alright. When they come back, I'll spread the word door to door." Now that he had a definite answer, even though he still didn't fully understand the logic, the village head felt much more at ease.

Song Tingzhou returned after a day of labor. That evening, the village head insisted that his wife kill a chicken to treat them. Unable to dissuade him, Meng Wan simply handed over silver to buy the chicken, and the village head finally calmed down.

Though Lord Song appeared stern-faced on the surface, it was actually his ever-smiling husband who was the more unyielding one.

After dinner, Song Tingzhou accompanied Meng Wan outside. The village's open space was already packed with people. Matters concerning three hundred mu of land—the source of a family's yearly food supply—made everyone anxious. Even though they were busy clearing wasteland, this was their first time building terraces, and no one knew if something might go wrong.

Meng Wan sat on the small stool Song Tingzhou had placed for him, sweeping his gaze over the surrounding villagers. His voice was neither loud nor soft, unhurried. "What I'm about to say, some of you may accept, some may not. But please hear me out before asking your questions."

The crowd fell silent. People exchanged glances, not understanding what Meng Wan meant.

Meng Wan was pleased with the quiet atmosphere. "First, everyone knows that the land you used to rent was taken over by the Tong family and then leased to me. But don't panic. I want to ask you: Why do we farm?"

Without hesitation, the villagers answered, "To grow food, to fill our bellies!"

"Exactly! If we don't farm, what will our families eat?"

Meng Wan countered without missing a beat, "Then have your families' bellies been filled?"

It was said that the northern lands were dry, the soil barren, yielding only one harvest a year. Yet back then, the villagers of Sanquan Village had lived better than the people of Hongshan Village today. Ordinary families could at least afford two jin of meat during festivals.

But in Hongshan Village, each person averaged only one mu of land. Half of the harvest had to be given to the landlord as rent, plus government taxes. Forget meat or full stomachs—people starved to death every year.

So when Meng Wan asked, everyone fell silent.

Meng Wan clapped his hands, the crisp sound drawing everyone's attention. "Now I'm renting this land to plant crops, and I need to hire people. From April this year to the end of October, seven months in total. Every household with able-bodied men aged sixteen to fifty will earn fifty wen per day. Women and xiaoge aged fifteen to fifty will earn thirty-five wen per day. Each household can contribute at most one man and one woman or xiaoge. All wages will be paid monthly, starting on the first of May."

Someone cried out in disbelief, "How much! Fifty wen a day, for seven whole months?"

The villagers had braced for the worst: that Meng Fulang would pay wages for spring planting and then only a few days during the autumn harvest. But Meng Wan not only promised seven months of wages, but also fifty wen a day—almost as much as working as a laborer elsewhere, and even then, such heavy laboring jobs weren't available every day.

Some were too shocked and excited to speak, while others hurriedly asked their quick-witted neighbors, "Fifty wen a day—how much silver is that for seven months?"

Someone else tugged at a neighbor in disbelief, "Did Meng Fulang just say that women and xiaoge also get paid?"

It took a moment for everyone to snap out of it. They wanted to ask questions but felt too embarrassed, nervous and excited, afraid they had misheard.

So Meng Wan repeated himself: "Some farm work is rough, some requires delicate handling. Women and xiaoge are often more careful than men, but because of physical strength, they get fifteen wen less. If anyone has objections, speak up now."

The women and xiaoge present shook their heads vigorously. "No, Meng Fulang is right." They felt they had received an incredible boon; now whatever Meng Wan said was law. To object further would be ungrateful.

Then some idiot, trying to curry favor with Meng Wan, shouted, "These women and useless xiaoge should be grateful for even five or eight wen! How can they compare to men!"

Though that reflected the genuine thoughts of many village men, no one wanted to complain about earning more money. Everyone glared in the direction of the voice, furious.

Meng Wan turned to ask Qin Jiao behind him, "Prince Qin, did you catch which villager said that? Please drag him out."

As a martial artist, Qin Jiao had sharp ears and eyes. He quickly located the man and pulled him out of the crowd, bringing him before Meng Wan.

The man who had been spouting nonsense became docile once dragged before Meng Wan and Song Tingzhou, looking nervous and staring at the ground.

But no matter how obedient he seemed on the surface, anyone who could say such things was clearly domineering at home.

Meng Wan swept his gaze over the other villagers. The men probably all thought the same way, but since they were the beneficiaries, they wouldn't voice objections like this fool.

Still, it wasn't surprising. Men had long been considered superior to women and xiaoge. As women and xiaoge gradually gained their own value, these men would have to get used to it—or else end up farming and taking care of kids at home.

Meng Wan snorted lightly. "Village head, does this man have women or xiaoge at home?"

Before the village head could answer, another villager jumped in: "Meng Fulang, his own father was a xiaoge, and he married a xiaoge too. He also has a thirteen-year-old daughter. I don't know about his xiaoge, but my own Cao Geer is excellent at weeding in the fields and managing the household. He weeds more thoroughly than our bed is made!"

"That's right, Meng Fulang! My Cuiniang has been working in the fields with me since she was eleven—she's very capable."

"Everyone, rest assured. What I've said won't change. But since this man has voluntarily requested eight wen in wages, I won't refuse him. Village head, please make a note: the wages for his xiaoge and daughter will be as I stated, but change his wage to eight wen. I won't bully him; since he'll be doing less work, he only needs to work half a day."

If everyone else also got eight wen, it wouldn't matter. But for him to be the only one earning less than the women and xiaoge—the whole village would laugh at him. Even that fool eventually realized his words hadn't flattered Meng Fulang but had offended him instead.

He tried to say something to make amends, but the village head pulled him away. "Get home fast, you clueless fool! Talking about useless xiaoge in front of Meng Fulang—you're asking for trouble!"

Meng Wan stood up from his stool. "Since there are no more questions, let's call it a day. Tomorrow evening, those interested should come to the village head's house to register for work. For the next few days, everyone focus on clearing the wasteland."

Next, Red Mountain Village bustled with activity as they cleared the wasteland and built terraced fields. The Tao brothers bought tiles and bricks from the town, and the tile worker who sold these items brought along his two sons, driving their ox cart to help roof the houses.

This family was also named Tong, and the little boy was called Tong Shun, eight years old this year. Compared to the village head and the Tong family, he was not even remotely related.

Tong Shun's grandmother was elderly and deaf, and the eight-year-old looked after her at home.

Renovating a house was easier than building a new one from scratch, since the main framework was intact; it only needed to be repaired and supplemented, and then tiling the roof.

The main house had three bedrooms suitable for living, and the wing rooms had two. Meng Wan disliked sharing a roof with strangers, so he, Song Tingzhou, and Bi Yun moved into the wing rooms, while Qin Jiao stayed in one of the rooms in the main house.

Seeing that the terraced fields were progressing smoothly, Meng Wan also needed to get moving.

He sat at the table, writing and drawing on paper, while Bi Yun sat across from him, also, which was rare, picked up a brush to write a list of names. Being from an official family, he naturally knew how to write.

Red Mountain Village had a total of 270 households, of which 190 had no land. There were 310 people who would work. Among them, 140 were men, 97 were women, and 73 were young men.

Meng Wan quickly calculated: "The wages for the men over seven months were 1,470 taels, and for the young men and women combined, it was 1,249 taels and 500 wen, totaling 2,719 taels and 500 wen."

Bi Yun gasped on the side, "Husband, isn't that too much?"

"Well." Meng Wan sighed lightly, "The investment is indeed high, but the earnings will be greater. Farming is hard work; too little wouldn't be proper." The villagers might be satisfied with thirty wen a day, but by the labor ratio, fifty wen was truly not much, considering there were many hillsides that needed these people's effort. He would only know the year-end income; if it was good, he would distribute some extra bonuses.

Bi Yun couldn't help but ask, "Husband, with all this land you've rented, what exactly are you going to plant?"

Meng Wan put down his brush and chuckled lightly, "Sugarcane."