Chapter 170 Nationwide Sugarcane

Chapter 170: Sugarcane for All

"Big Brother, I didn't lie to you. That Meng drugged me—I had no choice!"

Tong Laosan kicked him hard in the chest. "You call that 'no choice'? That Meng already said he tricked you. You were just scared for your own life, too afraid to tell us the truth. You've always been rotten at heart, and only big brother believed you!"

Tong Laowu clutched his chest. "I'm rotten? You were all born to the principal wife, while I'm just a concubine's son. You've always shut me out, treated me like an outsider! When something good comes up, I'm never included; when it's bad, I'm the one you send!"

The Tong brothers bickered heatedly, providing entertainment for the onlookers.

Tong Laoda barked at his fighting brothers, "Enough! Aren't you ashamed?"

By now, everything was clear to him. This was all Meng Wan's scheme, designed to trap him.

"Meng Fulang, you're the clever one. The Tong family concedes defeat. Keep the fields of Hongshan and Hongni villages with peace of mind!" He turned to leave with his two disgraced brothers, only to find Xue Sheng blocking their way.

Tong Laoda's face darkened. "Meng Fulang, what is the meaning of this?"

Meng Wan smiled, eyes crinkling. "The mountain path is treacherous. I'll have someone escort Uncle Tong down." If they didn't deal the Tong family a severe blow, the other local gentry would keep testing them, and he and Song Tingzhou wouldn't have time to play along.

Tong Laoda remained defiant. "I only heard of strange happenings in the village and kindly invited a Daoist. Who knew he was a fraud? And my four nephews are unharmed, so I'll take my leave."

Meng Wan just smiled and had his men block Tong Laoda's way. His seven or eight servants rushed forward, but Xue Sheng kicked each one aside. Tong Laosan and Tong Laowu, who had been brawling, finally sensed something wrong and stopped.

At that moment, many footsteps sounded on the mountain path. Song Tingzhou strode forward, his voice steady as a mountain. "This official has received a report of a homicide in Hongshan Village."

Seeing him in official robes, followed by a large group of yamen runners, Meng Wan's eyes flickered with amusement. "I know nothing of a homicide, but here we have someone spreading rumors, using supernatural claims to swindle my money and slandering me with false accusations of murder and concealment of bodies. I ask you to seek justice for me, Your Honor."

The old Taoist reacted most quickly. Seeing the officials arrive, he quietly tried to slip away, but Xue Sheng, who had been watching him, chased him down. The old Taoist actually knew some martial arts, but his age caught up with him, and after a few exchanges he was subdued and bound by the yamen runners.

The Tong family realized the situation was dire. Putting aside their gentry airs, they said politely, "Magistrate, now that the rumor-monger has been caught, we brothers will take our leave."

Meng Wan spoke slowly, "The old Taoist tricked me out of my money with his fraud, which is indeed detestable. But isn't the one who's been fooling everyone still here?"

He turned his gaze to the Tong family and said meaningfully to Tong Laoda, "Isn't that right, Uncle Tong?" Even now, he still mockingly called Tong Laoda "Uncle."

Tong Laoda knew this wouldn't end well, but he hadn't expected Meng Wan to involve the authorities directly. And County Magistrate Song let him get away with it to this extent.

Even now, he still thought Meng Wan was only after his six hundred mu of fields and a few hills, and didn't understand the law well enough to act recklessly. He obviously still believed that after the previous defeat, his family couldn't be toppled.

Actually, he wasn't entirely wrong. Meng Wan and Song Tingzhou were there to build up the local people, not to crack down on crime. Landed gentry and landlords could never be eliminated entirely; the key was to empower the common people. But the Tong family was too arrogant. Simply dealing with Tong Ping hadn't been enough to make them rein in.

"My husband Meng has spoken. Everyone here is a witness. Is what he said true?" Song Tingzhou asked the surrounding villagers without changing expression.

At first, no one spoke. Then the Tao family stepped forward, followed by the families of workers in the sugar workshop, and then other villagers came forward to testify for Meng Wan.

With proper official procedures and both human and material evidence, besides the thieving old Taoist, the three Tong brothers were also taken to the yamen.

Four days later, the court convened. All procedures followed the laws of Yu. Rumor-mongers who deceive the public shall be beheaded. Using such rumors to falsely accuse others of murder also falls within the scope of rumor-mongering and is punishable by death.

In such a remote place as He Mountain, the law was more severe than common folk could imagine.

By the time the Tong family realized their fear, it was already too late.

The three Tong brothers were imprisoned. Tong Laoda's execution was all but guaranteed. The other two, as accomplices, would serve three years of penal servitude.

The only surviving brother, Tong Laoer, somehow inherited the family estate. Still harboring some brotherly loyalty, he went to other gentry in He County and together they petitioned the court for mercy.

Under any other county magistrate, the situation might have turned into the gentry would have pressured and bribed. But with the Tong family nearly destroyed, any sensible gentry knew better than to provoke the magistrate. Still, seeing the Tong family truly fall stirred a sense of unease—if the same happened to them, they'd have no one to plead for them.

These gentry each held sway over their own territories, with little conflict of interest. They united against external threats, making them hard to root out.

"You've come to plead? You should go to the front court and see my husband!" Meng Wan was holding his son. A Yan rested his little head on Meng Wan's shoulder, looking as cute as could be. Meng Wan was utterly charmed.

The several landlords in their fifties exchanged wry smiles. Who didn't know Tong Laoda was jailed because he offended Meng Wan? This consort was the key figure. Who would dare go to a county magistrate who beheaded people on a whim?

"We have never shown the slightest disrespect since County Magistrate Song took office. Please, Meng Fulang, on behalf of us old bones, spare Tong Tai's life. Even if he has to return to farming, we'll be grateful."

Accustomed to a life of luxury, they rarely stooped so low, and it might have stirred guilt in others.

But not in Meng Wan. He looked meek, holding his son, but his mind was sharp.

These old landlords weren't openly opposing Song Tingzhou—they simply lacked the connections Tong had in the county court. If Inspector Huang had been as powerful in the court as Tong's family, they would have been just as cocky.

They hadn't dared to test Song Tingzhou's mettle yet, not because they were genuinely obedient.

No matter how much they talked, Meng Wan remained unmoved. He had gone to all this trouble, and they thought a few words would make him release the prisoner? Ridiculous.

"I know Meng Fulang has his eye on my family's land. I'm willing to offer the six hundred mu in Hongshan and Hongni villages as a ransom to buy my eldest brother's freedom!" Tong Laoer gritted his teeth.

Meng Wan actually looked at him with some respect. Now that Tong Laoda was in prison, as the second uncle, he could compete for the position of family head. Was he really willing to pay such a price to get his brother out?

Handing his son to Huang Ye, Meng Wan turned around. "Are you serious? Think carefully. My husband will report this to the court as your family's voluntary land donation. There'll be no taking it back."

Tong Laoer was startled. Wasn't this Meng after their land? Why would he report it to the court instead of taking it for himself? He didn't understand the intricacies, but as long as he gave up the land and got his brother back, he didn't care who got it.

Meng Wan saw the gentry off. Before leaving, the head of the Huang family hesitated and lingered to exchange pleasantries. "Meng Fulang, is my son performing well in the county court?"

Meng Wan smiled. "Uncle Huang, speak freely. We go way back." He always acted this way—friendly until he showed his teeth.

"Ahem, should my family also donate a hundred mu of land?" the Huang family head asked tentatively.

"Uncle Huang, if you donate land, the court will remember your kindness." Meng Wan neither encouraged nor discouraged him, just gave a vague answer.

The Huang family head went home and mulled over Meng Wan's words all night. Finally, he went to the county court and voluntarily surrendered a hundred mu to Song Tingzhou.

The gentry were all in touch with each other. Now that the Huang family's son was a patrol officer in the court and they hadn't committed any crime like the Tong family, why the sudden donation?

Some suspicious minds thought that although they didn't have as much land as the Tong family, they could still afford a few dozen or a hundred mu. Maybe they should follow the Huang family's lead and donate too?

Once one did, others followed. If they were the only ones who didn't donate, would they be targeted like the Tongs?

In the end, every gentry family in He County donated land, totaling over a thousand mu. This was an unexpected bonus that even Song Tingzhou and Meng Wan hadn't seen coming.

Aside from the small stir this caused when reported to the imperial court, with the Tong family dealt with, Meng Wan could focus on growing sugarcane again.

But compared to last year, there were changes this year.

"Everyone knows that last year was my first time planting sugarcane. I didn't know how many workers I'd need, so I hired too many. This year, I don't want to hire as many," Meng Wan said without preamble.

The villagers, called together by the Village Head, grew uneasy. "Meng Fulang, you can pay us less. I'll take thirty wen... no, twenty wen will do." It wasn't competition—they were genuinely afraid of losing this source of income, and even more afraid that Meng Wan would become like the old tyrant Tong.

"Uncle Chen, don't panic. There are things I want to make clear. I signed a two-year lease for the Tong family's land. Even if I keep hiring you this year, what will happen in a few years when my husband is reassigned?"

Meng Wan asked seriously, "Will you go back to being tenant farmers for someone else?"

Uncle Chen looked down at his rough hands. "I don't want to be a tenant farmer either. The few mu of barren land I opened up should be enough to get by." But the good times last year had made everyone unsatisfied with merely having enough to eat. They wanted to buy a couple of catties of meat every few days, renovate their houses, raise chickens and ducks, save for their sons' marriages and their daughters' and sons' dowries.

Without desire, people are numb. With desire, there's no going back.

Meng Wan spoke softly but with great force, addressing the villagers before him, whose faces showed disappointment and anxiety. He said, "You've misunderstood me. Wanting to earn money is a good thing—farming isn't just for food, it can also bring income. Take last year as an example: I rented land, built a sugar mill, and sold the sugar for profit, as you all know. What if you grew your own sugarcane and sold it to my mill in the autumn?"

After hearing Meng Wan's words, the villagers buzzed with discussion. Some were more conservative and said, "Grow sugarcane and sell it ourselves? What if we lose money? It's safer to stick with rice."

Others, bold and careful, started asking around, "How many jin per mu did we harvest last year?"

Seeing some response, Meng Wan took out his small ledger and explained clearly.

"Last year, we got about ten thousand jin of sugarcane per mu. After deducting worker wages and operating costs, I can offer you one tael and eight qian for every ten thousand jin of sugarcane. The more you sell, the more you earn."

The village head, standing at the front, widened his old eyes. "Meng Fulang, is what you say true? One tael and eight qian per ten thousand jin?"

The villagers' excitement grew. Although they earned a good amount working for Meng Wan last year, their hearts were always in their throats—they worried about wage deductions, accidents, or the long delay of this year's seedlings. Few households had slept soundly.

If they could earn more on their own, who would want to work for someone else?

Meng Wan had always been straightforward and honest with the villagers. Knowing they were honest, he saw no need to deceive them. "I know what you're worried about. The county magistrate approved a large piece of land for me right outside the county town. Every piece of equipment and every room inside was my own design—I poured my heart into it. I'm not going to up and leave."

Turning around, he pulled Bi Yun, who had come with him, forward. "Bi Yun is a husband from our Red Mountain Village; you all know him, right? He's now the manager of the sugar mill. Even if something changes with me in the future, you can still come to him. Ten thousand jin of sugarcane for one tael and eight qian—that's the set price at Heshan Sugar Mill!"

His words would stay with the villagers for years. That night, the village exploded with lively discussion.

Meng Wan had done his duty, and the village head handled the follow-up. Although the Tong family's six hundred mu of land had been donated, Meng Wan dared not act until the court's verdict was final. So he still rented the land to the villagers at five hundred wen per mu, the price he had paid to lease it himself.

As for the sugarcane seedlings, since this was the villagers' first year of trial planting, Meng Wan essentially gave away the well-preserved seedlings or sold them at half price, mainly to encourage them.

Thus, in the villages of Red Mountain and Red Mud, except for a few households that insisted on planting rice, most villagers planted sugarcane on at least the few mu of wasteland they had reclaimed.

Meng Wan had also discovered that sugarcane in Lingnan was a game-changer—favorable climate, fertile soil, diverse terrain—the overall growing advantage was even better than in Yangzhou.

The sugar mill had limited seedlings, so it was first come, first served. Even people from nearby villages came to buy some sugarcane seedlings and try planting them.

This was good. For everyone who bought seedlings, Meng Wan had his subordinates explain the sugarcane planting precautions in detail. If the autumn harvest was good and the villagers earned money, nearby villagers would naturally start growing sugarcane on their own.

With more sugarcane planted, sugar mills would appear one after another in Heshan. Meng Wan would neither resist nor suppress this; instead, he would gladly encourage such a development.