Being an emperor is not something he can do, so he can only rely on his connections.

After touring the Water Defense Camp, the sun was already setting. Zhang Jingwei helped Huangfu Ling onto the carriage and turned to Qian Ming, saying, "Let's go to Yaoying. It's been raining a lot lately, so I need to check those potholes for any potential landslides."

Qian Ming responded, but hesitated and said, "Master, Hanzi hasn't come back yet. Should we wait for him?"

Zhang Jingwei waved his hand and said, "That's fine. When you pass by Jia Village later, just stop by and call out."

"Okay!" Qian Ming waved the whip, and the carriage rolled onto the country road.

The carriage had been traveling for about an incense stick of time when Jia Dayong hurried back from the village. Beads of sweat still covered his forehead as he jumped onto the shaft. Once inside, he wasn't smiling and talking as usual. Instead, he huddled in a corner, looking as if he wanted to say something but couldn't. His brow was furrowed in a frown, and his fingers were unconsciously twisting the corner of his clothes.

Zhang Jingwei was gently massaging Huangfu Ling's slightly sore ankle, occasionally chuckling and whispering, but he didn't immediately notice his abnormality. For a moment, the only sounds in the carriage were the rumbling of wheels on the dirt road and the occasional bird song outside the window.

After a long while, Jia Dayong seemed to have finally made up his mind. He took a deep breath and spoke in a rough voice, his voice slightly dry due to nervousness: "Young, Young Master..."

Zhang Jingwei raised his head and saw that his dark face had turned a little red. He couldn't help but ask gently, "What's wrong, Dayong? Is there something wrong at home?"

Jia Dayong swallowed his saliva, as if he mustered up his courage, and his voice became louder: "Young Master, you let the villagers grow so much buckwheat. What if... what if the grain tax is not enough next year?" He asked this abruptly, but his eyes revealed pure worry.

Zhang Jingwei was slightly startled, then patiently explained, "The oats are collected directly by the military, and are not subject to the usual grain tax. The price is also reasonable. The villagers sell their oats and get the money. Are they worried about not being able to buy grain to pay taxes? We won't let anyone suffer any loss."

Jia Dayong seemed to be stuck in a dead end and started to make another excuse: "But, but this buckwheat is growing too fast! Ordinary wheat can be harvested once a year, and good soil can only harvest three times in two years. But this buckwheat can be harvested three times a year! I'm afraid... I'm afraid that the soil will use up its energy and won't be able to grow good crops in the future. That would be fatal!" He became more and more anxious as he spoke, and sweat broke out on his forehead again.

Qian Ming, the coachman, couldn't stand it any longer and interrupted, jokingly scolding, "You fool, what's wrong with you today? Is the harvest good or not? Three harvests a year is a great thing, it's something others can't even hope for!"

"You know shit!" Jia Dayong said anxiously, as if a sore spot had been touched. "You grew up in the city, you've never touched a hoe, how can you know the hard work of tending crops? With this kind of farming method, you have to work non-stop, you're exhausted! My...my brother keeps complaining about it, he can hardly read anymore, he wishes he could just drop out of school and go home to pick up a hoe!"

Zhang Jingwei's expression grew serious upon hearing this. He lowered his hand, sat up straight, and looked at Jia Dayong calmly. "Dayong, I understand your concerns. This oatmeal is a high-yield crop unique to the north, chosen for its cold-loving, drought-resistant, and alkali-salt resistant properties. It won't grow in such good soil elsewhere, but it's a treasure here. Jia Village is just a testing ground for me right now. If this cash crop project succeeds, not only Jia Village, but also the entire Gaoyang area, and even more, will have more ways to make a living and earn more money. By then, everyone in your Jia Village will be a wealthy man. Isn't that better than just guarding a few acres of meager farmland and relying on the weather for food?"

"But, but my father is old..." Jia Dayong's voice lowered, with a barely perceptible sob, "The work in the fields is too hard, he...he can't handle it..."

Qian Ming drove the car, shaking his head and sighing, "We've been going around in circles, talking so much. Hanzi, tell me the truth, do you want to quit? Do you want to go home and fulfill your filial duties?"

"No! Absolutely not!" Jia Dayong raised his head suddenly, his face flushed with anxiety, and he waved his hands. "The young master thinks highly of me and calls me 'Dayong' instead of 'Fool'. I, Jia Dayong, feel warm inside! I just want to follow the young master and make a name for myself! It's just... it's just that seeing my parents and fellow villagers working so hard, my heart... feels so blocked..."

Zhang Jingwei saw his anxious expression and understood. He slowed his voice and promised firmly, "Dayong, I understand your feelings. Don't worry, I will immediately arrange to send a few more oxen to Jia Village and do my best to reduce the hardship of the villagers. This special economic zone is a key military project and a long-term strategy that benefits both the country and the people. Just think about it, if every acre of farmland in the world could yield an extra 200 kilograms of grain by planting this one acre of buckwheat, how many lives could that save? Your hard work today is accumulating great virtue."

Jia Dayong listened blankly, the impatience on his face gradually fading, replaced by a bewildered realization. Rubbing his hands, he muttered, "Young Master... you're a man of great ambition... it's me... I'm shortsighted, focusing only on my own little piece of land..."

"Besides," Zhang Jingwei smiled slightly and gave him a rough calculation, "the buckwheat is bought at a high price by the military, so the villagers won't lose out. It can be grown in all three seasons except summer. An ordinary small family can steadily earn 50 to 60 strings of cash year-round. You have a lot of land, and if you take better care of it, maybe by the end of this year, your brother will be able to marry a good wife."

Upon hearing the phrase "younger brother is getting married," Jia Dayong's eyes lit up instantly. All his worries vanished, leaving only a simple, innocent smile. "Hehe... Young Master is right! I was just mistaking my thoughts! From now on... from now on, when I go home, I'll have to talk to the villagers and give them some encouragement!"

Zhang Jingwei nodded with satisfaction: "This child is teachable."

The atmosphere in the car suddenly became relaxed. Qian Ming couldn't help but joked while driving, "Hey, silly boy, if your father really becomes a wealthy man in the future, would he think of finding you a concubine?"

Jia Dayong immediately stiffened his neck and said, "Screw you! My son can already help me with the farm work, why would I need a second wife?"

Qian Ming chuckled and said, "I heard that your late wife was a flower in Jia Village back then, very beautiful."

Jia Dayong showed a trace of nostalgia on his face, and then he became proud: "That's right! Anyway... anyway, she is prettier than your wife!"

Qian Ming snorted in dissatisfaction: "No matter how beautiful she is, can she be as beautiful as our young lady?" As soon as he said that, he realized he had said something wrong and quickly shrank his neck.

Jia Dayong, the simpleton, didn't think much about it and added blankly, "Which young lady are you talking about?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the carriage fell into dead silence.

Jia Dayong himself realized instantly that he had said the wrong thing. His face turned pale with fear and he stood there at a loss, not daring to breathe.

Zhang Jingwei's eyelids twitched, and he laughed and scolded to break the awkwardness: "Isn't the wife I married formally, and who has worshipped heaven and earth, the one in the car? What, don't you think she's pretty?"

Huangfu Ling's brows, which were originally slightly furrowed, relaxed upon hearing the words. The corners of his mouth curved slightly in an imperceptible arc, and he glanced out the window.

Qian Ming lowered his voice, wanting to kick him: "You have such a broken mouth! You really have no way of keeping your mouth shut!"

Jia Dayong wished he could curl himself up into a ball and not say a word. Only the sound of the wheels rolling over the road could be heard, echoing in the early summer evening breeze.