Chapter Two: Plowing

“Wow! The fish really swam in by themselves!” Still a boy, Li He’s thoughts were far less complicated. He turned his head, eyes fixed on the river, and saw the little fish indeed darting in, one after another, unable to find their way back out. His playful spirit was instantly aroused; he grabbed a handful of twigs. “How interesting! Let me try making one too—why is it that once the fish swim in, they can’t get out?”

“When your trap catches ten fish, I’ll tell you,” Wei Renshi replied with a laugh, digging a few more earthworms from the damp soil nearby and tossing them into the trap. He watched as the number of fish inside steadily grew, and his fingers itched with anticipation.

“The fish here aren’t tasty; they’re far too fishy,” Li He remarked, watching Wei Renshi, who was delightedly scooping them up.

“That’s just because you don’t know how to cook them!” Wei Renshi chuckled. Then it occurred to him that this was the Tang dynasty—not every household had cooking oil. When they made fish soup, they probably didn’t fry the fish first, did they?

Well, he didn’t have a drop of oil at hand either, but at least there was a little coarse salt left. No need to settle for plain boiled fish.

So improving the quality of life should always come first!

The two of them spent half the morning playing and catching fish by the river. Wei Renshi wove a small basket from willow twigs, which impressed Li He so much that he asked for one as well, to hold his own catch.

Carrying their baskets of fish and wild vegetables back home, Wei Renshi was in high spirits, eager to show off his culinary skills. But as soon as he reached the door, Xi’er barred his way and absolutely refused to let him enter, so he had to give up.

The matriarch of the house witnessed this scene and called Wei Renshi inside. “You’re a descendant of the gentry,” she said. “Your great-grandfather, grandfather, and father were all scholars. In the future, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly to your studies and always remember your duty to serve and repay others. Only then will you be worthy of your ancestors. Do not be distracted by such trivial matters—you needn’t do these things again. If you find the millet isn’t enough to fill you, just tell me. I won’t let you go hungry.”

To Wei Renshi’s present mind, the matriarch was somewhat rigid. His philosophy of living in the moment certainly wouldn’t make sense to her. He was about to nod and reply perfunctorily, hoping to brush the matter aside.

But at the last moment, he couldn’t help himself. Smiling, he said, “What kind of gentry son can’t even get enough to eat and has to ask his mother to beg for grain? I’m the eldest son; I can’t bear to make you go out and ask for food on my behalf!”

He meant it as a joke, but unexpectedly, the matriarch’s expression darkened. She sighed deeply. “To study, to seek honors, to enter government and bring prosperity to the people—this is the Wei family’s ancestral teaching, and must never be forgotten. If your grandfather and father had not passed away so early, our family would still be among the local gentry and would never have fallen to such a state. Even so, we still have a few acres of land. But now, with only women and children in the house, we lack the strength to work, so the fields have become overgrown with weeds and the grain goes unharvested. This is my failure as head of the household.”

Wei Renshi reflected: a woman, a boy not yet grown, and a frail, young maidservant. If they had been born farmers, perhaps they’d have managed, but now, after falling from prosperity, it was truly a hardship. Still, since he was now Wei Renshi, this responsibility was his to bear.

But he didn’t think it would be too difficult. After all, he had “lived” over twelve hundred years more than they had.

The matriarch continued, “Even so, the land must be tilled. In the next few days, we must take advantage of the rain-softened soil and plow the fields.”

Wei Renshi had plowed fields before. With the modern farm tools he remembered, turning a few acres would be no trouble.

But that was hardly the case now.

So, once again, Wei Renshi left the house and headed toward the fields.

Already, diligent farmers were making the most of the time to plow their land. Seeing the tools in their hands, Wei Renshi immediately felt uneasy—those tools alone would never allow the women and children at home to plow several acres with any ease.

He walked along the field ridge, watching a farmer struggling to pull a heavy plow through the earth.

“Uncle Zhao, is that plow heavy?” Wei Renshi called out from the edge of the field. “Let me try it, won’t you?”

“That won’t do!” Old Zhao laughed, wiping his brow. “You’re a scholar, young master Wei—those hands are meant for brush and ink. You’re destined for greater things. Why trouble yourself with fieldwork?”

Wei Renshi grinned. “Even the Emperor works the fields every spring, turning the soil with his own hands. What does that make me?” He laughed as he took off his shoes, rolled up his sleeves, jumped down into the field, and snatched the rope from Old Zhao.

He slung the rope over his shoulder and pulled with all his might—not the slightest movement.

This body was still young and far too frail, with hardly any strength at all.

Old Zhao grinned, took the rope back, and, together with his son-in-law who pushed from behind, resumed their work.

Wei Renshi stood aside, studying the plow intently.

It was indeed a curved-shaft plow, but the shaft was too long—a long curved-shaft plow. And compared to those he had seen in later times, it was missing several features.

For instance, there was no moldboard to turn the soil aside as the plow moved. The plowshare was too straight, making it hard to cut into the ground and break up the soil. Moreover, there was no mechanism to adjust the depth, so it couldn’t plow at varying depths.

In remote mountain villages he had once known, where fields were small and scattered and even tractors couldn’t get through, old-fashioned plowing methods and tools still prevailed. Having grown up in the countryside and later worked there as a teacher, Wei Renshi was no stranger to such implements.

He was certain that if he could have the old-style tools he’d seen in his previous life made here, the efficiency of plowing would rise dramatically.

Perhaps, even with only three women and children, his family could manage the fields.

After carefully memorizing the design of Old Zhao’s plow, Wei Renshi hurried back home.

Though the house had been reduced to just a few old rooms, a study was still set aside for him. As soon as he entered, Wei Renshi shut the door, grabbed a brush, and began to draw.

Fortunately, he had inherited the original owner’s memories, and thanks to his profession, he had practiced a little calligraphy in the past. He quickly adapted to drawing with a brush.

All afternoon, he worked, squinting until his eyes ached and he could hardly see what was on the page, and after wasting a thick stack of precious paper, he finally produced a satisfactory diagram. The principle and structure of the curved-shaft plow were simple enough, but even so, it took him quite some effort to create a clear, accurate illustration that a craftsman could understand.

After lighting the lamp, another idea struck him.

Using a few more sheets of paper, he drew the key components of the plow separately. This way, the complete design became just a combination of several parts. After fixing the proportions and specifying the measurements, he could commission different craftsmen to make different sections and then assemble them himself—at least, for a short while, the secret would be safe. Of course, once the new plow appeared, imitation would be inevitable, but before others figured out the structure, he might have just enough time to profit from it and move on to other ventures.

He carefully collected the wasted paper, hiding it for use as cleaning rags in the days to come. Then, Wei Renshi left the study.

This was not something his mother could know about, or she would scold him again for being distracted and not focusing on his studies.

He would have to find a way to get some money and secretly approach a craftsman.

At once, Wei Renshi thought of his childhood friend.