ITIEQ C36

Chapter 36 – Qiuquan’s First Public Lecture

Back in the capital, he had once given this very lesson to his students. But now, in such different times and such different circumstances, to speak of it again was an entirely changed matter.

Before him, the listeners’ faces were blank with astonishment. After so much commotion and preparation, traveling from afar with a great spectacle—was it really only to speak of this?

Off to the side, Xue Bufan watched coldly. A fifth-rank official, demoted from the capital, who had studied at the Imperial Academy and served at the Emperor’s side—did he know farming? Could he even distinguish between wheat and millet?

Shen Qinghe said clearly:

“Agriculture is a vast discipline. Today, I will only discuss the simplest of parts.”

So it really was to be a lecture!

None of them had ever heard a true classroom teaching before. Schools outside only recited the classics—Confucian texts and lofty philosophy. Never had any heard an official teach common farming.

Only Xue Bufan, an alumnus of one renowned academy, truly understood how absurd this scene appeared. A boy barely grown, giving lessons on how to till soil before those born and raised in plows and furrows? To teach farmers about farming—it was like showing off an axe before the master carpenter.

Not fit for life, nor for teaching. Laughable!

But Shen Qinghe neither knew nor cared what others thought. And even had he known, he would not have cared. This was no longer a place for gentle persuasion like in the academy halls. For Qiuquan Commandery’s first public lecture, students needed no philosophy or reasoning. Instead, they required ready-chewed food rammed down their throats. Harsh? Yes. But this land was gravely ill—it required a fierce, fast-acting medicine.

He pulled up his sleeves, hand steady upon the blackboard. His handwriting was crisp, flowing, beautiful in strokes:

“Seed Selection, Land Clearing, Soil Improvement, Pest Control, Irrigation.”

“Qiuquan’s local crops are uneven and frail. Locals often dig up a tuber called ‘earth yam’ as food—but this root holds too little starch to serve as staple. We have instead purchased eight varieties of fine seed from neighboring counties. By study of Qiuquan’s soil and water, we selected the most suitable…”

“…After choosing seed comes scientific cultivation. As you all know—no, correction, you may not all know—but now you must: for crops to thrive, their roots must secure nourishment. Thus, creating a healthy root environment is paramount. Let me mark several simple yet crucial directions: maintaining proper planting distances, using efficient tools, enriching soils with complex nutrients. This links to the third item—soil improvement…”

The outline was excerpted from the system’s massive knowledge base, simplified and fused with his students’ field reports—basic yet effective. But for Qiuquan’s farmers, who merely sowed seeds, watered when soil cracked, and weeded when grass grew, it was far more than enough.

“In future, even methods like soilless cultivation, pillar-planting, and wall-planting exist. These are advanced, beyond your level. If you choose farming as your study, pursue them someday.”

His words rolled out firm and steady. In half an hour, he had delivered a complete and systematic overview of knowledge that spanned heaven and earth.

Xue Bufan frowned after the first few sentences, and by the end his brows clenched tighter still.

The boy spoke with such confidence, flawless cadence, no hesitation. It was impossible to question.

But had Shen Qinghe ever once served at the Agricultural Ministry (Sinongsi)? No record of such!

“Time for post-class questions,” Shen declared. He scanned his dazed listeners, “If you have doubts, speak. Having heard my lecture, you now count as half my students. Senior classmates will take you to the fields to practice. This is spring plowing season—within a fortnight, you must master.”

Then a mysterious smile curved his lips.

The crowd, foggy-eyed, nodded. They did not yet know what it meant to be called “half students,” what load that name would place on their lives.

“But, my lord—one field’s fertility only lasts so long. After one planting, it takes a year or more to recover. How could it yield two or three harvests in the same year, as you said?”

This, they all knew. “Soil strength” was a mystery acknowledged by every peasant—yet misinterpreted. All believed that after a field was planted, the next year it would grow nothing. Fields were split: one tilled this year, the other left fallow the next. Without this, there would be starvation.

Thus, the people lived with resignation—while the northern Hu nomads roamed with flocks, they bowed daily to gods, gods who might answer with rain, who might not.

But Shen knew the truth: ‘soil power’ was merely nutrients, micro-elements drained away. If used up yet never replenished with fertilizer, how could crops not fail? Pray till your forehead cracked—still useless.

“Ridge Cultivation.” Shen crossed arms. “Dig furrows and ridges. Plant rows atop ridges. Next year, till again, switch furrow and ridge. So fertility alternates—and soil strength is preserved.”

A hush fell—at first all overwhelmed by the surging knowledge crammed into them endlessly. But this revelation—a desperate mystery answered so simply—struck like thunder. Were it really true, it would surpass their old fallow practice by eight hundred streets!

Excited, trembling, more asked, challenges of pest, water, seed. Shen answered each instant, unraveling tangles. Even when comprehension lagged, light always broke through. Their faces flushed, exhilaration coursed.

A glimpse of pattern, a hint of leopard through a tube—they suddenly saw truth.

From the fog, brightness. In a single lecture, he had thrown open a gate to heaven itself.

Shen calmly sipped his tea.

How backward this land still! All he required were old agricultural treatises already known to him—he had not even needed the system’s search engines.

“My lord, you spoke too quickly—some points I missed!” shouted one, forgetting he addressed the highest authority in Qiuquan, so drawn in he forgot all fear.

Shen smiled faintly. “I never expected all to learn by hearing alone.” At that moment, Xu Lesheng entered, carrying stacks of stitched booklets.

Textbooks had arrived.

“Now that you are half my students, remember this above all.”

The men stared, nearly fevered, intent upon him.

“God may be above, but the road lies beneath our feet.

If we cannot command the sky—then let us walk well upon the ground. The path you may choose is only at your own feet.”

They looked down: at cracked earth, their dirtied toes peeking through sandals.

The road… really underfoot?

Uncertainty filled them. But they had seen his strength, his works—they could listen. The governor’s words—surely safe to follow?

While their minds roiled, Shen glanced at the new booklets and winced.

“This handwriting… hideous.”

Xu Lesheng sighed. “Teacher, these first pages are done with ‘movable type printing.’ You Luo wields the best hand among us, but clay slips, hard to carve. We are still perfecting the method. Only two pages are printed—after that, all handwritten. We burned many lamps at night.”

Shen parted lips, but Xu swiftly continued: “We tried more than ten types of clay, changed moulds often. Already recruiting engravers, but here…” He gestured vaguely—talentless Qiuquan. “So we plan to seek craftsmen from afar.”

“…Not bad,” Shen conceded with a nod. “Remember, record experiments. Hand them out.”

The booklets compiled the wrecked trial-field’s records, problems and solutions, the five students’ full-length reports merged. Mountains of data sprawled inside. Originally sixty copies prepared—now for thirty-some men, enough left over. Shen flipped one open—start to end blank of attribution.

He chuckled. Still pure, these students—no names, no credit, no jostling for authorship. No idea of future rivalries.

Spying Xue Bufan still numb at his side, Shen casually handed him one too.

Xue, dazed from the lecture’s hammer-blow, found the booklet pressed into his arms without warning. He gazed blankly: “Research on Optimizing Agricultural Development in Qiuquan Commandery’s Trial Fields.”

Never had he seen such a long, strange title.

The farmers below might be confused, but not him. Innovation within the government was one matter—but spreading this learning beyond—what purpose lay concealed?

He turned the page.

Paper soft as cloud, thin as snow, smooth and luminous white. Startled, Xue thought: Where could such pearls of paper come? And in such piles, used only for copies? Even my aristocratic clan would never waste so! This was extravagance itself.

Shen Qinghe murmured: “This paper, not bad. Can it be mass-produced yet?”

Xu admitted: “Likely, but manpower short. The paper team alone cannot manage, teacher. Could you assign us more?”

Between trial-fields, smelting, charcoal, paper, weaving—the students were each torn to eight pieces, barely still standing.

Shen sighed. “Manpower again—Lesheng, funding runs dry.”

Xu brightened: “Then let us sell papers! In the capital, this sheet earns hundreds of coins per foot! A fortune awaits if we sell beyond.”

Shen only shook his head. “That is in the capital. Not here, where wealthless neighbors circle. Have I not taught? A man without sin, yet treasures draw thieves. Wait—this, we may not rush.”

Xu bowed. “Teacher speaks truth.”

Xue Bufan, listening, felt numb anew. Did he mean—that this fine paper was locally made in Qiuquan? Already near mass production?

Shen tapped the space crowded with the men. “Short of manpower? Here they sit. Literate, studied—they are the cream of Qiuquan. In farming, learn; outside it, they can aid. But take care—treat them kindly. Not everyone is inexhaustible.”

Xu’s eyes shone. “Yes, teacher. We will be careful—swear all returned safe.”

Xue Bufan thought bitterly: So he can be human after all. Yet as he peered back to the booklet, his hands trembled. White paper had already stunned him—but now the records within—their data, their method—were the weight of a thousand mountains.

Again, Shen frowned. “Who wrote this part? References are to be cited, not transcribed. This plagiarism rate—intolerable! And this one—wrong citation format. Rewrite it! Lucky I saw first—else published, you’d be laughed at by generations of juniors!”

Xue Bufan snapped the booklet shut, hiding it quickly in his sleeve.

His mind swirled—blurred, breathless, scared, thrilled, shaking.

Qiuquan Commandery—and the empire of Great Yong—the winds of transformation… had come.

Footnotes

1. Sinongsi (司農司) – The Agricultural Ministry office under imperial bureaucracy, tasked with farming policy and grain. 
2. Ridge Cultivation (壟耕法) – An ancient practice later developed more fully in Chinese intensive agriculture: ridges and furrows alternating to preserve fertility and water. 
3. Movable Type Printing – First invented in China by Bi Sheng (11th century), here referenced with clay type, soft and breakable, difficult to carve—an anachronism introduced as Shen’s reforms. 
4. “A man without sin, yet treasures bring guilt” (君子無罪，懷璧其罪) – Ancient proverb: possessing rare treasure invites theft and disaster, regardless of innocence.