Chapter 91: "Communal Dining"

Twenty Liu plows were delivered by Yuan Pei just before noon.

At that time, Liu Yitiao was still suffering from a hangover, having just risen from bed. Clad in a short jacket, he was practicing Jeet Kune Do in the courtyard—throwing punches, kicking, loosening his body. When he saw Yuan Pei arrive at the gate with a donkey cart, he stopped his exercises and went forward to greet him.

“Uncle Yuan, you truly keep your word. That was quick—thank you for your trouble.” Liu Yitiao clasped his hands in greeting as he met Yuan Pei, then opened the gate to let him drive the donkey cart inside.

“Doctor Liu, you’re too polite,” Yuan Pei replied, steering the cart into the courtyard with a smile. “Delivering goods to the master is the duty of humble carpenters like us. Where would you like these plow heads unloaded? In the courtyard, or inside the house? I can carry them for you.”

“In the courtyard is fine,” Liu Yitiao said, coming forward as the cart stopped to lift one of the plow heads. He smiled as he asked Yuan Pei, “Uncle Yuan, you managed to produce these plows so quickly. I suppose the Liu Plow Workshop is fully operational now?”

“Thanks to Doctor Liu’s support,” Yuan Pei said, his expression tinged with pride. He hopped down from the cart and continued, “Since yesterday afternoon, until just before I came, the Liu Plow Workshop has produced twelve Liu plows. That’s only because some apprentices are still inexperienced—give it a few more days, and the workshop will be able to turn out fifteen to twenty plow heads a day. That’s more than double what we had originally estimated.”

“Congratulations to you and Old Yuan,” Liu Yitiao replied; it was good news for him. Improved efficiency meant lower production costs and higher profits, so his earnings would increase accordingly.

“Congratulations to us all!” Yuan Pei clasped his hands, met Liu Yitiao’s gaze, and the two of them burst into hearty laughter.

After unloading all the plow heads, Yuan Pei declined Liu Yitiao’s invitation to stay and took his leave. “Doctor Liu, the Liu Plow Workshop has just opened, and there are many matters that need attending. I shouldn’t linger—I’ll take my leave now.”

“In that case, I won’t keep you. Let me see you out, Uncle Yuan.” Smiling, Liu Yitiao escorted Yuan Pei to the gate.

If this workshop venture had been launched today, Liu Yitiao would be a major shareholder, investing capital for sixty percent ownership, while the Yuan father and son contributed their expertise for forty percent. Now, seeing Yuan Pei—the minor shareholder—working so industriously to earn him money, Liu Yitiao was naturally pleased.

“No need to see me out, Doctor Liu—I’ll be on my way.” Yuan Pei climbed onto the cart, clasped his hands in farewell, and rode off, flicking his little whip.

Liu Yitiao closed the gate and returned to the courtyard. He gazed at the twenty-one plow oxen and twenty Liu plows, a smile spreading across his face. With all these, cultivating several acres of wasteland would be child’s play.

He greeted Liu Heshi inside, changed his clothes, and led Liu Wuhen out. Their destination was the village where the tenant farmers lived.

It was time to break ground. The date they had set earlier needed to be moved up.

Upon entering the village, Liu Yitiao rode his donkey at a slow pace. Some children playing outside were so frightened by his presence that they scattered and hid, as if they’d seen a monster; this left Liu Yitiao feeling a bit disheartened. The adults, however, treated him with respect—bowing and greeting him as “Master.”

“Master, what brings you here?” Li Dechen, having been informed, hurried out from his house to meet him. He walked quickly to Liu Yitiao, bowed, and took the reins from his hand. “Master, please come and rest at my humble home.”

“Thank you, Old Li,” Liu Yitiao said softly, handing over Liu Wuhen, and followed Li Dechen into the house.

It was the same three stools; Liu Yitiao was offered the central seat, and Li Dechen sat to the side. But this time, there was tea—brought by Li Dechen’s eldest son, Li Biao. As he handed the tea bowl to Liu Yitiao, Li Biao grinned foolishly and said in his thick, honest voice, “Master, please… have some tea!”

Liu Yitiao accepted the bowl gently, set it on the table, and observed Li Biao for a moment before asking Li Dechen, “Old Li, is this your son?” He recalled seeing him once before when he came to sign the contract: a large fellow, strong, but with a simple-minded look, a bit dull-witted. It puzzled Liu Yitiao how someone as clever as Li Dechen could have such a son.

Li Dechen waved Li Biao away and explained with an apologetic smile, “Master’s keen eyes are correct. He’s my eldest, Li Biao. When he was young, he suffered a head injury and hasn’t been quite right since—please forgive me. But Master needn’t worry; though he’s a bit slow, he’s excellent at farming. He won’t delay your work.”

Li Dechen spoke carefully, fearful that Liu Yitiao might dislike Li Biao and dismiss him.

Li Biao was a source of worry for Li Dechen; already in his late twenties, nearly thirty, yet unable to find a wife. The anxiety had turned his hair white—he feared the Li family line would end with him.

Liu Yitiao saw through Li Dechen’s concern and smiled, waving his hand. “Old Li, you worry too much. I only noticed Li Biao’s sturdy build and honest temperament, which pleases me. I meant nothing else.”

“Master is too kind,” Li Dechen replied gratefully, seeing that Liu Yitiao was sincere and not at all mocking.

“What instructions do you have, Master? Are we to begin breaking ground?” he asked.

“Yes,” Liu Yitiao said, sipping the tea and wrinkling his brow—it was bitter, with no lingering fragrance, likely the lowest quality leaves. He set the bowl down and told Li Dechen, “The oxen and implements are all ready. So I’ve come today to inform you that tomorrow we’ll formally begin breaking ground. Please notify all the households.”

“Also, there’s the matter of land and oxen allocation. I’d like to consult you on how these were distributed when you worked for Wang Kui and the others.”

Li Dechen nodded. “Master is newly arrived and wouldn’t know these things. Allow me to explain in detail.”

He deliberated for a moment and then began to lay out the situation.

In the Tang dynasty, landlords typically used two methods for farming their land: renting and hiring.

Renting involved leasing land to tenant farmers—those with partial farms or registration but no land—charging high rents for profit.

Hiring, which Liu Yitiao was now employing, meant engaging professional tenant farmers without household registration. Each year, they were given a small amount of money and grain in exchange for their labor. During farming, everyone worked together and ate together. As long as they completed the tasks by the master’s deadline, nothing more was demanded.

“So, Master, there’s no need to divide the land or the oxen,” Li Dechen explained. “Your thirty acres will be worked collectively—some leading oxen, some wielding plows, some gathering grass, some fertilizing. As long as the land is tilled within your allotted time, spring sowing won’t be delayed.”

“Isn’t this just ‘communal farming’?” Liu Yitiao mused, recalling a system popular in Z country during the 1950s.