Chapter 89: New Farm (Part 3)

"Alright, let's start by taking stock of our assets," Wu Nanhai proposed at the Agriculture Committee's first full meeting. They already had ledgers, of course, but fifty-odd days ashore had reshuffled both numbers and categories. Corrections were overdue.

Seeds came first. They had a hundred kilograms of hybrid rice—that vaunted "crossing superweapon" that wasn't quite as magical as legend claimed. These were essentially the plant kingdom's equivalent of mules: vigorous, productive, blessed with many advantages, but incapable of reproduction. Wu Nanhai had brought them specifically to secure a bumper first-year harvest and stabilize their grain reserves. With grain, everything else would follow.

Beyond the hybrids, they possessed fifty kilograms each of twenty different rice varieties, totaling a thousand kilograms in all. These included 1960s and '70s Lingao-adapted cultivars known for high yields and lodging resistance—varieties like Guangguichao and Shuanggui that had proven themselves in this very region centuries hence.

For future promotion, they had a hundred kilograms of high-yield sweet potato tubers. While 1628 Hainan likely already cultivated sweet potatoes, these were quality seed stock. Another hundred kilograms of potatoes rounded out the tuber supply. Lingao's conditions weren't ideal for potatoes, but the crop's versatility as vegetable, grain, and animal feed gave it tremendous potential once they expanded to the mainland. Rounding out the forage crops were twenty kilograms each of kudzu and quality alfalfa seeds.

Corn, wheat, and barley came in hundred-kilogram lots. Various beans—soybeans, mung beans, adzuki beans, black beans, and others—occupied ten-kilogram packets each.

Vegetable seeds filled another category: peppers, tomatoes, cabbage, leafy greens, carrots, pumpkins, cucumbers, onions, various scallions, garlic, and more—one kilogram of each variety.

Spices they had treated more casually, since most were easily obtainable through Southeast Asian maritime trade. They'd brought only chili peppers and Sichuan peppercorns—ten varieties totaling ten kilograms. Before boarding, Wu Nanhai had also purchased several one-kilogram packets of fruit seeds suited to Hainan's climate.

And finally, he hadn't forgotten tobacco—his little vice. Ten kilograms of tobacco seeds would eventually fuel a future monopoly on the tobacco industry. Wu Nanhai had already laid plans to manufacture his own cigarettes once the plants matured.

All seeds came in proper packaging with a two-year shelf life. Some varieties weren't suited to local conditions—prepared instead for northern regions—so he'd purchased vacuum-packed versions with seven or eight years of storage life.

"That covers the seeds," Ye Yuming continued. "We also have seedlings that need transplanting to the nursery as soon as possible."

Seedlings represented a considerable inventory: fifty coconut palms, fifty rubber trees, twenty coffee trees, twenty cacao, twenty coca shrubs, fifty quinine trees, five poppies, plus assorted timber trees, fast-growth species, fruit trees, and sugarcane and banana cultivars. All were useful, but their management and cultivation would prove challenging. Wu Nanhai recalled his tropical agriculture professor describing how, at Yunnan's educated-youth farms, specially cultivated quinine seedlings had achieved germination rates below five percent. Quinine seeds, he'd said, were worth their weight in gold—and for good reason. Quinine was the specific drug for malaria, and without it, the transmigrators' plans for colonizing Taiwan to the north and Southeast Asia to the south would both collapse. They had brought backup seeds in addition to the seedlings.

Livestock and poultry came next. They currently had six pigs: two pairs of Landrace and one pair of Northeast Min. The Danish Landrace were lean-meat pigs, intended as crossbreeding sires. The Northeast Min from China's northeast were a local breed—tolerant of rough feed, throwing large litters—destined to serve as crossbreeding dams. This breed also deposited fat at especially high ratios, useful for obtaining animal fats. To their imported stock they'd added four local piglets acquired since landing.

Horses remained their weakest category—only one pair of Tieling draft horses, a type relatively scarce in ancient China. Nick's two racehorses hadn't originally fallen under their management, but after Blue Lightning died, a heartbroken Nick had placed Aranchi under the Agriculture Committee's care. Initially, Wu Nanhai had been reluctant. Nick's care requirements were frankly annoying: feed five times daily, provide warm drinking water, and so on. His attitude changed only when Yang Baogui pointed out that this old racehorse still possessed value—she was a mare.

"If it were a stallion, it would've been gelded at two or three during racing training," Yang Baogui explained. "Completely useless now. But a mare..." He seemed fairly satisfied with the horse.

"How old is she?"

"Thirteen or fourteen." Yang Baogui flipped through a notebook. "Haven't checked her teeth yet. Horses can live thirty years. Too old for racing, certainly, but she'll do as a broodmare."

The three local horses they'd captured were, per Yang Baogui's identification, all Yunnan ponies around seven or eight years old. Two were geldings. All three could be put directly to labor.

"Best if we could get more horses," Wu Nanhai said, eyeing the various small farm implements that had been unloaded but not yet organized. They had small walking tractors, and the Engineering Department had commandeered their large and medium tractors. But long-term, they needed draft animals. Before their mechanization resources ran dry, they had to transition quickly into the horse-and-mule era—meeting not just their own needs but those of future new-agriculture farmers throughout the region.

"Too many places need horses," Yang Baogui said, shaking his head, "but Hainan isn't suited for horse-raising. Climate's too hot, and the rainy season's too humid. Horses are extremely finicky creatures."

"How about breeding some mules?" Ye Yuming suggested. "Don't we have a pair of donkeys?"

"Please—I'm not about to start..." Yang Baogui trailed off, the implication clear.

"What?" Ye Yuming looked confused.

Even the usually proper Wu Nanhai broke into a lewd grin. "Right!" He remembered his livestock-course lectures on horse breeding—lessons that had made the 1980s-born female students blush crimson.

"What's so funny?" Yang Baogui asked Wu Nanhai with a knowing smile.

"Nothing—I took that course. Watched some horse 'adult films' a few times."

"Let's table mule-breeding for now," Yang Baogui said, steering them back on track. "Horse breeding season doesn't start until March anyway. Besides, these animals are extremely neurotic, and they've been disturbed too much lately. Let them rest, fatten up, and adapt before we proceed with anything like that."

Beyond these large animals, they possessed smaller but equally useful stock: two pairs of rabbits, meat and fur varieties; four different-breed roosters—half for meat, half for eggs—along with twenty hens; two pairs of ducks; two pairs of turkeys; and ten carrier pigeons that were also Nick's private property. Finally, there was a calico cat some girl had brought along, now apparently forgotten—still wearing a pretty bow around its neck.

Besides living creatures, they had animals preserved in cellular form: a liquid-nitrogen storage tank containing goat, sheep, quality beef cattle, and dairy cattle cells. This tank remained in the ship's cold room for now. But they lacked liquid-nitrogen technology, so they needed to find suitable local dams quickly before the samples degraded.

After completing the inventory, these twenty-first-century new farmers set about leveling the land and constructing simple poultry sheds. The sand-bedded free-range area was fenced with dense bamboo and planted with loofah, hyacinth beans, and gourds to provide shade for the chickens and ducks while yielding vegetables—two birds, one stone.

But after their long journey, the poultry looked obviously dazed and showed poor appetites. Constantly disturbing these animals was becoming a problem. Hopefully, the wide-open spaces and fresh air would help them recover soon. The brothers were waiting for eggs.

Wu Nanhai built grape trellises over the courtyard paths, planted fruit trees in the side spaces, and laid out several garden plots beneath the trees for herbs and medicinal plants.

"You're turning this whole yard upside down!" Huang Dashan called out, pushing a two-wheeled cart toward them. He'd just been transferred to the Agriculture Committee through the Personnel Group, and his cart held his luggage.

"In a while, this place will be fragrant with flowers and fruit," Wu Nanhai replied, admiring the messy bamboo-and-rope trellises with evident satisfaction. He glanced at the thick-spectacled newcomer. "You are?"

"Huang Dashan." He pulled a small slip from his pocket. "Here's my transfer order."

"Welcome, welcome!" Wu Nanhai recalled that this man had applied several times to join the Committee, claiming expertise in cultivating edible fungi and bringing along many mushroom cultures and growth media. "You specialize in fungi cultivation?"

"Not exactly." Huang Dashan smiled innocuously. "My profession is biochemistry lab technician. My specialty is live-animal bacterial and viral culturing. Growing mushrooms is purely a side income."

"Then make the sideline your main line." Wu Nanhai was satisfied with this new asset. "Where do you think your mushroom shed should go?"

"Under the fruit trees would work—grape trellises are actually the best spot." Huang Dashan surveyed the area with a practiced eye. "We should start with oyster mushrooms. Easy to grow, high yield, no shed needed. When conditions allow, we can build specialized cultivation sheds. I brought quite a few cultures." He paused. "But I'll need a room for my lab—I brought standard biochem equipment." He added, almost as an afterthought: "Preferably an isolated building, far from other living things..."

"Hm?" Wu Nanhai didn't entirely understand his meaning but nodded anyway.

Yang Baogui received a room to serve as both veterinary office and bedroom. His carefully guarded boxes—hidden in tents and prefabs, painstakingly carried throughout their entire journey—finally had a stable home. Inside was complete animal medical equipment and reference books. Wu Nanhai planned to dedicate one room to storing all the agricultural books, planting manuals, and instructional video discs they'd brought—a specialized agricultural library for their new world.

(End of Chapter)