Chapter 237: Tropical Crop Plantation
Just as tension crested, the three scouts crept back through the undergrowth.
"What did you find?"
"Looks like a Wei-Suo garrison," Liu Zheng reported. "We move out immediately—this area is too heavily populated for comfort."
Ye Mengyan was clearly reluctant to withdraw empty-handed. By Special Reconnaissance Team custom, no operation was complete without seizing something of value. "Why not grab a prisoner for interrogation?"
"Save it. Our mission is exploration, not combat. How do you propose we travel with a prisoner in tow? Besides, this expedition is primarily about resource survey and team training—or did you miss that someone already collapsed?" He shot a meaningful glance at Zhao Xue.
"Tch!" She rolled her eyes at him with practiced disdain.
"How many days back to base?" Bai Guoshi was more concerned with Zhao Xue's injury; he had just managed to give her preliminary field treatment.
"Three or four at our current pace. We can only move slowly today. The priority is to put as much distance as possible between us and the city before nightfall—I'd like to sleep without one eye open. Rest well, push hard tomorrow, and we should make it home soon."
"Wait—everyone help out first. Collect more mineral samples here; I've found something valuable."
The squad had no choice but to assist in gathering various stones. By the time they set off, each person had acquired an inexplicable extra seven or eight jin of ore to carry.
The return journey proved uneventful. On the eleventh day after departure, the squad was approaching Bairren City.
"Password!" A loud challenge from the roadside bushes made Liu Zheng, walking point, start with surprise. "Loli!"
"Milf!" came the countersign. A sentry draped in fishing nets and branches emerged from the undergrowth to verify the otaku code-phrase. As a lurking sentry, he carried a steel crossbow rather than a firearm. A pistol holster was strapped to his thigh.
"Don't recognize you lot. Which department?" The sentry's eyes kept drifting toward the limping Zhao Xue—modern women were a rare sight in the camp.
"Unit 7911," Liu Zheng responded. Departments with code designations were all classified; they were referred to only by number in external communications.
The sentry's posture immediately stiffened with new respect. "A classified unit, is it? Looks like you went far. Mission go well?" He was clearly fishing for intelligence, attempting to ingratiate himself.
"Well enough. What's been happening here recently?"
"Word is a beautiful female pirate arrived at Bopu a few days back," the sentry said with undisguised longing. "Supposedly staying at the Commercial Station, getting the full hospitality treatment."
"A female pirate?" The group's interest was immediately piqued.
Seeing the men practically drooling, Zhao Xue curled her lip. "Perverts."
"They say she has an unusual name too—Li Huamei!" The sentry was beaming now, his duties entirely forgotten.
The team changed at the perimeter base, exchanging their full field kit for the training uniforms they had worn before departure—less conspicuous attire. Liu Zheng dismissed the squad and headed straight to headquarters; a mountain of administrative work awaited him: exploration reports to write, reimbursement forms to file for consumed supplies. The others dispersed to their own tasks as well: composing reports, cataloging specimens. Naturally, a bath, a hot meal, and a solid night's sleep came first.
Bai Guoshi delivered the plant specimens one by one to the Ministry of Agriculture. Strictly speaking, agriculture and biology were distinct disciplines, but in the Executive Committee's eyes, the two were close enough. Consequently, the Farm had become an important base for 17th-century biological research. The only university student with a degree in molecular biology in this entire era was here, following Wu Nanhai in farming and cooking.
The others were equally formidable in unexpected ways. Take Huang Dashan: his full-time work at the Farm was growing mushrooms and cultivating edible fungi, but his true expertise lay in culturing live animal bacteria and viruses. In other words, if the Executive Committee ever required it, he could perform Unit 731-style work. Gazing at his thick spectacles—lenses that resembled beer bottle bottoms—everyone felt a chill. Nobody knew precisely what filled the test tubes and culture dishes he tinkered with alone in his small hut, muttering to himself. And nobody wanted to know. Ever since learning of his unique specialty, everyone gave that hut a wide berth.
"This is Yi Zhi," Fa Shilu said, examining the specimens in his laboratory with evident satisfaction. "An extremely useful medicinal plant."
"The Ministry of Health specifically requested it." Bai Guoshi dropped heavily into a chair and surveyed the room. The biological laboratory's conditions had improved considerably. The commissioning of the glass factory had greatly expanded their equipment—though the newly manufactured glass instruments inevitably felt somewhat clumsy and rough, at least there was no longer any fear of shortage.
"The recent collection of seedlings and seeds has gone well, and the breeding work in the Tropical Crop Garden is proceeding quite smoothly," Fa Shilu continued. "Hainan's conditions for tropical crops are excellent. Lingao is slightly less ideal, but the difficulties can be overcome."
"What does Minister Wu think about tropical crops?"
"He's a layman in this area." A smile spread across Fa Shilu's dark, rounded face. In terms of professional credentials, Fa Shilu was a trained agronomist. When he enlisted for the expedition, he had brought an entire truckload of seeds and a miniature germplasm resource bank—the latter a scientific research asset that was extraordinarily difficult to obtain. His current title was Chief Agronomist of the Demonstration Farm.
"I don't know much about tropical crops myself," he continued, "but I have some grounding. More importantly, with the data from the other timeline, I have a rough idea of what can thrive in Lingao and what cannot. That saves considerable effort."
"Can we grow pepper?" Bai Guoshi had absorbed many half-baked history books and retained vivid memories of the enormous profits from the spice trade.
"We can. Pepper adapts well in Lingao. But the primary spice production centers are in Southeast Asia and India—we hold no competitive advantage there."
"Ah." Bai Guoshi deflated slightly.
"Come, let me show you the Tropical Crop Garden."
The Farm's area had expanded dramatically. All the newly cleared land had been developed into paddy fields, carefully leveled and equipped with permanent hydraulic infrastructure meeting experimental field standards. Bamboo fences lined every plot, and wind-driven bird-scaring devices dotted the fields at intervals. Signs bearing numbers, variety names, and responsible personnel stood in each plot. Bai Guoshi understood that these fields contained improved seeds brought from the other timeline—small wonder they were guarded so meticulously.
The Tropical Crop Garden itself was tightly protected by deep trenches and barbed wire, augmented with watchtowers. Only Agricultural Committee personnel and a select few indigenous Farm employees with proper passes could enter; all others were strictly prohibited. The crops here were unique in East Asia. If they were lost, obtaining replacements would require circumnavigating half the globe.
The seedlings of coconut, rubber, coffee, cocoa, coca, quinine, poppy, and various fruits—planted in the garden months ago—were thriving. Several of the hardier varieties had already sprouted dense branches that swayed pleasantly in the breeze.
"No wonder people call the Farm a paradise," Bai Guoshi remarked. This was his first visit here, though many of the specimens in the plantation were samples and seeds he had personally collected.
"The jackfruit you brought back is growing well too."
"A pity they're still saplings. It will be another four or five years before they bear fruit."
"If we simply wanted jackfruit to eat, Xuwen across the strait is one of the largest production areas in China—they're hardly rare." Fa Shilu had larger ambitions. "Since we command advanced agricultural technology, we should focus on breeding improved varieties."
The fifty coconut saplings were developing excellently. Bai Guoshi knew coconuts had myriad uses, and the Executive Committee valued them highly. The coconut was a treasure from crown to root, and in this initial phase, it represented a relatively stable source of cooking oil.
"The Executive Committee has declared that all future landscaping will employ coconut palms—they're both beautiful and useful. The only difficulty is that we must wait several years for these coconuts to bear fruit."
Bai Guoshi's thoughts strayed to the jackfruits again. These resources weren't merely scattered here and there—Hainan Island had them in abundance. While pursuing self-sufficiency, they could absolutely dispatch teams to collect them on a large scale. During his explorations, he had observed entire groves of wild economic crops more than once, completely unattended and left to nature.
With sufficient manpower and equipment, they could organize a dedicated Resource Collection Team. Setting aside strategic considerations, merely enriching the daily lives of the transmigrators would be enormously beneficial. But this would require Executive Committee coordination—he would raise it during tonight's report.
Fa Shilu had recently taken charge of tropical crop development. Beyond the seedlings planted shortly after landing, the Agricultural Committee still held considerable reserves of other tropical seeds. Lingao's water and heat conditions were not optimal, and they were currently experiencing the Little Ice Age, so he dared not rashly sow the entire seed bank. He had consulted extensive historical data: in the other timeline, the tropical crops successfully cultivated at scale in Lingao included rubber, pepper, citronella, sisal, coffee, clove basil, and vetiver. Although some varieties hadn't persisted in later years, the failures were mainly due to market forces rather than horticultural obstacles. What truly failed in cultivation were oil palm and cashew. Fa Shilu felt particular regret about the oil palm—after all, its yield per hectare was the highest in the world. Grown at scale, it could satisfy most of the transmigrators' industrial oil requirements.
"There's quite a lot we can plant successfully. The seed bank has nearly everything. My only fear is planting them incorrectly," he sighed. "The losses would be devastating."
"We should cultivate more sisal and jute," Bai Guoshi suggested. "I suspect the industrial departments will have tremendous demand for hemp fibers."
Fa Shilu nodded. "That makes sense. But the industrial department hasn't formally requested it."
"That's because they can still import yellow jute, so there's no urgency. If you ask me, sisal is superior—the utilization rate is exceptional, and even the waste residue and juice have commercial value."
The long fibers in sisal served as raw materials for cables in mining and shipping. The processed dregs could be used in papermaking, alcohol production, and vinegar manufacturing. The short fibers generated during production could be fashioned into everyday goods—ropes, insoles, reins—or employed as furniture filling. The leaf juice could produce biogas through fermentation or yield extracted sugar and feed dry yeast. The substantial leaf residue remaining after processing made excellent fodder, and hemp dregs constituted high-quality organic fertilizer.
(End of Chapter)