Chapter 270: South China Sugar Factory

"It should work. Every sugar industry book says so." Wen Tong was nervous nonetheless. Never mind himself—even family elders who had spent their entire careers in the sugar industry had only ever worked in modern factories. None had witnessed this traditional method firsthand.

Yet what followed was nothing short of magical. After pouring the yellow clay water and waiting briefly, they inspected the sugar in the wa liu molds—and found it had indeed turned snow-white. "Snow-white," of course, was relative. Compared to refined white sugar from modern times, the color remained slightly dull, faintly yellowish. It didn't quite reach the "exceptionally pure" standard described in the old texts.

The top layer of the wa liu held the whitest sugar; the bottom showed a slight yellow-brown tint. Both could be considered white sugar, though the former would command a higher price.

Wen Tong shook his head. He knew precisely why the clay-treated sugar wasn't especially white: without a centrifuge, considerable molasses residue remained. He wondered if the Machinery Department could manufacture one.

The process efficiency wasn't high either. The sugar in the wa liu came out stratified—whitest at the top, darkening toward the bottom. The lowest layer was quite dark. When he weighed it, only about sixty percent of the ten kilograms from one wa liu qualified as "white sugar." The rest was yellow or brown. The process was cumbersome and the yield low. In ancient times, such methods could still turn a profit, but once modern sugar enterprises appeared, rustic mills went bankrupt one after another—costs simply couldn't compete.

What they had produced so far were only large, irregularly shaped chunks of sugar. To create fine powdered white sugar—true "sugar frost"—required an additional recrystallization step. The white sugar had to be melted and slowly boiled over low heat. Fine sugar powder would gradually crystallize on the pot's surface, requiring constant scraping with a bamboo scraper to prevent scorching. The process resembled salt-boiling. In proper factories, specialized evaporation-crystallization tanks handled this work. Here, Wen Tong had to experiment himself. Chang Shide helped tend the fire, assisted by Wen Xiu and Wen Qing. To avoid disrupting normal production, Wen Tong had a small sugar shed constructed on the estate to serve as a laboratory. The four of them crowded into this makeshift structure, surrounded by smoke and flames. Wen Tong checked the heat one moment, watched the pot the next, growing so dizzy he nearly tumbled into the boiling sugar.

Reality proved that theoretical expertise didn't guarantee practical success—especially under such primitive conditions. With a furnace burning sugarcane leaves and bagasse, the heat defied control by someone accustomed to adjusting a gas stove with a knob. After one fuel addition, the flames surged, and the sugar on the pot's surface immediately scorched.

"This won't do." Wen Tong spoke dejectedly. "There's no way to regulate the temperature in this furnace. The heat is simply uncontrollable." In rustic sugar mills, the stoker's wages ranked second only to the sugar-boiling master's. The man earned his pay.

To achieve uniform heat, they couldn't use such a firewood stove. They needed fuel that burned steadily and released heat evenly—gas fuels, charcoal, or coal briquettes could all accomplish this. Alternatively, they could use steam heating as factories did. But none of these were available in Xuwen.

Wen Tong racked his brain until he finally thought of the water bath method. By heating the vessel containing the white sugar liquid indirectly through a water bath, the temperature would stay even, eliminating the scorching problem. After several days of experimentation, he harvested his first batch—five kilograms of fine white sugar.

With white sugar, making rock candy was straightforward. The traditional rock candy process required melting white sugar and adding chicken or duck egg whites as a clarifying agent. Wen Tong considered this too costly—egg whites were just protein, after all. He decided to substitute soy milk. He simply had a mill built on the estate and instructed a migrant who had previously made tofu to produce it daily, thereby meeting the workers' dietary needs while keeping soy milk readily available.

After clarifying with soy milk, freshly cut bamboo was split into strips of various sizes and placed in the sugar liquid. The liquid crystallized around the bamboo, slowly forming large pieces of rock candy. When harvesting, they only had to break the candy and pull out the bamboo. This method dated back to the Song Dynasty.

"The look is quite nice—" The rock candy, though not as pure as the single-crystal variety of later generations, was decent enough. It should sell well.

The next step was to scale up white sugar production. Wen Tong ordered water bath vessels while hiring craftsmen to build a new workshop by the river specifically for refining white sugar. High construction standards were implemented to ensure cleanliness and quality.

The white sugar workshop followed modern factory specifications. Though built with wooden beams and columns, the entire structure was brick and tile, with no thatch or sugarcane leaves on the roof. Large windows provided good lighting—to avoid attracting undue attention, they were covered with paper rather than the planned glass. The workshop floor was paved with square bricks and featured covered drainage ditches with grates for easy cleaning. Fifteen sugar-boiling stations were arranged in a row, saving space and ensuring convenient operation. The fire-stoking and ventilation openings were all set outside under a covered veranda, allowing operation during rain while preventing indoor air and floors from being polluted by ash.

All equipment was newly made. Wen Tong also had several wells dug by the river to avoid using polluted river water directly. He spent lavishly to construct a warehouse entirely of brick and tile for storing sugar products. In addition to white and brown sugar, vast quantities of molasses accumulated. Liao Dahua had large vats custom-made at a local pottery workshop specifically to store this material—though he had no idea what Shopkeeper Wen intended to do with such sludge.

The workers in the new sugar factory were all selected from among the migrants. Wen Tong personally trained them in every operational procedure and established a complete set of production rules and regulations.

"Wen Qing!" Wen Tong announced. "From now on, all management of the South China Sugar Factory is entirely your responsibility!"

In truth, both Wen Tong and Chang Shide were uneasy about entrusting such work to a servant. But they had no choice—apart from these two servant boys, very few migrants were literate.

"Yes, Master! Thank you for your trust!" Wen Qing gave a deep bow. "This humble one will do his utmost!"

"I have a complete set of production rules here. You must ensure everything is carried out exactly according to system. No private modifications. If the workers have ideas, relay them to me, and I'll consider them."

"Yes, Master!"

"If I walk into the workshop and see a single grain of sugar on the floor, I'll hold you accountable!" Wen Tong assumed the posture of a stern master.

Wen Qing regarded him uneasily. How had this usually affable master suddenly become so severe?

"Yes, this humble one understands. I won't break a single rule."

"Go on then. Take your workers and learn the regulations. Everyone must have them memorized within three days. Anyone who can't recite them won't get meat on the weekend."

"Then they'll memorize them even if it kills them." Wen Qing laughed.

"Hmph." Wen Tong finally cracked a smile. Of the two servant boys, he preferred Wen Qing. Though the boy was slower in anticipating his master's needs, he seemed more reliable. "You need to study hard yourself. Have you been reading the book I gave you?"

The book was a Training Manual for Indigenous Industrial and Commercial Management Cadres, jointly compiled by Wu De's Civil Affairs Committee and the Intelligence and Archives Committee. Based on months of accumulated experience combined with ancient and modern management systems, it covered basic management models, workload calculations, wage and benefit formulas, accident protocols, and more. Like the Handbook for Civil Affairs Administration and Organization, it was part of the Indigenous Work Series, still in the "Draft for Comment" stage.

"This humble one studies hard every night. There are some parts I don't understand—I'll need to ask the Master for instruction."

"Whatever you don't understand, come ask in the evening," Wen Tong said earnestly. "You're a servant by birth. Though you know a few characters, the workers won't readily obey you. Only real skills will command authority. You can't rely solely on your master's power to suppress them."

"Yes! This humble one thanks the Master for his teaching."

After Wen Qing departed, Wen Xiu approached with a tea tray.

"Master has worked hard. Please have some tea." Having learned that neither shopkeeper was interested in "the Southern Wind," and observing that the honest Wen Qing had recently been favored, Wen Xiu knew he had to change his approach. He set aside the coquettish manner that used to slip out constantly, presenting himself with considerably more dignity.

"Mm. Where is Master Chang?"

"He went to Hai'an Street."

Hai'an Street was Leizhou's sugar export port. Though not a county seat, it was more prosperous than the county capital, Haikang. Over thirty sugar trading houses lined the street alone. The first time Wen Tong visited, he was genuinely impressed—after witnessing so much poverty and desolation in Lingao, arriving at such a flourishing Ming commercial center delivered a shock no less intense than a Lingao villager visiting East Gate Market.

Wen Tong was surprised. Though Hai'an Street was only about ten kilometers away, they usually informed each other before venturing far. Had Chang Shide snuck off to find women? The realization struck him: Hai'an Street, with its gathering of merchants and thriving markets, was always prime territory for brothels.

"So he did go hunting for wild game!" Wen Tong gnashed his teeth. Old Chang, you're holding out on me. You could at least have invited me along. But Chang had gone off with Liao Dahua, and Wen Tong didn't dare wander alone. He could only fume silently and then go teach the worker training class: three hundred basic simplified characters, simple math, and statistics. Once the sugar factory's scale expanded, these workers could be promoted to management.

While Wen Tong was grinding his teeth in frustration, Chang Shide was strolling through Hai'an Street with Liao Dahua at his side. Their destination: the human market.

Chang Shide had originally planned to go straight to a brothel. As for sexually transmitted diseases, he was prepared—he'd packed several boxes of condoms in his luggage. But after Liao Dahua introduced him to several so-called high-end establishments, he lost interest. These places had decent facilities, and the women were passable even by modern standards. But the pretentious rituals were unbearable—first hosting tea, then listening to music and drinking wine. Even after all that, they couldn't get down to business immediately. They had to return two or three times before getting anywhere near the bed. This was absurdly complicated. Even "high-end clubs" in modern times didn't have procedures this elaborate.

What Chang Shide didn't realize was that high-end brothels in this era also served a social function. Dignitaries, gentlemen, and wealthy merchants came here primarily for socializing and cultural enrichment. The higher-class the courtesan, the more she sat and discussed philosophy rather than performing bedroom techniques.

Seeing the Master's disinterest, Liao Dahua guessed his thoughts. Sea merchants, having drifted on the ocean for so long, naturally had no patience for foreplay. So he led him toward the back alleys—where more practical "private establishments" operated.

However, after observing the makeup of the women soliciting at the doorways and catching the smell drifting from a distance, Chang Shide concluded that if he wanted women in this world, it was best to raise them himself. Though Liao Dahua specifically recommended several places where the women were supposedly particularly skilled, Chang Shide declined.

Liao Dahua concluded these women simply didn't meet the Master's standards. Thinking that Australians all seemed to have a hygiene obsession and probably found prostitutes unclean, he led him to the human market.

The so-called human market was just an open lot. A few traders sat in nearby thatched sheds, drinking tea and chatting—the ones selling higher-end merchandise. If anyone showed interest, they would escort the customer to a nearby room to inspect the goods—mostly young women, though there were also boys. Prices were substantial. Outside, some people were selling themselves, grass tags stuck in their hair, at low prices.

Chang Shide walked around, examining the traders' stock and the self-sellers. None suited him. The traders' merchandise was clean and presentable, but the asking prices were exorbitant—even eleven- or twelve-year-old girls cost fifty taels. Chang Shide had no interest in raising little girls, nor in little girls themselves. Besides, he didn't have that much silver on hand—though he'd accumulated tens of thousands of work points.

Seeing the displeasure on Master Chang's face, Liao Dahua followed silently, unable to gauge his thoughts.

After another circuit, a new stall caught their attention. Several yamen runners stood guard over five or six women of various ages, sitting or kneeling on the ground. The oldest was over thirty, the youngest only twelve or thirteen. Though disheveled and dirty, their nutritional condition appeared fairly good. Strangely, no one was approaching to inquire. Chang instructed Liao Dahua to investigate.

(End of Chapter)