Chapter 1365 - The First Loan
Wang Siniang displayed a "wealthy" air quite different from before as soon as she returned. According to villagers who went to do odd jobs in the courtyard, the silkworm rooms were all brick-and-tile structures, and the floors were paved with square bricks—most people in the village lived in houses with rammed earth floors.
Duoduo's mother, who lived next door to Shen Kaibao, was from the same village as Wang Siniang's maiden family and had maintained a good relationship with her. As soon as Shen Da and his wife returned, she ran over. With many children and a heavy family burden, she started doing odd jobs at Wang Siniang's house. According to her, the particulars of the Shen family's silkworm rooms were too numerous—it wasn't just square brick paving.
"...The windows in those silkworm rooms are all covered with gauze screens on the outside!" Duoduo's mother described what she had seen with beaming eyebrows while washing clothes by the creek. "Such long silkworm rooms, with big windows opening on both front and back walls—just those gauze screens must use so much gauze. It's truly a sin!"
She said "sin" with her mouth, but her tone held no sense of sinning at all; instead, it sounded like proud boasting, as if even someone doing odd jobs like her had become "high and mighty" along with it.
Someone listening laughed: "Duoduo's mother, you ate a few bowls of cold rice soaked in water and dried radishes at Wang Siniang's house, and now you're blowing their horn even for a silkworm room."
"Rice soaked in water?" Duoduo's mother rolled her eyes upward. "You can't even get soaked rice. Fourth Auntie feeds us dry rice every meal."
Immediate clucking sounds of envy rose by the creek. With the silkworm season approaching and the lean gap widening, every family's reserves were nearly gone. Getting by on thin gruel mixed with miscellaneous grains and rice bran was the norm for most households. Some families had been forced to borrow rice from better-off relatives in other villages since the beginning of the month. The Famine Relief Bureau had issued some relief rice, but the quality was terrible—in the past, even pigs wouldn't eat it. Even made into porridge, it didn't stave off hunger.
Duoduo's mother seemed intoxicated by this atmosphere—she rarely became the protagonist of the "Creekside Discussion Group"—and continued boasting about her observations while working at Wang Siniang's house.
Wang Siniang's silkworm house was actually built according to the same design philosophy as the breeding station Li Yao'er had built at Phoenix Mountain Estate. Of course, the equipment was far less sophisticated—even inferior to the silkworm rooms at Cixin Hall at the foot of the mountain. Large glass windows, louvered shutters, and other high-impact items were entirely absent; nor were there copper-pipe hot and cold air conditioning systems in the incubation room. But other facilities were built to standard.
By modern standards, these facilities were merely "bare minimum," but in this time-space, they represented a "luxury configuration" silkworm farmers couldn't dream of.
Shen Kaibao happened to pass by the creek. Hearing Duoduo's mother blowing Shen Da's wife's horn again, a burst of anger flared in his heart. Originally he had nothing against the couple, and even felt vaguely sympathetic after their misfortune. But since their glorious return, his heart had been full of discomfort, always feeling Shen Da and his wife "shouldn't be like this."
"Shouldn't be like this"—what they specifically should be like, Shen Kaibao didn't know himself. In short, every time he heard someone mention the couple, he got angry. Hearing Duoduo's mother boasting again, he couldn't help but say:
"What's the point of all these fancy things for raising silkworms? We've raised them this way for so many years; can Wang Siniang raise immortal silkworms with a 'New Method'? Wasting things for nothing—there will be retribution!"
Shen Kaibao's fuming words surprised the women in the creek. Men never paid attention to women's chats by the water, let alone interrupted. His "horizontal spear thrust" stunned them for a moment.
Having fired this cannon, he felt it was somewhat inappropriate—why lower himself to argue with women? Loss of his "status." Puffing with anger, he turned and walked away.
"Can't eat meat yourself, so you can't stand others eating meat!" Suddenly, someone among the women cursed softly from behind.
From the voice, it was probably Duoduo's mother. Shen Kaibao was so angry his veins bulged, but he couldn't flare up—he was over fifty; arguing with women would make him the laughingstock of the village.
Suppressing a belly full of anger, he returned home. The women and children of the family were pasting "silkworm mats" under the eaves. His wife and Daqing's wife were skillful, pasting the newly bought "Guangdong paper" very smoothly. Shen Kaibao felt somewhat relieved—he had worried the cheap paper wouldn't work and would cause a joke.
On the pasted "silkworm mats," three small colored papers were arranged in a triangle pattern—bought together: one printed with a "Treasure Bowl," the other two with figures riding horses holding pointed flags, said to be the "Silkworm Flower Prince."
The finished mats were placed in the sun to dry. This was an old rule for many years—following old rules could never be wrong, Shen Kaibao thought. Daqing's wife slapped her hands on her apron and said:
"Father! There's no rice left in the house at all. Even the barley flour is almost gone..."
"What about the rice issued by the Famine Relief Bureau?"
"They gave only thirty jin total. Less than half is edible grain; the rest is ash, sand, and husks. How many days can a whole family eat on that?"
Shen Kaibao couldn't think of a solution either. There was rice on the street, without ash or husks, but three qian per dou was something they absolutely couldn't afford. The few coins in the house had to be saved for buying mulberry leaves at the critical moment.
In previous years at this time, borrowing a little from the village, Daqing's wife borrowing a little from her maiden family, and buying a little on credit from familiar shops would let them muddle through the month. As long as spring silkworms came to market, they would have made it.
But last year's drought had left every household destitute; there was no place to ask for a loan. Familiar shops now refused credit—after a famine year with too many bad debts, simply remaining open was lucky; how could they dare lend more?
Borrowing from Master Cao was of course an option. But that would increase the debt that already weighed breathlessly upon him. Thinking of his mortgaged land, Shen Kaibao felt panic.
"If there's no rice for the pot, do I have rice?" Shen Old Daddy said angrily. He and his daughter-in-law had already had unpleasantness over whether to go do odd jobs at Wang Siniang's house.
Originally Daqing's wife wanted Shen Kaibao to use his kinship connection to introduce her to work there—many women wanted those jobs. Daqing's wife had been slow to think of it; failing to get a spot, she had to ask her father-in-law to use his "old face."
Unexpectedly, Shen Kaibao was finding Wang Siniang unsightly and felt begging Shen Da was humiliating, so he refused to open his mouth. The two often argued over this.
"I said long ago, this year isn't like other years. Everyone just has to tighten their belts and be more frugal—"
"The porridge is so thin you can use it as a mirror; how much more frugal can we be? Adults can tough it out, but can the little ones?" Daqing's wife replied angrily. "I only know that if there's rice we cook; if no rice, we starve!" At the end, she added, "Face can't fill a belly!"
Shen Kaibao was purple with rage. The two exchanged no further words.
The "silkworm collection" period approached day by day. Preparations in the village grew increasingly tense. But the dilemma of having no rice for the pot made everyone feel it was unbearable. The problem facing Shen Kaibao's family was shared by almost every household. Just at this time, Wang Siniang came out saying she could lend money to help everyone through the difficulty.
What was lent was rice, recorded at the market price of three qian per dou. When repaying, one only needed to repay in cocoons converted to silver at the market rate.
"This is 'doing good deeds' by this slave's master, Master Zhao," Wang Siniang told the flock of villagers who came upon hearing the news. "Interest is only one percent. Just repay when the cocoons are harvested!"
Raising silkworms took a little over a month from start to finish, meaning the monthly interest was less than one percent. When outside rates were generally over three percent, this was practically charity.
More importantly, one could repay directly with cocoons—if repaying in cash, one would inevitably suffer another layer of exploitation from the silk guilds. Repaying in cocoons also saved the labor of reeling silk oneself.
The conditions were too generous; it almost didn't seem real. But both Shen Da and Wang Siniang swore solemn oaths and expressed willingness to sign written contracts, stating the conditions in black and white.
After hesitating for a few days, the villagers finally couldn't withstand the hunger and swarmed to sign contracts with Shen Da's family. Not only did people from this village borrow, but neighboring villages, hearing the news, also sent people. Shen Da's gate became a marketplace.
The lending procedures were very convenient. For locals, neither middlemen nor guarantors were needed; outsiders just needed a villager to guarantee them. The contracts were printed forms; a scribe filled in the numbers with a bamboo pen tipped with a sharp steel nib. In duplicate, the borrower pressed a thumbprint, and each party held one copy.
Once the contract was signed, the scribe issued bamboo tallies according to the amount, and villagers went to the rice shop in town to collect the rice themselves. Convenient for everyone.
Shen Kaibao originally refused to borrow. He had wanted to stand firm no matter what. But bellies couldn't be fooled. When Daqing's wife angrily pushed the children in front of him, seeing their faces already turning greenish-gray, he finally compromised.
Chimneys in every household puffed smoke again, along with the long-absent aroma of rice. Smiles returned to villagers' faces. With food in their bellies, they worked even harder. Now their only hope was the spring silkworms—all temporary loans were specified to be repaid from this "spring silkworm harvest."
"Grain Rain" festival approached day by day. The "cloths" in village homes showed a faint green. Here, families kept their own seeds every year; only those with bad luck whose silkworms failed would buy eggs from outside.
With self-saved seeds, degradation was severe and viral infection common, so sericulture at the time relied almost entirely on luck. It was no surprise that silkworm harvests were sometimes good and sometimes bad.
(End of Chapter)