In the year 3243 of the Qingzhou Continent, in July, the Medical Department was officially established and began its operations.
Across the countryside, a wave of joy once again swept through the farms.
"Old Man Wang! You're here to harvest too?"
"Naturally, according to Secretary Zhuang, the sweet potatoes I planted are to be harvested this month."
"Hahaha, I planted sweet potatoes too. I wonder if they'll be as high-yielding as Secretary Zhuang said, even more so than the high-yield corn."
"We'll know once we harvest them!"
"That's right, let's harvest an acre and weigh it first!"
The two farmers, with happy smiles on their faces, chatted loudly while harvesting sweet potatoes in the field.
After much hard work, an acre of sweet potatoes was finally harvested. The two men quickly called their wives and children to help load them onto a wheelbarrow and transport them to level ground.
After a few trips, the harvest from an acre was all transported.
Then, they began to wipe and wash the soil off.
Beside the scale, the grain tax official and Secretary Zhuang stood together, each with two or three subordinates.
The grain tax official stared at the sweet potatoes before him, dumbfounded. "Secretary Zhuang, this, this is the harvest from one acre of land?"
"Although it's hard to believe, it is indeed so."
Secretary Zhuang smacked his lips in response. Even though he had been repeatedly informed that among the three new crops, corn had the lowest yield, sweet potatoes the highest, and potatoes in between, the yield of these sweet potatoes was simply too high.
Looking at it, he didn't know how long it would take to weigh them all.
"This, this is truly..."
The grain tax official didn't know what to say and could only wave his hand, signaling his subordinates to get to work.
"Go, weigh Old Man Wang's first."
"Understood."
Soon, piles of cleaned sweet potatoes were placed on the scale.
After a long while, the grain tax official's subordinates were exhausted, but the sweet potatoes were finally weighed.
"How is it, how is it? How much did an acre yield?"
Seeing the grain tax official's prolonged silence, Secretary Zhuang asked anxiously.
"You, you look for yourself."
The grain tax official didn't want to speak and silently tossed a ledger to Secretary Zhuang.
Secretary Zhuang took the ledger and looked. Good heavens, was his eyesight failing him?
He wiped his eyes clean and looked again.
"I, I, I'm not mistaken, am I? Am I?"
Secretary Zhuang couldn't help but grab his three subordinates.
"Uh, sir, we're illiterate! It's no use asking us."
The three replied, looking bewildered.
"..."
Secretary Zhuang sighed helplessly, looking at the large characters "thirty-three shi and three fen" in the ledger, and was stunned into silence.
This was high yield? Was this considered high yield? The yield was practically sky-high!
"Oh my, Secretary Zhuang, I'm dying of anxiety. How much is the yield of these sweet potatoes? Hurry up and tell me."
"Yes, how much do the sweet potatoes my man planted weigh?"
Secretary Zhuang took a deep breath and said, "Then I'll tell you. You two need to be mentally prepared, don't be scared silly."
"Don't worry, Secretary Zhuang. We've been farming our whole lives, we've seen both high and low yields. Even Zhao Wulang's seven shi per acre of corn last month didn't scare us!"
Old Man Wang patted his chest confidently.
"...Alright then, listen carefully. The sweet potatoes harvested from your acre of land yielded thirty-three shi and three fen per acre."
"What? What did you say?"
"Thirty-three shi and three fen!"
"...Wife, did I mishear?"
"Pr-probably not?"
Old Man Wang's wife replied uncertainly.
The two looked at each other, neither daring to imagine such a yield.
"You two didn't mishear, and I, your village secretary, didn't misread. It's thirty-three shi and three fen per acre!"
"My heavens, this, this, this yield!"
Old Man Wang felt dizzy and could barely stand.
"Hehehe~ Old Man Wang, what's wrong? Don't tell me you're scared!"
Secretary Zhuang was startled and quickly signaled his subordinates to help him.
"Dad, Dad, are you alright?"
Old Man Wang's ten-year-old son worriedly shook him.
"I'm fine, just, just too happy!"
Old Man Wang's face was flushed with excitement, and Wang Dama, beside him, was equally thrilled.
Ancient people ate two meals a day, and a pound of food per meal was enough to sustain them. Annually, 365 days required 730 catties of grain, which is 6.1 shi. Rice, due to water absorption, doubled in weight, requiring only 365 catties of rice.
Sweet potatoes are not rice. If one were to eat them year-round, an adult would need 6.1 shi. Children would eat about half of an adult's portion, while growing boys would need close to an adult male's portion, about five and a half shi. Women would need about five shi.
A yield of thirty-three shi and three fen per acre! This meant that after deducting the fifty percent land rent for the first year, the yield from two acres of sweet potatoes could feed Old Man Wang's family of five for a year! With three acres, if they ate sparingly, they could even exchange sweet potatoes for some copper coins to buy household items. If they also factored in his wife weaving cloth at home and his own odd jobs during the farming off-season, the family could barely make ends meet.
And Old Man Wang's family had planted a total of nineteen acres of sweet potatoes and one acre of vegetable land this year.
Six hundred and thirty-two shi and seven fen of sweet potatoes! Of course, Old Man Wang couldn't do the math, but he knew that for the entire year and even next year, they wouldn't have to worry about food. The whole family could go from two meals a day to three meals a day, eat their fill every meal, have new clothes, buy new furniture, and even have money to repair their mud house!
"Heavens! This is heaven's grace! Over thirty shi! I, Old Man Wang, have never seen such a high-yielding crop!"
Old Man Wang excitedly bowed to the sky in all directions: "Thank you, heaven, for your blessings, thank you, gods and spirits, for your protection!"
As he was excitedly speaking, Old Man Wang was suddenly slapped by Wang Dama.
"Wife, what are you doing?"
"Doing what? Do you know you said the wrong thing?"
Wang Dama said indignantly.
Old Man Wang asked in confusion, "What's wrong?"
"What's wrong? Who protected you, who protected our whole family, don't you know? Can new crops be given by gods and spirits?"
Wang Dama shouted at the top of her lungs, "This is all thanks to the current Prime Minister Chu, Saint Chu! You don't thank him, you thank those damned gods and spirits! What's the use of praying to them for so many years!"
"Can they feed you or keep you warm? You ungrateful bastard!"
"Ah, this... Wife, I was wrong!"
Old Man Wang immediately pleaded for mercy. After Wang Dama stopped, he said, "You're right, I should thank Saint Chu. Without Saint Chu bringing us sweet potatoes, how could we have such a high yield per acre?"
"Uh~ Well, Prime Minister Chu said not to engage in personality cults?"
Secretary Zhuang reminded weakly.
But the couple completely ignored him. Old Man Wang muttered, "We'll set up a longevity tablet for Saint Chu at home later."