Chapter 14: The Down Jacket and the Heated Brick Bed

Chapter 14: Down Jackets and Heated Brick Beds

The next day, an announcement was issued in the name of the Prince of Yue’s residence, recruiting displaced people to help build the agricultural academy.

In truth, those strong laborers among the displaced who had occupied Chang’an for so long had mostly already been taken by the great and minor noble families.

The majority of those left behind were the elderly, the weak, the sick, or large families with many dependents.

The noble families wanted immediate laborers, not to feed entire households for free.

So, even if some were strong, unwilling to leave their families, they refused to become servants or tenant farmers for the aristocracy.

In fact, Li Tai didn’t accept everyone either. Even if they were elderly but without children, he would not take them in.

He was more willing to accept those with families and children because those who fled disaster while still caring for their kids inherently possessed a certain moral integrity.

Conversely, those utterly alone and without possessions were hard to trust wholeheartedly.

Once the laborers arrived, Li Tai took charge of planning, while Ma Zhou was responsible for execution. They began building houses and organizing the reclamation of land in the Gaoling area, striving to plant winter wheat as much as possible.

The newly cultivated fields naturally belonged to the agricultural academy, but the grain harvest would be split fifty-fifty, with the academy bearing their labor obligations.

If they settled at the academy, it could rent land to them. In other words, these displaced people became tenant farmers under the agricultural academy.

Li Tai believed that since feudal times inevitably fell into the inescapable cycle of land concentration, it was better for him to consolidate the land himself rather than wait for other noble families to do so.

If he succeeded in securing the throne, he would find a way to resolve it; if he failed, he was already caught in the rhythm of history, so he might as well raise a monster.

For the displaced, most were elderly and weak. Finally having someone willing to take them in under acceptable terms—after all, the fifty-fifty grain share was pure income to them—was a blessing.

With their labor obligations contracted out to the academy, this arrangement was quite acceptable.

Most importantly, Li Tai provided food and shelter, and for people who had long gone hungry, this was a godsend.

They wanted to survive, to live through the winter; finally having a place to settle, they naturally came.

Eating hot meals, sometimes even eggs and chicken, the displaced felt alive once more.

Out of gratitude for the academy filling their bellies, they were willing to help reclaim the land.

Honestly, the first year’s reclaimed fields should have been planted first with beans, then millet the following year, gradually converting the land into fertile fields before planting wheat.

Planting winter wheat directly on fresh land was not only inefficient but often produced empty grains. So, it was generally a loss for the first three years.

This was why many landlords disliked land reclamation; they preferred to use their power or wealth to buy already fertile, mature fields because it was far more efficient.

Li Tai understood that if winter wheat was not sown in autumn, beans and millet could not be planted at all. The fields would lie fallow for half a year and grow wild again, causing great loss.

So even though he knew the winter wheat harvest would be poor, he could only push forward, harvesting what little they could.

While Li Tai planned the land reclamation and water conservancy projects, Ma Zhou, a future prime minister, began to demonstrate exceptional organizational skills, adjusting Li Tai’s plans effectively.

Besides Ma Zhou’s talent, Li Tai’s plans were always grounded in actual available funds, not empty visions requiring Ma Zhou to conjure resources from thin air.

This made the execution smooth and confident.

From building thatched huts for the displaced, purchasing enough food, acquiring farming tools and oxen—Ma Zhou organized everything systematically.

He even occasionally found time to enjoy a little wine, happily watching the new city rise under his command.

With Ma Zhou fully managing the agricultural academy, Li Tai didn’t have to immerse himself too deeply in the reclamation work.

This allowed him to focus his energy elsewhere—like making money.

Though things were just getting started, Li Tai soon realized how quickly funds could be spent.

His agricultural academy aimed to conduct various agricultural experiments and promote farming knowledge, and all this required money.

So after Ma Zhou took over the reclamation, Li Tai began pondering ways to earn income.

His first move was to have several duck and poultry shops under his name start accepting slaughtering business.

He didn’t charge fees, only keeping the chicken and duck innards and feathers as payment for the slaughtering.

However, despite this arrangement, not many people actively came to these shops.

After all, in an economy dominated by small-scale farming, most could slaughter their poultry themselves.

Yet, some preferred the convenience of bringing their birds directly to these shops for slaughter.

As a result, quite a lot of poultry innards were collected to supplement nutrition for the reclamation workers.

More notably, the duck feathers were sorted by size, then degreased with wood ash or alkaline minerals, deodorized in multi-layer steamers, dried, and collected—a preliminary raw material was thus prepared.

In truth, duck down had many uses.

Li Tai thought winter was approaching and perhaps selling down jackets could earn a handsome profit, as they were the warmest outerwear.

Of course, the longer, larger feathers were specially set aside to be made into quill pens.

After all, this was a school, and at minimum, students should be taught literacy and arithmetic.

Using traditional ink, paper, brushes, and inkstones was too expensive for Li Tai.

It was better to equip them with sand trays and quill pens, which were reusable and could be produced through labor without spending money—this was crucial.

As for chalk, Li Tai hadn’t figured out how to make it yet.

It required gypsum, which his current industries had no connection to, so for now, teaching would rely on sand trays and quill pens until a mine could be found.

Of course, once quill pens were perfected, selling them for a penny apiece might find buyers.

Li Tai couldn’t be certain, but he was desperate for funds.

Besides quill pens and down jackets, his sights settled on coal mines.

After acquiring a coal mine, Li Tai began having his men research heated brick beds, even bringing in craftsmen skilled in underground heating from the Imperial Workshop.

His previous cooperation with the Workshop had been pleasant.

After consulting Emperor Taizong, a craftsman named Mo Gong arrived from the ninth-rank Official Selection Office, so he was commonly called Officer Mo.

“Officer Mo,” Li Tai addressed the man whose fingers were darkened and nails nearly fallen off, “Is my idea for the heated bed feasible?”

“Compared to creating a heat-insulating layer within the walls to block the cold, merely warming the bed itself is indeed safer and more firewood-efficient under the same fuel consumption. Prince Yue, your concept is quite ingenious!”

Mo Gong’s fingers gestured animatedly, clearly excited by the subtle brilliance of the idea.

Though heated brick beds did not yet exist in this era, many related technologies were quite advanced—it was mostly a matter of conceptual thinking.

In Northern Wei, people generally heated the ground beneath their homes, installing smoke channels and ventilation underground to warm the floor, though expelling the smoke was challenging.

Such craftsmen were known as underground fire masters, and Li Tai’s artificial incubation methods had used their skills.

“Officer Mo, remember to leave an opening for ash removal during construction. Otherwise, after a winter’s burn, next year it might not retain warmth,” Li Tai instructed.

Mo Gong carefully noted Li Tai’s requests, then listed the materials needed to build such houses.

Without hesitation, Li Tai promptly established a brick and tile factory.

Though cement was unavailable, rammed earth was common in this dynasty.

Officer Mo also suggested a high-grade adhesive made from sticky rice mortar, but Li Tai wryly declined after seeing rice listed as an ingredient—he simply lacked the funds.

Under Mo Gong’s leadership, the displaced workers themselves began building houses equipped with heated brick beds.

Though the first house was the slowest to complete, soon rows of orderly, flat-roofed rooms emerged, transforming the once-desolate land into a bustling settlement.

The displaced finally lived in homes they had built with their own hands.

Li Tai then sent Ma Zhou to register each person.

These individuals now counted as commoners.

News of this ownership was almost unbelievable to them.

Some wept holding their bewildered three- or four-year-old children; others knelt and kowtowed to the registering officials; some appeared numb, but a closer look revealed tears streaming down their faces.

Truly, they owned homes of their own now—they were no longer rootless vagabonds beneath the city walls.

Even if it was just a tiny house, it was their first property in this place.

However, Li Tai warned, “If anyone sells their house, they will no longer be residents of Gaoling.”

Hearing this, many were both fearful and excited.

Li Tai knew that owning a house would help root their minds, but it was far from enough.

Having a house made them registered commoners, but Li Tai hoped they would become respectable families.

Of course, commoners and respectable families differed most notably in land possession.

In feudal society, becoming a respectable family meant not only avoiding crime or moral failings but, crucially, owning arable land.

This was akin to modern life: to truly settle in a city, owning a home was the best way.

Once you own property, locals treat you differently.

You cease to be seen as an outsider and can gradually integrate into the community.

You are no longer a transient laborer passing through, but a rooted resident.

Neighbors become willing to interact, sharing community notices, local welfare information, even inviting you for drinks or mahjong, and perhaps introducing single women.

The reality is, owning a house signifies your ties to the city.

Before, no one knew if you might vanish in a few years, so no one wasted affection on someone so transient.

In the Tang dynasty, unless within city walls, houses in the countryside were generally worthless; the truly valuable asset was arable land.

When you reclaimed land, neighbors would actively welcome you into local society.

Even owning a single acre meant you had a genuine foothold.

However, Li Tai had no intention of giving land near Gaoling to the displaced.

Not because he was stingy, but because they couldn’t hold onto it.

Gaoling sat at the confluence of the Wei and Jing Rivers, blessed with fertile land and abundant water.

If not for the recent locust plague that devastated the area, halting reclamation and leaving much previously cultivated land fallow, there would be no room for Li Tai’s agricultural academy here.

Because the land, once reclaimed, was all good farmland.

The powerful disliked to toil themselves; it took three years to nurture fertile land, and they preferred to spend time on other affairs.

But when commoners painstakingly reclaimed the fields, the elite would use all means to seize them.

Sometimes no means were even necessary; after a disaster year, most commoners couldn’t hold on and had to sell their precious land—hard-earned over a lifetime—for a pittance to the aristocracy.

Snapping back to the present, Li Tai watched the workers under Mo Gong grow increasingly skilled and smiled with satisfaction.

He did not expect immediate profits but aimed first to train a team capable of building heated brick beds.

This year would be for testing and gaining a reputation; next year, with proven results, they could promote it widely.

He also awaited research breakthroughs in honeycomb coal from his mining ventures, hoping to pair it with the heated beds, perhaps boosting their sales by offering matching honeycomb coal when installing the beds.

(End of chapter)