The late Ming Dynasty in the living room

Chapter 23 Without poetry, would you dare to hang yourself?

Fang Yu nodded. It was right to concentrate on finishing these two places first. Otherwise, there would be so many people waiting for him in other places.

"With so much animal power added to the brick kiln, it should be possible to burn the kiln earlier, right?" Fang Yu asked.

Old Man Zhao nodded and said: "Old Fan said that we can start firing within two days, and we will fire two kilns at a time."

At this time, the brick kilns were not as good as the later wheel kilns. The bricks fired in one kiln cost just over 1 yuan, which was about one million yuan a year, which was less than one-tenth of that of the wheel kilns.

But this is the first step for a group of refugees to start from scratch, and it is also the first step for them to establish themselves here after being in exile for thousands of miles. It is of great significance.

Fang Yu was very happy after hearing this and said that there should be a small commemorative event on the day when the brick was made.

When Old Man Zhao heard about the rice store, he asked: "If we want to build a large rice store, do we also need to clean up the land in the commercial district?"

Building a house in the wild is different from that in the city. First, you have to cut down trees and burn grass, and you also have to clean up all the roots of grass and trees.

When you encounter a pit, you have to press the soil, when you encounter a bag of earth, you have to shovel it. Finally, you have to find a few cows to drag the big rocks back and forth and press them back and forth for several days. In short, it is very troublesome.

Fang Yu shook his head and said: "That is the Qiao family's business. We don't need to worry about it. If they are short of people, they should recruit them themselves..."

Before Fang Yu finished speaking, he heard the refugees cheering loudly: "It's put on, it's finally put on!"

After unremitting efforts, the scholar Yan Jingsheng finally hung the rope on the beam. The refugees at the scene were also happy for his success.

Fang Yu saw Yan Jingchang let out a sigh of relief, glanced at the night sky (the roof of the thatched shed) with great nostalgia, and was about to hang his neck on the rope ring.

"Xiucai, wait a moment!" Fang Yu suddenly shouted.

Yan Jingsheng paused for a moment, then turned around and said, "Wansheng has decided to leave, so my boss shouldn't waste any more words."

Unlike the refugees, Yan Jingsheng was hired, so of course he had to call his boss.

However, Fang Yu, his employer, was not here to save his life. Fang Yu walked up to the scholar and asked, "Where are your poems?"

Yan Jingsheng was confused: "Poem? What poem?"

Fang Yu said: "Poetry of death, when you, the scholars, hang yourself, shouldn't you leave a good poem to express your ambition?"

Is there still this rule?Yan Jingsheng's mind was immediately confused. After all, there were not many scholars from all over the country, and he had never heard of a scholar who hanged himself.

But when he thought about the characters in the book, it seemed that they all left poems before they died.

For example, Su Shi's "Ask you about your life achievements, Huangzhou, Huizhou and Danzhou"; for example, Tang Yin's "The world of heaven and earth are all similar, just like drifting in a foreign land..."

Su Shi and Tang Bohu both did this. This rule must be true, Yan Jingsheng thought.

Fang Yu said worriedly: "You scholars always write a few verses when drinking a glass of wine. Now that I am dying, I have no verses. If this spreads..."

Yan Jingsheng's face turned red with embarrassment. Of course he could write poetry, but this desperate poem was meant to be spread out and people would listen to it. Could he write it blindly?
Yan Jingsheng racked his brains but couldn't think of a good one, and finally admitted: "Wansheng can't think of anything right now."

"What! You don't have a poem? Why hang yourself if you don't have a poem?"

Fang Yu's face suddenly changed after hearing this, and he was no longer so kind. He waved his hand and said, "Take away his rope and stool. If he doesn't have good poems, you are not allowed to return them to him!"

The sophomore and junior high school students rushed over. One of them pulled Yan Jingsheng down to watch, while the other was busy untying the rope and collecting the stool.

Yan Jingsheng's eyes were stunned as he watched the hanging tools being confiscated.

Fang Yu walked over and said, "Xiucai, I'm sorry. I'm also a person who has read a few books. I can't let you break the rules." Yan Jingsheng nodded in shame.

Fang Yu said again: "Then you should study hard here and think about how to write this poem in your free time. Maybe you will be inspired one day, don't you think?"

The next day, Mrs. Qiao from Qiao's store led two old guys outside the city.

There was someone carrying a sedan next to her, but she didn't even look at it.

One person asked: "Since the young lady doesn't believe that he has rice, why did he go through this journey?"

Mrs. Qiao said: "Master Fang is a very generous patron. Since he invites you, what's the harm in paying a visit?"

Another person said: "I was transporting goods back to Laishui from Dingxing County that day, and I saw this group of refugees near the Juma River. At that time, they were in despair and almost starved to death. Somehow, they are now prosperous. .”

Mrs. Qiao said: "It seems that Young Master Fang saved them."

Then he sighed and said: "In troubled times, human life is rare. Our Qiao family and the Gong family are among the best. Have they ever done these things? Mr. Fang has great compassion and the heart of a Bodhisattva."

One person smiled bitterly and said: "Having a bodhisattva's heart is not enough, you must also have mountains of gold and silver."

Another person was very unconvinced after hearing his young mistress’ disparaging words about the Qiao family. He recalled some of the news he had heard and said:
"Some people in the county said that this group of refugees were actually broken up bandits. They burned, killed, looted and killed countless people along the way."

Mrs. Qiao said contemptuously: "Wang Dianshi must have said that. In the past, he only flattered others, but now he looks like he is serving the country and the people. It's just that he has been in charge of Dianshi for a long time and he just wants to win credit."

The two were silent because such a thing was possible.

A few people arrived at the refugee camp while talking, but they felt that these people were no longer refugees.

You see, most of them have put on new clothes, and their faces don't have the sallow color of other refugees who are dying.

They are busy there, just like those in the county who leave early and come home late for their families.

If I had to use one adjective to describe the refugees before and the people in front of me, it would be: these refugees in front of me have come back to life.

As Mrs. Qiao and her entourage continued to move forward, they heard the sound of reading loudly from a shack: "The way to teach is to be specialized. In the past, Meng's mother chose a neighbor, and her son did not learn..."

What I was reading was the Three Character Classic, which is commonly used for children’s enlightenment, and I was stumbling through it, obviously not long after I started.

Mrs. Qiao looked at the shack and saw a sign hanging outside: Cultural Study Class for Senior Cadres.

Fang Yu listened to the scholar's class for a while, and when he heard that Mrs. Qiao was coming, he quietly left the class.

There are about 20 people in this study class, including high school sophomores, seniors, Liu Ji, and people who were nominated by Old Man Zhao and whom Fang Yu thought were good after meeting him.

There are two children mixed in: Axiu and Pang Xiaoni.

Of course, Fang Yu never thought about making them Confucian disciples. His request for the scholars was that they should be taught to read and write, and they were not allowed to bring private goods.

The scholar was very dissatisfied with the second request, but Fang Yu was really afraid that he would teach a bunch of rotten scholars.

"Mr. Fang, where are the one hundred thousand stones and one million stones of rice you mentioned?" Mrs. Qiao asked deliberately with a teasing look on her face.

She had just walked almost half a circle around this homeless camp. She saw the shacks where people lived, the tailors' shops, the canteen and the warehouse.

She was very sure that there was no millions of stone worth of rice here.

(End of this chapter)