Poverty Alleviation in Qin: A Sky-High Review of "I Am the Female Prime Minister of All Time&qu

The news that Song Ye personally went to the countryside to teach how to use manure spread throughout every corner of Pei County in just two days.

Opinions differ; some are convinced, some are hesitant, and some are skeptical.

Many ordinary people had a very practical idea: "If a county magistrate, a well-read official, has said this, he must be right."

"Given Lord Song's status, why would he deliberately try to fool us?"

"That's right. We can't read many words, so how can we compare to them in terms of knowledge?"

Influenced by this idea, the enthusiasm of the second and third batches of farmers who volunteered to try the new method was even higher than that of the first batch.

Some villagers living next door to Uncle Wang saw how neatly his fields were managed and couldn't resist trying it themselves.

Of course, some people thought that since the county government promised to compensate for the losses, they might as well join in the fun and give it a try. Many others genuinely trusted Song Ye and said that following his instructions would be the right thing to do.

The area around Uncle Wang's house is even more lively than it was a few days ago.

Although Song no longer attended in person, the farmers spontaneously gathered here to exchange ideas and skills.

Some people are learning to cultivate the land more diligently, while others are busy accumulating and composting farmyard manure; everyone is truly getting to work.

...

the other side.

Xiao He was always on edge.

Cao Can had just finished his market inspection and hadn't even had a chance to sit down and catch his breath when Xiao He hurriedly came looking for him.

Seeing his grave expression, Cao put down his teacup and asked, "What happened?"

Xiao He looked around, then lowered his voice and leaned forward: "Tell me, what if Lord Song's farming methods don't work out in the end?"

"It won't work?" Cao Shen didn't react for a moment.

"I'm talking about the crops in the fields." Xiao He spoke faster and faster. "If the harvest is drastically reduced by the time of autumn harvest, what will the county government use to compensate us? You should do the math. More and more farmers are participating now. Just Wang Bo's land alone, if the yield is reduced by 10% or 20%, we will have to subsidize a lot of grain."

"Didn't Lord Song say that these methods have already been used elsewhere?"

"That's what they say, but we can't verify whether it's true or not." Xiao He shook his head repeatedly. "What if she's remembered it wrong, or the two places are not compatible, or this year's harvest is bad and the weather is unpredictable? There are all sorts of variables at hand."

Cao Shen, feeling uneasy at his words, forced himself to remain calm: "The autumn harvest is still a long way off, why throw ourselves into chaos now?"

"It is precisely because it is still a long time away that it is even more worrying." Xiao He stood up and paced back and forth in the room. "Several other households are now following suit and trying it. If there is a large-scale crop failure, the county government's meager grain reserves will not be able to withstand such losses."

"Alright, alright."

Cao Shen reached out and pulled him to sit down. "Anxiety here won't help. Lord Song is so confident, why should you worry so much?"

"I......"

"Don't you trust Lord Song?"

Xiao He opened his mouth, but ultimately remained silent.

After working together for half a month, the young county magistrate had always handled matters large and small with composure, but the agricultural harvest was related to the livelihood of the entire county's people and could not tolerate the slightest mistake, so he really could not completely relax.

As the two were talking, the curtain was lifted and Liu Ji walked in.

He came to borrow horses from Cao Can, as there were convicts in Sishui Pavilion who needed to be escorted, but the county could not allocate enough carts and horses.

As soon as I entered, I overheard a conversation and immediately perked up my ears.

"What are you guys talking about?"

Xiao He didn't bother to reply, but Cao Can casually said, "We were talking about Lord Song promoting the use of manure in farming."

"Manure? Isn't that just pouring shit onto the ground?"

"...Can't you speak more politely?" Xiao He frowned.

Liu Ji rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips, and said slowly, "If it really doesn't work, then we'll just have to make do."

"Liu Ji!" Xiao He's face darkened.

"I'm just telling the truth." Liu Ji spread his hands, looking completely at ease. "Even if you're frantic, can you actually go to the fields to cultivate the land for the farmers? Can you control the weather? Since you can't do any of that, what other option is there but to wait and see?"

Cao Shen couldn't help but chuckle softly upon hearing this.

Xiao He suppressed his anger and didn't bother arguing with him.

"However, although I have some issues with this Lady Song, to be fair, she has always acted with discretion and doesn't seem like the kind of person who acts recklessly."

Xiao He was slightly taken aback upon hearing this, never expecting that the other party would speak up in defense.

Liu Ji himself realized the bias in his words and quickly added, "One thing at a time, I still remember that she deducted half a month's salary from my paycheck!"

...

Meanwhile, Song Ye, the person being discussed by everyone, is writing a report.

Yes, you read that right.

The carving knife was too much work, so Song simply found some charcoal sticks, carefully ground them into small pieces, and then wrote directly on the bamboo slips.

Zhang Liang, who was standing to the side, was stunned for a long time upon seeing this.

"Sir, what are you doing?"

"Write." Song didn't even look up, his hands still moving.

"I can naturally tell it's writing." Zhang Liang took two steps forward, and upon seeing the object in her hand, his expression changed slightly. "This... is it a charcoal stick?"

"Yeah, carving knives are too hard on the hands and slow too."

Zhang Liang remained silent, fully aware of the difficulties of writing at that moment.

Nowadays, people either write on silk with a brush dipped in lacquer, but silk is expensive and ordinary people simply cannot afford it. Or they carve each character on bamboo slips with a carving knife, which is time-consuming and laborious. After finishing a scroll, their wrists would ache for a long time.

Magistrate Song's method was truly ingenious.

Looking at the rapidly written bamboo slips, Zhang Liang couldn't help but sigh: Why didn't anyone think of such an easy way before?

But on second thought, even if someone did come up with the idea, they probably wouldn't dare to use it.

Officials have always valued their reputation, and drawing on bamboo slips with charcoal sticks would inevitably invite criticism if it got out.

But Song Ye didn't seem to care at all, using it frankly and naturally.

Zhang Liang stood quietly to the side and watched for a long time, thinking that he would try making a charcoal stick later.

No one saw it anyway.

After an unknown amount of time, Song finally finished writing the report.

Here, take a look and give me your feedback.

Zhang Liang took it with both hands, and looked down—

Peixian County's Three-Year Grassroots Development Plan

The handwriting wasn't very neat; it was written with charcoal, the strokes uneven, and some parts were smudged from his palm. But every stroke was clear, and the content made his heart skip a beat.

It wasn't some empty, platitude-filled official document; it was a series of concrete measures covering water conservancy, agricultural technology, storage, land reclamation, and education. There were also several points regarding relief for the elderly living alone and resettlement for the disabled and conscripted...

It's not written in great detail, but every point is practical and tangible.

Zhang Liang was so engrossed in watching that his fingers tightened slightly.

It's not that he hasn't met capable officials before.

When Korea was still in existence, my father had many capable advisors who wrote eloquent and well-reasoned policy essays, citing classical texts and making perfect sense.

But when it came to actually doing it, one person said that the imperial court needed to allocate funds, another said that the labor force should be mobilized during the off-season for farming. They kept pushing it back and forth, and there was no progress for three or five years.

This one is different; each item specifies when to do it, how to do it, and how many people are needed.

"Three years." Zhang Liang looked up at Song Ye, his gaze complex.

"What, haven't you written enough? Three years isn't enough?"

"It's not that it's not enough, it's that the author wrote in such detail, it's too good..."

Upon hearing this, Song chuckled and said, "No matter how nice the words are, it's better to roll up your sleeves and get to work than to shout them out."

Empty talk harms the country, while hard work builds it.

Song had no idea that two thousand years later, this "Three-Year Development Plan Route of Pei County" written on bamboo slips would be unearthed by archaeologists and treasured in a display case of the nation's largest museum, with a label that read—

[“A development plan handwritten by a female prime minister during the Qin Dynasty, the earliest extant document on grassroots governance in my country.”]

Countless descendants stand in front of the glass case, trying to see through two thousand years of time the great pragmatist who was engrossed in writing a thousand years ago.