Ch 30: The Regent’s Farmer Husband

Jiang Yan looked at Jiang Ji clinging to him, completely confused. “What does my calligraphy have to do with rice seed gifts?”

Jiang Ji blinked innocently. “I just remembered—my seed supplier said before that he really loves calligraphy and painting. He’ll definitely like your writing! Let’s give him a piece of your calligraphy so he’ll send us more seeds.”

Jiang Yan: … His skill at making things up with a straight face was getting disturbingly natural.

Jiang Ji patted him hard on the back and dragged him toward the table. “Don’t worry about the details, just write it for me. Come on, I’ll grind the ink for you.”

He even poured clean water and started grinding the ink himself.

Jiang Yan sighed helplessly, rolled up his sleeves, spread the paper flat, and weighed it down with an inkstone. “What should I write this time?”

Jiang Ji had already decided. “Hai Na Bai Chuan—‘The sea embraces a hundred rivers!’”

The boss would definitely like that.

Jiang Yan fetched the tung-oil lamp from the room, brightening the space considerably.

As Jiang Ji ground the ink, he said, “Write this one however you like—something bold and full of momentum. Make it horizontal; it’ll look better hanging that way.”

“Alright.”

Once the ink was ready, Jiang Yan lifted the brush. The tip had a few loose hairs; he plucked one away, dipped the brush into the ink, and began.

“This brush isn’t very good, huh?” Jiang Ji noticed and asked.

“It tends to split a little, but it’ll do,” Jiang Yan replied.

After a brief pause to think, his wrist moved fluidly—his strokes strong, flowing, and unbroken.

“Wow!” Jiang Ji couldn’t hold back his admiration. He gave Jiang Yan a big thumbs-up. “Vigorous, powerful, majestic—absolutely beautiful!”

At that, a faint smile curved Jiang Yan’s lips.

“Quick, sign your name!” Jiang Ji urged.

Jiang Yan added the date and his signature. Jiang Ji nodded repeatedly, completely satisfied.

“Ah, it’s so good, I almost don’t want to give it away.”

【Hahaha, host, don’t you dare—】
【President Xiao’s waiting, don’t you back out now】
【He’s probably staring at the screen, scared to remind you in case you change your mind】

— Xiao Xuehai sent 100 Rice Seeds.
— Xiao Xuehai sent 100 Rice Seeds.
— Xiao Xuehai sent 100 Rice Seeds.

…

Jiang Ji admired the piece for a while longer, tracing his fingers over the bold characters as if studying how the strokes were made.

When he finally looked back at the livestream, his eyes were nearly dazzled by another flood of golden rice-seed effects.

He squinted at the chat and finally realized what everyone was saying. Even President Xiao seemed a little anxious by now.

Stepping into the courtyard, Jiang Ji lowered his voice and said, “Don’t worry, I’m not going back on my word. I said it’s for President Xiao, and it’ll go to President Xiao.”

“Do you guys understand what these four characters mean? Hai Na Bai Chuan—‘The sea embraces all rivers, therefore it becomes vast; a man with tolerance achieves greatness.’ It’s a famous saying in our country. I wonder if 2977’s translation is accurate.”

【We know, we know】
【Hai Na Bai Chuan!】
【We kinda get it. The system probably translates it for us anyway, should be close enough.】

“As long as you understand. Actually, it’s part of a longer phrase with sixteen characters, but these four are the most well-known. They’re often hung in studies or offices—it fits President Xiao perfectly, I think. Wonder if he likes it?”

— Xiao Xuehai sent 100 Rice Seeds.
— Xiao Xuehai sent 100 Rice Seeds.
— Xiao Xuehai sent 100 Rice Seeds.

【Xiao Xuehai: I like it very much. Thank you.】

Jiang Ji grinned. “By the way, President Xiao, would you like me to have it mounted for you, or will you handle it yourself?”

“Here, we usually mount it as a horizontal scroll. You can check one of my earlier streams—about two or three days ago—where I had one of Jiang Yan’s works mounted. The shop in town makes those elegant scrolls, though they’re a bit fragile and don’t keep as long. If I handle it here, it’ll take about three days before it’s ready to send.”

— Xiao Xuehai sent 100 Rice Seeds.
— Xiao Xuehai sent 100 Rice Seeds.
— Xiao Xuehai sent 100 Rice Seeds.

【Xiao Xuehai: Please have it mounted for me. Thank you.】

He even paid the mounting fee. Jiang Ji’s eyes curved into happy crescents. “Perfect! I’ll take it to town tomorrow.”

At the kitchen doorway, Jiang Yan was washing his brush. From time to time, he looked out into the courtyard—Jiang Ji was muttering to himself again, as if talking to invisible people. It was hard not to think there was something strange about him.

Jiang Yan sighed softly. Was the boy growing more and more careless around him? Trusting someone this easily… wasn’t always a good thing.

Meanwhile, in the courtyard, Jiang Ji was in high spirits, chatting and laughing with his viewers, reviewing the day’s achievements.

In the first week after he’d started streaming, the audience had been small, and he’d earned almost no points at all.

Only within the past week had Jiang Ji’s viewer count really taken off—millions tuning in daily. The system awarded one point per hundred unique views, so he was now earning tens of thousands of points a day.

But today was something else entirely. Between the trending searches, the homepage recommendation, and the irresistible lure of the lottery feature, his viewership had stayed in the tens of millions.

During the courthouse stream that morning, the peak had hit over twenty million; it dipped afterward, but the moment he announced a prize draw that night, a flood of people came pouring back in.

At its height, the audience had again surpassed twenty million.

The system counted total visits, not simultaneous viewers—each entry, even a repeat, counted once. By the end of the day, the total added up to nearly six hundred thousand points.

The system’s points followed their own mysterious internal exchange logic. Jiang Ji didn’t know exactly how much one point was worth in his previous life’s currency, but there was a simple reference: one point could be exchanged for one jin of rice.

Sweet potatoes and potatoes could both be used directly as seed tubers, so their price matched that of food in the system’s store—relatively cheap.

But because the amount of seed tubers needed per acre was massive, it had cost him forty to fifty thousand points just to exchange enough for the whole village.

The other crop seeds in the system—high-quality cotton, rice, and wheat—were much more expensive.

Rice was especially costly and required in large quantities: fifteen points for a single jin of premium hybrid rice seed.

If he wanted to promote rice cultivation widely, he would need a mountain of points.

Today, however, Xiao Xuehai’s enormous donation—over twenty-two million yuan’s worth of rice-seed props—had solved a huge part of that problem.

The rice-seed prop was the most expensive gift in the livestream: each one cost the viewer a thousand yuan and yielded a hundred jin of real rice seed when redeemed. That made it far cheaper than buying directly through the system’s store.

The small gifts—the one-yuan, five-yuan, ten-yuan kinds—were more common, but the food obtained through them matched the store’s prices, no advantage there.

Only this thousand-yuan prop offered such a generous exchange.

Jiang Ji wondered: maybe the system figured that big spenders were rare, so it rewarded such donations with extra value?

He didn’t really understand the designer’s logic—but he wasn’t about to complain. This windfall had solved a major seed shortage.

More importantly, it gave him a new idea.

This kind of donation prop was way too cost-effective. If other wealthy collectors showed up wanting antiques, calligraphy, or paintings from his world, he could just tell them to use this one-thousand-yuan gift. So much simpler!

He opened the task panel again to see if there were more missions like the one with Xiao Xuehai.

When he found Special Task 188, it was now greyed out—marked Completed. Only the “Send Reward” button was still lit, showing he hadn’t delivered the prize yet.

The grey text meant it was a one-time task—once completed, it vanished.

Jiang Ji: …

He scrolled further down and finally found a similar one—but this time, the condition was a single-day donation of fifty million.

Jiang Ji: …

So the system knew how to raise the stakes.

He decided not to tell his audience about this yet and looked through the rest of the task list.

There were two categories: regular tasks and special tasks.

The regular ones mostly involved reaching certain viewer counts—either daily or cumulative—and Jiang Ji had already completed quite a few.

After that came the agricultural promotion tasks: spreading crops like rice, corn, and sweet potatoes to a set number of households—at least a thousand each.

The special tasks, though… those were absurd.

There were ones he hadn’t even noticed before, like “Reveal the system’s existence to your family.” And others like “Explain menstruation to your relatives” or “Teach that the planet is round.”

Apparently, the system wanted him to be a walking encyclopedia.

And some were downright impossible—“Cook a meal personally for the Emperor,” “Go fishing with the Emperor.”

Jiang Ji: …

“I don’t even know who the Emperor is, and you want me to cook for him? Go fishing with him?”

He was dumbfounded. “2977, don’t you think this is getting ridiculous?”

【What happened? What’s ridiculous? Tell us!】
【Yeah, come on, let us laugh too!】

Jiang Ji sighed. “Do you guys know what kind of special missions this system gives me? I just saw one that says I have to cook for the Emperor—and go fishing with him!”

【Hahahaha! Well, dream big, you never know!】
【As expected from a system—delusional perfection.】
【That’s like one of us cooking for the president and then inviting him fishing! Hahaha!】

“No, listen,” Jiang Ji said. “For you, maybe that’s doable. But this is a feudal empire! Ordinary people never even see the Emperor, not once in their life! We don’t even know what he looks like! At least you know what your leaders look like, right?”

【Fair point. That’s… yeah, pretty much impossible.】
【That’s why it’s called a special task—high difficulty!】

“Sigh… this system’s a total scam.” Jiang Ji sighed and kept scrolling.

The task rewards matched the difficulty. Early ones unlocked new donation props—he could open up to ten “slots” for them—and then there were rewards like food and skill books.

Later rewards focused on new skills and blueprints, each skill ranked beginner, intermediate, or advanced.

He’d even seen skills like fishing, cooking, basket weaving, textile work—pretty much anything imaginable.

Apparently, the system thought of everything.

It was even considerate enough to include cooking skills—probably to prepare him for that ridiculous “cook for the Emperor” mission someday.

Then Jiang Ji discovered that the system actually came with an entire chain of linked missions and rewards.

For example, completing one task might reward him with a loom blueprint, which would then unlock a new mission—build a loom. Once the loom was made, the next mission would be to promote loom use.

And of course, if he wanted to promote textile production, he’d need raw materials—cotton, hemp, wool, and silk.

That meant he’d have to start by planting cotton and hemp, and raising silkworms and sheep before spreading those industries further.

Jiang Ji: …

How considerate. The system had basically mapped out his entire path to wealth.

In short—as long as he completed the tasks, the skills would come.

After washing up and lying down, Jiang Ji couldn’t fall asleep right away. Having read through all those missions and rewards, his mind was racing with ideas.

“Jiang Yan, are you asleep?”

Jiang Yan opened his eyes, surprised. “You can’t sleep?”

For someone who normally fell asleep within three breaths, lying awake for nearly fifteen minutes was unusual.

“Mm. I’m thinking about something.”

“What are you thinking about?”

Jiang Ji turned over to face him and whispered, “What if we sign contracts with the farmers—get them to plant only cotton on their land? Do you think that would work?”

“Why the sudden idea? Are you planning to buy all their harvests yourself? What would you even do with that much cotton?”

“I was thinking…” Jiang Ji said, “maybe start a textile workshop?”

“A textile workshop?”

“Yeah—a big one. We grow the cotton, spin the thread, weave the fabric—all in one chain. And then open a cloth shop to sell the finished bolts.”

Jiang Yan thought for a moment and asked, “I don’t know much about weaving… do you?”

“No,” Jiang Ji admitted, but quickly added, “but I can learn.”

Jiang Yan: …

In the dim light, Jiang Ji’s silhouette shifted as he spoke. “Once we spread the rice seeds to ten thousand households, I’ll have learned it.”

Jiang Yan frowned slightly. “What does rice seed promotion have to do with weaving?”

“Oh, uh, I mean—my mother knows how to weave. We used to have a loom at home before it got sold. Once I learn a bit from her, I can modify the spinning and weaving machines myself. That’ll work.”

Jiang Yan thought it over seriously. “It sounds possible when you put it that way. But convincing people to plant only cotton won’t be easy. They’ll want to fill their bellies first. Sweet potatoes and potatoes are safe crops—they can eat what they grow. If they plant cotton and you stop buying it later, they’ll have to find their own buyers. Cotton may sell well, but finding good buyers quickly isn’t easy. If prices fall, it’s the farmers who’ll suffer. To get them to follow you, you’ll need to give them guarantees.”

Jiang Ji nodded. “Right, that’s why we’ll sign purchase contracts. Fix the price beforehand. I’ll sell them high-yield cotton seeds, and when I buy back their cotton, they won’t have to worry about it not selling.”

“You can try,” Jiang Yan said. “But it’ll work best if they already trust you.”

Jiang Ji thought for a moment. “What if the magistrate acts as guarantor?”

Jiang Yan turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “The magistrate? You want an official to vouch for you? Are you dreaming?”

“How is that a dream?” Jiang Ji protested. “I think he’s a good man—cares about the people. Why wouldn’t he support something like this?”

“And how do you plan to convince him to be your guarantor?”

Jiang Ji said, “Public–private cooperation. Isn’t that a normal arrangement?”

Jiang Yan: …

Seeing his silence, Jiang Ji quickly explained, “No, not collusion. Cooperation. Don’t get it twisted.”

“…Then how exactly would that cooperation work?” Jiang Yan asked, genuinely curious.

Jiang Ji drew on memories from his previous life—what little he’d absorbed from his father’s news reports and business talk—and began explaining.

“Simply put, the government and merchants work together to grow the economy. The government supports it with policies, and merchants run the businesses—well, workshops—creating jobs for ordinary people. The people earn wages, merchants make profits and pay taxes, and the government benefits from those taxes. If the local government has money, the imperial court has money too.”

He paused, then went on, “Look, aside from maintaining order, the government’s main duty is to improve the people’s livelihood, right?”

Jiang Yan nodded. “That’s right.”

“So, say I promote cotton planting. Farmers grow cotton and sell it to me—they earn money. I take the cotton and run a textile workshop—hire workers who also earn money. Then I sell the fabric myself or to others—either way, I earn money. And when I make money, I pay taxes to the government, and they earn money too.

“If it becomes a stable cycle, my workshop will keep expanding, need more cotton, hire more workers. Our county could actually feed and clothe more people because of it, right?

“And later, if I develop new kinds of fabrics or patterns, sales won’t be a problem. If I open my own cloth shop and build a name, merchants from other counties and provinces will come to buy. That’ll bring more business to local inns, taverns, and restaurants, supporting even more people.”

He looked over at Jiang Yan and asked, “If you were the magistrate, would you support me?”

Jiang Yan thought deeply for a long while before answering, “If it were me—I would. But the magistrate… not necessarily.”

Jiang Ji scratched his face. “Then I’ll just try. I’ll work it out myself first, and if it doesn’t go well, I’ll talk to him directly. For now, I’m just brainstorming. I’ll think it through more carefully later.”

“Alright.”

Jiang Ji’s mind drifted back to his past life—to before his mother’s passing. His father used to come home every day in time for dinner, and as a kid, he’d often sit with him watching the evening news, listening to him talk about business. He’d learned a thing or two back then.

“Honestly,” he said softly, “focusing on agriculture first is right—farming is the foundation. With crop yields this low, the court’s policy of prioritizing farmers and restricting merchants makes sense for now. But once grain production improves, to truly develop the economy, they’ll have to promote commerce.

“In this era, the hierarchy is scholars, farmers, artisans, then merchants—traders rank the lowest. But ironically, it’s commerce that keeps the economy alive and improves people’s lives. The imperial court should really value merchants more.”

Jiang Yan grew thoughtful at those words.

“You saying you’d support me actually makes me happy,” Jiang Ji murmured with a yawn. “At least someone thinks it’s doable. Alright, it’s late—sleep well. Good night.”

He rolled over, lay flat, and within moments, drifted off to sleep.

Jiang Yan turned his head to look at him. The night was deep, the room dim, only the faint outline of Jiang Ji’s face visible.

He couldn’t help replaying the conversation in his mind. He hadn’t expected Jiang Ji to think so far ahead, or to have such an insightful understanding of agriculture and commerce. The boy’s grasp of economic logic was far deeper than he’d imagined.

Thinking about Jiang Ji’s idea—growing cotton, spinning thread, weaving cloth, and opening a cloth shop all in one seamless chain, creating jobs for the villagers along the way—Jiang Yan found himself quietly excited too.

“Farming as the foundation, cooperation between officials and merchants, valuing the role of commerce…” He turned those phrases over in his head until he too finally fell asleep.

…

The next morning, Jiang Ji got up early as usual to fetch water.

While waiting in line, someone grinned and called out to him, “Hey, Jiang Ji, my boy Xiaoshan came home yesterday saying little Jiang Nan told him your family’s sweet potatoes and potatoes came from an immortal! Hahaha…”

Jiang Ji paused, then burst out laughing too. “Haha, he’s just joking! The day we got that delivery, Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei were already asleep and didn’t see it. The next morning they saw the whole hall full of sweet potatoes and asked me where they came from. I teased them and said an immortal gave them to us—never thought they’d actually believe it! Ah, that’s kids for you. If there really were an immortal, I’d be asking for a mountain of gold, not sweet potatoes and tubers, don’t you think, Uncle?”

The people around laughed heartily.

“Exactly! Forget gold and silver, even a copper mountain would be enough for me to eat and drink for life.”

“If it were me, I wouldn’t even need a mountain—just a few gold ingots would make me laugh in my sleep.”

The first man who’d spoken chuckled. “Right? If you could ask an immortal for anything, who’d ask for potatoes? You’d still have to plant them yourself!”

“Hahaha, true enough. Kids will believe anything.”

Jiang Ji joined their laughter, then smoothly shifted the topic. “By the way, uncles, I’m heading to town this morning. When I’m back, I’ll teach everyone how to sprout the potato seedlings, alright? Make sure someone’s at home to listen for the village chief’s notice.”

“Got it. We’ll either be home or out in the fields—just shout and we’ll hear.”

“Good. Remember to call out a few times.”

…

After breakfast, Jiang Ji took the calligraphy Jiang Yan had written the night before and set off for town. Zhao Ru and Aunt Xiufang came along, bringing the children’s clothes they’d sewn these past few days to sell at the tailor’s shop.

Before leaving, Jiang Ji told Jiang Yan, “If Wu Er comes by to deliver fertilizer, help me check it over and settle the bill for him,” then started down the road.

When they arrived in town, the three split up. Jiang Ji headed straight for the book-and-art shop.

There weren’t many such shops in town; most sold both books and paintings and also took on mounting or seal-carving work.

When Jiang Ji arrived, the shopkeeper brought out the piece he’d sent earlier for mounting—it was ready, a horizontal scroll.

Jiang Ji unrolled it and smiled. “Wealth flows in from all directions.” Mounted, the calligraphy looked even more elegant and full of life.

“Shopkeeper, I have another piece I’d like you to mount the same way.” Jiang Ji handed over the rolled-up Hai Na Bai Chuan.

The shopkeeper unrolled it and couldn’t help exclaiming, “What fine calligraphy!”

“Right? I think so too,” Jiang Ji said cheerfully.

After admiring it for a while, the shopkeeper asked, “Customer, did you write this yourself?”

“No.”

“Was it written by the same person who wrote the last one?”

“Yes.”

The shopkeeper’s expression lit up. “May I ask who this calligrapher is?”

Jiang Ji raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well,” the man stroked his beard, speaking with genuine admiration, “I’ve been running this shop for nearly thirty years, and this is the finest handwriting I’ve ever seen. I’d love to commission a piece—could you perhaps introduce me to the writer?”

Jiang Ji blinked. “I’ll ask him when I get back and let you know in a few days, how’s that?”

“Excellent, excellent! If he agrees, the price is negotiable.”

“Alright, I’ll ask for you.” Jiang Ji then pulled a folded paper from his sleeve. “By the way, you can carve seals here, right?”

“Certainly, sir. You want one made?”

“Yes. Please follow this design.”

The shopkeeper looked at the sketch—Jiang Ji’s own design. “Jiang Yan? Is this the same person who wrote the calligraphy?”

“That’s right.”

“Understood. What material would you like—wood or jade?”

Jiang Ji thought for a moment. “How much for jade?”

The shopkeeper opened a box of blank jade seal blocks, showing a range of quality. “This one’s two taels of silver, this one five, this one ten, and this one thirty.”

Even the thirty-tael piece wasn’t particularly fine. Jiang Ji shook his head. “Show me the wooden ones.”

The shopkeeper produced another box. “These plain wooden ones are five hundred coins. This one’s nanmu—one tael three qian. This one’s huanghuali—two taels. This purple sandalwood block here—five taels. Best quality.”

Jiang Ji picked up the small piece of sandalwood, examined it, and took a light sniff—its subtle fragrance confirmed it was genuine.

“This one, then.”

“Very well. It’ll be ready in three days.”

Jiang Ji paid the deposit, then wandered around the shop. The walls were covered with scrolls and paintings. He glanced over them all—none compared to Jiang Yan’s calligraphy.

No wonder the shopkeeper wanted a piece so badly.

With handwriting that good, who on earth had Jiang Yan been before all this?

Jiang Ji peeked at his livestream chat—his viewers were already discussing the scrolls.

【Every piece looks beautiful to me.】
【That landscape painting’s gorgeous.】
【I can’t read the calligraphy, but it feels beautiful.】

Jiang Ji murmured softly, “None of these are as good as Jiang Yan’s.”

【Hahaha, Jiang Ji, are you just bragging about your own goods like an old woman selling melons?】
【We can’t read it anyway, so sure, whatever you say.】
【Yeah, you say it’s good, then it’s good.】

“I’m serious, I’m not lying to you,” Jiang Ji said with a grin. “Didn’t you see? Even the shopkeeper wants to buy Jiang Yan’s calligraphy!”

“President Xiao, are you still here? This is what the mounted scroll looks like—what do you think?”

—— Xiao Xuehai sent a reward: Rice Seed x100
—— Xiao Xuehai sent a reward: Rice Seed x100
—— Xiao Xuehai sent a reward: Rice Seed x100

【Xiao Xuehai: Yes, looks great. Thank you.】

A real tycoon indeed—three donations in a row, three hundred thousand yuan just like that. Generous as always.

Jiang Ji smiled contentedly. “As long as President Xiao’s happy. I’ll pick it up in three days and deliver it to you right after.”

Leaving the calligraphy shop, Jiang Ji wandered next door to a stationery store. There, he bought two high-quality writing brushes for Jiang Yan before heading back to meet Zhao Ru and the others to go home.

When they returned, he handed the brushes to Jiang Yan. “For you.”

“What’s this?”

Jiang Yan opened the case. Inside lay two brushes of different sizes, both made of fine wolf hair—one smaller for copying text, the other larger for bold calligraphy. The bristles were smooth and glossy, far superior to the old ones he’d been using.

Jiang Yan gently ran his fingers over them, then looked up at Jiang Ji.

“Thank you.”

Jiang Ji smiled. “No need. They’re just brushes. Use these first—I’ll get you even better ones later.”

Jiang Yan’s lips curved faintly. “Alright.”

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾