Chapter Sixty-Four: Mo Nong

A young boy stood before a colossal, three-legged cauldron—the stark contrast between his slight figure and the massive vessel produced a powerful sense of awe. Although most present vaguely understood that a system of pulleys was at work, only Mo Dun truly grasped the mechanics behind the feat.

When the thunderous cauldron slammed to the ground, the ferocious taotie motif carved into its surface appeared all the more menacing, lending an air of mystery to the scene. The spectacle left the crowd deeply unsettled, their hearts pounding long after it was over. The ensuing exchange between Cheng Chumo and Yuchi Baolin, performed from opposite sides of the city wall, seemed rather tame by comparison, though it still drew bursts of applause.

Mo Dun stepped forward to resume his role as host. “In the past, Mo Family Village was steeped in poverty and stagnation, clinging to its old ways and guarding its secrets with misplaced pride. And what was the result? Mo Family Village became the poorest settlement in all of Chang’an.”

His self-deprecating candor sent a wave of good-natured laughter through the audience. Everyone had heard something of the village’s history and knew well its former destitution.

“This boy, he really dares to speak!” Cheng Yaojin guffawed.

Even Li Shimin could not help but smile. To call the Mo Family’s secret techniques, passed down for a thousand years, nothing more than cherished trash—only a heart as broad as this youth’s could make such an admission.

“But today, Mo Family Village has cast off the past and embraced reform and innovation. Just as our motto says: keep pace with the times, blaze new trails! We welcome all to Mo Family Village, and we seek to collaborate with any school of thought, casting aside antiquated ideas unfit for the new era of Great Tang. A grand new age is dawning, an era of majesty and prosperity. Those who cannot keep up will be left behind,” Mo Dun declared, his words ringing with conviction.

“A new era, a flourishing Tang Dynasty!” Li Shimin’s heart surged with excitement. He had toiled for years with the singular aim of strengthening Tang. Yet even he had not dared to dream of such a golden age, and now, the words were spoken aloud by a mere youth. Gratification warmed him—he had not expected the young heir of Mo to have such faith in his rule; he felt as though he had found a kindred spirit.

Mo Dun pressed on. “Yet all across Great Tang, there remain villages even poorer than ours once was. Many still cannot fill their bellies. Clearly, the era of prosperity is not yet at hand—we may have a long wait ahead.”

Li Shimin fell silent. He knew full well the state of his own realm: there were many impoverished areas, the treasury was not full, and the steppe tribes eyed Tang greedily. In the far west, the Tubo and Tuyuhun peoples continued to covet the empire’s lands.

“Your Majesty, please forgive the child’s ignorant words,” Qin Qiong hastened to interject, fearing Mo Dun’s bold statements might anger the emperor.

“Father, Mo Dun merely speaks his mind—he means no harm,” Li Chengqian added quickly.

“What are you all so worried about? Can I not tolerate a man who speaks plainly?” Li Shimin feigned irritation, though a sliver of annoyance did rise in his heart. As the saying goes, one should not strike a man’s face or lay bare his shortcomings—yet Mo Dun had just done so in front of the emperor himself.

Unaware that he had drawn the attention of the most powerful man in the world, Mo Dun continued from the dais: “Great Tang is founded on agriculture. As the saying goes, without farming, there is no stability. Mo Family Village has joined hands with the School of Agriculture to develop a new tilling implement—the curved-beam plough.”

At that moment, Cheng Chumo and Yuchi Baolin carried forth a new-style plough. Smaller than the traditional kind, its handles curved gracefully at the front. The two youths flanked the plough as though guarding a treasure—having missed the chance to astonish the crowd by lifting the cauldron, they were not about to let this opportunity slip by. Though regarded as playboys, they well understood that agriculture was the foundation of the realm and that such an innovation might earn them a place in history.

“This new curved-beam plough can be operated by one man and one ox. Its bent blade turns the soil thoroughly, enabling deep tillage and more meticulous farming, increasing yields, saving labor and resources, and opening new land to cultivation.”

At his words, the crowd erupted in excitement. Many were landowners and instantly grasped the significance of such a tool.

Li Shimin leapt to the window, staring fixedly at the plough in Cheng Chumo’s hands. After the chaos at the end of the Sui, Tang’s population had plummeted, leaving much land fallow. If this plough truly worked as claimed, the golden age of Tang could arrive twenty years ahead of schedule.

“Can one man and one ox really plough a field?” someone in the audience called out.

“Indeed. Mo Family Village has already purchased a hundred mu of land outside the South Gate, and invited Lord Su, the Grand Minister of Agriculture, to personally verify the plough’s effectiveness. Let us now welcome Lord Su to the stage.”

Su Lingnong, the Grand Minister, stepped forward and caressed the plough with a delighted expression. When Mo Dun had asked him to test the plough the day before, he too had been skeptical, but the results had filled him with joy. Even being called as a witness today, he bore no complaint—such an invention could feed countless more people, a blessing for Tang.

“It really is Lord Su!” someone exclaimed.

Though a high official, Su Lingnong was often seen inspecting the fields around Chang’an, and many recognized him.

“I can attest that this new plough can indeed be handled by one man and one ox. It is light, simple, inexpensive to make, easy to turn, and tills deeper and fifty percent faster than traditional ploughs,” Su Lingnong confirmed.

“That little catfish is truly capable—he even got old stick-in-the-mud Su Lingnong to vouch for him,” grumbled Li Shimin, displeased by Mo Dun’s use of public office for private matters.

“Your Majesty, the young master gave the plough’s blueprints to Lord Su as payment for his help,” explained Master Yu respectfully from behind.

“Haha! That makes sense—only then would Su Lingnong set aside his pride,” Cheng Yaojin chuckled.

Li Shimin nodded, satisfied. With the blueprints in Su Lingnong’s hands, the new plough would soon spread across the land, benefiting all the people.

But Su Lingnong was not finished. “Moreover, I witnessed a new seeder south of the city—one that can sow six hundred mu in a single day. Young master Mo, you’re not keeping that to yourself, are you?”

“What? Six hundred mu in a day?”

The crowd was astounded—one surprise after another. Not only was there a new plough, but also a revolutionary seeder.

“Sow six hundred mu a day! No matter how much land you have, you could plant it all. Even if the yield is modest, the sheer area makes up for it!”

Li Shimin’s breath caught as he watched Qin Huaiyu carry two seeders onto the stage, his mind reeling.

Qin Huaiyu’s arrival was met with cheers—his earlier performance had left a deep impression. The seeders were not heavy; Qin Huaiyu even showed off, lifting one in a single hand and parading it around, drawing screams from the crowd. Cheng Chumo and Yuchi Baolin looked on in envy until Su Lingnong gave Qin a kick, prompting him to set the seeders down and join his companions.

Mo Family Village’s improved seeders were inspired by modern machines. The smaller model, Mo Farmer No. 1, had three legs, was lightweight and simple, and could be operated by any household—even without oxen, four adults could sow at least two hundred mu a day. The larger model, Mo Farmer No. 2, required beasts of burden and could sow six hundred mu per day, with a rear wheel ensuring even distribution of seed for rational cultivation.

“The curved-beam plough sells for three hundred coins each, Mo Farmer No. 1 seeder for one hundred, and Mo Farmer No. 2 for three hundred. We welcome all orders,” Mo Dun announced, brazenly advertising his wares.

“The prodigal son!” Su Lingnong stared in disbelief—he could not fathom that Mo Dun would offer such treasures for sale rather than presenting them to the emperor in exchange for rank and title. To sully such crucial inventions with the stench of commerce meant forfeiting imperial favor.

“He’s actually selling them for money!” Li Shimin was equally stunned, watching Mo Dun promote his products. Moments earlier, he had been pondering how best to reward the young man—now, the question was moot.

Qin Qiong and Cheng Yaojin looked at Mo Dun with exasperation. Ordinary men risked their lives for the chance at rank and wealth, yet here was one who cast aside honors within his grasp.

Li Chengqian pretended not to know his foolish friend, lamenting the wasted opportunity.

“Does he not understand the value of the curved-beam plough?” Li Shimin asked Master Yu incredulously.

Master Yu replied with a wry smile, “Even if the young master is unaware, I know well the worth of such treasures. We tried to advise him, but he said, ‘A single coin can topple a hero. The plough and the seeder are the coins that can save Mo Family Village, while rank and titles cannot feed five thousand people.’”

Mo Family Village’s strength was craft, not farming—the manufacture of agricultural tools played to their advantage, ensuring a steady income.

For a moment, all in the imperial box fell silent, casting Mo Dun looks tinged with a strange new respect. In this world, there were plenty of talented and virtuous people, but few could refuse high office and great wealth.

Mo Dun was such a person—perhaps foolish, but foolish in a way that inspired admiration and affection.

“That little catfish!” Li Shimin felt, for reasons he could not name, a swell of pride in his heart.