The Most Powerful Young Master of the Northern Song Dynasty

Chapter 41: The Water Meter Inspection

Old Chen of the Egg Gang had been in a pretty good mood lately. Aside from buying eggs in bulk from small-scale farmers in Shuzhou, the Egg Gang’s main source, of course, was their own poultry farm. They then sold the eggs through their own monopolized distribution channels. Although they essentially operated as a capital consortium, their egg production costs were higher than those of small-scale farmers. This is because small-scale farmers’ chickens can feed on insects as their main diet—which not only costs nothing but also provides them with a well-rounded nutrition. Combined with plenty of exercise and good physical health, plus “spacious, non-crowded housing,” these chickens rarely get sick as long as they aren’t preyed upon by the Beggars’ Guild or weasels. In contrast, feed costs account for the lion’s share of expenses in cluster farming. The feed is nutritionally incomplete, and while the chickens have almost no exercise—which makes them gain weight easily—a significant number die from disease. Therefore, after weighing all factors, the “Egg Gang’s” chickens, raised on rice, have higher production costs and offer no advantage over those raised by small-scale farmers. Due to poor nutrition, the egg yolks in the “Egg Gang’s” mass-produced eggs are a truly “pale yellow.” Those eggs can only be sold to the general public. Meanwhile, Old Chen and his team buy the free-range, insect-fed eggs from small-scale farmers at market price and supply them to the high-end market. That’s how the operation works. Now that the feed formula is available—Wang Bang’s secret recipe no longer needs to be spied on, as it has been submitted to the imperial court and made public—the Egg Gang can use it themselves. However, issues regarding chicken quality—including, but not limited to, feed conversion rates, egg-laying willingness, and disease resistance—remain unresolved. While Wang Bang’s work on group evolution has not yet begun, he has already used statistical analysis to identify the best individuals among a group of shorter chickens—specifically those with traits more aligned with those of laying hens. Consequently, the offspring produced through artificial incubation from these selected birds are noticeably superior to other chickens. So Wang Bang’s solution to Chen Jiaohu was: Just come buy my chicks. Yes, the underhanded aspect of Wang Bang’s approach was that, while he appeared generous in sharing his feed formulation theory, he still kept the incubation process and the evolutionary theory of bloodlines under wraps. Chen Jiaohu took a leap of faith and placed a large order for Wang Bang’s chicks at a high price. In the early stages of raising them, he naturally treaded carefully, fearing he might be swindled by Wang Bang and remaining somewhat skeptical of Wang Bang’s claim that “this batch of chickens has excellent bloodlines.” But after raising them for more than half a month, Chen Jiaohu couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear. Having been in this industry for decades, Chen Jiaohu naturally had a wealth of experience. He discovered that although these chickens provided by Wang Bang were still far from reaching egg-laying age, their growth rate alone was noticeably faster. Moreover, their overall quality was indeed superior; when kept in groups, there was noticeably less fighting among the chickens. With the chickens we used to have, we didn’t even have to wait for them to get sick—there were always bullies among them who’d demand, “What are you looking at?” and as a result, quite a few dead bodies would turn up in the coop every day. These were the so-called “chicken bullies”! But now, such incidents are almost nonexistent, so these chickens are truly very easy to raise. Also, since we got the chicks early, there are a few young roosters mixed in. At first, I thought I’d been ripped off, but it actually turned out to be a better deal. Wang Bang said straight up: “You can return the roosters to me. Or I can come and castrate them myself—but that’ll cost extra. After that, you can just raise them as broilers and sell them to dog meat farmers; that’s even more profitable.” So everyone broke into wide grins. The only hassle is that “castrating chickens” is truly a technical skill—you have to remove the chicken’s kidneys while keeping the invasive incision under strict control. That’s why chickens are really different from pigs; with pigs, you can just close your eyes and go at it hard to castrate them, but with chickens, if you don’t do it right, they’ll die—Wang Bang has to do the job himself. However, Wang Bang also plans to roll out the “Lanxiang” model for poultry farming vocational schools. He has already recruited a group of dexterous workers and is training them in the skill of “castrating” roosters. “Next year looks promising!” Old Chen has been in high spirits whenever he inspects his chicken farms lately. In reality, these chicks are still a long way from the completion of the breeding program. They are merely the first generation of selected chicks. While there has indeed been significant progress compared to the past, the evolution has not yet been successful. Wang Bang’s theory is that, aside from environmental influences, parental genes also play a major role in determining a child’s personality and temperament. Consequently, among the chickens at Old Wang’s home, those that were overly active, prone to fighting, competitive for food, or uncooperative in laying eggs have been statistically screened out and “harmonized” by Wang Xiaoya. This included two of the four young roosters—the two most aggressive ones—which were roasted and eaten. As a result, the remaining chickens were relatively well-behaved, and their offspring required no special training and were relatively easy to raise. The “ease of care” Old Chen referred to stems from several factors. Feed is one reason. At the same time, the saying “contentment brings happiness” holds true for chickens as well—those with fewer worries tend to be healthier. The genes of this batch of chickens lean toward “not overthinking,” so not fighting is a given. Furthermore, the nutrients that would otherwise be spent on mental stress are channeled into physical growth, so they do indeed grow a bit faster. They also suffer fewer illnesses, as the root cause of many diseases truly lies in their mental state. A lack of exercise does indeed lead to a certain degree of physical decline and increases the incidence of disease. But this isn’t important. As Wang Bang said long ago, their purpose in life is to “spin silk until their last breath,” not to train their bodies to be as fit as Old Liao. A reasonable level of mortality is, of course, acceptable. As long as things are better than before, it’s considered an improvement in productivity. As a result, Wang Bang has made a fortune during this period. He’s been running the hatchery at full capacity, but due to the limited number of breeding chickens, demand has consistently outstripped supply. In addition to supplying Old Chen, he always had to set aside a portion for small-scale farmers who came with high hopes to buy just one or two chicks. When supply falls short of demand, prices naturally rise. It wasn’t Wang Bang who raised the price; rather, it was the ruthless Old Chen, who—in order to snap up all of Wang Bang’s chicks—voluntarily offered an extra 20 percent. This is commonly known as: “Not only no discount, but paying extra to take delivery.” So it was not uncommon to see little girls from poor families, clutching their meager savings, waiting with tears in their eyes at the Wang family’s doorstep as Old Chen’s men carried away batch after batch of lively, fluffy chicks. Wang Anshi found this situation incomprehensible, so he summoned Wang Bang for questioning, saying: “Since you’ve already made a profit, you cannot give all the good chicks to the ‘Egg Gang’; you must set aside a portion for small-scale farmers. Whether you like it or not, this isn’t your father’s order—it’s a decision by the Huaixi Grain Transport Bureau. The legitimacy of your business operations depends on supplying a certain quota to small-scale farmers at fair prices.” So Chen Jiaohu couldn’t escape either—he was also called in for questioning. Wang Anshi berated Chen Jiaohu right there in the courtroom: “If your ‘Egg Gang’ dares to go any further in your reckless price gouging of chicks and disrupting market order, you’d better be prepared to shut down. Don’t think I’m joking—if I can investigate my own son, you certainly aren’t any more special.” So Wang Bang and Chen Jiaohu both wept their eyes out. Damn it all, Chen Jiaohu’s price gouging actually worked in my favor, didn’t it? I could’ve made a killing! As for the quota meant for small-scale farmers, of course I’d keep supplying it at the regulated price—seriously. But there was no room for negotiation. If this weren’t a major agricultural and livestock enterprise—one the emperor himself took a keen interest in—and if Wang Bang weren’t the child prodigy bestowed the title by Emperor Zhao Zhen, even Wang Bang’s hatchery would likely have been shut down for rectification. Wang Anshi was just that petty—which is why everyone later turned against him. In any case, regardless of who ultimately gets the share, Wang Bang’s hatch rate is rapidly improving right now. He’s making money while building up his operations; his processes and hatching equipment are now at version 1. 4. Coupled with Chen Jiaohu voluntarily offering higher prices to buy the chicks, Wang Bang’s profits look quite impressive. So even if others are encroaching on his market share, it’s not worth getting into a power struggle with the “Great Demon King”—he’d be better off quietly supporting the poor. Consequently, the egg market in Shuzhou has changed dramatically. Although chicks are still scarce now, once their numbers reach a certain threshold, it will trigger a revolutionary qualitative change. This qualitative change won’t be too far off—it’s coming as early as next year. That will coincide with the “Demon King’s” father completing his term and traveling to the capital to report on his work. This, of course, counts as a political achievement… Just as salespeople’s performance metrics in later generations were seen as a cure-all, as long as generals win battles, it’s always a good thing. After the great victory at Guirenpu and the flight of Nong Zhigao’s remnants into Dali, Di Qing—now in his forties with gray hair at his temples—seemed ten years younger. He hosted a banquet in his command tent to reward the soldiers and officials. “Come on, come on, drink up!” Di Qing—whose good looks were so striking he’d considered disfiguring himself—had long forgotten the last time he’d felt this relaxed. He didn’t know how many more times he’d see battle in this lifetime after subduing Nong Zhigao, so he was particularly exuberant now, leading everyone in a hearty drinking session. Yes, Di Qing liked to wear the “ghost mask” not because he was ugly, nor because he had scars on his face. In fact, it was because he was too handsome—going into battle like that would make him an easy target for ridicule by the enemy. Someone as handsome as Wang Bang was indeed unsuitable to lead a band of rough-and-tumble soldiers by example. Historical records describe Di Qing’s son as exceptionally handsome. When Emperor Zhezong was selecting a husband for his sister, he said he wanted someone as handsome as Di Yong. So, based on the theory of heredity, Di Qing was most likely just as handsome as Wang Bang. Wait a minute—Wang Bang’s good looks didn’t come from Wang Anshi, but from his beautiful mother’s lineage. There’s a theory that Di Qing wore a mask to hide the “convict” mark on his face. But that’s highly unlikely, since the emperor had already approved the removal of the mark—Di Qing just pretended to be all high and mighty, insisting on keeping it, claiming that it was precisely this mark that had driven him to where he was today. “Commander!” Just then, a mid-to-lower-ranking officer walked in, looking awkward. Di Qing paused in surprise. The young officer whispered, “Mr. Yu Jing… has declined to attend the banquet.” This seemed like yet another act of discrimination against military men—and against Di Qing specifically. Consequently, the officers under his command took a dim view of the situation; the laughter and banter gradually died down, and they all grew awkward. Yang Wenguang, the Commander of the Right Wing of the Tianwu Army and the scion of a military family, was actually older than Di Qing, though he looked younger and had a somewhat more impetuous temperament. He immediately grew displeased and turned to Di Qing, saying, “Commander Xuan, that old man Yu…” Di Qing hurriedly raised his hand to stop the hot-headed Yang Wenguang from continuing. “Ugh!” Yang Wenguang, furious, slammed his wine cup onto the ground.