Chapter 70: The Unsophisticated King Zhou Visits the Grand Garden

As another heaping plate of roasted sweet potatoes was set upon the table, King Zhou suddenly found himself bereft of appetite.

Su Hu, on the other hand, ate with great relish.

“Why have you stopped eating? Is something weighing on your mind?” Chu Xiaoyu inquired casually of the king.

“Teacher, there’s a question I wish to ask you,” King Zhou blurted out, his demeanor suddenly urgent.

“What is it? Go ahead,” Chu Xiaoyu replied.

“Teacher, it’s like this: ever since I ascended the throne two years ago, I have longed to improve the lives of my people. For two whole years, I have toiled, and the people have worked diligently as well, clearing wastelands and planting fields. Yet, after a year’s labor, all we reap is a pitiful harvest, not even a thin layer’s worth,” he said, his mood growing heavier as he spoke. “I remember you once said that the people are the foundation of a nation, and he who wins their hearts wins the realm. To speak honestly, I truly wish to bring some benefit to the people, at the very least, so they do not go hungry. But I…”

Su Hu, who had just been devouring the fragrant roasted sweet potato, lost all interest in eating upon hearing these words. Even the sweet potato in his hand lost its flavor.

Chu Xiaoyu fell silent, pondering for a while before speaking. “According to historical records, your Yin-Shang dynasty is the second institutional dynasty of our Huaxia civilization. Times are indeed tough for you. Still, at least you are not at the dawn of the slave society, otherwise…” He sighed.

To eat raw meat and drink blood, to starve—those were truly the bleakest of days.

Now, at least, it was the Shang dynasty. The rites and culture had reached considerable maturity.

“Your Majesty, I find these sweet potatoes delicious—truly delectable and large in size. If we could transplant them to our own land, our people would never have to worry about going hungry again, would they?” Su Hu ventured boldly.

In truth, Su Hu had voiced what Chu Xiaoyu himself was about to suggest.

Sweet potatoes are drought-resistant, cheap to sow, and require no sophisticated technology—just a scattering of chicken, duck, cow, or sheep manure in the soil suffices.

They are easy to plant and yield prolifically per acre; this plan was indeed feasible.

After a moment’s thought, Chu Xiaoyu immediately addressed King Zhou, “Transplanting and sowing sweet potatoes is entirely feasible. The method is simple—just use some animal manure as fertilizer. An acre can yield between seven and eight thousand catties, or at the very least three thousand if the conditions are poor. Of course, with excellent cultivation, even ten thousand catties per acre is possible.”

“Ten thousand catties? Teacher, are you saying this miraculous crop truly yields that much?” King Zhou was not the only one stunned; Su Hu was left speechless as well.

“Indeed, it does. Did you think I was jesting?” Chu Xiaoyu shook his head with a smile. “If the land is fertile and the manure abundant, a harvest of ten thousand catties per acre is nothing extraordinary.”

A glimmer of hope burst forth in King Zhou’s eyes. “Heavens! If that is true, and each acre yields ten thousand catties, what need have our people to fear hunger? No one in all the land would ever have to worry about an empty belly again.”

King Zhou’s astonishment had barely faded when he knelt before Chu Xiaoyu, calling out loudly, “Your humble servant beseeches you to impart the knowledge of sweet potato cultivation. I would be eternally grateful if you would grant this request.”

Su Hu followed suit and knelt as well.

“Ah… please, rise and speak,” Chu Xiaoyu said, waving them up. “As for sweet potatoes, potatoes, radishes—I have no shortage of them. My manor is overflowing with such crops.”

At this casual remark, King Zhou and Su Hu’s eyes lit up with excitement.

Little did they realize that the ordinary crops Chu Xiaoyu mentioned so lightly were as precious as gold to the people of the Shang dynasty.

Of course, there was no actual gold in circulation at this time—only jade shells, copper shells, or the archaic cowrie shells served as currency. By the late Shang, only jade shells and copper shells were in use.

But that is another matter.

Upon learning that Chu Xiaoyu’s estate possessed such treasures, King Zhou could no longer contain himself. He pulled Su Hu along, and together they hurried to the rear garden.

There, a lush expanse of crops grew—sweet potatoes, potatoes, radishes, and other common vegetables, all thriving under the spring’s irrigation, their roots thick and almost astonishing in size.

“Your Majesty, look at these crops underground! Their size is truly astounding!” Su Hu exclaimed, digging into the soft earth with his bare hands and pulling out a potato the size of a grown man’s fist.

Yet, neither he nor the king recognized what it was.

King Zhou looked puzzled. “Su Hu, what is that? It’s so round, it looks almost like an egg.”

“Err… I don’t know either, Your Majesty,” Su Hu admitted.

“Hehe, look at the two of you, so clueless,” Tie Shan giggled as she appeared like a sprite to enlighten them. “That’s called a potato, or an earth apple. Just like the roasted sweet potato you ate earlier, you can roast it, stir-fry it, or boil it—the ways to eat it are much the same.”

“Thank you for the explanation, young lady. And what is this?” King Zhou pointed to a nearby radish.

“That’s a radish. Usually, it’s used for hotpot. Or you can slice it up and dry it in the sun to make pickled radish…”

“Miss, what is hotpot?” King Zhou and Su Hu were completely baffled.

“Oh, hotpot is just like ordering dishes at a meal. You’ll come to understand it in time,” Tie Shan replied airily.

“Miss, what is this?”

“Oh, that’s chili pepper. It’s usually used as a seasoning or dipping sauce.”

“And this?”

“That is…”

…

In the main hall, Chu Xiaoyu and Sun Wukong sat down together.

“Immortal Master, do you have something you wish to discuss with your disciple?” Sun Wukong asked. After spending quite some days within the manor, the only thing he truly desired was to escape—to leave the manor and see the world beyond.

Alas, each attempt ended in failure, again and again. The strange barrier encircling the estate was truly unbreakable.

Chu Xiaoyu took a sip of tea before opening the conversation. “Wukong, do you have any plans for the days to come?”

Old sayings are tedious, but must be spoken all the same: one must have something to do in life, or else, day after day of idleness makes one no different from the living dead.

Sun Wukong’s keen simian eyes flickered as he replied, “I recall, Master, you once said that five hundred years from now, a monk from the Great Tang would pass by Five Finger Mountain and rescue me, taking me as his disciple. That is also what the Tathagata told me. So I’ve been thinking—when those five hundred years have passed, will there truly be a monk from the Eastern Land of the Tang who comes for me?”

“There will be, certainly. According to the script, there must be a monk from the Eastern lands, riding a white horse, who will pass by Five Finger Mountain. However…”