In mid-May, the summer harvest in Anhui was about to begin, and all government work gave way to it. Cadres from across the region were dispatched to the front lines, including those from the military.

The summer harvest was Anhui's most important yield and the start of more than six months of grueling labor. Following the harvest, Anhui would enter the rainy season, and flood control work would commence. Not long after the rainy season ended, a new round of autumn harvesting would begin. After the autumn harvest, there would be several autumn freshets; the pressure would be slightly less than in summer, but one still couldn't afford to be careless. After the autumn floods came the leveling of the land, accumulating fertilizer, and planting winter wheat. By the time all these tasks were finished, it was almost time for the Spring Festival. Once the festival ended, spring plowing began in earnest, and the new year repeated the cycle of the last. For thousands of years, Chinese peasants had toiled this way day after day, year after year, experiencing the changes of the four seasons and the cycles of bumper harvests, disasters, and famine.

Peasants at the beginning of the twentieth century had a high degree of acceptance for disaster years. Everyone would curse the onset of a calamity, much like Chen Ke at the beginning of the twenty-first century might burst into curses while playing cards online. However, despite the cursing, as long as Chen Ke continued to play, he had to accept the existence of all kinds of teammates—just as peasants had to accept the onset of a disaster year.

The summer harvest required one thing above all: speed! The weather was unpredictable; if the rainy season arrived early, everything would be ruined. It was a race against time to reap the grain and get it into storage. Even in the twenty-first century, the period before the summer harvest remained a peak time for migrant workers to return to their home villages. The People's Party base areas were no different. During the summer harvest, even the small-scale cities felt deserted. But in the summer harvest of 1911, the situation in the base areas had changed slightly—at least, there were significant changes in the state-owned farms.

Reaping wheat while bent over was exhausting work, not to mention the physical toll. In terms of tools, having iron implements made things faster; having the high-quality iron tools produced by the People's Party made them faster still. However, the agricultural hand tractors, chugging and rumbling with reaping equipment refined over several years of experience, cut the wheat ears and felled the stalks neatly. The efficiency of the harvester in cutting stalks was roughly twice that of the most capable reaping expert. But when the task of cutting the wheat ears was added, it directly became four times that of an expert. Most importantly, no human reaping expert, no matter how capable, could work from dawn to dusk in such a manner. Furthermore, the ones operating the tractors weren't even reaping experts.

"This can be finished at least three days earlier than before! No, at least five days!" Liu Sangou, the farm manager, was flushed with excitement. This cadre, who came from a rural background, served in the military, and then specialized as a farm manager, shouted to Xiao Qiang, the Director of the Anhui Provincial Agricultural Department, who had come to inspect.

"Don't just focus on the good parts. I heard from the agricultural machinery department that the loss rate might be slightly higher. Check the losses when you're gleaning the ears."

Liu Sangou didn't care about that at all; he was grinning from ear to ear. "Commissar Xiao, being able to finish these few days earlier is better than anything. Look, these tractor operators are either old or young. This year, we finally don't have to scramble and rush. And you know Company Commander Liu from the agricultural machinery department—with his temper, if I said anything more, he'd come to my house and curse my whole family."

"Then you still need to study how to improve efficiency. You're the one farming, not him," Xiao Qiang said with a wry smile.

"Just let me be happy for two more days—just two days," Liu Sangou couldn't stop grinning.

"You won't need two days; you'll be finished in two days." Xiao Qiang really wanted to give Liu Sangou a few kicks. "By tomorrow, you follow the regulations and specifically set aside a few plots for testing. Do you hear me? If you don't do a good job, you'll be doing a public self-criticism every morning before work for a month."

"Yes, yes, yes! Commissar Xiao, I understand," Liu Sangou replied with a beam.

It wasn't just this one farm; state-owned farms throughout the base area were using the newly developed reaping equipment. Chen Ke had gritted his teeth to push this through. Reaping equipment was actually a significant waste of resources at this stage; it was only used once a year. Furthermore, it involved maintenance work—a harvester had over a hundred blades that could rust, and they had to be prepared and sharpened before use each year. If a single blade broke during reaping, the loss rate would immediately rise.

It was only in the People's Party farms that such new mechanical tools could be implemented. If they were given to ordinary people, they would go mad from such complex work. This is what an industrial chain is all about; every link must have specialized personnel responsible for it. Chen Ke's mother worked at the diesel engine plant; every year during the summer harvest, technical personnel had to go to the countryside to assist with repairs and train maintenance workers. According to these technicians, much of the equipment damage was caused simply by the peasants' failure to perform regular maintenance. As long as they were maintained and serviced regularly according to the manual, many problems simply wouldn't occur. But the peasant masses used them until they died, and maintenance and servicing were never to be expected.

Later, Chen Ke finally understood one thing: understanding the concept of "beginning to end" was actually quite difficult. Expecting maintenance costs to be treated as a necessary investment was perhaps too much of a demand for peasants under a smallholder economy. This applied not only to mechanical repairs but also to the maintenance of basic water conservancy infrastructure.

Xiao Qiang agreed with Chen Ke's thinking. His starting point was his experience in the military. Behind every battle lay dozens or hundreds of times more preparatory work. A rifle might be disassembled and maintained dozens of times without ever being used in a real battle. And behind the combat units was a massive logistics force. His inspection work this time covered not only frontline production but also repairs and basic water conservancy construction.

Xiao Qiang had already seen the situation at the state-owned farms; in any case, they were all basically in the same state. Families with weak labor forces, having no other choice, were relatively more willing to work at the state-owned farms. What Comrade Liu Sangou called "either old or young" was the general situation at the state-owned farms now. As long as a family wasn't short on labor, they generally preferred to farm their own land. If they were neither of those, then they simply didn't want to farm. They chose to engage in handicrafts or go to work in the cities.

The shortage of labor at the state-owned farms would be alleviated to some extent after the busy season ended. At that time, ordinary people would have finished farming their own land, and a portion of the surplus labor would choose to work at the farms.

After inspecting several farms in succession, the situation after using the reaping equipment was indeed vastly different. Farms that previously required military assistance to finish harvesting before the rainy season were now solving the problem on their own. Their reaping speed was even faster than that of the ordinary people.

"The military can finally be deployed on a large scale for basic water conservancy construction," Xiao Qiang was very pleased about this. This was also one of the tasks of his inspection. The People's Party's grand conscription plan was to form engineering corps. They had to build roads, river embankments, reservoirs, irrigation systems, and drainage systems. Even if simple labor could be recruited from the masses on a large scale, the design and surveying work could not be done by them.

Most of the state-owned farms were in areas far from the rivers, which originally weren't irrigated lands. The masses preferred areas close to the riverbeds for the convenience of irrigation. This was the biggest reason the People's Party could easily take over these originally dry lands. As the old base area, while the drainage system in the Huai River region had not yet begun full construction, the irrigation system had finally seen great progress. Irrigation canals in the fields were already quite widespread. Xiao Qiang and the engineering staff conducted a field survey as they headed north; if there weren't too many problems this year, this work would begin after the conscription.

The group traveled on horseback across the vast fields, which were filled with harvested wheat and rapeseed, as well as large fields of cotton and rice.

"Director Xiao, if things go on like this, next year will be another good harvest, won't it? This year, the average yield per mu on the farms exceeded 300 catties," a young water conservancy engineer traveling with them was quite excited.

Xiao Qiang, the young Agriculture Director who wasn't yet thirty, wasn't so simply optimistic. "That's not necessarily true. The purpose of building water conservancy is to ensure we have these yields every year. Increasing the harvest still relies on improved seeds, chemical fertilizers, and pesticides. The farm's yields were all built on these three. The synthetic ammonia shipped from Wuhan is just enough for the seed base; the farms only dare use a tiny bit when they're spot-planting. The work we have to do is piled high as a mountain."

Mentioning this, Xiao Qiang couldn't help but think of the high-level agricultural meeting for the base area convened by Chen Ke. In that meeting, Chen Ke described a future picture to these agricultural management cadres. If they hadn't seen the actual effects of improved seeds, fertilizers, and pesticides with their own eyes, these comrades who came from farming backgrounds might have accused Chen Ke of joking.

The young water conservancy engineer didn't share this heavy feeling; he was completely captivated by the good harvest he saw. "Director Xiao, when I was at home, I never imagined that such dry land could produce such a yield. After I go home this time, I'll try my best to persuade my family to come work at the farm. Working at the farm is so much easier than farming on your own, and the income is higher."

"Then do a good job!" Xiao Qiang encouraged.

While they were talking, the sound of hoofbeats faintly echoed from behind. Turning to look, two soldiers in uniform were galloping toward them. The engineer was a bit confused, but Xiao Qiang and his guards' expressions darkened. Out of military habit, they sensed that something must have gone wrong.

The two horses were indeed coming for Xiao Qiang's group. The soldiers stopped in front of the party. "Director Xiao, please do not go further forward for now."

"What's happened?" Xiao Qiang asked with a frown.

"We aren't quite sure, but a telegram was received asking you to temporarily return to the county."

Following a soldier's habit, a map of the vicinity appeared in Xiao Qiang's mind. Less than a hundred li to the north was the Henan border. If something happened that forced Xiao Qiang to change his itinerary, it could only be something in the north. With the People's Party's current military strength, it would be a blessing if they didn't march south into the southern provinces. Furthermore, there had been no word of an imminent large-scale general war.

"Very well, we will return with you," Xiao Qiang replied.

On the way back to the county, they encountered two more waves of communications troops looking for Xiao Qiang. However, they only knew there were orders and not what had actually happened. Upon returning to the county, Xiao Qiang finally received a formal explanation.

The County Party Secretary answered Xiao Qiang's question with an extremely excited expression. "The people in the area bordering us in Henan are demanding to join our base area. It's a massive disturbance; I hear the people over there in Henan have already killed the officials and revolted."

Xiao Qiang wasn't so happy; his expression even grew solemn. Chen Ke actually very much hoped to avoid such a situation—at least for the time being. In the Provincial Party Committee meetings in Anhui, the consensus was that a conflict over water sources was highly likely with neighboring Henan. The idea of the people in the areas surrounding the base area spontaneously wanting to join was something they expected would take at least two years to happen. After all, the local clans and landlords would absolutely not support the People's Party.

Swallowing the question "What exactly happened?", Xiao Qiang knew the answer wouldn't reach the county level so quickly.

"What exactly happened?" Chen Ke asked. He wasn't angry, just regretful. Henan was Yuan Shikai's territory, and the People's Party's cooperation with Yuan had just begun. But the People's Party couldn't sit by and watch the Henan government deploy troops right under their noses to suppress a spontaneous struggle of the people. If they did that, the People's Party wouldn't need to shout about revolution anymore. What kind of revolution would that be? They might as well just collude with the reactionary government.

"It's the taxes," Qi Huishen gave a very ordinary explanation. Ever since the Beiyang forces entered Henan in 1909 to confront the People's Party, the tax burden on the Henan people had been constantly rising. When Yuan Shikai was there, Beiyang troops were at the border; if the people showed any resistance, they were immediately wiped out. Taxes were things that only ever went up and never down; even after Yuan Shikai led the Beiyang army out of Henan, the increased burden wasn't lowered. Yuan Shikai was so short of money he was borrowing from the People's Party; how could he let go of the taxes in Henan?

The ones revolting were the people of Yongcheng, which was right next to the base area. This had once been the front line, and the taxes were extremely heavy. This year's harvest in Yongcheng was truly poor. The people couldn't pay the taxes, so they simply revolted.

"I haven't heard of any natural disasters over there," Chen Ke said, somewhat surprised.

Qi Huishen blinked; he found it strange too. But Qi soon changed the subject. "The Yongcheng representatives who came to request joining our base area this time are actually the local landlords and gentry. The local cadres asked them if they supported land reform. These people stated that if the Beiyang government collects seventy percent in taxes while our base area only collects thirty percent, they'll do it."

"..." After hearing this intelligence, Chen Ke suddenly thought of a saying: reality is often more fantastic than fiction. Much like during the Liberation War, when the policies of Chiang Kai-shek drove the landlords to total bankruptcy, even the landlord militias fled to the Communists.

The event had occurred, and Chen Ke had no choice but to face it. "First, we absolutely will not allow Beiyang to suppress the people under our noses. If the Henan authorities take military action, we must stop them. Second, telegram Yuan Shikai and question him on what exactly he's done. We cannot let Yuan be the first to speak up. Third, immediately send people to investigate what exactly happened."

"You have to look at the master before you beat the dog. If we clash with Beiyang, will the impact be too great?" Qi Huishen was a bit worried.

"It's true you look at the master to beat the dog. But this kind of thing can't be avoided in the future. Yuan Shikai can yield, but we cannot." Chen Ke also made up his mind. They couldn't allow the foundations of the revolution to be shaken out of fear of a temporary conflict. Besides, as long as the People's Party took the initiative, Yuan Shikai wouldn't draw the wrong conclusions.

Yuan Shikai truly didn't draw any wrong conclusions. After the People's Party's telegram reached his desk, Yuan quickly understood what was going on. Before he left Henan, he had indeed left instructions to lower the taxes. Clearly, the locals hadn't done so. It was common knowledge that the People's Party collected thirty percent tax; Beiyang had always believed the People's Party wouldn't last long, so they hadn't cared about the comparison between the two. Now that the People's Party had clearly endured, it wasn't surprising that the surrounding areas would revolt over tax issues. The priority now was how to stop this from spreading, not to bicker with the People's Party over it.

However, with Beiyang's finances in such a state, Yuan Shikai was truly powerless. What could he do if he didn't collect taxes? The economic benefits of the People's Party's investments in the north were clear, especially after linking up with Beiyang; positive changes were evident in both bank loans and tax revenue. This, in turn, tempted Yuan Shikai.

Of course, Yuan Shikai had another choice. The sudden change in the situation in China had attracted the attention of the world's financial circles. The Russian government directed the Russo-Asiatic Bank to form an institution to compete with the Four-Power Consortium. The Russo-Asiatic Bank gathered some British, French, and Belgian capital unrelated to the consortium and formally established this international syndicate on January 24, 1911. As soon as it was founded, the Banque Sino-Belge offered a loan to the Yuan Shikai government. The contract stipulated an interest rate of five percent, discounted to ninety-seven, with payment fifteen days after signing. China used the general revenue and the net profits and property of the Beijing-Zhangjiakou Railway as security for the loan and agreed to give the syndicate priority for a ten-million-pound loan.

With the money Chen Ke provided temporarily solving Yuan Shikai's urgent needs, and if he could get this new loan, Yuan's hands would be greatly freed up. At such a time, breaking with Chen Ke would be an extremely unwise choice.

After much thought, Yuan Shikai made a decision: he invited Chen Ke to come to Beijing.

When Chen Ke received this invitation, Qi Huishen reported to him with a wry smile, "Yongcheng bought a large batch of seeds from us the year before last, but they didn't buy any last year."

It took Chen Ke several seconds to understand what that meant. Although this matter involved relations with Beiyang and the actual interests of the people, Chen Ke also wanted to give a wry smile, though he eventually restrained himself.

The base area had expended immense effort to propagate agricultural knowledge, along with demonstrations in experimental fields, to barely get the masses to accept the fact that the second generation of improved seeds had very low yields in ordinary fields. He never expected that the improved seeds would flow to other regions, and it had clearly produced significant results.

"Who did this?" Chen Ke asked.

"It must have been the areas bordering Yongcheng. I'm afraid they even made a good price on that first batch of improved seeds. Whether it was Bozhou or some other region, we will conduct an in-depth investigation," Qi Huishen replied.