Wind Rises in North America 1625

Chapter 621 New Year's Festival (Part 1)

On January 12, 1645, the cold wind of the twelfth lunar month blew across the countryside of Dongping County (now Victoria and surrounding towns on Vancouver Island), but it could not dispel the increasingly strong festive atmosphere of the New Year.

With only six days left until the traditional Chinese New Year, this land on the west coast of the New Continent is already immersed in the busyness and anticipation of the festival.

The festive atmosphere in Xinhua is no different from that in its homeland of Ming Dynasty. In fact, it is even more vibrant because of the pioneers' hard work and their yearning for a prosperous future.

Looking around, whether it's the bustling city of Shixing or the scattered towns and villages, the scene is one of busyness and celebration.

Every household is busy sweeping and cleaning their courtyards and wiping their doors and windows, trying to sweep away all the dust and bad luck accumulated over the year.

The women took apart and washed the bedding, then hung it out to dry in the winter sun, the vibrant colors swaying in the breeze.

Others were busy repairing roofs, tidying up farm tools, or slaughtering pigs that had been carefully raised for a year. Occasionally, the unique smell of pigs and sheep being slaughtered would drift into the air, mixed with the sweet aroma of steamed buns, fried cakes, and boiled malt sugar, creating a unique prelude to the New Year.

The market was bustling with people, and the sounds of hawking, bargaining, and children's laughter blended together to create a lively symphony.

The fabric shop was crowded with women selecting floral fabrics, preparing to sew new clothes for their families.

In front of the grocery store, firecrackers, fireworks, candy, dried fruit, and brand-new bowls, chopsticks, cups, and plates are all sought-after New Year's goods.

Primary and secondary schools have long been on holiday, and those teenagers, like birds released from their cages, instantly poured out the energy they had accumulated throughout the semester into the fields, hills, and frozen streams.

They burrowed into ravines, climbed treetops, raided bird nests, chased rabbits... and groups of children split into two teams, wielding sticks and bamboo poles, shouting "Charge! Kill!" as they played a game of two armies facing off. Their crisp, noisy chatter occasionally broke the winter's silence, adding a vibrant touch to this busy year.

Most of these children had rosy complexions and were dressed warmly. They ran and shouted with great energy, showing the vibrant life of the countryside.

Nurtured by numerous pro-natalist policies, people who are well-fed, clothed, and have a more stable life have given birth to tens of thousands of children over the past decade or so, as if they were trying to make up for all the suffering and scarcity of the Old World.

According to statistics from the civil affairs department last year, the average number of children per couple in Xinhua County is as high as 6.5. In Dongping County, which was the earliest developed and had the most mature industrial and agricultural development, and its neighboring Guangfeng County (now Sanich City), this number reached an astonishing 7.8.

With the gradual improvement of living standards and medical and childcare technologies, no one doubts that this number will continue to climb.

Last year alone, more than 16,000 babies were born in Xinhua, accounting for almost 30% of the number of new immigrants.

Everyone believes that, given time, as the local population expands exponentially, Xinhua's annual natural population growth will surpass the number of immigrants, forming a strong, endogenous growth momentum.

After nearly two decades of arduous pioneering efforts, in this silent population competition on the New Continent, Xinhua's population has far surpassed those scattered English colonial territories on the east coast, and is now striving to catch up with the Spanish American colonial territories that have been cultivated for over a century to the south.

People are the most precious asset and the strongest source of strength for this newly born land.

Around noon, a public horse-drawn carriage, trailing dust, came to a stop with a creak at the Maoxi Township station.

The doors opened, and the ticket seller urged the disembarking passengers in a slightly hurried voice: "We've arrived at Maoxi Township! Young man, hurry up and get off the bus, don't be late!"

Mo Xiaoshan responded, somewhat disheveled, carrying his luggage bag and dragging a burlap sack, and staggered off the carriage.

The coachman gave a soft shout, and the carriage creaked and slowly started moving again, carrying a carriage full of eager passengers and a cacophony of noise, continuing its journey.

The rumbling of the wooden wheels over the gravel road gradually faded away, taking away the noise from the vehicle and allowing Mo Xiaoshan to stand still, looking around blankly.

This is the station for Maoxi Township, where a simple wooden archway marks the entrance to the township.

The winter sun, carrying a hint of warmth, shone on the slightly muddy dirt road and on Mo Xiaoshan's forehead, which was slightly sweaty.

The large bundle he carried on his back, filled with bedding and changes of clothes, was so bulging that it almost bent his back.

The sack he was dragging in his other hand was even heavier. It mainly contained the books and notebooks he had used at university this semester, as well as New Year's supplies he had bought for his family in Shixing City—several packets of the famous "Guixiangzhai" pastries, a piece of indigo-blue fine cotton cloth for his mother, odds and ends for his younger siblings, a small jar of aged liquor specially prepared for his stepfather, and a pair of sturdy leather boots.

I originally planned to travel light, but before leaving I always felt that I hadn't bought enough things, and after packing, I ended up looking so bulky now.

The town is about ten miles away from Pingxi Village, where he lives.

If you travel light, it only takes an hour or two to get there.

But now, carrying these dozens of kilograms on his back, plus this heavy sack in his hand, it will probably be quite difficult to walk back on foot.

He sighed, temporarily leaned the sack against the wooden pillar of the archway, stretched his fingers which were numb from the deep marks left by the sack ropes, and decided to wander around the town, hoping to find a horse-drawn carriage or oxcart from the same village so he could hitch a ride and avoid this arduous journey.

Maoxi Township is considered a large township in Dongping County, with a population of over 5,000, which is more than the population of many newly established counties in the south.

In addition, it is only about 20 miles away from Shixing City, with convenient transportation, and naturally became the center for the distribution of goods and trade between the surrounding villages.

Although the town is not as well-organized as Shixing City, it is still very lively.

Although it wasn't a major market day that occurred every ten days, the streets were still bustling with activity as the year-end approached.

A main street stretches from one end of town to the other, lined with densely packed shops and temporary stalls on both sides.

The rhythmic clanging of hammers echoed from the blacksmith's shop, accompanied by the loud shouts of the shop assistant.

At the entrance of the fabric shop, women gathered together, rubbing the thickness of the fabrics, comparing the brightness of the colors, and discussing which patterns were more resistant to dirt and more festive.

The grocery store was packed with people, and everyday necessities such as salt, soy sauce, needles and thread, pots and pans became hot commodities before the New Year.

The air was filled with various smells—the simple aroma of freshly steamed buns and dumplings, the tempting scent of fried dough sticks, the rich aroma of salted fish and dried mushrooms from the dried goods stalls, and the slightly spicy aroma of braised dishes wafting from the street food stalls.

The children, dressed in new or old cotton-padded jackets, with rosy cheeks, excitedly weaved through the gaps between the legs of the crowd, clutching a few coins tightly in their hands, gazing longingly at the stalls selling sugar figurines and dough figurines, or exclaiming in amazement around the vendors selling firecrackers.

The makeshift stalls crowded the open spaces along the street, selling Spring Festival couplets, door gods, images of the Kitchen God, firecrackers, dried fruits and candied fruits, chicken, duck, fish and meat, the latest fabrics, and even all kinds of foreign goods imported from the Ming Dynasty, Southeast Asia, and Spanish America.

The villagers thronged together, calling out to each other, carefully selecting New Year's goods and haggling enthusiastically.

This vibrant energy and vitality made Mo Xiaoshan, who had just returned from the more prosperous city of Shixing, feel a strange sense of familiarity.

After wandering around for about half an hour, Mo Xiaoshan's forehead was already slightly sweaty. Just as he was considering whether to hire a car, his eyes lit up and he saw a familiar figure under a big locust tree at the entrance of town—Chen Dashuan.

He was with several villagers loading New Year's goods onto a cart harnessed to a crossbow.

The cart was already piled high with things: rice, flour, cooking oil, cloth, several strings of bright red firecrackers, and a fresh pig offal.

"Uncle Chen!" Mo Xiaoshan called out quickly and hurried over.

Hearing the voice, Chen Dashuan turned around and saw Mo Xiaoshan. His bronze face immediately broke into a smile, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes gathered together: "Oh! Xiaoshan is back! Is the university on holiday?...Quick, come here!"

As he spoke, he quickly called out to the villagers nearby, "Erzhu, Heiniu, lend a hand and help Xiaoshan load his things onto the car! He's our village's star of literature, we can't let him get tired!"

The two young men, named Erzhu and Heiniu, were both in their early twenties. They wore thick, coarse cotton-padded coats, and their faces bore the marks of years of hard work.

Upon hearing the sound, they immediately came to greet him, their smiles a mix of honesty and apprehension. They practically fought over who would take the heavy bundle off Mo Xiaoshan's shoulder and then take the even heavier sack from him.

"Hey, Xiaoshan, what's in your bag? It's so heavy!" Erzhu asked curiously, weighing the sack in his hand.

“Mostly books,” Mo Xiaoshan explained with a smile, rubbing his aching shoulders. “There are also some New Year’s goods I bought in Shixing City, cloth for my parents and siblings, and some candy.” “Books are wonderful! Books are a golden house!” Chen Dashuan chimed in, his tone filled with admiration and a natural reverence for scholars. “Look at them, they’re truly scholars, even at home for the New Year they don’t forget to study! Unlike us, all we know is to buy food, clothing, and other necessities, so vulgar!”

His words drew good-natured laughter from several villagers who were also waiting for a bus back to the village.

At this moment, three or four women from the same village gathered around the cart. They had just finished shopping and were carrying baskets filled with needles, thread, fabric scraps, and other odds and ends.

They looked at Mo Xiaoshan with eyes full of enthusiasm, but also with a hint of barely perceptible restraint and awe.

This is a scholar, someone who learns great skills!

"Xiaoshan, is the Imperial College on holiday?" an auntie wearing a blue headscarf asked cautiously. She remembered that Mo Xiaoshan had gone to the city to attend the prestigious "Xinhua Imperial College (Xinzhou University)".

“It’s Xinzhou University, Aunt Wang. I just finished my last exam yesterday and rushed back today,” Mo Xiaoshan replied politely.

"Incredible, truly incredible!" Aunt Wang clicked her tongue repeatedly. "In our Pingxi Village, no, in the entire Maoxi Township, the number of young people who can go to university can probably be counted on one hand. The village has several hundred people, and going back a few generations, they were all peasants; anyone who could read a few words was considered educated. Now, look at us, Xiaoshan, a university student! It's like our ancestors' graves are emitting auspicious smoke!"

Another young woman in a blue cotton-padded jacket asked curiously. She was the wife of the Li family at the south end of the village: "Brother Xiaoshan, what kind of knowledge do you study in that university? Do you recite classical Chinese all day long, like those...top scholars in the Ming Dynasty?"

Mo Xiaoshan smiled upon hearing this, knowing that the villagers' understanding of "university" was still based on the traditional imperial examination system, or even on the level of theatrical stories.

Then, he patiently explained, "Sister-in-law Zhou, it's not all classical Chinese. We study a wide variety of things, including physics, chemistry, arithmetic, geography, history, administration, law, and so on. They are all practical subjects."

"Investigation of things? Arithmetic? They sound so profound!" The young woman seemed to understand, but her awe deepened. "Then... after graduating from university, can one become a high-ranking official? Like a county magistrate or township head, managing thousands of people and being surrounded by servants when going out?"

In her and most villagers' simple understanding, the only purpose of studying was to become an official.

Mo Xiaoshan shook his head slightly, carefully considering his words: "After graduating from university, one doesn't necessarily have to become an official. One might become an engineer in a factory under the Ministry of Industry, responsible for machines and manufacturing things; or go to a research institute to work on technology, figuring out new machines and new things; or perhaps work as a clerk or assistant in a local area, assisting local officials in handling government affairs. In short, it depends on what you studied, and you can develop in that direction."

"Oh..." The young woman blinked, seemingly confused, but quickly found her focus again, "So... no matter what you do, will your future salary be very high?"

"It certainly won't be low!" Chen Dashuan interjected, turning around with a confident look in his eyes. "In our Xinhua, students graduating from the university are like Jinshi (successful candidates in the highest imperial examinations) in the Ming Dynasty! Their monthly salary must be at least this much, right?"

As he spoke, he stretched out his left hand, spread his five fingers, then realized something was wrong, bent two fingers back, and showed three thick fingers.

Mo Xiaoshan chuckled: "Uncle Chen, I haven't graduated yet, so as for my salary..."

"At least thirty silver dollars!" Aunt Li exclaimed, her face filled with envy. "Old Li from the neighboring Santang Village has an eldest son who works as a government assistant in Guangfeng County. He only graduated from middle school, and he earns twelve dollars a month! You, who graduated from university, should earn more than double that!"

"Thirty silver dollars a month... Good heavens, how much rice, flour, meat, and oil can that buy!" Erzhu muttered to himself, counting on his fingers as if trying to figure it out, his face full of disbelief.

Mo Xiaoshan smiled but remained silent.

In reality, the starting salary for graduates of Xinhua University was usually fifteen to twenty New Zealand dollars, which was indeed a high salary, but he could not show it off in front of the villagers.

This silence was interpreted as tacit agreement, and a chorus of exclamations arose in the car.

The young wife exclaimed, "When Xiaoshan comes out of university and gets such a high salary, the first thing he should do is build a big brick house for his family! Although life in our village is better now than when we first came more than ten years ago, most families still live in mud and wood houses. If your family builds a brick house, that will truly bring glory to your family!"

“That’s right!” another woman chimed in. “Look at Old Zhao’s second son at the east end of the village. He joined the army a few years ago and I heard he fought several battles against the Spanish in the south and made some contributions. In the last two years, he’s sent home no less than a hundred silver dollars. Last year, he built three bright brick houses with courtyard walls. Everyone’s so envious. Hmm, Xiaoshan will definitely be much better off than him in the future!”

"That's right, that's right! Thirty yuan a month..." Black Ox repeated the number with a simple and honest expression, as if to confirm that this was not a dream. "This... this is probably more than my family earns by toiling in the fields all year round! Building a big brick house is a must!"

The villagers chatted amongst themselves, describing their imagined dreams of Mo Xiaoshan's future "official career" and "wealth".

Their words contained sincere blessings for their fellow villagers and younger generations, a simple belief that knowledge can change destiny, and a natural reverence for power and status, but also some slightly exaggerated misunderstandings caused by information barriers.

In their view, being able to attend a "university" was equivalent to passing the imperial examination in the Ming Dynasty, which meant being destined to leave the land and become a "superior person".

Mo Xiaoshan felt quite conflicted as he listened to these words.

On the one hand, he truly enjoyed the feeling of being looked up to and having high expectations placed upon him. The sense of superiority that lay hidden in his heart, belonging to a scholar, was like being enveloped in hot spring water, comfortable and soothing.

This made him feel that the hard work of studying late into the night at university and the loneliness of being far from home were all worthwhile.

On the other hand, he was also keenly aware that Xinhua's system was completely different from that of the Ming Dynasty. The central and local governments emphasized pragmatism and efficiency, and the so-called "officials" were more like administrative positions that required professional knowledge and skills, far from the almost absolute power of the old-style bureaucrats.

At New South Wales University, he was just an ordinary member among hundreds of diligent students, spending his days with complex formulas, drawings, and experimental data, knowing full well that the sea of ​​knowledge is boundless.

However, in the simple yet ardent gaze of the villagers, he seemed to be gilded, becoming a symbol of a higher level they could not imagine, built upon knowledge, power, and prestige.

The carriage creaked along the slightly bumpy dirt road, the old horse snorting and puffing out puffs of white steam.

Neatly planned farmland lines both sides of the road, with winter wheat turning a bluish-green, growing tenaciously in the cold wind.

Further away, there are still uncultivated wastelands and newly formed villages, with wisps of smoke rising from their chimneys.

All of this silently speaks of the vitality of this land and the ever-growing population.

The conversation in the car gradually shifted from Mo Xiaoshan to rural trivia such as this year's harvest, the price of New Year's goods, whose family had a new addition to the household, and whose son had found a spouse.

But when the villagers occasionally spoke to Mo Xiaoshan, their unconscious caution and respect always remained, as if there was an invisible boundary around him.

The carriage finally entered the entrance of Pingxi Village. Familiar houses, wells, and threshing grounds came into view. The sounds of children chasing and playing, dogs barking, and mothers calling their children home for dinner mingled together, creating a rich and vibrant atmosphere of life.

"Xiaoshan, we've reached the village entrance. Do you want me to drop you off here, or take you to your doorstep?" Chen Dashuan reined in the horse and turned back to ask, his tone suggesting a discussion.

"That's enough, Uncle Chen. You and all the other uncles, aunts, and brothers have already gone to so much trouble!" Mo Xiaoshan quickly thanked them, not wanting to make them take a detour because of him.

The crowd then helped him unload his luggage from the cart.

Mo Xiaoshan once again sincerely thanked Chen Dashuan and the villagers who had helped him.

"Don't mention it, it's just on the way!" Chen Dashuan waved his hand. "Go back quickly, your parents must be waiting for you!"

Mo Xiaoshan shouldered the still heavy bundle, laboriously dragged the sack, and walked step by step along the dirt road in the village towards the direction of his home in his memory.

Behind me, I could faintly hear the villagers' murmurs, not deliberately lowered, but naturally tinged with a touch of melancholy:

"Look, scholars are different; they are knowledgeable and reasonable..."

"Yes, he's definitely got the makings of a high-ranking official. Our village might even benefit from it..."

"That Li Ergou is going to be living the good life from now on..."

These words, a mixture of envy, expectation, and a touch of distance, drifted faintly into Mo Xiaoshan's ears on the chilly winter wind.

The corners of his mouth twitched slightly upwards, like a bitter smile, mixed with a hint of barely concealed pleasure.

He shook his head, took a deep breath of the familiar rural air, and started walking home.
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(End of this chapter)