Owari Yumeki Golden Day.

26. Shichibei's Classroom Begins

What are you five up to?

Everyone was carrying pens, ink, paper, and inkstones—were they preparing something? Seeing Shichibei's obvious confusion, Yonekura Nobutsugu, who considered himself somewhat acquainted with Shichibei, immediately offered an explanation. "Could you please explain to us again, in more detail, the process and materials you used to make the candle yesterday?"

That's strange. Didn't we already have a serious talk about breaking up yesterday? Why are you asking me this again today?

Yesterday is yesterday, and today is today. I've forgotten a bit of what we talked about yesterday. Can you please tell me properly today and I'll write it all down? Yonekura Nobutsugu appeared very sincere. Shichibei thought to himself that he would need this man to act as his "translator" when buying horses later, so he had no choice but to agree.

I don't know how to describe the five Takeda samurai who came today. They have a kind of indescribable state. In some terms from later generations, they are said to lack spiritual energy.

It wasn't the cuteness or charm of her appearance; it was that her mind was like a straight line, devoid of any dynamism or independent thought. You could even call her a complete idiot, hopelessly stupid. If she were online in a modern world, Shichibei would probably be cursing her out.

But you can't scold them now. If you tell them that the fruit of the wild lacquer tree contains wax, they'll ask what the fruit looks like. This question immediately stumped Shichibei, because Shichibei had only read about it in a novel in his previous life.

Tell them that they don't necessarily need the fruit of the wild lacquer tree. The mountains of Kai and Shinano are so big, so they can go into the forest and find all kinds of inedible fruits, steam and boil them one by one, and use the method of exhaustion to find out which inedible fruits are rich in wax.

Such a simple truth, yet it made these five people's eyes light up. It's unbelievable; without understanding that crucial point, this person is utterly stupid.

Alright, let's not just talk in this room, okay? How about we go to the woods outside the city this afternoon for a hands-on lesson?

Anyway, the Fuchu Plain in Kai Province is such a small place that it can't grow more than 100,000 koku of grain a year. If you ride a horse, you can get up the mountain in no time.

And you know what? Shichibei suggested that everyone go outside to observe and discuss, and the five Takeda samurai responded quickly. Sitting in a closed room listening to a lecture was far less enjoyable for them than riding horses outside.

"Let's go," Yonekura Nobutsugu lent a horse to Shichibei, and the group headed up the mountain along the Kamanashi River. The Kamanashi River was only sixty kilometers long, and most of it was a mountain stream. Whenever there was a heavy rain in Kai, the Kamanashi River would immediately flood.

To be honest, Kai is a poor place, with bad terrain and scarce resources. If someone else came here, they would probably have become fish on someone else's chopping block long ago.

“Look, take these reeds for example.” Shichibei pointed to the reeds on the side of the Kamashi River that had not yet fully sprouted new buds. They were half gray and half green, some leaning and some crooked, not looking quite right.

"Reeds can be burned!" Finally, at least Nobutsugu Yonekura had figured it out and knew that they could be burned.

"No, no, no, reeds aren't just for burning. When I was at Biwa Lake in Jiangzhou, I saw farmers along the shore cutting down reeds, weaving them into reed mats, and selling them." Shichibei rattled off the story without hesitation.

"Yes, yes, yes! We can use it as a curtain."

"Besides that, is it impossible to farm in Kai during the winter?" Shichibei asked, gazing at the impoverished mountainous region.

"The snow blocked the door, and when the snow was deep, it could cover half a person."

"Then why don't you harvest and collect the reeds in late autumn and use them to make paper?"

Reeds are certainly not the best material for papermaking, and are even considered inferior among materials, but they can indeed be used to make ordinary paper, since reed fibers are quite dense. The only drawback is that reed papermaking requires an additional bleaching process.

Bleaching technology is not a closely guarded secret; it has been practiced for a long time, even in Japan. Bleaching raw silk and ramie are important production processes. And the material used is nothing unusual—just lime.

For Japan, which experiences earthquakes frequently and lives on an earthquake belt, limestone is truly the cheapest and most abundant mineral. It's not only widespread along the coast but also abundant inland. The landmasses, pulled from the seabed by earthquakes, are naturally densely covered with limestone.

There's no need for Shichibei to teach you something as simple as burning lime.

If you can't even burn lime, how did you plaster the lime walls of your Tsutsuzaki House?

Reeds are pounded, steamed, and boiled into a pulp. Lime is added, and the mixture is stirred constantly. The lime reacts chemically with the impurities, removing them. Once the pulp turns white, the reacted impurities are skimmed off, and excess water is poured off. A bucket or vat of relatively white pulp is then ready for papermaking.

If you're looking for pure white, forget it. It's 1565 now, so you'll have to wait at least another 350 years.

After the paper is made, it needs to be dried to take shape. Kai is cold in winter with little sunshine, which is probably one of the reasons why no one thought of making paper in Kai before.

But you're mixing lime, right? The heat generated when the lime is "burned" can be used to dry the paper. Use your clever little brains! If there's a readily available heat source, make use of it and don't waste it.

Build a two-story building. Burn lime on the first floor and heat it on the second. Place bamboo strips and wooden boards on the second floor, and put the paper on top. It won't take long to dry the paper, and it won't require much manpower.

Even if the final product is just average, can it still be sold for money?

Yes, I think so.

It's safer than you going out to kill and set fires in the dead of winter, isn't it? Or it's more profitable than you staying at home weaving straw sandals and horse shoes, spending all day weaving just those two pairs of shoes.

A pair of straw sandals is only worth ten or twenty coins, but a roll of paper with a hundred sheets is worth more than two hundred and fifty coins. Of course, this is the kind of good paper made from genuine mulberry bark or paper mulberry bark. Your paper is a bit inferior, but it should sell for one hundred and eighty coins, right?

A skilled farmer could never weave ten pairs of straw sandals in a day. But a skilled papermaker could produce thousands of sheets of paper in a day.

You guys can compare them yourselves.

"Unbelievable, unbelievable, unbelievable..." The last young man was incredulous. Could this broken reed really be turned into money?

"Oh well, what's the big deal? Just going with the flow." Shichibei figured he'd never have any dealings with the Takeda samurai in his life, so he decided not to ask their names.

If you ask me if there aren't any papermakers here, that's a joke. Your Lord Shingen's father, Shintora, was exiled to Kyoto, wasn't he? Let him find anyone in Kyoto who knows how to make paper, give them thirty kan of hereditary official rank, and see if they'll come to Kai with you.

Since you're a daimyo, a member of the prestigious Kai Takeda clan, at least act like a human being. You can't even manage this little trick?

Five samurai on horseback, each holding a small notebook, meticulously taking notes, as if afraid of missing a single word Shichibei said. Shichibei, on the other hand, just went along with whatever came to mind, engaging in casual conversation with these Takeda samurai.

It's safe to say that Niwa Nagahide hasn't yet sold off Oda Nobunaga's adopted daughter, and Shichibei will have to wait a while longer in Kai. Since waiting is the same as waiting anyway, he might as well wander around.

Who knows, we might find something interesting in Kai or Shinano and make a quick buck.

It's a pity we ended up chatting by the river until evening. It's also because these Takeda samurai are so stupid and straightforward, asking about everything, and all of them asking silly questions. It took Shichibei at least an hour just to explain things to them.

We can't go up the mountain today, let's meet again tomorrow.

Seeing that it was getting late, and that it was unsafe to be out in Kai in the early spring, the group urged their horses back to the city. After respectfully settling Shichibei in, they presented him with a deer leg, saying that they had nothing else to offer but this deer leg as a token of their gratitude for Shichibei's instruction that day.

That's great, isn't it good to have meat to eat? Fresh venison, simply grilled and sprinkled with a little salt, is very fragrant. It's definitely more delicious than ochazuke (rice with tea) and dried radish. Even Niwa Nagahide came over for a meal.

"You even asked Shichibei, 'You've made friends in Kai so quickly! You're quite generous, giving me a deer leg!'" Shichibei just smiled and said, "Friends? What friends? Just people I sit down to chat and joke around with."

Niwa Nagahide didn't pay much attention. Shichibei was a businessman; making friends was a matter of course for him. What would happen if merchants stopped exchanging ideas?

At night, Takeda Nobukatsu sat beside Takeda Shingen, both holding wine dishes and study notes, engrossed in their reading. Takeda Shingen considered himself a "civilian administrator" who paid close attention to farmland irrigation and forests, never imagining that there was still so much undeveloped within his territory.

Shichibei is right. In the dead of winter, the Takeda army either goes out to rob and kill, or they can only stay at home and hibernate. It's a complete waste not to use this precious time to make money.

"How much is Kawamura Shichibei's salary in the Oda clan?" Takeda Shingen put down his wine dish, seemingly lost in thought.

"I have received sixty strings of cash." Yonekura Nobutsugu, who had just been pouring wine for Nobutsugu, put down the wine bottle and answered truthfully.

"A mere sixty kan?" Not only was Takeda Shingen somewhat surprised, but even Takeda Nobukatsu found it unbelievable.

Even Yonekura Nobutsugu, who was standing right in front of them, was a lord with a family income of 450 kan. His father had seven sons, and if you included the stipends and commissions of the seven sons, their annual income would exceed 500 kan.

The Takeda clan had to pay each of the eight members of their household an annual salary of 500 kan, and these eight samurai would naturally fight for Takeda Shingen. However, it was clear that the Takeda clan had no shortage of samurai who could fight, but they desperately lacked someone like Shichibei, who possessed a simple and direct economic talent and could develop new sources of wealth for the Takeda clan.

Perhaps Shichibei alone could have done more than ten members of the Yonekura family.

"Hmm..." Shingen reluctantly put down his study notes and picked up the wine dish again.

The next day, fifteen samurai from the Takeda clan appeared before Shichibei, treating him with utmost respect, as if he were their teacher. They even brought him water to wash his face and a toothbrush.

No, what's going on today?

Seeing that Yonekura Nobutsugu was leading the way, Shichibei asked him, "Why did you come in groups of three at first, then five, and now fifteen? I'm not here to teach you anything. It's enough for someone to listen and take notes."

Yonekura Nobutsugu bowed his head and responded, then said that these were all members of the Takeda family who admired Lord Kawamura's talent and wanted to visit him. There was no other reason; they were simply admiring him.

tsk...

Forget it, Shichibei isn't asking for anything. Just come up with a better reason next time. We're on Takeda territory now, so it's best not to ask too many questions.

Yesterday, the Takeda samurai who shouted "Unexpectedly!" at the end diligently brought Shichibei hot tea and served him Kai salted beans. He was clearly someone who had worked as a page, and his manner was quite easy to tell.

"What's your name?" Shichibei handed over a wooden bowl filled with cold rice.

"My name is Muto Kibei, and I am a close retainer of Odate-sama." The samurai even smiled at Shichibei, a rather bright smile.

"Aww..." We've become quite close four hundred years later.

"Since you are a close attendant, what brings you here?"

"It's my elder brother's turn to be on duty this ten days, so he has some free time." Muto Kibei also picked up a small pot of soy sauce, gesturing to Shichibei if he wanted some.

"I see." Shichibei pretended to be asking casually, and after refusing the soy sauce, he started eating his rice porridge.

Come on, since I've had your Muto Kihei's rice porridge, I can't just leave you empty-handed. Consider yesterday's lesson a bonus; today, I'll share some more practical tips.

The group, some on foot and some on horseback, continued their ascent up the mountain along the Fumu River. This time, they didn't linger on the reeds, but instead reached the dry land at the foot of the mountain.

The snow was gradually melting, but the dry land at the foot of the mountains, where irrigation was difficult, was still covered with remnants of snow. Shichibei pointed to the dry land and asked the fifteen samurai who had come with him what could be planted on this land.

The answers were varied; some said to plant beans, some said buckwheat, and some said upland rice. Hmm, very ordinary answers. Shichibei then asked them if the yield from this kind of land was very poor, with hardly any harvest at all.

The answer is definitely yes. There is not enough irrigation water, the soil at the foot of the mountain is thin and there are many gravel, so the harvest is just for fun. It would be good if we could plant one, two, or three crops and get a good harvest.

Then someone will definitely ask, why is the soil layer so thin? This is related to Japan's climate. Heavy rains are concentrated, with hundreds of millimeters of rain falling in a single day, turning the mountains into streams that directly erode the mountainside. Rocks and other debris from the mountains are washed down to the foot of the mountains.

Unfortunately, the river's flow is short and cannot hold so much water in a short time, so Kai Province floods every year. The floods sweep the topsoil from the land at the foot of the mountains into the basin downstream, leaving the land at the foot of these mountains with very thin soil layers, making it unsuitable for general agricultural cultivation.

Brothers, do you think this kind of land is suitable for growing buckwheat and beans?

The dozen or so Takeda samurai, though foolish, at least listened and naturally shook their heads, indicating that it was not suitable for them.

"Therefore, we need to grow more valuable crops."

27. To teach a large group of Kai people

What to plant?

Shichibei paused deliberately, hoping to get some reasonably plausible answers from these "students" of Kai Takeda. These days, lower- and middle-ranking samurai were 100% knowledgeable about farming; they knew when to plant rice seedlings and when to harvest them, even if they hadn't done it themselves.

As a teacher, one should teach according to students' abilities and adapt to local conditions. Since the students have all done farm work, and in this era, the only way to get rich is through agriculture and handicrafts, then we must get them used to finding solutions in these areas.

The buckwheat and soybeans mentioned earlier are actually not suitable for this type of land. Because the rivers in Kai flood every year, they wash away the soil's fertility, so even if you grow soybeans, you can't make the land fertile again.

The soil was barren and mixed with a lot of gravel, so it really shouldn't have been developed into farmland.

“Chestnut trees can be planted!” Muto Kibei dismounted, looked around, and dug up some soil in a corner.

“That’s right! Kibei’s answer is correct.” Shichibei immediately encouraged him.

While chestnut trees aren't a particularly brilliant solution, nor do they offer much economic value, they at least provide a direction. On land like this, efforts should be made to plant bamboo and other timber to stabilize the soil and water.

However, the primary product of chestnut trees today is chestnuts. Admittedly, in times of famine, a single chestnut tree can save a life. But from an economic perspective, the value of chestnuts is negligible. Takeda Shingen wouldn't care about having a few hundred more chestnut trees in his territory, nor would he be particularly pleased about it.

"Gorobei, what do you say?" Nobutsugu Yonekura was considered Shichibei's "senior disciple," and as the squad leader, he was bound to be called upon.

“I vaguely remember that sorghum can be grown in this kind of soil,” Nobutsugu Yonekura pondered for a moment.

"Very clever. What's so good about sorghum? Even if there's a flood that submerges the entire land, as long as the tops of the sorghum stalks aren't submerged, they can survive. This is a very helpful supplement to the objective reality of frequent floods in Koshu during the summer." Shichibei didn't hold back his praise, saying that Yonekura Nobutsugu's idea was excellent.

This kind of land doesn't yield much anyway, so it doesn't really matter what food crop you plant. Therefore, you should definitely plant the crop with the highest probability of breaking even, and sorghum is naturally better than beans or buckwheat.

"Come on, let's continue thinking about how to maximize the value of the produce from this land." Shichibei saw that the discussion had gone far enough, and the fifteen students were listening attentively.

"Paper mulberry tree!"