Chapter 326: Meeting (II)

"The area north of the Yangtze is the Ming territory's cotton-producing region, especially Songjiang Prefecture and its surrounding areas. In fact, throughout the entire Yangtze River Delta, cotton acreage in the late Ming already accounted for eighty to ninety percent of farmland — it clothed more than just the realm; even Europeans could buy it, shipping it off to West Asia and South America."

The man currently speaking eloquently on stage was a specialist with ambitions of going to Songjiang Prefecture to open a cotton yarn factory. This gentleman had definitely worked in the textile industry in his "previous life," so his market analysis was highly professional.

"Whether it's raw materials or skilled workers, Songjiang can supply everything locally — conditions you won't find anywhere else. Once our machinery moves in, we can easily control the upstream cotton yarn industry, then gradually penetrate downstream."

"I have here no fewer than twenty types of 19th-century-level textile machine blueprints. They can be powered by steam, electricity, or even animal power, requiring only a very small number of imported parts, plus our domestically produced boilers, to operate."

Seeing the majority of the audience listening attentively, this gentleman couldn't help feeling rather pleased with the enterprise he had spent so long preparing.

Before stepping down at last, he added a few mildly provocative remarks: "At present, at least two-thirds of the workers fighting on every front are still wearing hemp and Fujian homespun. This is entirely caused by an irrational industrial structure."

"Once we build factories on the Shanghai Bund, Taiwan will simply need to sit back and wait for ready-made clothes. Including the Navy's sails, I am confident that within eight months I can have every citizen wearing work jackets and jeans, and incidentally export some high-grade cotton textiles to foreign countries for profit."

"That concludes my remarks."

Watching this gentleman descend the stage brimming with confidence, Huo Xiong and Mi Shuo — who had spent the morning noisily heckling and mocking the unreliable candidates — did not cause trouble this time. Instead, they wore contemplative expressions, sitting silently among the crowd.

The people taking the stage in the afternoon were not like the morning's bunch who could be casually booed off. By this point, most of those presenting belonged to the relatively critical secondary industries. These people had data and plans in hand, and what they advocated were mostly pillar industries concerning the national economy and people's livelihood — not something the audience could muddle through by playing dumb or acting shamelessly.

Including the cotton spinning plan, a batch of other light industry plans — such as papermaking, porcelain, furniture, household chemicals, and so on — were also successively proposed during the remaining afternoon hours.

Among these plans, some aimed to set up camp in Ming territory, while others were based locally, aiming to massively churn out products for dumping. In short, they were all mature plans capable of earning money, winning people, and capturing markets.

After the first day's meetings concluded, those taking the stage on the second day represented the truly heavyweight sectors: the military, heavy industry, and primary industry.

The military was a broad concept, encompassing the Army and Navy, the Special Operations Team, the Intelligence General Bureau, as well as the police and the soon-to-be-established "Imperial Auxiliary Army" Headquarters — all these separate power bases.

Each power base sent its own spokesperson to the stage, vehemently asserting their department's importance. All manner of weapons, equipment, giant cannons, and colossal warships spewed from these people's mouths as if they cost nothing, as though Brother Chongzhen would come charging into Taijiang with a million armored horsemen tomorrow morning.

After the military representatives, only one person read the report for heavy industry: Zou Guoqing.

Because the interconnectedness among the various heavy industry plants was too strong and required unified planning, there were no separate power bases. The Industrial Party members had long since held their meetings on the internal forum and drawn up next year's development plan; now they simply needed Grand Secretary Zou to read it aloud.

Seeing the Industrial Party members sitting as steady as fishermen on their fishing platforms, major primary industry players like Huo Xiong and Mi Shuo in the audience couldn't stop a chill from creeping over their scalps: industry was simply too interconnected. Either you didn't import equipment at all, or if you did, you had to simultaneously secure the production equipment for supporting consumables and spare parts — this was genuinely a headache.

And in this regard, they could hardly voice opposition. For example, the 500-ton four-column hydraulic press project and certain specialized machine tools that Zou Guoqing requested — although this equipment could be used to manufacture cannons, in his report it was meant for improving tractor quality.

Amid such internal conflict, the primary industry bloc led by Liang Le successively took the stage.

Although the Kiln District Industrial Base had always been a hive of activity and the Empire's various undertakings were flourishing daily, the data could not deceive anyone: since landing on Dayuan, the sector that had claimed the largest share of imported goods was still the unassuming, low-profile primary industry.

People tend to overlook these rustic trades — agriculture, forestry, animal husbandry, sideline production, and fishery — but as the high command of a crossing faction with normal intelligence, they had never slackened their investment in this area from the very beginning.

Agriculture is forever a nation's most important foundation. The saying "without agriculture, there is no stability" is no joke. No matter how much high-tech equipment you have, no matter how mighty your cannons, the moment bellies go empty, the hundreds of thousands of commoners under a certain faction's rule will instantly bare their fangs and rise up against their masters.

Therefore, all along, imported goods had actually provided the greatest support to primary industry, with the total amount exceeding 30%. This included not only superior seeds, laboratories, and breeding cattle, but also manifested in the industrial sphere: the early tractors were forcibly hatched by pulling up seedlings to help them grow; at that time, many components including the coal gas engines were propped up by the Great Office's high-handed reliance on imported goods.

The impact of this approach was profound, leading to the current situation where, if the Industrial Party wanted to import some equipment, they had to find every possible way to link it to agriculture.

With a face full of smiles, Agriculture Minister Liang Le walked steadily onto the stage, utterly unconcerned by the worried and anxious gazes of those below.

As expected, as the final boss, Liang Le's very first plan ignited the entire hall: the Kending 50-mu rubber seedling + 500-mu rubber seed plan.

Kending lies at the southernmost tip of Taiwan, the only place on the island with tropical climate characteristics.

The Agriculture Department's plan was: first, import a batch of rubber seedlings aged 2 to 3 years. These low saplings would be transplanted into newly built heated greenhouses in Kending, and the quantity must not be less than 50 mu.

Next came the 500-mu rubber seed plan... "Everyone needn't worry. Pure rubber seeds aren't large in volume, roughly the size of red dates." Liang Le added, still smiling.

The entire hall erupted in an uproar.

This plan was simply too ferocious: rubber saplings were far larger in volume than seeds. How many saplings would 50 mu of land require? Not to mention those 500 mu of seeds were no pushovers either, even if they were small in size.

For the first time today, roof-shaking jeers rang out — everyone knew that if this dangerous trend wasn't crushed, then the approaching year 1629 would have nothing to do with anyone else, because this damned rubber plan was clearly just the first step for these mud-legged bumpkins, and who knew how many more evil plans were queued up behind it.

"Order! Order! You scoundrels, no more bickering!" The lofty Speaker Luo nearly smashed his desk to pieces by this point.

However, the Speaker apparently lacked much authority; the jeering not only grew louder, but some people even stood up and raised their middle fingers at Liang Le on stage.

At the critical moment, Justice Minister Zhou Tongcai, responsible for maintaining order in the venue, took action, and several of those giving the finger were dragged out by broad-waisted, round-bellied part-time security guards.

This made everyone behave... those expelled would lose their final voting rights on the various proposals tomorrow.

"Agriculture has a lag effect. Even if saplings are planted next year, tapping can only begin after four or five years. By that time, it will precisely coincide with our national strength soaring and our preparations to strike out in all directions."

Standing on stage, Liang Le waited for the scene to quiet down, then continued his presentation as if nothing had happened: "At that time, the only thing you'll complain about is why we didn't plant more rubber trees back then — because ocean-going freighters and gun carriages all need rubber."

"So starting to plant saplings now is the correct move. In a couple of years, once the military occupies the South Seas islands, they can be transplanted there at just the right time."

The reasoning Liang Le gave was very strong, but the people below still weren't buying it: "The quantity is still far too large."

A wave of hushed whispers arose.

Utterly indifferent to this idle chatter, Liang Le had already begun reading the next part of the plan... The agricultural system's report was very long, with plenty of content still to come; the introduction of various donkeys, horses, cattle, and sheep hadn't even been mentioned yet. As for the saplings... if 50 mu wasn't possible, 30 mu was absolutely guaranteed. Liang Le wasn't worried in the slightest.

At the very end of Liang Le's report, he delivered yet another critical blow to the vast crowd of onlookers: the agricultural system formally demanded that the chemical plant be split off to establish a brand-new pesticide and fertilizer factory, and specifically petitioned the Cao Emperor on this matter, requesting the "supporting import" of 3 to 5 corresponding technical personnel and the necessary equipment.

After the tumultuous second day's meeting concluded, the faces of the dignitaries crossing the Taijiang in large numbers to return home bore expressions of worry and helplessness.

After fermenting overnight, the result of this situation was that the third day's meeting was filled with fierce debate and hysterical shouting — if they didn't make a desperate bid now, there would be no game left to play.

The third day's agenda was open debate and voting.

Every transmigrator willing to take the stage and express an opinion was given 10 minutes to attack someone's report or once again advocate for their own enterprise.

Not many people took the stage today: major industry figures like Liang Le were all sitting steady as fishermen on their fishing platforms, just waiting for the vote... The rest, those minor players who knew they had no chance, wouldn't go up and make fools of themselves either.

So those who went up to argue today were, unsurprisingly, those "mid-level figures" — the group who had originally felt hopeful this year, only to have their resources squeezed out by other industries.

Apart from the military personnel clamoring about the impending apocalypse, the main focus was on that batch of light industry figures who had basked in glory yesterday: cotton spinning, papermaking, porcelain, furniture, household chemicals...

This bunch went utterly mad today. To secure project approval, they resorted to every trick in the book, including but not limited to sarcasm and mockery, tearful pleas, grand prophecies of national collapse and doom, and so on — even if it meant being expelled from the venue for insulting colleagues or exceeding their speaking time, they didn't care.

However, the one who ultimately shattered this group's fantasies was an unexpected person: Prime Minister Xia.

Near noon, old Xia, who had been dozing drowsily in his seat all morning, had probably woken up — or perhaps he simply could no longer bear listening to certain people's performances. So he stood, walked to the microphone, and delivered a personal statement on his views regarding the industrial structure.