Chapter Twenty: The Pilot Program

Lin Miaomiao studied the map Li Yanhe had given her and discovered that the fifteen towns along this border were terribly impoverished and backward. Suddenly, inspiration struck her.

She began drafting her first business plan, but before she could put it into action, she realized it was unrealistic and tore it up to start anew.

Meanwhile, in the home of the elderly couple, the two wild children, now under the supervision of Anqi, were slowly learning, thanks to Lin Miaomiao’s guidance, to walk upright on their feet.

They also began to babble their first words, and Lin Miaomiao started teaching them the simplest vocabulary and the pronunciation of human language.

Sometimes, Anqi would watch the two children quietly, while Lin Miaomiao and Li Yanhe each occupied a room, immersed in their writing and drawing.

When Li Yanhe began drafting memorials, Anqi would go to town and purchase stacks of paper, brushes, and ink.

Lin Miaomiao struggled with using the brush, so she had Anqi carve a simple, modern-style pencil from a piece of wood, which she dipped in ink as she wrote.

Though it wasn’t ideal, it was an improvement over the brush—Anqi was not only skillful but meticulous, and even carved a small round hole in the wood.

Thus, a rudimentary fountain pen was fashioned. Over the next few days, Lin Miaomiao and Li Yanhe continued their work until Lin Miaomiao finally settled on her plan.

She envisioned a chain of wholesale markets, employing the local labor force in these villages—modernized workshops, so to speak.

Each village would set up a small workshop to produce pastries and the like, selling them to her, while Lin Miaomiao would serve as the middleman, running the wholesale market.

The local pastries were both affordable and delicious. Lin Miaomiao would gather them all for sale and provide each contracted village with a production plan.

By producing according to her specified quantities, waste could be drastically reduced. The new pastries were required to have a long shelf life and introduce fresh ideas to the market.

When Lin Miaomiao approached Li Yanhe, they spoke in unison: “I have a question.” Both were surprised to have said the same thing simultaneously.

“You first,” they said again, almost in sync. Growing impatient, Lin Miaomiao insisted, “Let me go first.”

“Aren’t you planning a pilot program?” she asked in confusion.

Li Yanhe appeared puzzled. “What do you mean by pilot program?” Seeing his blank expression, Lin Miaomiao couldn’t help but say, “Surely you don’t plan to implement the scheme all at once? What if something goes wrong?”

Li Yanhe frowned in thought. He had never considered the possibility of failure.

In his eyes, implementing the plan across the fifteen border towns would not fail; on the contrary, it would bring great benefit. There might be flaws, but nothing insurmountable.

Seeing him deep in thought, Lin Miaomiao sighed. “Suppose,” she said, “that sweeping changes are made across all fifteen border towns at once. There’s a chance it could fail.”

She lowered her gaze and pondered for a moment, recalling the pilot city approach from the era of economic reform and opening up.

Perhaps she could suggest pilot cities. If the reforms worked, or if issues arose, adjustments could be made.

This way, losses would be minimized. Conversely, if Li Yanhe tried to implement everything in all fifteen towns at once, the risk would be enormous—a reckless move, ill-suited to the situation.

Li Yanhe looked at her, his eyes suddenly bright with understanding as she continued, “Of the fifteen border towns, you could select a few that have suffered most from southern barbarian invasions as pilots for reform.”

“In essence, it’s about limiting losses. You experiment with a few towns; if you succeed, the others can adapt the model to their own circumstances.”

“If these pilot towns fail or run into problems, you can investigate those towns specifically.”

“If you try to implement everything at once, all kinds of problems will arise and you’ll be overwhelmed.”

Lin Miaomiao realized Li Yanhe had never contemplated the possibility of failure. She raised her hand tentatively and asked, “Did you not consider the chance of failure?”

Li Yanhe nodded and replied, “The implementation of this policy cannot fail, for the people will certainly gain some protection.”

“So, in essence, the feasibility of the plan is guaranteed. The only variable is the degree of success, not failure.”

Hearing this, Lin Miaomiao understood. This was the ancient world, and what she was proposing—a system of tunnel warfare—was a modern concept.

If the plan were enacted, it would not truly fail. In war, death is inevitable, but tunnels could reduce casualties.

In a sense, that alone would count as success. Furthermore, with the centralized power structure of the era, the likelihood of successful implementation was much higher.

And, under imperial autocracy, as long as the emperor issued a decree, local officials would comply.

Corruption might exist, but the plan could still proceed. Once enacted, if the barbarians invaded and the signal fires were lit, the people could flee into the tunnels, which were supplied with air and food, thus minimizing deaths.

The impoverished populace would not abandon their homes, as exile would only worsen their hardship. They would stay, and the large cities would not be flooded with refugees. By this measure, the plan could not truly fail.

Li Yanhe nodded in agreement, but then raised a new question: “If we reform these towns, what weapons should the women use?”

At his question, Lin Miaomiao suddenly remembered this was not the modern world. In modern times, a handgun was light enough for a woman to wield.

But in the past, weapons were crafted for men, and the technology for smelting iron and steel was not advanced, making weapons heavy and unwieldy.

It would be difficult for women to carry such arms—forming a women’s militia unit would make weaponry a serious issue.

Then Lin Miaomiao thought of the crossbow. In her previous life, while in university, she often tutored elementary students.

Partly to supplement her income—enough for a coveted handbag or luxury item—and partly to gain life experience.

While tutoring, she noticed children often played with a particular toy sold outside the school gates—a toy she herself had bought as a child, since it cost only a few coins and was novel.

Her curiosity piqued, Lin Miaomiao borrowed one for inspection and found it was a simple yet powerful wooden crossbow.

Before long, this toy made the news, as children had been injured playing with it.

Lin Miaomiao considered this, dipped her hand in ink, and began sketching a rudimentary crossbow on paper.

It resembled a modern toy, and though it might be inadequate for the battlefield, it still packed a painful punch.

After all, the crossbow was an ancient invention, and Lin Miaomiao believed that in this era, there would be skilled artisans able to build and even improve upon her simple design.

Perhaps they could create even more sophisticated crossbows. When she handed the blueprint to Li Yanhe, his eyes lit up with excitement.

She explained, “This is just a rough sketch. If you want to use it in battle, you’ll need to find skilled craftsmen to construct and refine it.”

Her simple crossbow resembled a modern slingshot, though more complex in form but similar in principle.

Back in university, she and her roommate once bought building blocks online to assemble toy crossbows with little destructive power, which they then sold near elementary schools.

The venture was profitable enough for her to buy her dream lipstick—it was during her sophomore year.

She wasn’t sure if her drawing was missing any parts, but figured the craftsmen could easily refine the design.

Li Yanhe nodded, examining the crossbow design with evident admiration. “What is this?” he asked.

She replied, “A crossbow.” He nodded again, “This should be more convenient to carry than a bow.”

She agreed. In antiquity, the crossbow had been invented for warfare, and unlike the bow, it required less skill yet was just as lethal. Over time, as cold weapons were replaced, the crossbow became a child’s plaything. Some parents, wishing to indulge their children, would even craft one out of cardboard themselves.