The smallholder economy required intensive cultivation, and the true mark of perfected intensive farming was the curved-beam plow invented during the Tang Dynasty.
With this tool, a single farmer and one ox could till the land efficiently.
At that point, the advantages of manor-based economies—where tenant farmers were treated like serfs—were no longer as significant compared to the productivity of free tenant farming in the smallholder system.
The manor economy ultimately dissolved during the Song Dynasty.
One major reason was the economic shift of China’s heartland from the north to the south, where rice replaced wheat as the primary crop.
Rice cultivation demanded meticulous care, and a manor system that treated tenant farmers as laborers clearly failed to incentivize them to manage rice paddies attentively.
At that point, the drawbacks of the manor economy outweighed its strengths.
Landowners realized it was far more productive to lease plots of land to tenant farmers individually rather than organizing them under collective management.
After all, when farmers tended to land they considered their own, they naturally worked harder.
And so, the manor economy gradually faded away.
The manor system was well-suited to the Eastern Han period, but at the same time, it also laid the economic foundation for the rise of powerful local clans.
Once local elites gained control of regional industries and vast numbers of tenant farmers, their influence swelled beyond what the imperial court could manage.
The chaotic end of the Han Dynasty and the subsequent century of gentry politics during the Wei, Jin, and Northern and Southern Dynasties were all deeply linked to the rise of this manor-based economy.
This is the classic example of the economic base determining the superstructure.
The power struggles among high-ranking officials in court could never be separated from the strength of the common people at the bottom.
***
When Mengde and her group arrived outside the Cao family manor in Qiao Commandery, word of their arrival quickly spread.
Soon, all the important figures within the Cao clan gathered outside the fortified estate to welcome Mengde personally.
Miss Mengde had certainly earned this kind of reception.
Leaving aside the wealth the Cao Ironworks had brought to the family under her leadership, her behind-the-scenes efforts had also elevated Cao Song’s reputation over the past ten years, allowing him to hold one of the Three Excellencies positions for an extended time.
That alone was proof of her extraordinary political talent.
At this point, Mengde had practically secured the position of the next clan leader in advance.
No one could challenge her—not even her older brother, Cao Song’s eldest son, Cao Bin.
The difference in ability between them was simply too vast.
As for what would happen if Mengde decided to marry in the future? First of all, she might not marry at all. And even if she did, there was always the option of uxorilocal marriage—where the husband joins the wife’s household.
If it came to that, she could just have the man join the Cao family, couldn’t she?
Faced with a welcoming crowd numbering in the dozens, Miss Mengde wore a polite, practiced smile as she made small talk with them. In truth, she didn’t recognize most of these people—after all, she had spent nearly her entire life in Luoyang.
It would be far stranger if she did know them.
Only a few individuals in the crowd were familiar to her—those she had met years ago when she returned to help establish the Cao Ironworks.
After exchanging pleasantries with each of these clan members, Mengde suddenly noticed a pair of isolated figures standing quietly in the corner of the crowd.
A woman in her twenties stood there with a boy who looked only seven or eight years old, both appearing nervous and out of place.
Although it had been several years since they last met, Mengde recognized the woman immediately—she was Cao Hong’s mother.
And if that was the case, then the boy she was holding by the hand could only be one person.
That’s right.
The boy was very likely none other than the future Cao Hong—one of the Eight Tiger Cavalry Generals of the Cao Wei regime under the historical Cao Cao.
As Mengde thought about the real Cao Hong’s miserly, greedy personality, and how she had been providing him with a comfortable, worry-free life all these years, she couldn’t help but hope from the bottom of her heart that this child would grow up to be less greedy than the one from history.
To test him, Mengde walked forward with a gentle smile and asked: “What’s your name?”
“I’m Cao Hong, big sister.”
Cao Hong stood upright and gave Mengde a respectful cupped-fist salute.
“Hm? Not bad. Seems like you raised him well.”
Mengde glanced at Cao Hong’s mother and offered her praise.
Upon hearing this, the woman’s face lit up with barely concealed excitement.
After all, although both families bore the Cao surname, the difference in status between them was stark.
Miss Mengde was the daughter of the clan leader, Cao Song, and was highly likely to become the next head of the Cao family.
On the other hand, Cao Hong was merely a distant branch member from a poor household.
If Mengde were to take notice of him and bring him in as a trusted aide, then even if Cao Hong didn’t soar to the heights of fame and power, at the very least, he’d never have to worry about food or shelter again.
And what mother wouldn’t hope her child could seize such a golden opportunity?
Cao Hong’s mother immediately smiled and replied to Mengde.
“You’re too kind, Miss. I’m just an ordinary farmwoman—how could I possibly know anything about raising a child? Everything good about Cao Hong is because he taught himself.”
“Oh? Is that so?”
“Of course.”
Seeing how Cao Hong’s mother brushed aside all the credit for raising and educating him, instead highlighting only her son’s intelligence, Mengde couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.
‘Ah… The heart of a parent truly knows no bounds.’
***
The next moment, like a magician performing a trick, Mengde produced three coins from her hand and placed them in front of Cao Hong with a smile.
“I want to give you a gift. So tell me—if you had to choose, would you take this gold coin? Or the silver one? Or maybe the copper one?”
Cao Hong looked at the three differently colored Wu Zhu coins and thought for a moment before replying.
“I want the copper one!”
“Oh? And why is that?”
Mengde raised an eyebrow in surprise, still smiling.
‘Looks like he’s really changed.’
‘If the Cao Hong from the original history were here, he’d probably want all three coins without hesitation.’
‘Only kids make choices like this.’
But the current Cao Hong, clearly influenced by her, replied earnestly, “There’s a saying: ‘A small gift carries great meaning.’ Since you’re offering me a gift today, your kindness alone is enough—I don’t want you to spend too much.”
“Oh? Is that so? Well said.”
Mengde beamed as she reached out to ruffle Cao Hong’s hair in praise.
‘This child has finally stopped being the money-grubber he was in history.’
She then turned to Cao Hong’s mother and gave another compliment.
“Your child is really something.”
“Thank you for your kind words, Miss.”
“I’m thinking of giving him a courtesy name in advance. What do you think?”
“Please, Miss, bestow him a name.”
“Then let’s call him… Zilian. What do you think?”
“That’s a wonderful name! Truly wonderful!”
Cao Hong’s mother replied with joy on her face.
Zilian, meaning pure and incorruptible.
Only someone destined to become an official would be given such a name.
Ordinary people weren’t even expected to uphold that kind of moral standard.
‘It seemed Miss Mengde truly intended for her Hong’er to one day join the government and become an official.’
That thought made Cao Hong’s mother secretly beam with happiness.