Chapter 78: Coal

No matter how you looked at it, Wei Renshi’s household had gained four new tenant farmers.

Though for the moment, there was no land to rent them for cultivation, so they could only stay at Wei Renshi’s home as hired hands. Yet Wei Renshi was optimistic about the future.

Land would surely be available; those neglected, unwanted wastelands could be acquired with little effort.

When the time came, whether for farming or for breeding livestock, the land would be useful.

Even if it could not be used for cultivation, there would still be ways to put it to work.

For example, when Wei Renshi saw Liu Shitou carrying a load of dark, stone-like lumps back home, he immediately thought of those wastelands—if, after improvement, they still couldn’t yield crops, there were other ways to utilize them.

“Brother Shitou, where did you bring these… things from? And what are they for?” Wei Renshi stopped Liu Shitou and asked.

Liu Shitou answered respectfully, “To let you know, sir, these are coal picked up near Ping Mountain. Though it’s hard to burn, once you manage to light it, it lasts—it can burn in the hearth all night without going out.”

“There’s a lot of this kind of coal over there?” Wei Renshi leaned closer to take a look. Hey, the quality wasn’t bad.

“There should be plenty. In winter, many people go searching and can always bring some back,” Liu Shitou replied. “During the cold months, after nightfall, toss a few pieces into the stove, and come morning there’s no need to rekindle the fire. The only trouble is that it’s hard to ignite—you have to put it in when the stove fire is burning strong.”

Wei Renshi thought for a moment and asked, “Does anyone buy or sell this stuff?”

Liu Shitou shook his head. “I haven’t seen that happen. Some bigger smithies occasionally take some, but not often.”

“All right, Brother Shitou, you may go,” Wei Renshi nodded, bidding him farewell, and continued on his way toward Fuchang County, though his mind was already racing ahead toward Ping Mountain.

The uses for coal were vast.

In this era, quite a few people already used coal for fuel, but the method was crude.

Moreover, relevant technologies hadn’t yet emerged; even with coal, there was nowhere to use it.

It was limited to simply burning for heat.

But even as fuel, the method was far too rough.

Summer would soon pass, and autumn and winter would come in the blink of an eye. In his later years, Wei Renshi always dreaded winter, wishing he could spend twenty-four hours clinging to a little electric heater—the rural schools had no air conditioning, much less central heating, and even that small heater had to be bought with his own money and brought to school.

In this era, such comforts were inconceivable.

And coal braziers were too dangerous, prone to poisoning people.

Just for the sake of making winter more bearable, this coal had to be put to use!

As for coal stoves, burning coal lumps directly was doable, but in terms of efficiency, nothing compared to honeycomb briquettes.

In later times, coal stoves burning lumps made a comeback because honeycomb briquettes had grown too expensive. And for boiling water and cooking, the heat source was replaced by gas and electricity, leaving stoves solely for heating. Thus, stoves burning mixed firewood and coal became popular again—they no longer needed to serve as cooking stoves, so their requirements for coal’s burning and temperature were less strict.

But for a stove that had to serve both cooking and heating, honeycomb briquettes were ideal. They burned thoroughly and continuously, provided stronger heat and higher temperatures, were more efficient, saved coal, and made it easier to regulate the heat.

To achieve this, one needed a coal stove, a ventilation pipe, an interior hearth, mined coal mixed with clay, and a hand-press tool for shaping the briquettes.

Wei Renshi calculated what he’d need to make the coming winter less miserable.

Thinking about it, he realized that young people from his own era probably hadn’t even seen a hand-press coal tool.

But the thing was simple in structure; it shouldn’t be difficult to have a blacksmith make one.

Below was a mold for honeycomb briquettes. On top was a hollow rod shaped like a cross—the horizontal bar was the handle, and inside the vertical bar was a plunger, its bottom a round surface attached to the mold above.

Once the coal clay was mixed, one would press the mold firmly with the tool, filling the shape. Then, push down the plunger, and the honeycomb briquette would pop out of the mold. Dry it in the sun, and the finished honeycomb briquette was ready.

Wei Renshi had grown up at his grandmother’s house, where the village had a coal yard. He and his childhood companions often went there to play. “One part coal to ten parts water for a paste, two shovels of paste to one shovel of clay”—he’d heard that saying countless times.

And the clay had to be sifted fine, preferably mud dried in the sun.

People said that such a mixture produced the best honeycomb briquettes—easy to light, burning strong and lasting, and the ash was less likely to crumble.

So, as the saying goes—no matter what, be grateful for experience. All your experiences, at some unexpected or particular moment, become your assets and help you.

Powdering the coal and breaking up the clay is no hard task; water-powered mortars have existed for ages.

Sifting is easy too; manpower is probably the cheapest thing around these days.

Wei Renshi pondered for a long while, then looked up and realized he’d already reached his destination.

Entering the Jiao residence, he met Jiao Haiqing, and was taken aback. “Brother Jiao, you’ve lost quite a bit of weight!”

“Have I?”

Jiao Haiqing laughed cheerfully, about to speak, when Wei Renshi asked, “Brother Jiao, when you urinate, is there foam? Is there a lot?”

Jiao Haiqing’s pleased smile froze on his face. He stared blankly. “What? Brother Renshi, what are you saying?”

“Seeing you suddenly lose so much weight, I’m worried,” Wei Renshi said. “Have you been urinating more frequently lately, feeling thirsty no matter how much you drink, always tired and hungry?”

Jiao Haiqing shook his head. “No, actually I’ve felt stronger. Haven’t felt thirst, and don’t really want to eat much. And… well, not much foam either…”

“That’s good,” Wei Renshi nodded. “It seems the tea I gave you—Gynostemma and Russian olive—combined with your exercise, is working. If you had those symptoms, I’d fear diabetes. You’d need to see a doctor quickly.”

“I’ll remember that,” Jiao Haiqing nodded, then asked, “It’s almost noon. Brother Renshi, won’t you stay for lunch?”

Wei Renshi nodded. “Let me treat you instead. Recently, I taught Old Wang and his daughter some new dishes. Let’s go taste their cooking. Also, I have a new business idea—perhaps you’d like to join?”

Jiao Haiqing’s eyes lit up. “That’s wonderful! Let’s go at once! What business did you mean, Brother Renshi…?”