Widows All Over the Streets as Lookouts-Let's See Who Still Dares Relieve Themselves Anywhere

The next morning.

study.

Several newly drawn blueprints were spread out on the table.

The lines are straightforward and the labels are clear.

The first batch of public toilets consists of fifty units, with an estimated construction period of three days and a cost of fifty taels of silver.

Later, public toilets were installed all over Jiannan Circuit, costing an estimated 20,000 taels.

Si Renyou stood by the table, staring at the square cross-section of the "public toilet" on the blueprint, and remained lost in thought for a long time.

"Your Highness, after you extorted that much money from the Gan Family, your first thought was to... build a thatched hut in the city?"

Si Renyou felt that his brain wasn't quite up to the task.

In his eyes, 20,000 taels of silver could equip half of Zhechong Command, repair a hundred-mile-long official road, and fill two granaries.

Gu Moran picked up his teacup and took a sip.

"Lord Si, if someone were dumping night soil in front of your house every day, would you be able to eat?"

Si Renyou was momentarily speechless.

"The common people don't care about hygiene because they have nowhere to do so. With sewage flowing everywhere, diseases are bound to break out in the summer."

A major epidemic can kill more people than a war.

"Throwing down these 20,000 taels of silver will not only save the lives of hundreds of thousands of people in Yi Prefecture, but also the lives of four million people in the entire Jiannan Circuit."

Gu Moran put down his teacup.

"The first batch of latrines has been built, but someone still needs to manage them."

Twenty veterans were selected from Tailwind Express to clean these fifty public toilets every day.

The excrement was collected and transported out of the city, fermented into farmyard manure, and sold to farmers outside the city for twenty coins a cartload.

The money from selling it, and the wages for being a veteran.

A glint of light flashed in Si Renyou's cloudy old eyes.

Building outhouses. Cleaning them. Selling fertilizer.

Prince Yi's approach is even more effective than that of the Minister of Ministry of Revenue.

"The public toilet has been built, and the rules have been set. But I'm afraid those hooligans and ruffians in the city won't listen obediently," Si Renyou expressed his concern.

Gu Moran smiled.

"Setting rules is the job of scholars. Upholding rules requires military generals."

He glanced towards the door.

" Old Tuo!"

A series of heavy footsteps pounded against the floor tiles.

Tuoba Mang lifted the curtain and ducked into the study.

Today he changed into a tight-fitting martial arts outfit, his bulging muscles clearly defined.

He didn't have a knife hanging at his waist, but instead a heavy jujube wood stick tucked inside.

The most noticeable thing was the red cloth armband with white lettering on his left upper arm.

The words "Inspection" were written in bold black font above.

"Your Highness, I didn't misspell the words 'Inspector,' did I?" Tuoba Mang tugged at his collar, speaking in a gruff voice.

Gu Moran nodded in satisfaction.

When it comes to things like cleaning up the city's appearance, which offend people, reasoning with them is useless; you need these tough guys who are as tough as iron towers.

But brutes alone are not enough.

The burly man couldn't find the person who was illegally dumping garbage in the corner of the street.

"Have you taken care of the task I assigned you?"

Gu Moran asked.

Tuoba Mang grinned, revealing a set of white teeth.

"That's it! Your move was brilliant!"

He stepped forward, lowered his voice, and adopted a self-satisfied manner.

I wandered around the meat stalls in the South Market and the cloth shops in the East Market.

They specifically target young widows whose husbands have died, and young women who spend their days idly gossiping and eating melon seeds.

"I told them that I wanted to work for their benefit. In a few days, whenever they saw someone spitting on the ground, emptying chamber pots, or throwing away dead chickens or rats, they should come and tell me."

They're always right when they catch someone.

Now, all the young women on East Street and South Street are walking around everywhere, looking at everyone like walking coins.

We're just waiting for Your Highness's order!

Three days later, at the market in the south of the city.

A cold wind, carrying bits of dry grass, swirled from one end of the street to the other.

Dirt accumulated in the cracks of the bluestone slabs, making them sticky to the soles of your shoes when you step on them.

Three days ago, the yamen runners had already posted notices on the walls throughout the market.

It was written clearly in black and white: Anyone who urinates or defecates indiscriminately will be fined ten coins.

Anyone who can read can tell what's written at a glance, but they just go about their business as usual, and nobody takes it seriously.

Those who couldn't read peered over for a while, only to find it quite amusing, before shaking their heads and dispersing.

That very night, someone tore off half of it and used it to make lanterns.

The remaining half of the sheet was leaning against the wall, swollen from being soaked in rainwater, the ink stains turning into a black blob.

Three days later, the stinking ditch was still filled with filth, and the stench of urine had not diminished at all.

That notice had long since rotted into a lump of mud at the base of the wall.

As soon as the morning market opened, vegetable vendors and hot soup noodle vendors crowded together, their shouts rising and falling.

"Bang!"

A broken gong rang out on the street.

The vendor selling soup dumplings slipped, spilling half a spoonful of hot soup onto the stove, causing it to sizzle and emit a puff of white smoke.

The passing peddlers and ordinary people covered their ears and turned to look.

At one end of the long street, a strange procession approached.

Leading the way were three plump women in floral-patterned jackets.

Each of them held up a wooden sign with three lines of large characters written on it in thick black ink.

Following behind were several young widows with red headscarves, each carrying a gong with a red ribbon tied to it.

"Bang! Bang bang!"

Widow Wang, walking in the middle, banged the gong three times and shouted at the top of her lungs, "Defecate in the pit! Urine in the bucket!"

Fat Sister-in-Law Li, standing nearby, chimed in with her shrill voice:

Spitting on the ground! Ten coins fine!

The last few young wives shouted in unison:

Protecting the environment is everyone's responsibility!

These women spoke in increasingly loud voices, so loudly that the stray dogs on the roadside tucked their tails between their legs and scurried into the alley.

Passersby quickly stepped back, their faces full of bewilderment.

A man carrying firewood hunched over and nudged the butcher next to him.

"Are these women crazy? What kind of incantation are they chanting in the street so early in the morning?"

The butcher scraped the cutting board with the back of his knife, pursed his lips, and didn't say anything.

Tuoba Mang stood beside a stone lion at the entrance of the east alley.

Today he was wearing a specially made khaki-colored, tight-fitting martial arts uniform.

A sleeve badge was worn on his left upper arm.

He held a hardcover booklet in his hand and had a heavy jujube wood stick tucked into his waistband.

He stood there imposingly, his bull-like eyes fixed intently on the street.

Less than ten steps from the stone lion was a narrow, smelly ditch.

A burly ruffian with a face full of scars, half-naked, sauntered over carrying a broken wooden bucket.

The rim of the wooden barrel was covered with a layer of dark yellow grime, and a pungent stench wafted through the air.

That was last night's fragrance.

The rascal walked to the edge of the stinking ditch.

Without even bending over, he picked his nose with his left hand, grabbed the bottom of the bucket with his right, and prepared to pour it into the ditch.

"You scoundrel! What are you doing!"

Widow Wang has the sharpest eyes.

The wooden bucket had tilted less than two inches when she pointed at it with the broken gong in her hand, her voice carrying across half the street.

The ruffian was startled; the wooden bucket in his hand tilted in mid-air, and a few drops of yellow water splashed onto his shoes.

He turned his head, looked at Widow Wang was pointing at him, and spat.

"I'm taking out the night soil, what's it to you! Where did this crazy woman come from!"

After saying that, he used both hands to try and flip the bottom of the bucket over.

Tuoba Mang made a move.

He took very long strides, covering half a street in just two or three steps.

With his left hand, he reached out and precisely grabbed the rogue by the back of his neck and collar, pulling his fingers inward.

The rogue felt an iron band tighten around his neck, and his toes instantly left the ground.

The wooden bucket fell to the ground with a thud, spilling half of its yellowish-white contents all over his trouser leg.

"Who! You son of a bitch, let me go!" The scoundrel stuck out his neck and flailed his arms wildly, trying to curse.