Chapter 327

After speaking with his father about healthcare and pension provisions, Wang Xiu Jin added, “I want those who work for me to have security in their old age, without fearing destitution on the streets. When they pass away, I will cover the funeral expenses and provide six months’ worth of pension wages. For medical costs incurred during their employment, I will cover seventy percent. Even when they reach retirement age and no longer work, they can still enjoy these benefits. Of course, those who are dismissed midway or choose to leave will no longer be entitled to these.”

“If someone only works for a year and then reaches retirement age?” Wang Senior’s way of thinking differed from that of General Li. The general was unconditionally supportive, while Wang Senior believed this could be adjusted.

“I mentioned earlier that one must have worked at least five years within my estates to qualify. Of course, exceptions exist—for example, someone highly esteemed in their field, whom I’ve personally invited out of retirement three times, may receive these benefits. In my eyes, such people are not distinguished by rank or status, only by ability.” Wang Xiu Jin looked seriously at his father, fully aware of the rigid social hierarchies of their era. Though the previous generation’s education emphasized equality, class distinctions still lingered, albeit less pronounced than now.

Wang Senior frowned. “No distinctions of rank or status? My youngest son really knows how to stir trouble. If this remained unknown to outsiders, it would be less problematic. But if other civil officials find out, it will cause endless gossip. I don’t understand why those officials hold a grudge against you. The court is filled with many civil and military officials who mind their own business, yet they pick fights with you relentlessly, forcing me to clean up after you from time to time.”

Wang Senior did not oppose his son’s pension plan. For example, the oil mill employed many workers, most unmarried, who earned well and saved some money. But whether their savings would sustain them through old age was uncertain. Many had physical impairments, and once they could no longer work, what would they live on? Would they simply squander their savings? The pension plan could not be introduced immediately; the timing had to be right. Compared to pensions, Wang Senior was more enthusiastic about opening a medical clinic. He pledged to select a few estate-born children to apprentice under physicians.

As for the doctors, Wang Senior had no intention of recruiting from local clinics. The city’s physicians, who trained their own apprentices, tended to focus on their own establishments and might not be willing to teach others wholeheartedly. Imperial physicians, however, were different. As long as the apprentices did not threaten the imperial doctors’ own protégés, they would be more dedicated to their instruction.

Upon hearing “imperial physicians,” Wang Xiu Jin furrowed his brows more deeply than his father. “Imperial physicians see fewer patients than city doctors, and their prescriptions always involve costly herbs. How could workers afford such expensive treatment?”

Wang Senior looked at his son. “Are you truly foolish or pretending to be? Before becoming imperial physicians, they were ordinary doctors, admitted because of their superb skills. Some inherit the craft through family lines, though these are few. If their skills falter, they cannot retain the imperial title.” He chided his son playfully, then inquired about details before encouraging him to proceed boldly.

After Wang Xiu Jin left, Wang Senior sat at his desk, grinding ink and pondering how to begin writing. This matter needed to be reported to the emperor; otherwise, if anyone with ill intent uncovered it, the emperor might grow suspicious.

The emperor held the memorial written by Wang Senior. It was less a formal petition and more a private letter, straightforwardly outlining the current difficulties commoners faced in obtaining medical care—sometimes due to lack of medicine, sometimes due to lack of funds. Wang Senior did not mention his son’s sudden idea of quantifying medicinal herbs or cultivating them specifically. That was a matter for action, not discussion.

Wang Xiu Jin’s idea was not entirely spontaneous. In this era, herbs were purely wild-harvested, requiring people to climb mountains, cross seas, and traverse rugged terrain, driving prices artificially high. Still, wild herbs were more effective medicinally than the formulas used in their previous life’s traditional hospitals. Yet, without modern techniques to boost yield or potency, large-scale cultivation would not greatly diminish efficacy.

There was land within their estate’s village. By the following year, a plot could be set aside for cultivating herbs. A physician would assess the medicinal quality, and if comparable, they could purchase a mountain for herb farming. Finding an expert in herb cultivation would ease the burden, allowing the mountain to be entrusted to that person.

While Wang Xiu Jin planned the herb cultivation, the emperor, after reading Wang Senior’s memorial, fell silent for some time. Though he considered himself a benevolent ruler with ample national treasury and granaries, confident that disaster relief would reach the people without corruption or starvation, he realized his vision was incomplete. Beyond feeding and clothing, the people faced the worries of birth, aging, sickness, and death. Even in the capital, residents waited for free clinics to queue for medicine. If such was the state in the capital, what of the provinces? The emperor was aware that Wang Xiu Jin managed many enterprises there, employing many workers. Last year, the Ministry of Revenue conducted a year-long survey at his suggestion, finding that the average annual income for ordinary citizens in the capital was just over 100 taels.

Those working in Wang Xiu Jin’s shops and workshops earned above that average. This figure included women and children. With such income, people still had to wait for charitable medical services to receive treatment. What about those elsewhere? The emperor sighed and penned a careful response, instructing a trusted attendant to deliver it personally to Wang Senior’s hands. He also directed the attendant to inform the imperial physicians to bring more apprentices starting tomorrow and to teach them diligently. Anyone neglecting this order would face extermination.

Wang Senior read through the lengthy reply, then, upon hearing the emperor’s command to send the children to apprentice with imperial physicians the next day, felt relieved—the plan was set. After dismissing the attendant, he sent his steward to fetch Wang Xiu Jin, saying he had urgent matters.

Coincidentally, Wang Xiu Jin and Li Lin Shan were home. Hearing that his father sought him urgently, Wang Xiu Jin quickly changed and hurried out, with Li Lin Shan following, worried something had happened at her family’s home. Upon arriving at the Wang residence, they did not speak before accepting the memorial from Wang Senior. Wang Xiu Jin scanned the content swiftly—his father’s handwriting detailed the medical clinic plan; the latter part contained the emperor’s approval.

One had to admit, the emperor truly cared for the people, not one to be swayed by fleeting policies or vain ambitions. His decree instructed Wang Xiu Jin to first create a prototype, then to compel local gentry, wealthy merchants, and officials to promote medical clinics actively. Regardless of the size of shops or workshops, each must provide medical access for their workers—either by establishing their own clinic or partnering with existing ones. Villagers primarily engaged in farming could pay a fixed daily fee through the government to enjoy treatment at three-tenths the cost. The payment schedule was fixed annually, with any excess expenses borne by the individual.

Upon reading the memorial, Wang Xiu Jin’s first reaction was not admiration for the emperor’s wisdom but disbelief—had the emperor been transported from another time? This system resembled the large-scale rural medical insurance he knew from his previous life. He looked at his father, suppressing the urge to ask how the emperor had changed recently. Such a question felt strange—if the emperor had not changed, how would he explain the question? If he remained the same, he could only say, “Truly a worthy ruler!”

Handing the memorial to Li Lin Shan, Wang Xiu Jin felt that with imperial backing, the future would be easier. Yet he asked, “Father, might this cause resentment? If I open clinics, not for profit or fame but solely for workers, others visiting my clinics would be treated the same as elsewhere. There shouldn’t be conflicts of interest causing them to hate me deeply, right?”

“Ha,” Wang Senior glanced at his son. “Even if they hate you to the bone, what then? There will be those who protect you. If protection fails, speak now, and I will arrange others for you.”

Wang Xiu Jin’s lips twitched; his father’s words sounded dark. Li Lin Shan remained silent, focused on the memorial. Wang Xiu Jin glanced at both before changing the subject. “Next year, I plan to experiment with herb cultivation in the village. If the medicinal quality matches, I’ll buy a mountain for large-scale planting.” He looked at his father. “If you know anyone skilled in herb cultivation or familiar with medicinal plant growth—what soil herbs prefer, whether they thrive in shade or sun, or if they require certain companion trees—I need such a person to manage the mountain plantation.”

“I’ll inquire for you,” Li Lin Shan, who had been silent, finally spoke.

Wang Senior raised an eyebrow, looking between his son and son-in-law but said nothing.

Wang Xiu Jin sensed a rift between his father and Li Lin Shan.

“Your elder brother sent a letter a few days ago, saying that what you’re raising over there has succeeded. He asked if you want to come see it.” Wang Senior abruptly shifted the topic, sparking Wang Xiu Jin’s curiosity all the more.