Love Lock

Chapter 251 Heaven's Injustice, Divine Punishment Descends

A few days ago, in Jingzhou at dawn.

Before dawn, a layer of bluish-gray mist floated on the surface of the river, like a thin veil soaked in water, pressing heavily on the river.

The distant city walls were only vaguely outlined, with a thin layer of frost on the bricks, giving them a chill in the dim morning light.

The oil lamps of the small food stalls on the street corner were lit, and the steam rising from the steamers mingled with the morning mist, carrying the sweet aroma of noodles.

A porter wrapped in an old cotton-padded coat walked by with his neck hunched over, stopped in front of the stall, took out a few copper coins, and exchanged them for a bowl of steaming hot rice wine.

He held it in his hands, lowered his head to sip, and the steam rose onto his face, which was red from the cold.

The sun finally peeked out from behind the clouds in the east, casting a pale golden light that slanted across the stone path, but it was not very warm.

The early winter mornings in Jingzhou are subduedly cold, yet they also hold a touch of human warmth.

Wang Er, who sells steamed buns in the east of the city, was pushing his wheelbarrow down the street. He had just set up his stall by the roadside when he suddenly realized that it was getting dark.

Looking up, I saw a yellow cloud surging in from the southeast horizon. At first, it was like a light veil, but in an instant, it covered the sky and was accompanied by a buzzing sound.

"What's that?" Wang Er squinted, and the steamed bun in his hand fell onto the cutting board with a thud.

As the yellow clouds drew closer, the buzzing grew louder, as if thousands of thin sheets of paper were vibrating simultaneously.

When the first locust landed on Wang Er's nose, he let out a heart-wrenching scream: "Ah~ locusts! The locusts are coming!"

In an instant, the entire city of Jingzhou was plunged into panic.

The swarm of locusts swept across the land like waves, landing on rooftops, treetops, streets, and in some of the unharvested rice paddies.

The rustling sound of them gnawing was like a terrifying symphony; wherever they went, the green leaves on the trees were instantly turned into bare stems.

Several months ago, Jingzhou suffered a major flood, and the crops in the fields had almost no harvest. Now, the situation has been made even worse.

After the floodwaters receded, a lingering dampness filled the air, coinciding with the sweltering heat of midsummer. This combination of heat and humidity created an ideal breeding ground for locusts.

After the autumn harvest, farmers began to till and prepare the fields.

Where the plowshare breaks through the soil, patches of yellowish-white insect eggs are frequently unearthed, gleaming eerily in the sunlight.

At first, only a few locusts were startled from the soil and jumped around frantically in the field.

As more and more fields were turned over, the number of locusts multiplied—from the initial dozens to the hundreds, eventually becoming an overwhelming swarm that blotted out the sky.

These long-lurking scourges finally revealed their hideous nature to people's astonishment.

These locusts not only ravaged the fields, but also brought disaster to the county town.

The swarms of locusts, dark and heavy, swept from the cracked fields all the way to the county town like rolling, turbid waves.

The buzzing of their wings drowned out the noise of the city, and wherever they passed, it was as if enemy planes were bombing, leaving a desolate scene everywhere.

Hungry swarms of insects, drawn by the scent of grain, rushed toward the granaries that had been hastily repaired after the flood.

The cracked wooden door was about to collapse, the damp wall cracks were full of wormholes, and even the newly pasted window paper was riddled with holes by the locusts flying at high speed.

The life-saving food piled up in the warehouse was still damp, and in the blink of an eye it was covered with a dense swarm of insect legs.

Amidst the rustling sound of tens of thousands of pairs of jaws gnawing, the already scarce food reserves were disappearing at an alarming rate, and the remaining grains were covered with black filth from the locusts' excrement.

"Close the door! Close the doors and windows now!" Song Peilin, the prefect of Jingzhou, shouted sternly in the backyard of the yamen.

A locust slammed into his face, its hind leg leaping up and leaving a bloody gash on his forehead.

He staggered backward, but luckily the clerk caught him so he wouldn't fall.

"My lord, something terrible has happened!" A constable stumbled in, several locusts crawling on his hat. "The city is swarming with locusts... there are too many. The grain in the granaries is probably all gone."

Song Peilin pushed away the clerk who was helping him and strode towards the main hall of the yamen.

Through the wide-open gate, he saw people fleeing the streets like headless flies. Some were banging on copper basins, others were waving brooms, and some women were huddled in corners, sobbing, holding their children. The sky was devoid of sunlight, only countless fluttering shadows.

"Prepare the horses immediately! I must go and investigate myself!"

Song Peilin's voice sounded particularly weak amidst the buzzing of the locusts.

As he rode his horse out of the city, the sight before him made him feel as if he had fallen into an ice cave.

Yesterday, farmers were harvesting lush rice paddies, but now only bare stalks remain.

The locusts covered the crops in layers, like a wriggling yellow blanket spread across the earth.

Several farmers knelt by the field, futilely swatting at the locusts with their hands, their cries drowned out by the clamor of the swarm.

"The floods have just passed, and now the locusts are here. Heavens, is this going to cut off our path to survival!"

Old farmer Ma Laosan tore at his gray hair, tears and sweat streaming down his face, crying out, "The autumn harvest is all gone! All gone!"

Song Peilin stood frozen on horseback, his official robes rustling as they were struck by locusts.

During his twenty years in office, he had never seen such a large-scale locust plague.

He suddenly recalled his casual reply a few days ago when a farmer came to the yamen to report a problem: "A few insect eggs, they should be harmless..."

"My lord! What should we do?" The advisor's voice pulled him back to reality.

Song Peilin opened his mouth, but found his throat tighten.

Methods for controlling locusts throughout history came flooding his mind—burning, burying, or catching them.

But faced with such a massive swarm of locusts that blots out the sky, any method seems like a drop in the ocean.

Despite the increasingly cold weather, a bead of cold sweat still slid down his temple.

"Let's go back to the yamen first and talk about it then," he finally said in a hoarse voice.

As he turned his horse around, he saw several children by the roadside whipping locusts that had fallen to the ground with tree branches, their faces beaming with innocent smiles. This absurd scene pierced his heart.

He had just returned to the prefectural government office when the grievance drum in front of the office was suddenly struck, its deep, thunderous sound resounding.

Song Peilin brushed the locusts off his official robes and hurriedly stepped into the courtroom, where he saw dozens of people breaking through the guards' obstruction and surging in.

"You corrupt officials!" A shirtless, burly man with bloodshot eyes shouted, "People reported the locust eggs long ago, why didn't you do anything about it?"

"All ten mu of rice that my family rented out is gone! How are we going to pay the rent this year? Will my whole family starve?" The thin peasant woman cried loudly as the baby in her arms wailed.

A thin old man squeezed through the crowd and knelt down with a thud: "My lord! I came to report this a few days ago! Now... now..."

The old man choked up and could not speak, but kept kowtowing, his forehead hitting the blue bricks with a dull thud.

Song Peilin's face was ashen, and his hand, which was resting on the table, trembled slightly.

The beams and pillars of the courtroom were covered with locusts, and corpses would occasionally fall with a thud onto the shoulders of the crowd.

He wanted to say something comforting, but found that any words would be pale and powerless at this moment.

"Fellow elders..." He had barely begun to speak when he was drowned out by an even louder uproar.

"Give us back our grain!" "How are we supposed to survive?"

"You corrupt official, this is going to be a death sentence!"

The shouts grew louder and louder, and some people began to push and shove the yamen runners.

Song Peilin saw familiar faces in the crowd: the woodcutter who would always smile at him when they bumped into each other on the street; and the widow who would bring him pickled vegetables after he had intervened to uphold justice.

At this moment, anger and despair burned in the eyes of these people.

"Silence!" the clerk suddenly shouted, his voice cutting through the noise. "The locust plague is a natural disaster, beyond human control! The magistrate has already..."

"Bullshit!" The thin old man who brought the news suddenly looked up, blood streaming down his forehead. "The neighboring county prevented the locust plague a few years ago! They turned over the soil in advance to kill the eggs and organized the people to hunt them! If they had prepared earlier, this wouldn't have happened!"

These words pierced Song Peilin's heart like a sharp knife. He was usually a diligent and conscientious official, but he never expected that this moment of carelessness would lead to such a disaster.

Regret surged like a tidal wave, almost knocking him off his feet.

"I...have indeed neglected my duties." His voice was hoarse as he bowed deeply to the people. "The most urgent task at hand is disaster relief. Registrar Zhao, immediately open the granaries and distribute grain, and set up soup kitchens."

"How many days will that little bit of grain in the granary last?" someone sneered.

Song Peilin straightened up and suddenly found that the courtroom had fallen silent.

All eyes were on what was behind him—

An exceptionally large locust was slowly climbing up the plaque above the Mingjing Pavilion, its antennae trembling and its compound eyes reflecting a cold light.

"My lord," Zhao, the registrar, leaned closer and whispered, "Ancient texts record that locusts fear the sound of metal and are afraid of fire. Why don't we organize the people to beat gongs and drums, and light fires at night to lure and kill them?"

Looking at the angry yet expectant faces below the hall, Song Peilin suddenly lifted the hem of his official robe and knelt heavily on the bluestone slab.

This action stunned everyone.

"I have failed the elders of Jingzhou." His voice was not loud, but every word was clear. "From this day forward, I will eat and live with you all. I swear I will not return to the yamen until the locust plague is eradicated!"

The old man who brought the news stared blankly at the high-ranking prefect, who was a local official. Seeing his official hat askew and the bloodstains from locusts on his face, he suddenly burst into tears: "My lord..."

"Guards!" Song Peilin shouted, rising to his feet. "Order the village heads and all households to send one able-bodied man, equipped with a gong and an iron basin, to assemble at the south of the city at dawn tomorrow! Also prepare a thousand loads of firewood to be lit at night to lure locusts!"

The bailiffs obeyed and left. Seeing that their magistrate had knelt down and admitted his mistake, the people thought that the prefect was usually a decent official, and their anger subsided slightly.

Song Peilin walked down the steps and helped the old man, who was still kneeling on the ground, to his feet: "Please get up, sir. Does your son know how to forge iron? We need more instruments."

The old man nodded tremblingly, a glimmer of hope rekindling in his cloudy eyes.

Just then, a series of hurried footsteps came from outside the door.

A constable rushed into the hall in a panic, presenting an urgent document with both hands: "Your Excellency, urgent dispatch from Wuchi County, Jingzhou, eight hundred li away!"

Song Peilin frowned, took the document, and quickly unfolded it.

As his gaze swept over the words, his expression grew increasingly solemn. The officials and commoners below, seeing this, held their breath in silence.

"Gentlemen," Song Peilin said, clutching the document tightly in his hand, "Wuchi County has also been hit by a locust plague. The county magistrate reported that the locusts are so numerous that they have blotted out the sun and destroyed all crops in their path. The people have already begun to flee the famine."

He looked up and surveyed the crowd, his voice revealing a hint of weariness and anxiety.

"This is already the second county in Jingzhou. The situation is urgent, and we must report to the imperial court immediately."

The story returns to the Imperial Palace in the capital, specifically to the Hall of Supreme Harmony.

Amidst the swirling fragrance of sandalwood, the bronze crane incense burner exhales wisps of smoke, while bright yellow tassels hang from the gilded palace lanterns on either side.

The civil and military officials, who had just rushed back from the altar in the southern suburbs, stood in a trembling line, and the hall was filled with a suffocating atmosphere of oppression.

The new Emperor Jing sat upright on the dragon throne, his face ashen and iron-like, the memorial in his hand crumpled and wrinkled.

Today's sacrificial ceremony to Heaven went awry; it was interrupted midway through, and the news we received was terrible—a locust plague was rampant in all counties of Jingzhou.

He had only been on the throne for three months when he rebelled and a locust plague struck. Just thinking about it made him feel depressed.

"Your Majesty, please calm down..." The Minister of Rites had just opened his mouth when Emperor Jing interrupted him with an angry shout.

"Calm down? How can I calm down?" Emperor Jing slammed the memorial to the ground. "During my enthronement ceremony, you all said that offering sacrifices to Heaven was a waste of resources and manpower. And now look at this! There's just been a rebellion in Cangzhou, and locust plagues are raging in various counties of Jingzhou. This is because I failed to offer sacrifices to Heaven in time when I ascended the throne. Heaven has not protected me and has sent down this divine punishment!"

Minister of War Cao Ge mustered his courage and said, "Your Majesty, natural disasters are unpredictable..."

"Shut up!" Emperor Jing slammed his hand on the table, the gilded armrest making a jarring sound. "Go, drag that messenger out and behead him! That unlucky fellow, always choosing the time of the Heaven-worshiping ceremony to bring me bad luck!"

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty, spare my life..." The little eunuch's pitiful pleas for mercy echoed from outside the palace, gradually fading into the distance.

When the emperor is enraged, millions of corpses lie and blood flows for miles.

The entire court was silent, some swallowed hard, and others dropped their official tablets to the ground, making a clear sound in the quiet hall.

No one dared to plead for the little eunuch, letting his pitiful cries gradually fade into the distance.

"Speak!" Emperor Jing's resentful gaze swept over the assembled officials. "The Ministry of Revenue only has so much silver. Should we prioritize disaster relief or suppressing the rebellion?"

"Your Majesty!" Minister of War Cao Ge stepped forward to report, "According to the timeline, the troops from Xuzhou should already be on their way to attack Cangzhou. The troops dispatched from the capital are also fully equipped and ready to set off once the supplies arrive."

Prime Minister Wei stroked his beard and stepped forward, saying, "Your Majesty, this old minister believes that the common people should be the priority. These provisions should be sent to Jingzhou for disaster relief first. Although the King of Cangzhou has rebellious intentions, he has not yet put them into action."

"Not yet what?" Emperor Jing sneered, firing off a barrage of questions. "It will be too late once his army is at the gates. By then, my empire will be gone. This sacrificial ceremony was ruined because of your indecisiveness."

A minister suddenly knelt down: "Your Majesty! Floods and locust plagues have struck Jingzhou one after another, resulting in a complete crop failure. The people may even resort to cannibalism! I beg you..."

"Enough!" Emperor Jing kicked over the imperial desk, scattering writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones all over the floor. "What do you pedantic scholars know? You're nothing but a few locusts. How can you compare to the great Jing dynasty's empire?"

A deathly silence fell over the hall. Emperor Jing was breathing heavily, his hands trembling slightly beneath his dragon robe, a sign of his anger.

Prime Minister Wei knew his nephew's temperament all too well, and he sighed. He thought to himself: Since you're so autocratic, why bother having the ministers discuss things together?
"Issue the decree," Emperor Jing spoke again, his voice icy. "The assembled troops shall immediately march to Cangzhou, with provisions following shortly. As for Jingzhou..."

He paused, then said, "Order local officials to open the granaries and distribute grain; let as many people as possible live."

Having served three emperors, Prime Minister Wei was a seasoned veteran. He understood that the new Emperor Jing had finally ascended the throne and naturally cared deeply about it.

But he also knew the principle that water can carry a boat but also capsize it. Even if he was being hypocritical, he shouldn't say in front of his ministers that he only cared about imperial power and not the common people.

Standing at the head of the line, he couldn't help but give Emperor Jing a meaningful look: "Your Majesty! That little bit of stored grain is of no use at all; we should send the provisions first..."

Unfortunately, Emperor Jing, who was already displeased with the sacrificial ceremony to Heaven, interrupted him sharply.

"Enough. My mind is made up, Prime Minister. There's no need for further words. The autumn harvest is complete; a few months of starvation won't kill anyone. If we allow the Prince of Cangzhou to gain the upper hand..."

He narrowed his eyes. "Who among you can shoulder this responsibility?"

"Boom!"

Thunder is rare in early winter, but suddenly there was lightning and thunder outside the Golden Palace. A pale white bolt of lightning flashed and illuminated Emperor Jing's ferocious face.

Then, the rain poured down, as if even the heavens were weeping for the common people...

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