Chapter Fifteen: Locust Clouds Like a Canopy

Early morning found five or six constables scattered across the courtyard before the magistrate’s hall in Dengfeng County. In the Tang Dynasty, government offices did not require constant attendance from dawn till dusk, so at this hour, from the county magistrate to his deputies and clerks, most were still reclining comfortably in the chambers at the rear. Thus, these men need not hurry to appear for duty. With time to spare, their conversation naturally turned to yesterday’s visit from Du Shiyi.

“Surely you’ve all gone to investigate at Songyang Temple?” one asked.

“Of course we have. It’s true! They say the famed Taoist Master Taichong went to treat someone in the thatched cottage, but the young Master Du had already recovered without medicine. It’s hard to believe!”

“Heh, so you only heard that much?” Wu Jiu, the middle-aged constable who had brought word to Du Shiyi yesterday, chuckled mysteriously. “I know a servant at Songyang Temple, and he told me more. That day, mountain rain poured down. The young Lady Du knelt before the temple from early morning, refusing to leave despite the storm. Then, the young Master Du—who had been so ill he couldn’t even speak—forced himself through the rain to the temple, leaving his sister dumbstruck. That miraculous recovery seems quite real.”

With this revelation, everyone began speaking at once, their curiosity and excitement growing. Soon, when word arrived that the young Master Du had come again, Wu Jiu urged, “Since he received the magistrate’s orders, let’s see what he intends. If he manages this task well and there’s reward to be had, we’ll help him with all our strength. If he fails, we can simply find an excuse and withdraw. He’s not the magistrate himself, so we needn’t fear him!”

“Exactly!”

“Old Wu makes sense!”

Meanwhile, in the guest chamber, Cui Jianxuan, lounging with his feet up, was surprised when his beautiful maid announced Du Shiyi’s arrival at the county office. Unlike the constables, he was no local tough, but being of the illustrious Cui clan of Qinghe and son of the Duke of Zhao, his reputation served him well. The information he’d gathered from Songyang Temple far exceeded that of the constables. The temple, dedicated to tranquil non-action, had been critical of Du Shiyi’s bold promise to deal with the locusts, aside from his miraculous recovery, and preferred not to discuss him further. Yet Cui had learned that the renowned Taoist master Sima Chengzhen regarded Du Shiyi with notable favor.

“Whether he’s a true prodigy or not, as long as there’s excitement to be had—and a reason to postpone my studies at Xuanyan Peak—it’s all good!” he muttered. Hastily dressed by his maid, he skipped breakfast, grabbed two attendants, and hurried out. On reaching the magistrate’s hall, he saw Du Shiyi, accompanied by seven or eight assembled constables, preparing to leave. Coughing loudly, Cui Jianxuan called out with a smiling face, “Nineteenth Brother, how ungrateful! Have you forgotten who helped you yesterday? Crossing the river and burning the bridge, about to leave me behind?”

The constables glanced at Cui Jianxuan’s charming face—equally persuasive to men and women—and though they knew he was the Cui clan’s direct heir and the Duke of Zhao’s son, they couldn’t help whispering at his words. Du Shiyi, caught off guard by his persistence, felt uneasy. He remembered that persuading the county magistrate yesterday owed much to Cui Jianxuan’s support, so he smiled and said, “Not at all—I was simply concerned that country roads might tire you out, Eleventh Brother.”

“Ah, what Eleventh Brother—my grandmother was also from Duling in Jingzhao, perhaps you and I are of the same family. No need for such formality. Call me Cui Eleven, and I’ll call you Du Nineteen.”

Seeing that Cui Eleven could not be shaken off, Du Shiyi recognized that there was no stopping him. He nodded briskly. “Very well! Since you wish to come along, let’s not delay. Let’s go.”

With Du Shiyi leading a Kunlun slave and the constables straight out the gate, Cui Jianxuan stared in surprise, then called after him, “Du Nineteen, are we really just walking?”

"We’re headed to Songqu, south of the city—it’s not far from Dengfeng County," Du Shiyi replied without turning.

“That’s not what I asked!” Cui Jianxuan gritted his teeth and hurried after them. His two attendants exchanged nervous glances, but dared not argue with their obstinate young master and followed helplessly. Yet “not far from the city” quickly became torment under the blazing sun. Before they’d even left town, Cui Jianxuan, on horseback, was sweating profusely, struggling to believe that the Du Shiyi surrounded by constables was the same prodigy rumored to have nearly died of illness.

He walked briskly, seemingly healthier and stronger than Cui himself, despite never riding a horse.

“Master, the sun is fierce. Should I fetch the carriage?” an attendant, drenched in sweat, suggested quietly.

“No need!” Cui Jianxuan inhaled deeply, then said through clenched teeth, “If he can endure it, fresh from illness, so can I! Go—bring some chilled barley water for me!”

When the attendant returned, panting, with chilled barley water, Cui Jianxuan, though parched, paid it no heed. They had left the city and stood on the main road, witnessing a swarm of locusts so vast it almost blotted out the sky above a field. The deafening noise and overwhelming presence made this pampered scion blanch. He glanced at Du Shiyi, who merely squinted at the scene, and swallowed hard.

“Master, here’s your barley water…”

“Quiet!” Cui Jianxuan snatched the gourd and pressed it to his burning face, eyes fixed on Du Shiyi. Just as he expected Du Shiyi to lead the constables in an assault on the locusts, he saw him pause, whisper to the Kunlun slave, and then continue down the road with everyone else. Only the dark-skinned slave, having stripped off his outer garment and wrapped it around his head, strode directly towards the locust swarm.

Unable to restrain himself, Cui Jianxuan caught up in a few steps and grabbed Du Shiyi’s sleeve.

“Du Nineteen, weren’t you volunteering to lead the fight against the locusts? They’re right there—why aren’t you acting?”

“Eleventh Brother, I did volunteer to lead the effort, but who says I must attack right now? That locust swarm covers the sky—what use could we be with so few?”

“But your Kunlun slave has charged in alone!”

“You mean Tianmo?” Du Shiyi glanced at Tianmo, nearly swallowed by the swarm, and replied, half-smiling, “Don’t worry. He’s not acting rashly—he’ll be back soon.”

Despite his confusion, Cui Jianxuan had to shelve his questions when Tianmo returned, sweat-soaked and clutching his discarded outer garment. He resolved to pry answers from this mysterious figure later.

As they entered Songqu, the locust clouds had vanished, but the grass and trees were thick with insects, and many fields were devastated. There were few farmers in sight; those who tried to beat back the locusts were hopelessly outmatched. The scene was truly shocking. Outside the farmhouses, villagers sighed in despair. Cui Jianxuan took a deep breath, only returning his gaze when Wu Jiu brought over a sturdy man. Wu Jiu introduced him: “Young Master Du, this is Song Eighteen, chief of Songqu village.”

The village chief, just past forty, greeted them with hands clasped and a booming voice. “I hear young Master Du has come to lead the fight against the locusts? Forgive my frankness—last year, I led the villagers myself to battle the swarm, barely saving a portion of our crops. Yet this year’s plague returned, and rumors abound that combating locusts brings divine wrath. Especially the elders insist on it. No one dares act, and I am at a loss.”

Appreciating his candor, Du Shiyi pondered briefly, then asked directly, “May I ask, Chief Song, aside from farming, does the village have any other means of livelihood?”

“Not like the south,” Song Eighteen replied without hesitation. “We don’t raise silkworms here. Some families keep a few pigs or sheep, maybe some chickens and ducks. But last year’s plague and this year’s have left everyone short of grain, even for their own needs. With the vegetation ravaged, even fodder for pigs and sheep is scarce. Chickens and ducks are barely manageable. At this rate, by winter, we’ll have to tighten our belts, and people may starve.”

“I see.” Du Shiyi nodded gently, then called Tianmo forward. Taking the slave’s garment, he shook it out and dozens of dead locusts fell to the ground. Cui Jianxuan jumped back instinctively, then exclaimed angrily, “Du Nineteen, why did your Kunlun slave catch so many locusts?”

Squatting to pick up a locust, Du Shiyi glanced at Cui Jianxuan, then addressed the puzzled Song Eighteen. “Locusts are destructive to farmers. Unless everyone joins the fight, even a strong man working all day can barely make a dent. Yet these insects are not entirely without value.”