Natural Disaster

When Li Huowang saw Li Sui twist her head toward the sound coming from the alley on the left, he frowned and cracked the reins to make the cart go faster. He didn't want her picking up that kind of filth.

“Slow beat on the drum, slow beat on the gong—stop the drum, stop the gong, listen to me sing—listen to me sing ‘The Eighteen Sighs’…”

A theatrical, drawn-out voice rose from the side alley. A white flour-paste opera patch stuck to his nose, Lü Juren stood on the makeshift stage, singing with all his might, his hands gesturing along to the lyrics. The men below—old and young—watched with rapt attention, exchanging knowing winks and low chuckles.

When the song finished, cheers erupted. This was a new kind of spring opera, not from Great Liang; the capital crowd had never heard anything like it. Copper coins showered onto the stage.

“Another one! Another one!”

“Your troupe has women, doesn’t it? I want a woman to sing me spring opera!”

“That’s right! Let a woman sing and I’ll give more tips!”

Lü Zhuangyuan was bowing and scooping coins into his gong when a voice cut through from outside the crowd.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

When they saw the blue-clad constable approaching, the crowd scattered in panic. Lü Zhuangyuan’s face tightened.

“Who gave you permission to perform here? And spring opera, no less! Corrupting public morals! Are you blind? Can’t you see the notice posted right by the city gate?”

Hunching apologetically, Lü Zhuangyuan said to the lead constable, “Your honor… I can’t read. I beg your indulgence.”

“I don’t care if you can read or not! Pick up every last coin off the ground! Confiscated!”

Lü Zhuangyuan truly hated to lose so much money, but the officials had two mouths—whatever they said was law. In the end, he had no choice but to comply.

The constable left, grinning, clutching the coins. The rest of them were as wilted as frostbitten eggplants, gloomily dismantling the stage.

Halfway through, Lü Xiucai and Gouwa came back, still yelling insults at each other.

“Bullshit! Your name’s Gouwa, and your idea was dogshit! Those beggars have searched forever and haven’t found so much as a trace of the master!”

“Watch your mouth! Who are you calling dogshit? At least I’m working. What have you done besides exercise your tongue? Do you really think you’re still a scholar?”

They came to a stop in front of the dismantled stage, their bickering dying out.

“Boss Lü, what happened here? We finally found a good spot for the opera. Why is it taken down again?” Gouwa scratched his face.

When he heard the whole story, Lü Xiucai stomped in fury, brandishing the coin-sword he had just finished stringing together. “Those capital bastards are bullying us again! Which way did those two dogs go? I’ll cut them down!”

Lü Zhuangyuan sighed and massaged his aching back. “Enough. We’ve got enough troubles already. Don’t make more. If we can’t make money, we can’t make money. We’ll survive.”

“Grandfather, that’s not how it is. People eat and horses feed every day—that’s all expense. And money doesn’t go far here in the capital. A single flatbread costs five coppers,” said Luo Juan, Lü Zhuangyuan’s daughter-in-law, hugging her bronze mirror with visible displeasure.

“Who asked you to speak? I manage the money, don’t I?” Lü Zhuangyuan snapped at her with his tobacco pipe, then turned to Gouwa with a forced smile. “Well, Master Cao, any word yet on the little Daoist?”

The stage was a dead end, and they couldn’t make money. Lü Zhuangyuan was thinking of leaving anyway, but he knew there was another purpose to this trip to the capital. If he said they should go back outright, he wouldn’t be able to explain it to those back at Niuxin Village.

Gouwa read the mood and could only say, “Soon, soon.”

But the capital was huge and packed with people. Finding one man in a city like that was like fishing for a needle in the ocean. “Soon” wasn’t soon at all.

“Forget it. I’ll send a pigeon to let Xiaoman and the others know what’s happening here. I asked the beggars. If I can’t find Senior Brother Li, it’s not my fault.”

With that, Gouwa headed toward the City God Temple to find a down-and-out scholar to write a letter for him.

The Senior Brother Li he was looking for had just left the city. After traveling another few dozen li, Li Huowang found a secluded spot, stopped the cart, set out water and feed for the horse, and prepared to cross into Great Qi.

When he felt Li Sui’s tentacles sprouting from all over his skin, Li Huowang let out a long breath. As his right hand came up, two tentacles coiled around the spine-sword and placed it in his palm.

“Let’s go!” Li Huowang swung the sword. With his feet and six tentacles kicking hard against the ground, he launched himself toward the fissure ahead.

Having done this once before, he was noticeably more practiced. This time, when he passed through the fissure into Great Qi, even his Daoist robe came through intact.

But before Li Huowang could feel any satisfaction, the sight before him made his pupils contract. A colossal dark cloud was bearing down on him like a mountain about to topple.

“That’s…” Li Huowang squinted. He recognized those shapes in an instant. “Those are locusts!!”

The next moment, a sky-darkening swarm of locusts blotted out the sun, descending like an ocean turned upside down.

Without hesitation, Li Huowang shoved the spine-sword back into its sheath and drew the Purple-Tasseled Sword. The surge of lethal energy instantly enveloped him, startling away the locusts that were already gnawing at his robe and hair.

The sound of chitinous wings beating lasted half an hour. When the sun finally reappeared overhead, the trees and grass around Li Huowang had been stripped down to bare, naked stalks.

“Brother Li, this is a Heavenly Calamity.” Zhuge Yuan’s face was grim.

“This is a Heavenly Calamity, too? Brother Zhuge, these are just locusts.”

“To the common people of the world, the most important thing is grain. They never care which Dao has been lost—a missing Dao can be survived for a while, but without grain they starve. In their eyes, a locust plague is far more terrifying than any other kind of Heavenly Calamity.”

“The greater fear is what follows a locust plague—drought, war, pestilence. The whole of Great Qi may be heading toward ruin.”

Li Huowang watched the locust swarm flying toward the Great Qi capital, and a new doubt surfaced in his mind. “What the hell is happening in Great Qi?”

Seeing Zhuge Yuan’s expression, Li Huowang couldn’t help but speak. “Brother Zhuge, if there’s anything in Great Qi you need me to do…”

Zhuge Yuan shook his head. “Brother Li, you are not a man of Great Qi. This is not your karma. There is no need for you to involve yourself. Besides, your own situation is already difficult enough. However much I grieve for the world’s suffering, I cannot use another man’s generosity to ease my own conscience.”