Today was February 10th. The snow in the wilderness had all melted. Though the weather was still chilly, tender sprouts of wild grass could be seen in the fields, and the winter wheat in the wheat fields had turned green again.
Walking along the field ridges, when the wind blew directly in one’s face, though still cool, one could feel the wind was gentle and warm, quite different from the harsh northern winds.
With the sun shining down, walking along the field ridges, the cold gradually dissipated, and warmth began spreading throughout the body.
Blowing in this wind, Tao Wu’s mood couldn’t help but improve considerably. He found it hard to imagine that such fine weather would bring the torrential rains Guo Pu predicted, forming a disaster rarely seen in decades.
His trust in Guo Pu inevitably wavered. “Tell me, is Guo Pu’s calculation accurate? Will there be torrential rains in spring? He also said it would continue until the spring-summer transition—does this mean two months of torrential rain?”
Xiahou Ren walked along the uneven field ridges, inadvertently stepping into a hole. He said indignantly, “Who knows? That Guo Pu is also someone who fears death. What he says may not all be true. Back then, when Wang Dun captured him, before any torture was even applied, he directly said the Prince of Langya had the Mandate of Heaven, then turned around and came to Luoyang to pledge allegiance to the Great General.”
So do you think Guo Pu calculated that Zhao Hanzhang was the one with the Mandate of Heaven?
The question circled on his tongue, but Tao Wu didn’t ask it aloud, silently swallowing it back.
Xiahou Ren also tactfully skipped this topic, continuing with the natural disaster discussion. “The north has little rain and vast land. Spring rains occur when the Yellow River is at the end of its dry season. Minister Fu has dredged it thoroughly. Even if there’s flooding, does it really need to be announced to the world at this time? The disaster caused by people panicking and grain prices rising might be greater than the flood itself.”
“The harm from human-made disasters is never less than that from natural disasters.”
They were afraid that the disaster caused by Zhao Hanzhang’s decision-making errors would be greater than the harm brought by the natural disaster itself.
The village chief stopped and looked back, seeing the two had fallen far behind again. He couldn’t help but urge, “You two young men, hurry up! The sun is almost at its zenith, and we have two villages to visit today.”
Tao Wu couldn’t help himself. After taking two quick steps, he asked, “Elder, you’re not from Luoyang, are you?”
“No, what of it? Do you look down on outsiders?” The village chief said, “My ancestral home is in Bashu, but I’ve settled in Luoyang now.”
Tao Wu quickly indicated he had no intention of looking down on the village chief, he was simply curious. The truth was, when the man spoke, Tao Wu had to listen very carefully to understand him.
The village chief muttered as he walked forward, “I was personally recruited by the Great General on the road, and the Great General appointed me as village chief. I’ve received so many students coming to learn, and you two are the slowest…”
At this point, the village chief couldn’t help but stop and look back at the two, commenting, “And the oldest too.”
Xiahou Ren and Tao Wu: …
The two instantly understood. Tao Wu asked thoughtfully, “Village Chief, do students often come to learn from you?”
“Of course! There are many, especially students from the Imperial Academy. People come every month.”
Xiahou Ren: “Village Chief, we’re not students, we’re officials.”
“I’ve seen plenty of officials too. Those from the Ministry of Agriculture and the Ministry of Works often come to our countryside,” the village chief said without fear, commenting, “My three favorite officials are the Great General, Minister Fu, and Gentleman Shen.”
Xiahou Ren: “Shen Ruhui?”
“Right, Gentleman Shen. It’s a pity he hasn’t come in a long time.”
Xiahou Ren said, “He went to manage the Yellow River and only recently returned to the capital.”
The village chief sighed, “Ah, the Yellow River is going to flood, isn’t it? Tell me, which great river floods in spring? Everyone needs water for farming; it shouldn’t flood.”
Tao Wu perked up and asked, “Does the village chief also think there won’t be heavy rain this year?”
“Not necessarily,” the village chief said. “I’m from Bashu and have only been in Luoyang for three years. I noticed there was less snow this winter. I asked several local elders, and they all said there would be more rain this spring and summer, telling us to plant more beans and less rice and wheat.”
Xiahou Ren and Tao Wu exchanged glances and asked, “The court has made the same recommendation. Won’t the villagers comply?”
Village chief: “How can sorghum compare to rice and wheat? Millet yields are too low. The elders say there will be rain, but they’re not always right, so not many people listen.”
“Besides, growing wheat and rice also requires water. Spring rain is a good thing,” the village chief sighed. “Back in autumn and winter, I advised everyone to plant less wheat. Look, these vast expanses of wheat were still planted.”
Xiahou Ren: “So no one reduced their planting?”
“There are those who don’t listen, but naturally there are also those who do. Quite a few families planted less wheat. Today we’re going to persuade those less obedient families,” the village chief said. “The winter wheat has already been planted. I think planting it is fine anyway—the court has allocated land for cultivation, enough to plant. As long as they plant less rice and more sorghum and millet going forward, it’ll be fine.”
But they had no intention of listening to the village chief.
“That sorghum doesn’t sell for much and doesn’t taste good either. These past few days, wheat and rice prices in the city have been rising. I’ve looked at the fields—the winter wheat has already turned green and is growing wonderfully.”
“Exactly! I’ve inquired about it—those wealthy noble families are all planting wheat and rice too. If you don’t let us plant, all the profit will go to them.”
“Is this about making money?” the village chief stamped his foot. “This is about saving lives! The Great General said there will be a natural disaster. If you plant rice and it all gets washed away by water…”
Xiahou Ren and Tao Wu also urged, “Grain prices in the city are soaring precisely because a natural disaster is coming. Having you plant sorghum and millet is to prevent disaster. Both sorghum and millet are flood-resistant and might survive a water disaster.”
The villagers readily agreed, “Alright, we’ll listen to you. We’ll plant sorghum.”
Xiahou Ren and Tao Wu felt relieved, thinking the task was complete. But the village chief didn’t move and still looked unhappy. “How many acres will you plant?”
“Two acres each should be enough to eat.”
“Enough my foot,” the village chief asked. “If you only eat and don’t pay, and if the wheat and rice can’t be harvested, what will you use to pay taxes?”
“That wheat won’t fail to be harvested. I’ve been to the fields to look—it’s growing so well. In another two months, it can be harvested.” The villager was getting angry as he spoke, pointing at the azure sky and asking, “Look, does this look like it’s going to rain? We’ve already plowed the fields and started irrigating and plowing to cultivate rice seedlings.”
“Luoyang isn’t like Bashu—there’s little rain. We’ve been here for three years. How many times has it rained in spring?” The villager said, “Even if it doubles, we’re not afraid. That would be perfect—we wouldn’t need to irrigate for rice transplanting.”
“Luoyang’s elders have read the weather. This year will have abundant rain.”
“Two years ago, there was such a severe drought and locust plague—how come they didn’t foresee that? When we asked, they said there would be favorable weather, but then half the rice we planted turned out to be empty husks.”
Xiahou Ren said solemnly, “The Great General and Immortal Guo also say there will be abundant rain this spring.”
The villagers paused, squatted on the ground for a long time without speaking, then finally said, “Alright, I’ll plant three more acres of sorghum and three more acres of millet, but I’m still going to plant rice.”
“Fine, fine, no one’s stopping you from planting,” the village chief said. “Just plant a little less to avoid wasting seeds.”
He added, “Apply more of the fermented fertilizer to the sorghum and millet.”
The villagers agreed verbally but had no intention of doing so.
Stubborn people—even if the sky were collapsing on their heads, they would still firmly believe the sky wouldn’t fall.
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