HCT – Chapter 234 No Harm Comes to My Tian Zhi

Spring plowing season marked the true beginning of the war against locusts.

Only a small number of fields had good irrigation conditions, but fortunately, it was relatively easy to eliminate locust eggs in the other fields. As the saying went, “Plow one more inch in spring, and pests have nowhere to hide.” As long as the soil was turned one inch deeper, the locust eggs buried below would be brought to the surface.

Farmers picked up the pinky-joint–sized egg pods and crushed them by hand. The smaller ones were smashed with hoes. Then the ground was rolled flat with stone rollers and plowed deeply again, ensuring that all the locust eggs in the fields were destroyed.

Although the process was simple, the amount of labor required was enormous—utterly exhausting.

The farmers gritted their teeth and worked without daring to relax for even a moment.

Fortunately, Qin King Zichu had ordered the Qin soldiers who had been fighting outside to disarm and return to their fields. Otherwise, there simply wouldn’t have been enough manpower to complete the extermination of the eggs during spring plowing.

Locusts didn’t only lay eggs in farmland; there were even more eggs in the wild.

The strong and able-bodied men were already using up all their strength and time just to clear the fields and the area around the villages. They had no energy left to deal with the eggs in the wilderness.

The elderly, the weak, women, and children were organized by officials to go search for eggs along the riverbanks and barren flats.

On the mudflats exposed by the prolonged drought, countless dense clusters of egg-laying holes covered the ground. Egg pods were so numerous that even the surfaces of stones were layered with them, making one’s scalp crawl at the sight.

Fortunately, dealing with eggs on barren land didn’t require concern for soil damage, so the work was slightly easier.

Where limewater was available, it was used to scald the eggs to death. Near water sources, boiling water was used for the same purpose. In low-lying flat areas, people first buried the eggs with soil, then burned piles of firewood on top to suffocate them…

After months of exterminating eggs, young locust nymphs finally crawled out near the end of May.

The second—most crucial—stage of the campaign against locusts had arrived.

Modern research shows that once the density of locusts reaches ten per square meter, they begin to mutate, becoming better suited for long-distance flight, eventually forming plague swarms.

Once locusts take flight, with the current level of technology, any countermeasures would be nothing more than a drop in the bucket. Therefore, most of the locusts had to be eliminated before they learned to fly.

Qin King Zichu issued an edict mobilizing Qin troops across the realm, along with large numbers of convict laborers, to gather and stand by. Officials and generals returned to their fiefs or hometowns, each assigned responsibility for a specific region.

South of the Huai River, there were almost no locust-breeding grounds, but north of the Huai—especially the mudflats along the middle and lower reaches of the Yellow River—were major locust egg-laying sites.

Ying Zheng did not expect the Five Eastern States to handle the locust plague. He ordered Qin forces to assemble along the southern bank of the middle and lower Huai River, ready to light massive bonfires and destroy as many locusts flying across the river as possible.

Overall, the region south of the Huai faced the least threat. More importantly, Ying Zheng feared that once the Five States were struck by locust plagues, waves of refugees and soldiers would crash against Qin’s borders.

After consideration, he commanded Li Mu and Wang Jian to each lead twenty thousand troops northward, stationing them in Taiyuan and Changping. They were to help those regions fight locusts and prevent swarms from crossing into Qin from the east.

Carrying the Crown Prince’s orders, Li Mu and Wang Jian first returned to Xianyang to pay respects to Qin King Zichu.

Qin King Zichu joked, “Why did Zheng’er send you two back? Is he planning to seize the throne?”

Cai Ze scolded, “Can you not say such things?”

Lin Zhi added, “Do you think everyone understands you as well as Cai Ze and I do? What if Li Mu and Wang Jian take you seriously and get scared half to death?”

Wang Jian was already so frightened his heart was racing.

Li Mu, however, was calm.

He had returned to Xianyang with Zhu Xiang last time and already knew what kind of man Qin King Zichu was—no different from when he was a prince and crown prince. He loved to make absurd jokes.

Li Mu said, “Your Majesty, if the Crown Prince planned to take the throne, he would have first ensured that Xue Ji was under control to avoid getting beaten. Xue Ji is currently busy with the summer harvest and has not been placed under house arrest, so the Crown Prince clearly has no such intentions.”

Wang Jian: “???”

Qin King Zichu nodded. “That makes sense. It seems the crown prince harbors no treasonous thoughts.”

Cai Ze: “Your Majesty, can you please stop talking?”

Lin Zhi: “Are the two of you performing a comedy act?”

After a few horrifying jokes that could give bystanders heart attacks, Qin King Zichu finally issued formal orders, sending Wang Jian and Li Mu to Taiyuan and Changping.

Both regions were located in present-day Shanxi.

After the ecosystem along the middle and lower Yellow River deteriorated in later eras, Shanxi became a hard-hit locust egg-hatching region. But at the moment, its vegetation was still decent, so there were not many eggs. However, Shanxi bordered Zhao and Wei—two states that would not take locust control seriously, meaning the insects would inevitably cross into Qin.

Zhu Xiang had already traveled to Taiyuan and Changping, standing guard at the frontier where locusts would cross.

After the formal audience, Qin King Zichu hosted a private welcoming banquet for Li Mu and Wang Jian.

Laughing, he said, “Ever since Zhu Xiang was granted the title Lord of Changping, he’s only occasionally inspected the local fields. This is his first time staying in his fief for an extended period. Isn’t it funny that the Lord of Changping doesn’t live in Changping?”

Li Mu replied, “The Lord Changping not residing in Changping does indeed sound amusing.”

Wang Jian felt another giant bubble of confusion pop over his head.

What are you all talking about? This is so convoluted…

Lin Zhi and Cai Ze gave Li Mu a look of admiration.

Not everyone could keep up with Qin King Zichu’s cold jokes. Yet Li Mu actually found them “funny”?

They secretly worried that Zheng’er might inherit Qin King Zichu’s sense of humor. They wouldn’t mind, since they wouldn’t be frightened, but the other ministers would probably spend every day in terror, thinking the king was hinting at something ominous—while Zheng’er wondered, “Why aren’t you laughing? Was my joke not funny?”

That was exactly the kind of person Qin King Zichu was.

Many ministers privately claimed that Qin King Zichu was deeply scheming and extremely suspicious by nature. Lin Zhi and Cai Ze knew that he was deeply scheming—yes—but not suspicious. Most of the time, he was genuinely making jokes… jokes that no one else could recognize.

Wang Jian watched Li Mu and the king converse so naturally and felt a pang of envy.

He wondered whether he should try to act more relaxed—but he couldn’t understand their so-called “funny” conversation at all. In the end, he simply buried his head in food and wine, pretending to be a silent jar.

Better to earn the king’s favor through battlefield merit. Casual conversation? That was not his talent.

Qin King Zichu hosted them for only one day before sending them off to assist Zhu Xiang.

Once Wang Jian and Li Mu left Xianyang with their troops, the Qin ministers finally learned that the Crown Prince had previously dispatched forces north without royal approval—and they were horrified.

When Qin King Zichu informed them that Wang Jian and Li Mu had already departed for Taiyuan and Changping, their faces froze in disbelief.

The Crown Prince sending troops without permission was a serious matter—could the king please take this more seriously?!

They once again realized just how different this father-son pair was compared to typical monarchs and heirs. Qin King Zichu truly spoiled his son far too much.

With the return of the two famed generals Wang Jian and Li Mu to the northern frontier, the Five States—who had been eyeing Qin eagerly due to the locust situation—immediately quieted down.

Zhu Xiang continued gathering intelligence from the Five States and sent envoys urging them to join the locust-control effort.

The result greatly disappointed him.

What do they mean, “Qin is suffering from a locust plague”?

The saline-alkali mudflats were the primary breeding grounds for locust eggs. The worst-affected areas were along the lower Yellow River and the coastal land between the Yellow and Huai Rivers—all within the Five States’ borders!

Qin, on the other hand, had spent over a decade repairing waterworks and cultivating land since the late reign of King Zhao, destroying the very environments where locusts preferred to lay eggs. As a result, Qin actually had the fewest locust eggs.

Your disaster will be worse than Qin’s—why are you celebrating Qin’s locust troubles while ignoring your own imminent catastrophe?

Realizing that persuading the rulers was hopeless, Zhu Xiang instead sought out the influential ministers of each state.

Qi State

Not a single minister of Qi took the locust plague seriously.

Qi had easy access to sea salt, and its nobles had amassed enormous wealth from trade. Extravagance was rampant; grain was mostly purchased from elsewhere. The few aristocratic estates were located in well-irrigated areas untouched by locust eggs.

What, ask these nobles to go fight locusts for the commoners? What a joke.

Yan State

A few ministers were persuaded, but Yan was at war with Zhao and had no spare manpower or resources. These ministers could only petition the Yan King to issue an edict instructing the commoners to prepare for locusts on their own.

Still, that was better than doing nothing.

Zhao State

Thanks to the foundations laid by Lord Pingyuan and Lord Pingyang, Zhao’s ministers trusted Zhu Xiang, and Zhao was also a heavily affected region. They responded enthusiastically to his call.

But King Yan of Zhao was furious that Zhu Xiang was “interfering in Zhao’s internal affairs.”

He had just dispatched the recently returned Pang Nuan to attack Yan. For a ruler, nothing was more glorious than conquering cities and winning battles. Although attacking Yan would bring no true benefits, King Yan was obsessed with the vanity of Yan periodically surrendering and sending tributes.

To divert manpower to fight locusts instead? Absolutely not.

If Zhao suffered a locust plague, they could simply seize Yan’s grain. Hadn’t General Lian Po done exactly that back then? If Lian Po could do it, so could his generals.

The Zhao ministers were helpless and could only organize locust-control efforts in their own fiefs and hometowns.

As their reputations soared among the people, King Yan’s reputation fell.

Guo Kai advised the king, “They are stepping on Your Majesty’s prestige to build their own fame—just as Zhu Xiang once did to the former king. You must beware!”

King Yan therefore bore deep resentment toward all the ministers fighting locusts on their own, writing down each of their names for future punishment.

Wei State

Many mid- and lower-ranking officials had connections to Lord Xinling. Through Xinling’s lingering influence, many were willing to cooperate with Qin’s efforts.

However, the Wei King was bedridden, and the Crown Prince of Wei was mediocre and timid, unwilling to make major decisions. As a result, the upper court of Wei remained inactive.

Wei was the same as Zhao: the lower and middle-ranking scholars acted on their own, while the upper nobles and the king only watched coldly from above.

However, since Wei did not mobilize troops, their finances and resources were slightly more abundant. Their territory was also small, and most of the locust egg clusters were gathered along the banks of the Yellow River, so cleaning them up was more efficient than in Zhao.

At last, Zhu Xiang finally heard a piece of news that was slightly better.

As for Chu—this was the country that disappointed him the most.

Qi had done nothing either, but Qi had always been like that, and it was far from Qin, so Zhu Xiang had never placed any hope in them.

Chu was now wedged between the Yellow River and the Huai River. The Huai had flooded once more, making Chu the country hit hardest by the locust eggs.

Chu had once produced worthy gentlemen like Qu Yuan and Lord Chunshen; the scholar-official class should still have people of relatively high integrity. Now they even had a renowned general like Xiang Yan, skilled in leading troops, whose organizational ability was not bad. Zhu Xiang had assumed the Chu court would take this matter seriously.

But the King of Chu remained indifferent, the Prime Minister Li Yuan focused only on power struggles, and the Qu clan as well as other great aristocratic families were busy fighting political battles against Li Yuan. None paid attention to Qin’s warnings.

Zhu Xiang sent envoys to visit Xiang Yan, but not only did Xiang Yan refuse, he even killed the envoy.

When Zhu Xiang learned of the envoy’s death, he was stunned for a long time.

Only when the people accompanying the envoy escaped back did Zhu Xiang understand why the envoy had been killed.

After what happened to Lord Chunshen, Xiang Yan dared not form too close a relationship with Zhu Xiang, nor did he dare to help commoners on his own initiative.

The surviving attendant was furious. He mocked Xiang Yan, saying that although he looked righteous and public-spirited, he actually could neither admonish the king nor care for the common people. As for warfare—he was inferior even to Lord Changping, who had never been on a battlefield. He was just a monkey wearing a court robe, merely imitating what humans looked like.

Humiliated and enraged, Xiang Yan killed the envoy.

Zhu Xiang pressed a hand over his eyes and remained silent for a long time.

To better convince scholars from other states, the envoys he sent were all men whose ancestral homes were in those states. The envoy killed by Xiang Yan was a Chu native.

His hometown was within Chu territory. He had volunteered, hoping to persuade Chu’s nobles to eliminate the locusts. His hometown had once been the fief of Lord Chunshen. Though he had never served under Lord Chunshen, he had admired his words and deeds.

Zhu Xiang guessed that the envoy must have known that angering Xiang Yan would get him killed, but he still failed to suppress the fire in his chest.

After Lord Chunshen’s death, Xiang Yan once had the momentum to inherit Lord Chunshen’s reputation. Especially when Zhu Hai carried Lord Xinling’s coffin to plead with Yan and Chu to withdraw their troops—Xiang Yan declared he would take responsibility and withdraw the Chu army. His reputation for righteousness soared.

After Southern Chu was destroyed, the King of Chu lived in constant fear. Li Yuan also felt Qin’s pressure and was willing to share authority with the only famous general Chu had left—Xiang Yan. Thus, Xiang Yan returned to the highest ranks of Chu’s nobility.

Xiang Yan began receiving talented people and keeping many retainers, just like Lord Chunshen and Lord Xinling had. To Chu people, he was almost the next “Four Lords of the Warring States,” lacking only the title of a fiefed lord.

Xiang Yan imitated Lord Chunshen and Lord Xinling because he wanted that title.

Although he had a fief, Chu’s upper nobility was monopolized by the king’s clan, who rarely granted noble titles to those of different surnames. Lord Chunshen gained his title only after supporting the Chu king in Qin for ten years and helping him reclaim the throne at the cost of his life.

Xiang Yan believed that since the fate of Chu now rested on his shoulders, he deserved an official lordship to raise the Xiang clan’s status.

The envoy’s words enraged not only Xiang Yan but also the Xiang clan.

In truth, Xiang Yan had been furious but intended to let the envoy go. But a group of young Xiang clansmen surrounded him and hacked him to death in a frenzy.

Ever since Xiang Yan’s rise, the Xiang clan had grown arrogant and domineering. Chu people also had hot tempers—how could they tolerate their clan head being insulted?

Killing the Qin envoy who insulted their leader aligned with the moral code of the age.

By the time Xiang Yan learned of it, it was already too late, and he had no choice but to shoulder this blame.

Zhu Xiang covered his eyes for a long time, then said hoarsely, “You say he merely failed to restrain his anger, so even knowing he might provoke Xiang Yan, he still insulted him as a monkey in robes. But if all of you could escape, how could he have failed to escape?”

The survivor knelt in silence.

Zhu Xiang let out a rasping laugh. “He wasn’t being impulsive. He sought death—he wanted to destroy Xiang Yan’s reputation.”

The man’s hands clenched inside his sleeves. Dropping the facade of fear, he gritted his teeth and said, “Xiang Yan aids villains! He sent men to surround and kill Lord Chunshen, yet shamelessly compares himself to him? If he could do what Lord Chunshen did, it’d be fine—but now, knowing Chu suffers disaster, he dares not act. My master merely spoke the truth!”

Zhu Xiang said, “Yes, he spoke the truth. Xiang Yan won’t save his homeland, so he shattered the name Xiang Yan desires most. A man of great righteousness.”

He lowered his hand, his eyes blood-red. “I will avenge him.”

The survivor knocked his head to the ground, then finally burst into tears—real tears this time, releasing the grief and rage in his heart.

He was from the same hometown as the envoy. Their shared origin in Lord Chunshen’s former fief had allowed them to meet Zhu Xiang and be taken into his service.

Lord Chunshen’s fief bordered Qi, in Huaibei—the very region now suffering the worst of the locust plague.

“I’ll send someone to persuade the local county magistrates. They also have the authority to organize commoners to eliminate locusts,” Zhu Xiang said. “I must trouble you to risk entering Chu again.”

The envoy’s retainer took up the new appointment and once more set off for Chu.

Meanwhile Li Mu and Wang Jian had set out, with Li Mu as commander. Naturally, he sent Wang Jian to Taiyuan while he himself came to Changping.

Upon arrival, he learned of the matter and comforted Zhu Xiang: “When I destroy Chu, I’ll offer Xiang Yan’s head before the envoy’s empty tomb.”

The envoy had been hacked to pieces by the Xiang clansmen; his body could not be recovered. And they would likely never find it, so they built only a tomb of clothes.

Zhu Xiang forced a smile. “Then I’ll wait for your good news.”

He sighed. “If Lord Chunshen knew his fief suffered a locust plague, I can’t imagine how heartbroken he’d be.”

Li Mu patted his shoulder, saying nothing. Words of comfort were meaningless now. They could only do what they must.

Zhu Xiang sank into grief for only a few days before quickly recovering. He had encountered far too much sorrow and rage in this era—if he indulged in it, he would never move forward.

At last, Changping had its Lord of Changping. From officials to commoners, everyone was like they’d been injected with chicken blood, determined to overturn every inch of soil to destroy the eggs.

Zhu Xiang met an old acquaintance, Bo Fu. Though born a commoner, Bo Fu now held the high post of Commandant of Changping. He had a loving wife and two bright children.

Li Mu had once asked whether he wanted to join his command, but Bo Fu refused.

Bo Fu stayed in Changping specifically to review and resettle refugees fleeing to the region. After becoming Commandant, he managed all garrison troops of Changping.

Most of these refugees were Zhao people. Hearing of Lord Changping’s name, and lacking maps, they followed word-of-mouth directions to find Changping, seeking a path to survival.

Many of the earliest citizens of the newly built Changping city were former Zhao soldiers who had remained there, along with their families. Others had followed Zhu Xiang when he left Zhao, wanting to continue following him.

Bo Fu had always considered himself Zhu Xiang’s retainer; he wished to properly settle the Zhao people coming to Changping—surely something Lord Changping wanted.

Under Zhu Xiang’s direction, officials and commoners dug trenches and lit fires at night to lure young locusts in and burn them. The nymphs were not poisonous. Zhu Xiang even led people to catch some, dry them, crush them, and mix them into grain to make cakes or porridge—helping reduce food pressure.

Another two months passed. The locusts grew wings.

They took to the air.

Farmers held nets and forks, stacked firewood into piles, anxiously waiting for the crops to ripen while bracing for the locust army’s arrival.

Qin King Zichu ordered the entire country into wartime readiness. Almost all Qin officials were stationed across the counties. Qin King Zichu himself arrived in Changping; the Chancellor and Prime Minister also went to the worst-hit areas.

“Zhu Xiang, can we win?” Qin King Zichu asked.

Zhu Xiang replied, “Winning doesn’t matter when it comes to survival. We have to fight regardless.”

Qin King Zichu glared at him, coughing. “I know. I just wanted you to say something encouraging.”

Zhu Xiang said, “We will definitely win. Can you hold on?”

Qin King Zichu answered, “Even if I can’t, I have to.”

Zhu Xiang fell silent for a moment, then looked into the distance. “Mm.”

In the ninth month of the eighth year of Qin King Zichu’s reign (243 BCE), the locusts matured.

Within Qin’s core territory, the locust plague never formed a massive swarm. Scattered clusters appeared across counties, but were quickly eliminated through strict organization.

Farmers killed locusts while racing to harvest grain, working day and night, snatching food from the locusts’ mouths.

The soldiers’ weapons were now capture nets. Even though they received only daily rations and no military merit, not a single one slacked off—they were more focused than on the battlefield.

Qin had controlled its internal plague, but the disaster had only begun.

In the tenth month, the locusts came from the east, blotting out the sky.

Signal towers along Qin’s borders lit their beacons.

These beacons weren’t warning of enemy troops—they were meant to use fire and smoke to drive the locusts away, to stop them from continuing westward.

Qin soldiers burned foul-smelling grasses so that the thick smoke mingled with the swarms. The sun vanished behind locusts and smoke; the world seemed to fall into hell.

Seeing this, every border soldier felt speechless shock.

They had worked so hard. They had nearly extinguished the locust plague within Qin. But locusts were coming from the east—what could they possibly do? What?!

Qin King Zichu’s expression turned cold. He sneered, “Perhaps I should stop saving people and simply sweep the five states off the map.”

Zhu Xiang said, “Enough talking. Work.”

Together they guarded a beacon fire on a hillside, adding wood and foul herbs to it.

Locusts could fly a thousand meters high; the flames couldn’t stop them, but their attraction to light drew them into the fire pits at night.

As they plunged into the flames, the fires blazed even hotter.

Though the locust clouds still darkened the heavens, they seemed slightly thinner.

The swarm flew over Qin’s borders.

Then the second and third lines of beacon fires ignited, linking county to county.

Beside these blazing towers, Qin officials sang Shijing · Minor Odes · “Great Fields”, with soldiers and commoners joining in:

“Plowed wide and black,
Strong and good,
No weeds, no tares.
Drive off the caterpillars,
Destroy the pests,
Let nothing harm our tender fields.
The Field Ancestor has spirit—
Grant them to the cleansing flame.”

The Field Ancestor has spirit— Grant them to the cleansing flame!