151: Chapter 151 Locust Plague in Yongning County

The swarm of locusts crossed the northern border of Guanhai County.

They flew north, past desolate mountains, dried-up rivers, and wild fields they had picked clean, entering the borders of Yongning County.

Here, there were plants on the ground—vibrant green, fresh, and tender, swaying gently in the wind.

Without the slightest hesitation, the swarm descended from the sky like a dark cloud.

At the southernmost part of Yongning County lay a village called Kongjia Village.

It was a small village of several dozen households, situated beside a small river and growing paddy rice.

The sun had just begun to tilt westward, and the water in the fields glinted with a dazzling white light.

A few men had rolled up their pant legs and were barefoot in the muddy water, bending over to plant rice seedlings into the soil line by line.

An old man straightened his back and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

Then he looked up and saw the swarm of locusts.

A dark mass surging from the south, blotting out half the sky.

His pupils dilated in shock, and the rice seedling in his hand dropped into the water.

"Locusts—the locusts are coming—!"

A young man's shout burst out from the ridge between the fields.

The men raised their heads and saw the sun-blocking shadow.

The old man stood in the field, staring up as the locust swarm drew closer and closer.

The locust swarm swooped down.

They landed in the fields, on the seedlings, and on the bodies of the men.

They devoured the seedlings, the grass on the field ridges, and the leaves on the roadside trees.

They landed on roofs, in yards, and on the grain that hadn't yet been brought into storage.

They flew into houses through windows, squeezed through door cracks, and surged down chimneys.

Dogs barked in the village, chickens fluttered, children cried, and adults screamed.

The old man knelt in the muddy water, his cloudy eyes reflecting the locusts and the seedlings that had been stripped bare.

His lips trembled, and a wail squeezed out from his throat.

"Heavens above... Heavens above..."

Locusts landed on his head, his shoulders, and his faded coarse-cloth jacket.

He didn't shoo them away; he didn't have the strength left to do so.

Wails echoed from every corner of the village—from inside houses, from the fields, from the alleys.

The locust swarm gnawed relentlessly, and this time, no light curtain suddenly appeared to block them.

The crunching sounds rang out from one end of the village to the other, from the fields to the houses.

When dawn broke, the locust swarm departed.

They had devoured everything edible in Kongjia Village—the seedlings in the fields were gone, the leaves on the trees were gone, the vegetables in the yards were gone, and the grain in the granaries was gone.

The sun rose in the east, brilliant and golden, shining upon the bare field ridges and the bare stalks of chewed seedlings.

There was no smoke from cooking fires, no crowing of roosters, no barking of dogs.

The village was as silent as the dead.

People crawled out of their houses, standing in their yards, at the alley entrances, and on the field ridges.

They stared at the crops eaten clean, the bare trees, and the empty granaries.

Some squatted on the ground, burying their faces in their knees, their shoulders trembling;

Some leaned against walls with their heads tilted back, staring at the sky with hollow eyes;

Some collapsed on the ground, mouth agape, making rasping noises in their throats.

A young man walked to the edge of the field and saw someone lying in it.

An old man with graying hair, dressed in a dusty, coarse-cloth jacket, was lying face down in the water, motionless.

Locusts covered his body, still devouring the old man's corpse.

The young man let out a loud shout, rushed into the field, and shooed the locusts off the old man.

The locusts flew up, circling above his head, refusing to leave.

He turned the old man over in the water and saw his face.

Just yesterday, he had been planting rice in the field and greeting him, saying the rice was growing well this year and they could harvest a few more dou in the autumn.

The old man's body was covered in dense wounds, gnawed out bite by bite by the locusts' mouths.

Blood was still oozing from those wounds, mixing with the muddy water and staining the entire field dark red.

The young man knelt in the field, holding the old man's corpse, and roared at the top of his lungs.

Soon, the young man's roars attracted the other villagers.

The villagers gathered at the edge of the field from all directions and saw the old man's corpse.

Some vomited, some collapsed, and some turned and ran, only to stop after a few steps, unsure where to run.

"Let's flee."

A woman's trembling voice came from the crowd.

"Let's flee. We can't stay here anymore. The crops are gone, the grain is gone. If we stay, we're just waiting to die."

Some nodded, some shook their heads, and some lowered their heads without saying a word.

"How about we flee north?"

One villager suggested.

"Flee where? At dawn, that swarm of locusts flew north! Wouldn't fleeing north be walking right into a trap?"

A middle-aged man stepped forward, tear tracks still on his face, his voice sharp and tense.

"Then we flee south to Guanhai County!"

Another villager suggested.

"Flee south? Did you forget that the locust swarm flew here from the south?"

"Guanhai County was probably devoured clean long ago. Won't we just starve to death if we go there?"

Someone else quickly objected.

The villagers of Kongjia Village argued back and forth, arriving at two main viewpoints.

One group wanted to go north, while the other wanted to go south.

Neither side could persuade the other, and the argument grew louder and louder.

The argument yielded no result, and neither group at the village entrance could convince the other.

In the end, the two groups chose to go their separate ways.

One group headed south, toward Guanhai County.

The other group headed north, planning to find a place to settle elsewhere in Yongning County.

A middle-aged woman walked out from the crowd holding her child, looking at no one, her head lowered as she walked toward the south.

Several women followed behind her, all holding children, all with lowered heads, all walking south.

An old man leaned on his walking stick and walked toward the north, followed by a few other elderly people, all heading north as well.

The crowd was like a piece of cloth torn in half—one half going north, one half going south—walking further apart and drifting away.

Those heading south glanced back once; those heading north did not look back.

The group heading north walked for half a day, their footsteps slowing down.

The road was still the same dirt road, full of ruts and potholes, flanked on both sides by bare field ridges.

The grass on the field ridges was gone, the crops were gone, and even the topsoil had been churned up by the gnawing, exposing the cracked soil underneath.

They stared at the fields picked clean on both sides of the road, staring at the bare trees.

The bark was gone, branches broken, and the trunks covered in dense bite marks.

It was clear that all vegetation to the north had been completely devoured by the locust swarm.

Before long, they would likely reach another stricken village.

The old man walking at the front stopped, leaning on his cane, gasping for breath.

The people behind him stopped as well, leaning by the roadside, squatting on the field ridges, or collapsing onto the ground.

A young man stood on the field ridge, looking at the aftermath left behind by the locusts.

His mouth hung open, his voice filled with despair.

"It's over... It's all over..."