Chapter 12: The Common Sons of Fengyang—A Village of Heroes
In the searing heat of July, waves of blazing air swept through the land. The fields were scorched and blackened, clearly torched. With just a little more time, it could have been harvest season, but to contain the locusts, Prince Qi had ordered the fields burned to stop their spread.
The willow trees on both sides fared no better. Stripped bare, not even bark remained. The ground was still crawling with fat locusts.
Ning Que slowed his horse. Fengyang had always been prosperous, but now it was devastated—barren, ravaged. Even the grass had been eaten clean.
"This locust plague is terrifying. The magistrate of Fengyang set fire to the fields to destroy the pests, but when the wind shifted, people were burned alive," Uncle Fu said behind him, heart aching. He was a native of Fengyang and often handled affairs here. Though Prince Qi managed the county, it was officially Prince Ning's fief. The land taxes and rent went to Prince Ning's Mansion. But this year was a complete loss...
Prince Ning’s Mansion would have to waive the taxes. Otherwise, the people wouldn’t survive.
"Your Highness, there's a crowd up ahead."
"Let's go see."
Ning Que frowned.
By the Feng River, a group of citizens had gathered. They were thin, gaunt from hunger, but their faces were solemn as they chanted prayers and kowtowed.
"Please, Locust God, spare us!"
"Our county is small and poor!"
"We beg the Locust God to show mercy!"
"Come spring, we will offer sacrifices!"
Wearing a ceremonial crown, a local official led the prayers. On the altar were offerings—cow heads, sheep heads, pig heads, salt, millet, and wild fruits. At the center stood a half-human-sized clay figurine of a locust god, greenish-gray and shaped like a standing insect.
Ning Que dismounted and motioned for his men to bring down the food. Then, with one swift kick, he sent the locust idol crashing into the river.
"You—you—you dare?!"
"Blind fool, that’s the Heir Apparent!"
Uncle Fu stepped forward with a furious shout.
The villagers blinked in shock, then quickly dropped to their knees.
"Your Highness! Forgive us, Your Highness!"
"Rise," Ning Que said coldly. "Worshipping clay statues like this, especially evil ones, is useless. Locusts devour our crops—we must protect our fields. If something stops us from planting, bury it in the field."
The official opened his mouth, speechless. So the rumors were true—Ning Que really defied norms and broke traditions. Worshipping the locust god was an ancient practice. Every locust plague was met with a sacrifice of three animals to plead for mercy.
"Your Highness, you’ve finally come to Fengyang!"
A dark-skinned elder knelt and wept.
"Please rise. I came too late," Ning Que choked slightly. Fengyang had long been the fief of the Prince Ning line. Many of its people had once served as personal guards. The late Prince Ning treated them like family. After every victory, he wore no smile, always saying, "A general's success is built on the bones of ten thousand dead."
He would hand out the emperor’s rewards to the families of the fallen.
"Your Highness has grown tall... If my boy were alive, he’d be your height now."
"I'm sorry..."
Ning Que's heart ached sharply.
The battle at Yumenguan had been horrific. Not only his father’s men, but all the personal guards perished. Not one survived.
How could he face these grieving people?
"This humble official greets Your Highness."
"Dispense with the formalities," Ning Que said. "Hear my command: anyone caught worshipping the locust god will be fined two suits of armor."
"We obey!"
A two-armor fine meant sixty taels of silver.
The local official trembled. He had never met Ning Que before, but he'd heard the stories—that he was a worthless playboy who loitered in brothels and chased women all day. But now? Every movement radiated undeniable authority.
Could it be that everything before was just an act?
"Take me into the village."
"Yes, Your Highness."
The official led the way. Ning Que chose to walk.
Locusts were still everywhere, sweeping through in dense swarms. Anything edible had already been eaten.
"I remember Chang Baicao once told me that locusts can be used in medicine—to treat night blindness and coughs. If fed to ducks and pigs, they grow faster and fatter."
Chang Baicao wasn’t in Fengshui Village. He had gone elsewhere, as this area had fared relatively better and, more importantly, hadn’t seen any outbreaks.
"Uncle Fu, send word. The Heir Apparent is buying locusts at a high price. Alive or dead, half a jin of millet per jin of locusts. I’ll take as many as they can catch."
"Your Highness is serious?"
"A gentleman's word is worth a team of horses."
Ning Que waved calmly. Even dried and ground, locusts were valuable medicinal ingredients. Lin Xianhong once needed locust powder for a prescription, and there wasn’t any in all of Chang’an. In the end, Ning Que had it delivered specially.
"Your Highness... we're troubling you again."
A few old farmers heard the news and were moved to tears, kneeling once more.
They knew this was Ning Que looking out for them.
In the midst of a plague, the fields teemed with locusts. A single sweep of a net could catch at least half a jin.
"What are you saying?" Ning Que frowned, lifting them up.
"You’re Fengyang folk. Fengyang has always been our fief. When you're in trouble, it's our duty to help. After all, you pay taxes every year."
"But—"
"No buts. Just do as I said," Ning Que said lightly. "This is just business. The more you catch, the more I earn. So if you want me to profit more, catch plenty."
"Yes!"
They looked at each other, eyes wet with gratitude.
"Now that His Highness is here, we’re saved. Prince Qi let the merchants gouge us and just watched us die."
They hadn’t forgotten to curse Prince Qi.
They had arrived at the village entrance.
On both sides stood thatched homes of mud and straw. But there wasn’t a trace of cooking smoke. Children in grass shoes and ragged clothes squatted on the ground, nibbling on coarse bran cakes.
"Whose child is this? Take him away!"
The old farmers quickly shouted. They knew Ning Que had a soft heart and couldn’t stand seeing this. If they had known he was coming, they would’ve hidden it.
"Step aside."
Ning Que crouched before a dazed child. "Little one, is this what you're eating?"
"Mhm."
"Where are your parents?"
"Papa's dead. Mama's sick."
Ning Que gently patted the boy's shoulder.
"Can I have a taste of your bran cake?"
"Okay."
He took a bite. It was coarse, dry, and hard. This kind of food was meant for livestock. Now, it was life-saving sustenance.
Ning Que stood slowly.
"Please don’t be angry, Your Highness. They’re poor, that’s all. Actually, we're doing just fine."
The old farmer tightened his belt as he spoke.
Ning Que looked at these proud, stubborn men who’d rather starve than accept charity. Yet he couldn’t blame them.
Fengshui Village was the Village of Heroes. Every household had military merit.
They would rather die than be pitied.
He had come here today because he heard they’d given their relief food to other villages.
"Uncle Fu, go prepare hot porridge."
"Yes, Your Highness."