In the twenty-first year of Yongchang, summer arrived—and not a single drop of rain fell.
First came urgent reports from the northern prefectures of Ji and Yan: wheat fields withered yellow, wells ran dry, riverbeds cracked like the face of an old man.
Then came the central prefectures of Bian and Xu: locusts swept across the land, blotting out the sun, devouring everything down to the roots.
By July, even Jiangnan—always abundant with rain—had fallen victim. It should have been the season of fragrant rice flowers, but the fields yielded only desolation.
Three urgent dispatches arrived on the same day, laid before the Emperor on his desk.
“Drought, locusts, striking both north and south at once…” The Emperor’s voice echoed through the vast hall, carrying a faint, almost imperceptible tremor. “In twenty-seven years on the throne, I have never faced such a calamity.”
The civil and military officials knelt in a sea of silence, not daring to breathe.
The Minister of Revenue steeled himself and stepped forward: “Your Majesty, your servant has reviewed grain reserves across the realm. In previous years, we could draw from neighboring granaries for relief. But this year’s affected area is too vast—transporting grain from the north to the south would cost more in shipping than the grain itself. And in the south, the waterways are too shallow, leaving most transport boats stranded…”
“Your servant has a memorial!” The Minister of Works cut in. “The locust plague is worse than the drought. Your servant has consulted records from the previous dynasty—the locust outbreak of the eighth year of Yonghe, from Shandong to Henan, left corpses strewn across the fields, and people resorted to exchanging children for food—”
“Enough!” The Emperor slammed the desk, his face ashen. “I don’t need you to tell me how difficult it is! I need solutions!”
Deathly silence filled the hall.
Just then, a eunuch slipped in through a side door and whispered something to the head eunuch.
The head eunuch’s expression shifted slightly. He stepped forward and bowed: “Your Majesty, the Director of the Agriculture and Sericulture Institute, Jiahe County Lady Lin Shuying, is at the palace gate requesting an audience. She says she has urgent agricultural intelligence to report.”
The Emperor paused, then said: “Summon her.”
As Lin Shuying entered the hall, all eyes turned to her.
She wore the official robe of a second-rank official, her steps steady, not a trace of panic on her face.
In the three years since she had taken charge of the Institute, she was no longer the young girl who had knelt before the throne begging for farmland.
“Your servant Lin Shuying kowtows to Your Majesty.”
“Rise and speak.” The Emperor went straight to the point. “What intelligence do you have?”
Lin Shuying rose and produced a thick scroll from her sleeve, presenting it: “This is the Great Liang Drought and Locust Disaster Map and a Response Strategy, which your servant and the Institute’s division heads drafted overnight. Please review it, Your Majesty.”
The Emperor took it and opened it—not dense text, but a clearly marked map.
Red indicated drought-stricken areas, black indicated locust-plagued areas, and purple indicated areas hit by both. Alongside were tables: affected acreage, affected population, existing grain reserves, projected shortfalls… the data was thorough and clear at a glance.
“This is—” the Emperor looked up.
“The Institute established an intelligence division three years ago, continuously collecting climate, soil, and crop data from all prefectures and counties.” Lin Shuying said calmly. “After receiving the urgent reports, I had A-Gua retrieve the three years of accumulated data, verified each item, and compiled this map.”
She paused, pointing to several key locations on the map: “Your Majesty, please note—locust plagues are not uncontrollable. Locusts lay their eggs in dry, hard soil. The newly hatched nymphs cannot fly, only crawl. At this stage, if we organize people to dig trenches as barriers, burn them with fire, or release ducks to eat them, the disaster can be contained locally.”
She pointed to another area: “As for the drought, the Institute has promoted ‘water-saving irrigation methods’ and ‘drought-resistant crops’ in pilot counties over the past three years, with proven results. At Zhao Family Village in Jizhou, using these methods last year, even in a severe drought, they still retained seventy percent of their yield. I have already dispatched couriers to deliver Zhao Family Village’s experience to all affected prefectures and counties.”
Whispers began to ripple through the hall.
The Minister of Revenue couldn’t help but ask: “County Lady, how far can these methods be extended?”
“The Institute has trained five hundred and thirty agricultural technicians over the past three years, stationed across all prefectures.” Lin Shuying replied. “These people are the seeds of dissemination. I have already ordered that all technicians set out immediately, go deep into the fields, and teach the people drought-resistance and locust-control techniques hand in hand.”
She turned to face the assembled officials: “Gentlemen, natural disasters are hard to prevent, but human negligence can be avoided. If we are united and coordinate our efforts properly, we can get through this.”
Silence fell again.
The Emperor looked at her with complex eyes.
Three years ago, he had established the Institute because he saw talent in this girl and wanted to give her room to grow.
He had never imagined that this young woman, in just three years, would build a nationwide agricultural intelligence network and train a technical force ready to deploy to the grassroots at any time. Today, in this court, when all the civil and military officials were at a loss, she alone had produced a viable plan.
“Good.” The Emperor sat back on the dragon throne, his voice regaining its steady authority. “Issue the decree: From this day forward, the Agriculture and Sericulture Institute shall have full authority over disaster relief efforts. All prefectures and counties must cooperate fully. Anyone who obstructs shall be punished as for military negligence.”
He looked at Lin Shuying: “Lin girl, I place the granaries of Great Liang in your hands.”
Lin Shuying knelt: “Your subject will not fail Your Majesty’s trust.”
— —
In the days that followed, Lin Shuying spun like an indefatigable top between the Institute, the palace, and the disaster-stricken prefectures.
By day, she led students in the experimental fields to prepare biological pesticides—brewed from neem seeds, tobacco leaves, and limewater—a folk recipe for fighting locusts.
By night, she sat by lamplight reviewing urgent reports from across the country, with A-Gua and A Li taking turns on watch—sorting, replying, and coordinating.
“Report from Jizhou: Three hundred li of anti-locust trenches have been dug, five thousand ducks deployed. Nymphs are largely under control.”
“Report from Yanzhou: Drought-resistant crop seeds have been distributed to households. The people are calm.”
“Report from Bianzhou: The first batch of agricultural technicians has arrived and is organizing training.”
Every piece of good news earned a checkmark on her map. But there was bad news too.
“Urgent report from Jiangnan Circuit: Drought persists. Some prefectures and counties have begun fighting over water—armed clashes have broken out.”
“Urgent report from Huainan Circuit: Grain merchants are hoarding supplies, prices are skyrocketing, and the people can no longer afford food.”
Lin Shuying read these reports, her brow furrowed.
Disaster relief meant not just fighting the heavens, but also fighting people.
She worked through the night drafting three memorials: First, requesting military deployment to maintain order in the disaster zones; second, requesting the Ministry of Revenue to crack down on hoarding merchants and open granaries to stabilize grain prices; third, requesting the Ministry of Works to dispatch craftsmen to support well-digging and canal repairs in the affected areas.
Xiao Shengrui helped copy the documents beside her, his brush flying across the paper.
“You’ve slept less than five hours these past few days,” he said with concern.
“Once the disaster is over, I’ll sleep for three days and nights.” Lin Shuying didn’t look up. “Shengrui, can the Listening Wind Pavilion monitor grain prices across the regions? If anything unusual happens, report to me immediately.”
“It’s already being done.” Xiao Shengrui set down his brush and took her hand. “Shuying, you’ve already done more than enough. The rest belongs to the court, to the local officials.”
Lin Shuying looked up—her eyes bloodshot, but her gaze still clear: “I know. But I can’t stop. Do you know what those numbers mean? Behind every grain of food is a living person.”
Xiao Shengrui looked at her and suddenly smiled.
“I’m with you.”
— —
Three months later, the first autumn rain finally fell.
A drizzling rain, from dusk through the night, soaking the cracked earth and wetting countless eyes with tears.
Lin Shuying stood in the Institute’s back courtyard, letting the rain fall on her face.
A Li ran over with an umbrella, but she pushed it away.
“Miss! You’ll catch a cold!”
“A Li,” Lin Shuying said softly, “listen—that’s the sound of grain.”
A Li listened—the rain poured down, mingling with distant cheers.
“The rain has come. The winter wheat can be planted now,” Lin Shuying murmured. “Next spring, there will be a harvest.”
She turned around—whether her face was wet with rain or tears, she couldn’t tell—but her smile was real.
“We made it through.”
The concurrent drought-and-locust disaster was ultimately contained.
Afterward, statistics showed that under the Institute’s coordinated efforts, the nationwide crop loss was about twenty percent—whereas in the past, it would have been at least forty percent, with famine inevitable.
The Emperor declared at the morning court: “The Agriculture and Sericulture Institute is the pillar of the nation. Lin Shuying is my Xiao He.”
But when Lin Shuying returned to the Institute, the first thing she did wasn’t to rest—it was to call a meeting of all division heads.
“Compile the lessons learned from this disaster into a handbook,” she said. “What we did well, what we did poorly, and where we can improve—all of it must be recorded. Next spring, the Institute will hold training sessions to teach these lessons to more agricultural technicians.”
The others took their orders and left.
Finally, she could sit down, lean back in her chair, and let out a long breath.
Xiao Shengrui came in with a bowl of hot soup, placing it before her.
“Drink this—A Li made it, said it’s for replenishing your energy.”
Lin Shuying took it and sipped slowly.
“Tired?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “But it was worth it.”
She looked out the window at the still-grey sky, and suddenly said: “Shengrui, I want to double the Institute’s intelligence network.”
Xiao Shengrui raised an eyebrow: “Expand again?”
“This disaster exposed many problems,” Lin Shuying said seriously. “Some areas were hit by drought, but the reports didn’t arrive for half a month. Some places showed signs of locust eggs overwintering, but no one reported it. If we could have had early warning, the losses would have been smaller.”
She stood and walked to the window: “I want to set up an agricultural observation post in every county—people specifically assigned to monitor the weather, pests, and crop growth. The moment anything is abnormal, they must report it.”
Xiao Shengrui walked over to her: “That will take a lot of money and a lot of people.”
“I know.” Lin Shuying turned to look at him. “But this is work that will benefit generations to come. Our generation works a little harder—then the next, and the next, will see fewer people starve.”
Xiao Shengrui looked at her, his gaze tender.
“Alright.”
The two stood side by side at the window, watching the endless autumn rain.
In the distance, the lights of the Institute went out one by one—people could finally sleep soundly.
But Lin Shuying knew that the end of the disaster was not the end, but a new beginning.
What she wanted to build was a system that would ensure the people of Great Liang never had to fear natural calamities again.
This was the true meaning of her rebirth.
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