“What? Locusts are?”
The villagers sounded shocked.
Maomao had the village head gather the farmers for her. People were crowded together at the village assembly, to quite a suffocating degree.
Maomao scoffed frantically.
“No, although there was some insect damage last year, we have an abundant harvest this year. We should be fine?”
“That’s true. It’s still sunny out. We don’t have to hurry yet.”
“It’ll be too late by then!”
A single fierce voice shot out from the crowd of carefree villagers.
“Nenjen-san,” Maomao said.
It was the one-eyed elderly man. He had experience with a terrible locust plague where people had eaten people in the past, so he was angry at the villagers who currently had no sense of pressure.
“Ignore them. I’m going to start harvesting now,” the elderly man said.
“Nenjen-san…”
The former serf was the oldest member in a village full of newcomers. It seems the village head was a little useless too.
Maomao also thought it was pointless to discuss with them.
As she was wondering what to do, Rikuson came forward. “I’ll buy your wheat. At double the market price.”
Accompanying his genial voice, there was the chink of metal from the bag he set on the table.
“Is this for real?”
“You’re not lying, right?”
The villagers’ eyes suddenly turned wild.
“Yes. But leave a remainder for the country. Also, the time limit will be in three days.”
He was saying absurd things in a pleasant voice. But the flames in the villagers’ eyes didn’t abate.
(Is this the power of money?)
The villager moved. They returned home, and wives and children were also holding sickles.
“Will that be fine? You made a promise without due consideration,” Maomao asked Rikuson when the meeting place was cleared of people.
“Once a locust plague breaks out, the market price won’t stay at double. If the insects do come, we will profit and if they don’t, there’ll be peace in that case. Is there a problem with that?” he replied.
“No, there’s no problem.”
He mentioned his mother had been a merchant, and he often hung out with Rahan, so he was probably fast at this kind of calculation.
“We should get a move on too. I’m going to help out at Nenjen-san’s field, but what will Maomao do?” he said.
“I think… I’ll prepare emergency food for distribution.”
Maomao was nigh certain that the locust plague was coming. But she didn’t know when.
(The last place Rahan’s older brother was in.)
It was the most westerly location in Isei Province. No doubt he saw a swarm of locusts and rushed to release a pigeon before they were attacked.
The locust plague finally broke out. She should anticipate that they will be moving east to devour the crops.
(There’s nothing we can do for something that’s started.)
It was a question of when it ended and what can they do afterwards.
To prevent the insects from eating everything up, they had to quickly harvest, fill up the storehouses and seal it up so no insect could get in.
(I’m worried about spoilage.)
Normally, the wheat would be dried in the sun for a couple of days, but what can they do? More importantly, they’ll now need places to store them.
Maomao borrowed a stove and made soup in a large pot. She liked to use light soy, but it might be weird for the villagers’ palate. She stir-fried root vegetables in oil, seasoned it with salt, then stewed it in cow’s milk and jerky broth.
(On the flip side, people from the capital would find livestock milk a more acquired taste.)
To remove the gamey flavour, she added herbs. She thickened the sauce with wheat flour, ending up with what she considered quite a nice flavour.
(I want to add dumplings but let’s not.)
The bread would be better off baked separately.
Maomao filled bowls, then placed them onto a tray. She quickly handed them out to the diligent workers.
“Maomao-san, Maomao-san. Give Chue-san some too please.” The spirited Chue had completely assimilated with the villagers. She had a small knife in her right hand and a sack in her left. The sack was filled with the ears of the harvested wheat.
Maomao handed over the last bowl. “Are you only harvesting the ears?” she asked.
“Nenjen-san suggested it. He said if we’re just harvesting, it’d be faster to reap just the ears,” Chue replied.
Certainly. You won’t need to stoop over to reap.
Maomao and Chue decided to sit on a nearby fence for now to eat the stew. Maomao didn’t have a share so she nibbled on some bread.
“It’s likely because there won’t be time to dry them, and they won’t fit in the building with the straws attached.”
“I see.”
Wheat straw was used as livestock feed and to make daily necessities like woven mats. It was an additional income, but it was better to regard it as secondary now.
“Wellll, the power of money is amazing. When I whispered ‘It’s better to leave behind the straw’ into their ears…” Chue said.
The people that had been carrying sickles switched to small knives. The children were dragging sacks filled with wheat ears all the way back home.
“It seems like they’ll be drying it at home since the ears will get blown away outside.”
“Chue-san is good at giving instructions, huh.”
“That’s right. I made my unmotivated husband a motivated expert at night after all…”
Chue would be able to find the brothel jokes that had bombed until now funny, Maomao thought, but unfortunately, she didn’t have materials now to talk about.
Maomao thought that she should gather jokes to demonstrate to Chue from now on.
.
.
.
The three-day time frame that Rikuson had decided on was correct. Setting a deadline will make wheat harvesting more efficient. In two days, over half the wheat had been harvested.
Basen with his ridiculous strength was greatly useful. He harvested while carrying a sack of wheat in each hand. What takes several adults to do was achieved by one person.
Although, as usual, he was bad at the delicate work.
“Aahh, what are you doing…”
When he did house repairs, he would break it. Chue teased him again.
(It’ll be troubling if the storage sheds are full of holes.)
The holes in the house were stuffed with clay. Timber was valuable in this region, so that was the only thing they could do.
“It seems the timing was good too.”
Rikuson looked up at the sky. Maomao followed. They could see a small black cloud over on the hill.
“Isn’t it still early for the rainy season?” she asked.
“Yes, you’re right.” Rikuson had an inexplicable expression. “Clouds in this season are a little dangerous.”
He was saying something profound.
“What is this about clouds?” Basen passed by carrying two large sacks of wheat with a look of nonchalance.
“No. I was saying that rain clouds in this season aren’t good,” Rikuson said, pointing to the eastern sky.
“Is that so. I can see clouds over there too. Is that no good too?”
“Over there?”
They looked over to where Basen pointed. It was in the opposite direction of Rikuson’s sky.
“I don’t see anything though.”
“Fufu, my brother-in-law has crazy good eyes,” Chue explained. “In times like this, a telescope would be useful.” The woman, who didn’t seem to have brought a telescope, leaned forward and squinted her eyes. “A cloud, you say…”
Chue froze.
Maomao also squinted and looked at the western sky.
.
They heard the thrum of wingbeats.
.
They saw black specks. But they were shaking oddly.
That wasn’t a cloud.
“Maomao-san, Maomao-san.”
“Chue-san, Chue-san.”
The two of them looked at one another and nodded.
Maomao picked up a nearby pot and a pestle and banged it loudly. “The insects! The insects are here!”
Chue slapped the old men who were relaxing with tea. “The locusts, the locusts are coming!” She yelled out with all her might, inciting the easy-going villagers.
It wasn’t good to panic, but now they could only lose their minds to the frenzy.
