Chapter Fifteen: A Land of Barren Red, Hearts Scorched with Despair

A land scorched red for a thousand miles! In the past, Luchen had no idea what such a description meant, but now he understood. Everywhere he looked, there was nothing but dried-up ponds and rivers, cracked fields, dead saplings and withered trees.

There were no people left. Spring brings birth, summer brings growth, autumn brings harvest, winter brings storage. Without the birth and growth of spring and summer, this land was left only with despair.

He entered the mouth of a village and found that not a single soul remained. Those who could flee had done so, and those who stayed had become corpses of starvation by the roadside.

One village was like this, and so was the next… Luchen had no choice but to abandon his journey along the road and, with Yunhua, hasten through the skies toward the county town.

Outside the county town, a dense swathe of makeshift shelters sprawled across the landscape; refugees nearly encircled the whole city. The county magistrate had lost all his former dignity, visiting every wealthy household in town, beseeching them to spare whatever grain they could. The refugees outside had become a volcano, threatening to reduce him and his county administration to dust.

“Master, why does it not rain here?” Yunhua, seeing so many dying refugees for the first time, could hardly accept the sight.

“I do not know either,” Luchen shook his head. He wished to know where this disaster had begun, but after many attempts at divination, he found the secrets of heaven completely obscured and chaotic, far beyond what his skills could reveal. He had only a vague intuition that his path to enlightenment was intimately connected to this calamity, which was why he had resolutely changed his course and come here.

“But aren’t you always able to give precise answers? Why can’t you divine this?” Yunhua clearly believed her master could do anything.

“Heaven brings murderous intent, and there are vast causes and effects at play. Since I am involved, I cannot calculate it,” Luchen answered patiently.

Passing through the refugee quarter, Luchen, holding his monk’s certificate and clearly not resembling a refugee, entered the city without trouble. Yet conditions inside were grim as well. The price of grain had soared, and even many wealthy families could no longer cope, let alone ordinary folk. Now, a boy could be exchanged for two catties of rice, and a girl for only three. The cheapness of life was plain to see.

Yet everywhere people still sold their sons and daughters. To become a slave, though bitter, at least meant survival. For the sake of their children’s lives, how could parents not steel their hearts and sell their own flesh and blood?

“Master, they are so pitiful,” Yunhua said, eyes reddening as she watched boys and girls being sold on the street.

“Alas,” Luchen knew his own limitations and could only pretend not to see, leading Yunhua swiftly through the crowd.

The persistent drought in northern Shaanxi had not only worried the local people, but from the emperor to the ministers of the cabinet and down to the local seventh-rank magistrate, all were anxious. They feared a popular uprising, which could spread uncontrollably once ignited. Thus, every effort was made to provide relief, which was why there had not yet been large-scale unrest. But the number of refugees was immense, and the court could allocate only so much grain—barely a drop in the ocean. The magistrate of Shanyang was exhausted, his hair turned white.

“All that is needed is rain,” the magistrate thought. But heaven would not send rain, and there was nothing more to be done. Now, he was desperate, willing to try any method. For months, he ignored the teaching that “the wise do not speak of supernatural forces,” and posted notices seeking anyone who could pray for rain. Many responded—seeking the Dragon King, praying to the Rain Master, kneeling to the City God. Everything possible was attempted, yet still no rain came. The furious magistrate punished the frauds with whippings, and no one dared come forward to deceive him again.

That noon, the magistrate, just returned from meeting several grain merchants and exhausted, was informed by a servant that another Taoist had answered the call for rain prayers.

The magistrate was surprised; since he had beaten the previous frauds, no one had dared come for over a month. He hoped this one would not be another trickster, but hope was better than none.

He forced himself to rally, preparing to meet the rain-prayer candidate.

When Luchen entered, the magistrate grew uneasy. This man was far too young—how much skill could he possibly have? And he brought a young girl with him.

Despite his doubts, the magistrate received Luchen warmly, promising that if he could bring rain, he would be generously rewarded and would report to the court for imperial commendation.

Luchen smiled, unconcerned. But since his path forward depended on this, he had to be careful. To relieve the drought across all of northern Shaanxi was beyond his powers, even if his magic were ten times greater. But to bring rain to ten miles around was possible. If petitioning the heavenly court failed, he could at least summon his power to gather moisture from the surroundings and bestow sweet rain on this region.

“How soon can you prepare, and how much rain can you bring?” the magistrate asked urgently.

“My powers are limited, and I do not know the true cause of this drought. I cannot save all the people of Shaanxi. But within ten miles, I am confident of bringing rain. I have come to relieve the suffering of the people and earn immeasurable merit. I hope, while praying for rain, to discover the cause of this disaster, for only then can it truly be ended,” Luchen replied.

“Only ten miles?” The magistrate was disappointed, but since the Taoist had already said he would do his best, what else could be asked? Rain was better than none—it would at least solve the city’s drinking water crisis. Of the county’s fifty wells, more than forty were dry.

“Very well, I will prepare an altar for your rain prayers. Is there anything else you require? When can you begin?”

“Oh, tomorrow morning will do. But I hope to do it outside the city, not within, and I ask that the refugees outside take part, so that their lifelong wishes may move the heavens and communicate with the spirits to find an answer,” Luchen said.

That day, fearing Luchen might run away, the magistrate insisted he stay overnight at the county office so they could go together to pray for rain the next morning. Luchen smiled quietly to himself, finding no reason to refuse, and returned to his room to meditate and prepare for the ritual.