Chapter 3: First Encounter with Dou Jing

Chapter 3: First Meeting with Dou Jing

After officially receiving the imperial decree, Li Tai had Lu Anshou drive the ox-cart to the Ministry of Grain the very next morning to take up his post.

The Ministry of Grain had arranged a reception for Li Tai’s arrival.

As soon as Li Tai stepped down from the ox-cart, he saw a square-faced middle-aged man standing at the doorway, seemingly waiting for some time. Upon seeing Li Tai, the man hurried out to greet him.

With a smiling face, the man said, “I am Zhao Yuankai, Deputy Minister of Grain, honored to welcome the Prince of Yue.”

“Deputy Minister of Grain…” Hearing Zhao’s words, Li Tai prepared to disembark, and Zhao took a few steps forward, extending his hand to assist him.

Li Tai naturally did not refuse. After stepping down, Zhao bowed and expressed his thanks, “Thank you, Deputy Minister Zhao.”

“Not at all, not at all,” Zhao replied humbly. “Your office here has been arranged. I shall lead you there immediately.”

“My office?” Li Tai was taken aback, his expression turning serious. “Where is Minister Dou of the Grain Ministry now?”

Zhao hurriedly said, “Minister Dou is currently supervising the construction of the Locust God Temple outside the city, praying for the Locust God’s blessing to quell the locust plague.”

Li Tai was at a loss for words. He wasn’t sure whether to praise Dou Jing for his diligence or to criticize him for neglecting his official duties.

Dou Jing was neither the first nor the last to come up with building a Locust God Temple as a way to combat locusts.

From Li Tai’s perspective, Dou Jing’s actions seemed foolish and ignorant.

But this was an era governed by Dong Zhongshu’s theory of cosmic resonance—the belief that heaven and man are connected, which served as a constraint on the emperor.

All disasters were attributed to the emperor’s moral failings, which, while frustrating for many outstanding emperors who felt heaven was blind, at least served as a warning to tyrants.

From the perspective of society as a whole, this prevented the entire state from deteriorating due to the emperor’s personal flaws.

Moreover, in the early years of the Zhenguan era, disasters struck. It was not unreasonable to believe they resulted from Emperor Taizong’s fratricide and imprisonment of his father, a blemish on his virtue, thus bringing calamity.

However, since the locust plague was believed to be a punishment for the emperor’s moral failings, and even the emperor himself swallowed locusts to admit fault but still could not quell the disaster, the logical conclusion was that the heavenly deity had not heard the plea rather than refused it.

Therefore, building the Locust God Temple to communicate with the deity to resolve the crisis seemed necessary.

Though it appeared superstitious, it embodied the unique ancient logic—an approach born of necessity.

“Since Minister Dou is supervising the temple’s construction, Deputy Minister Zhao, could you send someone to guide me? I wish to meet Minister Dou first.”

Li Tai looked at Zhao and inquired.

“Well… I shall lead Your Highness myself!” Zhao readily volunteered after a moment’s thought.

Li Tai was surprised, casting a glance at Zhao. He couldn’t help but wonder if the Deputy Minister had nothing else to do.

He himself took the initiative to seek out Dou Jing because he was newly arrived and reporting for duty. His superior was on the front lines; he, the newcomer, was expected to wait in the office until the superior came to see him. Was that appropriate?

Even though he was the Prince of Yue, working at the Ministry of Grain meant he had to be wary of being undermined.

Hence, he definitely had to meet Dou Jing in person, if only to show his attitude.

After all, he was just an eight-year-old child; no one expected him to outdo the experienced Dou Jing in business dealings.

As long as his attitude was right, even if his ability was lacking, at least he could be praised for diligence.

But Zhao was the Deputy Minister, a high-ranking official, likely the second or third in command at the Ministry. Surely he could just send someone to guide Li Tai.

Was it necessary to be so flattering?

Li Tai was only eight years old and not a permanent official at the Ministry of Grain. Flattering him seemed pointless.

Putting aside his inner grumbling, Li Tai sensed the Ministry of Grain was a complicated place where speaking too much might cause trouble. It was better to observe quietly.

With Zhao Yuankai leading on horseback, Li Tai’s ox-cart reached the outskirts of Chang’an.

Though just beyond the city walls, it felt like entering a different world.

Inside the city, the scene was prosperous and peaceful, with bustling crowds embodying the capital’s harmony.

Outside the walls, through the ox-cart’s curtain, Li Tai saw common folk sitting casually near the city gate, occasionally glancing toward Chang’an.

Their faces were sallow and sickly, but what was more striking was the numbness and despair etched deep within them—feelings that repelled and alienated any onlooker.

“Master Lu,” Li Tai asked Lu Anshou, who rode a tall horse beside the cart, “Are these people outside the city gates suffering from the locust plague, wandering in despair?”

“They’re waiting for government relief,” Lu replied, glancing around. “The locust plague struck in March; now it’s already May. The new grain hasn’t been harvested, and stored food is nearly depleted. These are all suffering souls.

“Fortunately, the sage emperor is merciful. After the plague, he opened the granaries to provide relief, giving these people hope to survive.

“But they only get a bowl of thin porridge a day—enough to keep from starving but no more. Too much would cause problems.

“So these people linger outside the city gate, neither alive nor dead, trying to endure the locust plague before planning for the future.”

Hearing this, Li Tai understood why the people seemed so numb and hopeless.

The locust plague had completely shattered their male-farming, female-weaving economy, leaving lifelong farmers unable to cultivate the land, reducing life to a state of aimless despair.

Li Tai knew the locust problem had to be resolved before winter since late autumn was the sowing season for winter wheat.

If this year’s wheat harvest failed, the Tang Empire, already battered by a year of locust devastation, would face even graver hardships next year.

“Enough looking, let’s hurry!” Li Tai sighed, drawing the curtain closed. Out of sight, out of mind.

He felt powerless to save them now; the state was already pacing relief efforts as best as possible.

Inside the cart, Li Tai’s thoughts turned to Dou Jing at the Ministry of Grain.

Before arriving, he had reviewed Dou Jing’s profile—he had risen from leading troops in Taiyuan, managing agricultural affairs, to becoming Minister of Grain.

In some ways, if Xiao Yu was the architect of early Tang governance, Dou Jing was its executor.

He should theoretically have been the most likely candidate to succeed the Chancellor.

But in reality, Li Tai had never heard of Dou Jing in his previous life. Though occupying such an important post, Dou Jing was like a mere extra in history, leaving almost no reputation.

The same was true of the story of Emperor Taizong swallowing locusts.

Taizong took charge of the locust plague after consuming locusts himself, but that chapter was mysteriously erased from the records.

Neither failure nor success was recorded; only that “heaven responded,” and the plague suddenly vanished.

If it had truly succeeded, the later celebrated eradication of locusts by Yao Chong would have been extensively documented.

Therefore, this attempt at extermination must have failed.

Historical records often concealed the faults of revered figures, but since Emperor Taizong’s swallowing of locusts was recorded, the failure of disaster relief certainly wasn’t blamed on him.

If Taizong had been a tyrant, the plague’s blame would have fallen on him.

But he had unified the realm by force and brought thousands to court by culture. Unless one was spitefully critical, he was an impeccable ruler.

Hence, the fault lay not with the emperor, nor even with his ministers, but with the methods of disaster relief themselves.

Yet these methods were rooted in the ancient doctrine of cosmic resonance, the sole ancient restriction on imperial authority.

To overturn it would be to overturn a Confucian cornerstone, leaving imperial power unchecked.

Thus, Confucian scholars would never do so, and historians chose to treat the matter coldly.

Dou Jing tragically became a scapegoat to preserve the system, fading into obscurity in history.

Li Tai did not know that Dou Jing would soon be assigned to exile in Xia Prefecture, perhaps due to his failure against the locust plague.

Under Zhao Yuankai’s guidance, Li Tai’s ox-cart arrived at the Locust God Temple, personally overseen by Dou Jing.

Dou Jing was discussing labor planning with Ministry of Works staff and was somewhat surprised to see Li Tai’s arrival.

Originally, Dou Jing had been baffled by Emperor Taizong’s instructions. He truly doubted Li Tai could contribute anything to combating the locusts.

He simply understood that Taizong wanted to steer Li Tai toward civil affairs, preventing a repeat of the Xuanwu Gate Incident.

Therefore, Dou Jing arranged an office for Li Tai, filled mostly with books, treating the boy as a child or a mascot.

It was meant to give Li Tai a place to study, preventing this ignorant child from interfering with his official work.

So Dou Jing was somewhat astonished that Li Tai came seeking him directly, not even entering the office.

Li Tai immediately dismounted and bowed to Dou Jing. “Greetings, Minister Dou.”

After all, this was the Tang dynasty. The title of prince was for show; one must not take it too seriously.

With Li Shimin in power, even officials dared to speak harshly to him; what was a mere Prince of Yue?

If the realm were ruled by wild barbarians, treating ministers like servants might be acceptable—but here, it was not.

Li Tai sized up Dou Jing, a sharp-featured elder whose gaze bore down on him like a mountain’s weight.

“Minister Dou,” Dou Jing returned the bow. “Welcome to the Ministry of Grain. You may not be familiar with our rules. The Ministry handles grain storage, granary management, and the provision of rice to court officials.

“I have prepared the ministry’s historical financial records to help Your Highness understand our grain and monetary affairs.”

“Minister Dou, you misunderstand!” Li Tai shook his head. “I did not come to take office here but to aid in resolving the locust plague.

“If Minister Dou has any questions about the locusts, feel free to consult me.

“After all, aside from this child, I doubt anyone else has spent over half a year playing with locusts for no reason.

“Of course, if Minister Dou has a solution, then consider me just another pair of chopsticks at the table, another mouth to feed.”

Dou Jing was taken aback by Li Tai’s composed tone—not what one would expect from an eight-year-old.

Yet, as before, he did not believe Li Tai could help solve the plague.

“The Ministry of Grain is one of the nine ministries of the court; an extra pair of chopsticks is no problem.

“If Your Highness is interested, we will send someone to explain the ministry’s procedures.

“If Your Highness wishes to devote himself to agriculture, start by examining the granary records here.”

Listening to Dou Jing, Li Tai realized he still did not believe the boy could assist with the locust problem and simply wanted to sideline him, letting the ministry run smoothly without interference—that is, to let him play elsewhere.

“Minister Dou, in that case, I wish you success in resolving the locust plague.

“But could you assign some personnel and set aside a dozen or so acres of fallow land damaged by locusts for me to experiment with my ideas? At least it won’t interfere with your work.”

Dou Jing frowned, thinking for a moment, then said, “I will arrange personnel for you upon my return.”

“Thank you, Minister Dou.” Li Tai breathed a little easier, surprised at Dou Jing’s willingness.

“Minister Dou, I am familiar with the ministry’s rules and happen to be free recently. Allow me to assist Your Highness,” Zhao Yuankai suddenly said, breaking his silence.

Dou Jing looked at Zhao seriously and admonished, “The Duke of Huai’an authored the ‘Kaihuang Code,’ the foundation of our Tang laws. I hope you cherish it.”

Without waiting for Zhao’s reply, Dou Jing turned to Li Tai. “Deputy Minister Zhao is knowledgeable in administration and efficient in affairs, having served here long. If you need any materials or personnel coordinated, he can assist Your Highness properly.”

Zhao’s face flushed with embarrassment at Dou Jing’s words, which made Li Tai inwardly marvel at how complex the Ministry of Grain really was.

Li Tai bowed slightly to Dou Jing. “Thank you for your care, Minister Dou. May I say a few more words?”

“Please, Your Highness,” Dou Jing replied politely.

“I know Minister Dou has means to fight the locust plague, so I won’t ask further.

“But I hope you understand—it is already May, and I am certain the locusts will return this month. Please prepare accordingly!”

Li Tai stated firmly.

“Your Highness, how do you know this? Do you have clairvoyance?” Dou Jing asked in surprise.

“Minister Dou, if you trust me, I will do all I can with what I know.

“If not, there is no point in further discussion; better each do their duty and leave the rest to heaven.”

Li Tai said frankly, then took his leave.

“Your Highness, please!” Dou Jing was puzzled by Li Tai’s confidence.

But whatever the case, Li Tai had not interfered with the ministry’s operations or Dou Jing’s temple plans, and that was enough.

“Will the locust plague really return in May?”

Dou Jing did not know.

(End of chapter)