Lin Wanwan kept trying to convince herself, but images of Bai Juyi's bewilderment in the face of locusts and his poem "Hunting Locusts" kept appearing in her mind:
Hunting locusts, hunting locusts, whose children are they? The days are hot and long, hungry to death.
After the Xingyuan soldiers, the harm to yin and yang, harmonious energy transforming into locusts.
From the Two Rivers to the Three Capitals, feeding like silkworms, flying like rain.
Rain flying silkworms eating thousands of miles, no green seedlings, only barren soil.
Henan officials worry about farmers, tasking people to hunt locusts day and night.
At the time, three hundred copper coins for a measure of millet, locust price equal to millet.
Hunting locusts, hunting locusts, what profit is there? Only to make the hungry toil and spend more.
One locust may die, but a hundred more come, how can human effort resolve heavenly disasters?
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