007 Food Crisis

A new day had begun. Industrious mousefolk rose early, grasping their farming tools as they set out to tend the fields. After a quick wash with clear water, Yang Jie, feeling refreshed, stepped out of his burrow to begin the day’s first routine—inspecting his tribe’s territory.

While Yang Jie was checking on the progress of the defensive works, Wendy hurried toward him, clearly anxious.

“Chief, I’ve found a very serious problem!”

“Our food reserves are about to run out. We must figure out a solution.”

Wendy was direct, skipping any pleasantries. Yang Jie understood; this mouse maiden was the tribe’s workaholic, always bustling about with every task, great or small, relieving him of much stress.

“Food reserves? If I remember correctly, the report from two days ago said we still had thirty thousand units of grain. Why is there already a shortage?”

As chief, Yang Jie was naturally well-informed about every aspect of the tribe.

“It’s true, the last count showed over thirty thousand units of food in storage, but the reserves are dropping sharply. At this rate, they’ll be gone in half a month.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you noticed the increase in mouse pups in the tribe lately?”

Yang Jie was startled. He realized he’d focused so much on military reforms recently that he’d neglected domestic affairs.

“Our population has now surpassed seven hundred. In the past two months, one hundred ninety-eight pups have been born, and the number keeps rising rapidly.”

“This is indeed a grave problem,” Yang Jie said, frowning in thought.

“The reality is even more severe than you imagine,” Wendy said, her tone grim and measured.

“How so?”

“According to my recent survey, in less than two months, our tribe’s population will surpass two thousand. Seventy percent of that will be newborns less than three months old!”

“That’s astonishing!”

“When our numbers cross two thousand, the first population boom will end. The tribe will then enter a brief period of slow growth—about four months. After that, the first wave of pups will mature and fuel the second population surge.”

“So, if we do nothing, our population will exceed two thousand in less than a month?”

“Yes. And our current food reserves will only last half a month. The rice harvest is still two months away, and these newborns can’t work. Chief, do you now understand the urgency?”

Yang Jie now grasped the full severity. The reserves might last half a month, but he knew that once shortages began, panic would set in, bringing a chain reaction of troubles.

If the food issue wasn’t solved and reserves were depleted, the consequences would be unthinkable.

“I understand.”

“Wendy, notify everyone at once—call Tucci, Old Sha, Shuke, Old Gil, the Billy brothers, and Victor to my burrow for an immediate meeting.”

Having said this, Yang Jie hurried back to his burrow, his mind racing with thoughts on solving the food crisis.

...

Soon, the tribe’s core leadership team assembled.

A brief introduction of roles: Yang Jie was the chieftain, highly respected—the equivalent of a county’s top official, the true leader. On his left sat Wendy, his chief steward, county magistrate, secretary general, office director, and head of organization—all in one, making her the undisputed second-in-command.

To his right was Old Sha, responsible for infrastructure—akin to the director of waterworks, housing, and major projects, leading a team of eighty-five builders and thirty-five stonecutters.

Shuke oversaw military affairs, leading eleven militia mice.

Old Gil, though elderly and unfit for hard labor, was loyal and capable. He managed the tribe’s statistics and forestry, now assisted by several subordinates.

New to management were the Billy brothers, hunters in charge of forty-five trappers who tirelessly hunted and foraged to feed the tribe, and Victor, who managed the lumberyard, food gathering, and distribution. Victor was entrusted with these crucial duties due to his passive talent, “Holy Enforcer,” which ensured absolute fairness, relieving Yang Jie of many worries.

Tucci, meanwhile, took little part in governance, serving as the tribe’s face and spiritual icon—the mascot, in short.

Once everyone was present, Yang Jie knocked on the table, quieting the lively gathering.

“Now that we’re all here, let’s begin. Wendy, please explain the details.”

Wendy stood, her voice steady as she laid out the impending food crisis.

The leaders, the backbone of the tribe, listened attentively, exchanging glances but not interrupting. Gradually, the gravity of the situation settled over them, casting a pall on the meeting.

...

“I’ve finished. The food crisis is urgent and must be taken seriously,” Wendy concluded, then sat down.

“How much food are we short?”

“To weather this population boom safely, we’ll need at least five hundred thousand units of food.”

Five hundred thousand!

A collective gasp swept through the small chamber. The number was astronomical—catching every wild hare on the Northern Plains wouldn’t suffice.

“If any of you have ideas, speak up. Let’s discuss and find a solution together,” Yang Jie urged, steering the meeting forward.

The mousefolk glanced at one another, still dazed by the staggering figure, uncertain and anxious.

Seeing no one volunteer, Yang Jie began calling on them.

“Old Sha, as our man of action, I’d like to hear your thoughts.”

As he called on Old Sha, Yang Jie also gave him a bit of praise.

“Well, Chief, you know our situation. My builders are working round the clock on the defenses—honestly, we’re working the females as males and the males as beasts of burden. I don’t know much about administration—I just carry out your orders as best I can.”

Old Sha finished with a helpless shrug.

Yang Jie took note. Old Sha, for all his honest appearance, was quite the wily one. When asked for solutions, he dodged the question, first praising his own efforts, professing loyalty, and subtly shifting all responsibility away—leaving the others unable to object.