[Natural Disaster Escape + Little Girl Stockpiles Supplies + Weather Control + Beating Up Scoundrels + Satisfying Nation-Building]
When Jiang Qiqi was five, her stepmother, Madam Zhao, pointed at her and said to Jiang Dazhu:
"Dazhu, Old Master Liu needs a medicinal bed warmer. Send Qiqi over and we can get half a sack of sorghum!"
Jiang Dazhu, her own father, squatted by the threshold and silently smoked his dry tobacco. After a long while, he finally said, "Send her. We have to make sure the boy in your belly survives first."
Jiang Qiqi neither cried nor made a fuss. Instead, she reached for the weather box that had just awakened in her mind.
Scorching sun, torrential rain, gales, hail, thick fog, and snow! Six kinds of weather, ready to summon and dismiss at will!
In the middle of the night, she ransacked the entire Jiang family's food stores, iron pots, and household registration papers. She also left a helping of snow in her stepmother's room, freezing the whole rotten family until they wailed in agony. Then she used a patch of fog to slip into the forests of West Mountain.
A terrible drought swept the land, leaving thousands of miles scorched and bare. The imperial court issued an order for people to beg for food.
On the road to escape the famine, thousands of people were so thirsty their throats smoked. Jiang Qiqi hid in a cave, made a little rain, and filled more than ten large water jars. She even cooked a delicious pot of wild vegetable and fish soup.
When bandits blocked the road to rob them, she waved her little hand, and hailstones the size of bowls smashed into the bandit chief's forehead. The bandits fell to their knees, begging her to spare them.
Her father and stepmother's family were so hungry they were chewing tree bark. They cried and begged her to give them a sip of water.
Jiang Qiqi sat in a carriage belonging to the Zhou family's merchant caravan, swinging her little feet.
"Who are you, mister? I popped out of a crack in a rock. I don't have a father!"
When they reached the south and settled down to reclaim the land, the local powerful clans monopolized the water supply, waiting to laugh at the refugees.
Jiang Qiqi flipped through her weather box. First, two slots of torrential rain to soak a hundred mu of wasteland today. Then, three slots of scorching sun tomorrow to ripen the new crops!
But when will that gray, cloudy slot at the very bottom finally strike someone with lightning?
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