You Miao went right back to napping after breakfast. Li Zhifeng retrieved a painted wooden box from under the seat. He nipped a pinch of tea leaves from it, roasted the leaves over the fire, then added water. After bringing the tea to boil three times, the whole carriage coach was filled with the aroma of the brew as he held the cup for You Miao to drink from and wake up a bit. After digging out a book from the luggage, You Miao leaned lazily against Li Zhifeng and flipped it open. Li Zhifeng's slave deed fell out.
"..." Li Zhifeng didn't comment.
Flashing a grin, You Miao shoved the book in his face.
It was a record of customs from beyond the wall, written by a great scholar of the previous Liang Dynasty named Wang Zhi. It was the third volume in the "Chronicles of Quanrong" series of historical records.
You Miao had borrowed the book from Li Yan's place days ago to take home and read. He folded the slave deed and stuck it between the final pages of the book, then opened it up to the first page.
He mumbled aloud, "There is a tribe beyond the wall that worships beasts as gods. Wolf-like yet not, hound-like yet not; the reading of their tribe's name is very much like the 'Hound Tribe.' The men dress in wolf pelts and iron battle-skirts, and are strong and brave, hardy and enduring. The Hans at the border call them 'Quanrong'—The Armed Hounds." You Miao appraised Li Zhifeng's body as he flipped the page, trying to imagine what he'd look like in a pelt coat and iron battle-skirt, only to find Li Zhifeng had his attention fixed on the book.
"Have you never seen historical records about your tribe before?" You Miao asked.
Li Zhifeng shook his head slowly. The slave tattoo on the side of his neck was all the more noticeable under the sunlight.
You Miao nestled into his arms and held the book up for both of them. The book wrote that the Quanrong tribe recognized strength above all, and so its people often fought and slaughtered one another. The men were well-built, and each and every one was a born marksman. They viewed the Han people as animals like pigs or dogs or wild beasts; before the northwestern border with the Barbarian tribes became civilized, the Quanrong would often invade the Great Wall to pillage food whenever there was a shortage. Even cannibalism wasn't unheard of.
"That's wrong," said Li Zhifeng, suddenly.
"What?" You Miao eyed him questioningly. "Which part?"
"We don't eat people," Li Zhifeng said.
"Of course not. Wang Zhi's book is full of bullshit," You Miao said.
There was a small tug at the corner of Li Zhifeng's lips. You Miao knew it for the smile it was, and began to cheerfully tell him about how Wang Zhi, despite being a famed scholar, had countless errors in the books he wrote and compiled. During his lectures at the Imperial College, You Miao always spotted a bunch of blunders without even trying. He ranted and raved for a good while, with Li Zhifeng nodding along the whole time, before he finally went back to flipping through the book. He stopped in shock at the section about social customs toward the end.
According to Wang Zhi, the Quanrong were distinctive in that—there were no women in the tribe!
There were no women or the elderly in the Quanrong tribe, only children and young men who moved together like a pack of wolves. The task of giving birth lay with women of other ethnic groups—sometimes from the Qiang, sometimes from the Jie, and sometimes, even the Han. Adult men of the tribe habitually traveled alone, and on full moon nights, they would wander along the Great Wall, roaming the area between the grasslands and the domains of other tribes to court women who'd catch their eye.
Lovemaking came after courtship, after which the men would promptly leave.
Seven years later, the father would return to the woman's tribe. If his wife had borne him a son, then the man would take the seven-year-old child with him, give him a horse, and they would gallivant across the grasslands together. If it was a daughter, the man would give her a sum of money as her future dowry.
The mother would then be killed by the man's hands.
Li Zhifeng let out a rare smile. "That's wrong too."
It was indeed ridiculous. You Miao said, "Of course it is. Who would kill their own wife?" Then he looked at Li Zhifeng and asked, "Did he make up the whole thing?"
Li Zhifeng shook his head slowly. "Only part of it. The husband doesn't kill his wife. After the full moon courtship and the union, he will give his wife a wolf fang as a token. When he returns in seven years, he will take his son back to the tribe. He will devote himself to raising and teaching the son how to hunt and live on the grasslands. If it's a daughter, he'll give her ten goats, five wolves, and ten rolls of pelts as dowry. And in the future, if the daughter is mistreated in marriage, she can ask the Quanrong tribe for help with the wolf fang as proof. Or if her husband can't provide for the family, she can ask for necessities from the Quanrong. So, among the forty-two tribes beyond the border, having a Quanrong father has always been a point of pride."
"And then?" You Miao asked. "What about the wife?"
Li Zhifeng replied, "When the son gets old enough to take care of himself, the father will retire to his wife's tribe, bringing with him his prizes from battles won, and spend the rest of his days with her."
You Miao nodded along; that sounded more truthful.
"But not many follow those customs anymore, these days," Li Zhifeng continued. "Some bring their wives back to the tribe now."
"Do you have a wife?" You Miao asked, curious.
Li Zhifeng shook his head. "Over there, we call courtship 'Lone Wolf's First Venture,' you have to be seventeen to do it. I wasn't of age yet when I was captured and brought to the Central Plains."
You Miao understood. It was probably something like the Han's crowning ceremony—a coming-of-age for the Quanrong. Lone Wolf's First Venture was a fitting name, he mused. The thought of a young Quanrong man, seventeen years of age, at the prime of his youth, galloping along the Great Wall on his warhorse. A thousand miles of grasslands bathed in moonlight, stretching into the distance like the sea…it evoked a sense of yearning beyond words.
"How do courtships go?" You Miao asked.
"Some serenade, some play the Qiang flute," Li Zhifeng answered.
It was an indescribably romantic and carefree picture: under the vast moonlit night, a young man of Quanrong circling outside a girl's village playing the Qiang flute.
"Do the Quanrong only have one son, then?" You Miao asked. When Li Zhifeng shook his head, You Miao tried, "Two or three?"
Li Zhifeng thought for a moment, then replied, "It depends."
You Miao gave an "mn," and asked, "How many brothers do you have? Did you guys go hunting with your father when you were young?"
Li Zhifeng said nothing. You Miao usually wouldn't pry, but thinking about how he was going to let him go soon anyway, he figured he might as well.
"Where's your wolf fang?" he asked further.
Li Zhifeng didn't answer. When You Miao picked him up back then, he didn't even have clothes on, much less any wolf fangs. The only valuable thing in his possession right now was the jade pendant around his neck, and even that actually belonged to You Miao—a keepsake from his mother, one that he had lent him as a protection charm to save his life.
Lying in Li Zhifeng's arms, You Miao reached out and picked up the pendant between his fingers, playing with it wordlessly. A strange feeling sprouted in him toward Li Zhifeng in that moment—he thought he really was quite pitiful, and suddenly, he didn't want to let him go anymore.
But the lone wolf must return to his pack beyond the wall in the end. You Miao felt that someone like him really ought not to be a slave. When Li Zhifeng was fifteen, how exactly had he been captured and brought here? How had his claws been sanded down and fangs pulled out, whipped and beaten into submission until he stopped struggling and resigned himself to being a lowly sex slave?
You Miao was mischievous by nature and had certainly pulled his share of pranks, but he'd never do anything to humiliate another human being. Before she had died, his mother had once told him that everyone had their own fate. Sometimes life dealt you a bad hand and that was just fate; there was no point in blaming yourself. What was important was to remember to not be overly conceited when things go well, to not give in to despair when things were hard, and when seeing someone down on their luck, to give a helping hand if you were able; good deeds done in this life would be repaid in the next.
Although the Quanrong had been clashing with the Han for years and years, in the end, both sides were merely serving their respective rulers and the blood feud only grew ever deeper with no end in sight. You Miao kept flipping through the book. Wang Zhi went on to proclaim that the Barbarian tribes must be conquered by means of virtue; the correct thing to do was to assimilate via education. As the saying went, "northern Barbarians have no luck beyond a hundred years." Of the tribes that entered the Central Plains from beyond the border, those who refused to assimilate were annihilated, and those who were willing to become part of the Han lost themselves regardless.
You Miao spent the next three days in the carriage reading this book. The convoy set off before daybreak every day, and didn't stop until the moon hung high overhead; sometimes at a rest stop, other times camping out in the wilderness. These traveling traders led a hard life—some hauled their own goods to do business, others were hired by rich merchants to transport merchandise. There were people from all walks of life, and all of them were from the lower classes. Whenever they reached a rest stop, You Miao stayed at an inn with Li Zhifeng waiting on him while the traders found somewhere warm at the post station to huddle up, spending the night drinking and warming themselves by the campfire.
It got colder the farther north they went. On the day they were crossing Mount Yangkou of the Qinling mountain range, snow fell heavily from the sky above, coming in waves amidst the howling of wind from every direction like a raging ghost. It was the biggest snowstorm of the season so far. Covered in a thick mantle of white as they were, the rise and fall of the mountain peaks called to mind a line of poetry—Qinling shrouded in clouds, where is home? Lan Pass embraced by snow, hooves stand still.[1]
"Hey-ho, ah, it's so freaking cold—!"
"Ah, Heavens don't snow us in—!"
"Hey-ho, ah, hope we can go home soon—!"
All the cart drivers bundled themselves up tightly until only their eyes were exposed. They hollered hoarsely as they urged the horses on. Even inside the carriage, You Miao could feel the bitter cold seeping in between the cracks in the windows and door.
It took them several days to cross Mount Yangkou. Once past, the sky abruptly cleared up; it was so bright and blue that it was as though the snowstorm never even happened. And before them, at the foot of the winding Great Wall, lay a bustling, flourishing border city—Yanbian.
Yanbian was the largest trading post at the border, established nearly four hundred years ago. All forty-two tribes from beyond the Wall came here to trade, and throughout the years, no matter how bad the war got, the Barbarian tribes always purposely left this city alone when invading the Central Plains.
Even those being hunted down, be they Han or Barbarian, could take refuge inside Yanbian. Their pursuers would have no choice but to give up the chase, however large their force—busting into the marketplace to hunt down and kill people was absolutely out of the question.
This was the result of a thousand-year armistice made between the ruler of the Huns and the emperor of the Divine Dynasty four hundred years ago: no matter the state of relations between the two countries, Yanbian would always be a neutral ground on which no battles would be waged.
One by one, the cart drivers outside started cheering. You Miao had slept through the entire night, and he blinked open his bleary eyes and peered outside. They were halfway up the mountain still, and the wind was no less biting. But on the plains below them, nestled within the embrace of the Great Wall that continued eastward like a great big dragon, lay Yanbian. The city stretched into the distance as far as the eye could see; throngs of people came and went within its walls, the sounds of commerce carrying far enough to be heard even at this distance.
There was a huge lake outside the city, which was iced over and shimmered under the sun like a gemstone. Herds of cattle and sheep meandered toward the city on the snowy plains.
So this is Yanbian, You Miao thought to himself. It didn't quite have the bustle of the capital, but it certainly had its own beyond-the-border charm. The convoy left the Mount Yangkou area and headed downward along the plains.
You Miao glanced at Li Zhifeng. Li Zhifeng had his elbow propped against the edge of the window and was staring absentmindedly into the distance.
"Have you ever come to Yanbian before?" You Miao asked.
Li Zhifeng gave a small nod and turned to You Miao, looking like he had something to say. You Miao wondered if they would run into anyone from Li Zhifeng's tribe at Yanbian. If Li Zhifeng wanted to run, this was both the best place and the best chance.
"I'll show you the good places," Li Zhifeng said.
You Miao could tell Li Zhifeng was in a pretty good mood, so he asked with a grin, "Came here often before?"
The caravan was approaching the city gate now. Turning slightly to listen to the distant chatter of the Barbarian tribespeople, Li Zhifeng answered, "Not exactly."
You Miao nodded in response. The caravan would be at Yanbian for three days. He had already decided that when they headed off in three days' time, he would tell Li Zhifeng to leave and go home. They would each return to their own respective homes, and he wouldn't need to be a slave anymore.
Their first day at Yanbian was a flurry of activity: clearing customs and handling other such procedures and paperwork, booking rooms for all forty-some people, unloading the cargo and bringing the goods to the market. You Miao was just glad to finally get a breather after being on the road for so long.
It was hard being away from home. Growing up, You Miao rarely ever traveled—his only outing of any significant distance had been when he journeyed to the capital from Liu Prefecture. That had practically been a sightseeing pleasure trip, though; it was a far cry from the sorry state he was in now after a couple thousand miles of getting rattled around in a cart. You Miao couldn't help but whine, even though Li Zhifeng had taken care of him the whole way.
Their group ended up staying at the city's biggest inn. While the traders headed off to hawk their wares, You Miao brought Li Zhifeng with him to stroll around the market. The commodities at the border were mostly things like animal pelts and meat, rare herbs and other medicinal ingredients such as deer antler, penis, tail, and so on.[2] There were home-guarding wolf heads on sale, tiger pelt rugs, luxurious fox furs, grape wine from the far west, ambergris, thousand-year-old ginseng, exquisitely rare gems from the deepest mines, highly refined steel sheets… Any single one of these could easily sell for a fortune at the capital, or else become a precious item in the Imperial Emporium. But here at the bazaar in Yanbian, these items were piled up carelessly in the streets like litter.
On the contrary, it was the goods brought by the merchants from the Central Plains that were selling like hotcakes—candles, silk, slat, southern medicines, tea leaves, and even the second-rate pearls, corals, and scallop shells imported from East China Sea. There was a huge rush as soon as they appeared. Even something as ordinary as New Year's art from the Central Plains could fetch sky-high prices here. You Miao kicked himself for the missed opportunity; if he had known sooner, he would've brought some stuff from the capital to sell too. Hao Sanqian really knew how to do business: he took low-grade tea leaves that people in the capital wouldn't even touch—not even casually while at the theater, the stuff that was worth no more than five coins for half a pound—and he'd trade it for decent quality fox fur here at the bazaar!
You Miao had seen that kind of fox fur sold to the wastrel sons of nobles more than once. Every time the Imperial Emporium got new merchandise in, Li Yan would bring them over to check out the goods. Something like this would cost at least five silver apiece, no matter how much they'd try to bargain for a "friend price" with the owner.
Five coins for five silver… You Miao was stunned speechless by the outrageous profits a cunning merchant could bring in. He couldn't help lamenting the missed opportunity again—if only he'd known sooner! He could've just thrown whatever into a cart and easily flipped it for several thousand silver here. Alas, even a thousand gold couldn't buy the knowledge of hindsight.
The bazaar was crammed full of people who rushed over with large piles of furs and big bundles of ginseng in tow, fighting each other to shove their goods toward the Midland merchants. There were those who noticed You Miao's status and tried to discreetly pass him their goods.
"Hang on, hang on! Hey, hang on! Don't just grab that! I'm not here to sell stuff!" You Miao shouted.
"Careful not to push the young master!" yelled Hao Sanqian. "Slow down! Wait your turn!"
Not everyone at Yanbian spoke the same tongue, so they could only gesture with their hands and speak the language of their respective tribes while they pointed at their own goods and then at the Midlands' goods. Some of them looked like they were about to start fighting over who got the stuff. Li Zhifeng stood next to You Miao to keep him safe. Upon seeing Li Zhifeng, who by all appearances was also from beyond the wall, any Barbarians thinking to squeeze their way through to You Miao backed off and dared not touch him.
"Take hers," You Miao said to Hao Sanqian as he accepted a small box.
"Alrighty," Han Sanqian responded with a smile. These traveling traders worked for the rich capital merchants, but they also had to listen to You Deyou—he was the one to decide who was even allowed into the caravan. And so, no one dared to offend You Miao.
You Miao flipped through a pile of furs, looking them over.
"Shaoye, your family's business is the real deal," teased one of the traders. "I'm surprised you'd even care for things like these."
You Miao replied with a smile while picking out two fox furs, "I'm just gonna bring back a few to gift to friends."
"The young master's family business is no joke, though."
"Seriously. Their Sunshower Maojian tea…"
The group of merchants spared no effort in flattering You Miao even while they busily sold their stock.
"A tael of tea leaves worth a tael of gold, huh."
You Miao hastily gave a humble smile in response. "Oh, it's not quite that grand. It's simply thanks to support from friends."
But the business ran by You Miao's family was, in fact, quite grand. His father, You Dechuan, was a tea merchant. The family owned thousands of acres of tea plantations; about half of all the tea fields and mountains in the southeast region of Liu belonged to them, and they sold directly to the imperial government. That "Sunshower Maojian" tea of theirs had quite the market—it was harvested at the beginning of spring and delivered to the capital, the Sichuan region, and other such places.
All the merchants knew the saying: a tael of tea leaves from the House of You was worth a tael in gold. Every year when the spring teas came to market, three thousand pounds' worth of tea leaves were given to the imperial family in tribute, and the rest sold out basically as soon as they hit the market. The demand overshot supply by far and the price hiked higher and higher. Even nobles and high officials had to pull strings if they hoped to buy any.
Hao Sanqian had his hands more than full, so You Miao helped out from the side. He pulled out a wooden box and couldn't help laughing when he opened it to find nothing but poor-quality fried tea—in the capital, already-steeped tea leaves were mixed and crushed with bits of blades of grass and then fried. The mixture was sold as fried tea to poor folks like manual laborers and cart drivers. This kind of junk tea could often be seen drying on the roofs of dingy alleys.
You Miao passed the wooden box over, and two of the merchants weighed the tea while a crowd of Barbarians gathered around to squint at the pointer on the scale, arguing for quite a while over the exact weight of it. A whole round of bargaining later, a thick stack of leather was traded for only five pounds of tea leaves, ten pairs of crudely embroidered shoes, and ten feet of blue fabric with auspicious cloud patterns embroidered in gold thread. You Miao ran some rough numbers in his mind—those things weren't even worth a string of coins, but the goods for which they were exchanged were worth at least forty, if not fifty, silver.
And after all that, the merchants even took the box back, which the Barbarians wanted as well. Although he was aware that one had to be cunning to be a merchant, You Miao really couldn't stand to watch this anymore.
"Ah, forget it," he said. "Just let them have the box. What's even the point in bringing it back anyway?"
The wooden box was lacquered in red and black, and was painted with the forms of beautiful women. The Barbarians might have thought it was some precious thing, but You Miao knew it was crudely made; not even an antique. It was something that wasn't even good enough for the average government official to use. But he noticed that the merchants were all trying to stifle their laughter, and only then did he realize that they were holding out—the box was also for sale. They weren't saying anything, and were waiting for the Barbarians to offer something in trade.
"Alrighty—you heard the young master," Hao Sanqian said with a chuckle. After another round of haggling, the box was traded for three pounds of tiger bone.
You Miao couldn't help but marvel. When the market dispersed for the day, everyone packed up and left, hauling bags big and small, to return early in the morning the next day and set up shop once again. Everything had already been traded off after only about a day's worth of time. As dusk settled over the market, they lit fires and gathered around the stoves to spend the night. The bazaar would run like this all the way until the Han celebrated New Year's, until the Five Barbarian Tribes observed Winter Solstice, and until the rest like the Jiemo and the Selang of the Western Territories had held their Food Festival.
Hao Sanqian came over to talk. "Shaoye," he said, "the Barbarians from further north are saying there's another blizzard coming."
You Miao didn't quite get it, and asked dumbly, "Should we stay a couple extra days, then? Can this place hold against a blizzard?"
Hao Sanqian replied, looking troubled, "That's what I'm afraid of, that it won't hold…"
You Miao finally came around. "Oh, I get it, I get it. Let's hurry on the road and head south then. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can all go home."
Hao Sanqian went off with a smile to get the carts loaded. In the end, they only got to spend one day at Yanbian before preparing to head southward. It wouldn't be the same road they took coming here; instead, they would follow the Yellow River south and then east into the borders of Cang and Liu Prefectures.
The setting sun was red as blood where it hung at the horizon. A flock of crows perched atop the city walls as the porters called lots to decide who was carrying the cargo and who was loading the carts. Sitting outside the inn, You Miao took a sip of steaming butter milk tea while taking inventory of his own haul.
Traversing the Central Plains to trade at the frontier was truly a lucrative business. You Miao felt itchy just watching everyone else barter their goods, so he ended up taking out some things he'd brought along for the trip to trade as well. In exchange, he got a high-quality snow tiger pelt, a packet of tiger heart and gallbladder, two bear paws, and four pieces of bear pelt to bring home to his father. It'd make it easier to ask for more money this way.
You Miao made up his mind. In the future, if he ran out of spending money again, he would just come along with the caravan. He could definitely make his expenses back this way. He'd only do it twice a year, though—after all, permits were required to set up shop and do business, and it wasn't simple to get one. Not just anyone could join the caravan to the border.
Li Zhifeng took the stuff You Miao handed over and brought them to the carriage, his shadow stretching out long in the setting sun of the borderlands. The horizon was a mass of fiery red clouds, and in the skies to the north, a faint dark haze foretold the coming of yet another blizzard.
"Li Zhifeng," You Miao called. "Come have some tea and warm yourself up."
Li Zhifeng said nothing as he finished packing the things away and came to stand behind You Miao with his head bowed.
"Sit down and drink your tea," You Miao said with a smile. "This young master has something to say."
Li Zhifeng looked at You Miao for a long while before saying, "What is it?"
"Sit down first," You Miao insisted.
"I'm your slave," Li Zhifeng said. "I can't sit. And I serve you willingly."
"You're not my slave anymore," You Miao said.
Li Zhifeng started slightly, then his sword-straight brows drew together a bit. Very seriously, You Miao took a small packet from his breast pocket and placed it on the table.
"Here. It's for you." You Miao grinned. "It's fate that we got to meet, I think. This is your slave deed. You're free from now on. There are also some broken silvers in there for travel expenses. Go on home so your tribe won't have to worry about you anymore. This shall be where we part."
Li Zhifeng froze. The wind rustled the banner signage above the inn and blew open the folded slave deed, revealing the broken silvers wrapped inside.
"Why?" Li Zhifeng didn't seem to understand.
"No reason, really," You Miao replied. "As the saying goes, one day together as husband and wife is…uh, worth a hundred in devotion. Anyway, all the same; go live your own life. This young master doesn't have much else he can give you."
The rims of Li Zhifeng's eyes were red as he stared wordlessly at him. You Miao, knowing that he was just overwhelmed by gratitude, felt a little bashful about all this and ended up babbling.
"To be honest, I don't really want you to just leave like this, either. But you're from beyond the Wall, there's no sense in you being a slave. My mom once said that everyone has their own fate—some are fortuitous, others not so much, and that even if you're unlucky, you can't really blame the heavens… I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. Anyway, go on and live a good life from here on out. Just take this as a gesture of our friendship."
You Miao wasn't even sure what he was rambling about. In the distance, Hao Sanqian was calling him.
"Shaoye—! It's time to go—!"
You Miao stood there in the sunset before a silent Li Zhifeng. He was a whole head shorter than him. He raised a hand to stroke Li Zhifeng's cheek, then clapped him on the shoulder, a little reluctant to let him go. But there was nothing to be done about it; it wasn't like he could take him home, since his father would definitely force him to leave once he found out.
Li Zhifeng might have cost him two hundred silver, but there was some fondness there after he'd personally saved his life. And besides, they'd spent so much time together these past number of days—even slept together once. You Miao was starting to understand why his father doted on his concubine so much.
Letting Li Zhifeng go was a good thing; he would just think of it as an act of kindness.
"Well then, I'm off," You Miao said. "Make sure you don't pick any more fights with the Han, okay? Remember that I'm the one who saved your life, so don't fight with the Han anymore! I'm leaving now! Mountains never age, rivers never dry; by luck, we shall meet again."
You Miao climbed into the carriage with a smile. Clutching his slave deed in one hand, Li Zhifeng stood there in a daze, rooted in place like a log as he watched the convoy leave, never saying a word the entire time. You Miao opened the window of the coach to look back, huffing into his cupped hands to warm them. The carriage left Yanbian, and Li Zhifeng's figure became smaller and smaller until it was only a small dot in the distance.
You Miao sat alone in the carriage as the caravan set off once again. The sky outside had darkened, and Hao Sanqian, huffing into his hands and rubbing them for warmth, came inside to attend to him. When he asked after Li Zhifeng, You Miao simply said that he had to dismiss him because there was no way to bring him home.
"Shaoye, you're a true saint," Hao Sanqian commented with a chuckle.
"Just gathering some good karma, I guess," You Miao said. "And he looked so pitiful."
"Life's a fickle thing, who knows when it'll toss out a disaster or two," Hao Sanqian added. "Shaoye, you live in the capital, and you're from an affluent family in Jiangdong to boot—unlike us traveling merchants, always handing our lives over to the heavens and praying to make it. Don't mind me saying so, but that really is how it goes. Shaoye is a good person, so he'll definitely be paid back for his good deeds, by the grace of the gods above, ever watchful…"
You Miao replied with a smile, "Mhm, that's how it goes."
Hao Sanqian kept up the flattery while rekindling the fire in the stove and making him tea. Outside, the wind whistled past and someone was hollering, so Hao Sanqian went back out to lead the way.
The wind picked up and snow started falling again, growing in intensity by the minute. The porters walked with their backs facing the wind, sometimes in a southward direction, sometimes following the official highway northward. This was the most difficult part of the route, with nothing but empty, endless wilderness in all directions. Moreover, the snowstorm was making things even more difficult, howling toward them like a massive giant taking ten miles per stride.
But You Miao knew that they just had to make it past the borders of Huang Prefecture and reach Liang Prefecture—then the sky would clear and the rest of the journey would be smooth sailing.
The caravan's route took these merchants to the frontier to barter goods from the capital in exchange for goods from the Barbarian tribes, before heading southward to resell those goods in the Liang, Liu, and Yang Prefectures. They rake in silver and money bills before finally reporting back to the capital.
At the capital, the Ministry of Revenue was ruthless in regards to tax deductions. The Ministry of Revenue issued trading permits—without which one could not do business anywhere—and they taxed fifty percent of the profit. You Deyou and the other bureaucrats, who handled merchant rosters and cargo registers, would take another forty percent on top of that, leaving only ten percent remaining to be split among the traveling merchants. But even so, tons of people still sent gifts and money to You Deyou's residence every year, desperate to secure their spot on that roster, all to get that forty silver from the trade expedition.
Once they got to the Jiangbei region, these pelts, bone, incense, and other such things could be sold for a ludicrous amount. And then it was off to Yang Prefecture to exchange for things like embroidery, tribute tea, cosmetic rouge…
Leaning drowsily against the window of the coach and just about to doze off, You Miao subconsciously reached next to him, but Li Zhifeng wasn't there.
After having had him at his beck and call for months, it was a little difficult to get used to him suddenly being gone. The wind howled from all around on the outside, the sound rising and falling. You Miao curled into his clothes some more, cold and listless.
They came to a stop in a forest. Outside, Hao Sanqian yelled against the wind, "Shaoye! The wind is too strong to keep going! We'll have to spend the night out here!"
You Miao tapped the window in acknowledgement. They were already hundreds of miles away from Yanbian; if they'd known this was going to happen, they would've just stayed to wait it out. No one had expected the blizzard to come upon them so fast, and now it was too late to turn back—they had no choice but to ride it out in the forest behind the hills. The porters were all bent over like shrimp, busily covering the cargo wagons with cloths to shield against the wind and snow, nailing everything down with wooden stakes as the coverings flapped and rustled wildly in the wind. Once that was done, the merchants all piled into the cart with the pelts and huddled up—they'd survive the storm first and worry about the rest later.
[1] A verse from "To My Grandnephew, Han Xiang" by Han Yu of the Tang Dynasty. When he was banished to Chao Prefecture, Han Yu composed this poem on his journey there. It expressed his indignation at being loyal yet proclaimed guilty, and at being banished despite being innocent.
[2] Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) can call for these animal parts as ingredients.