Chapter 24: Suzhou City
Chun Tian had already bought furs, blankets, and food at the marketplace, and hired a mule cart and a driver from a local stable for the journey to Suzhou. Women traveling in the Hexi Corridor often wore Hu attire, favoring Huihe1 styles in particular, so she too changed into a set of nomadic dresses, tied her hair in a man’s topknot, and applied some disguise to her face. Then, with the mule cart carrying her, she quietly departed from Ganzhou.
Spring brought bustling affairs, and the city gates were crowded with those coming and going. Many merchant caravans led strings of pack animals jingling along the road. Blending in with the crowd, Chun Tian slipped out of the city, heading toward Suzhou.
The cart driver was a mute old man, his face furrowed with deep wrinkles, hands as coarse as tree bark as he cracked the whip. He gestured at her with clumsy signs, asking which route to take. Not wanting a repeat of the Red Cliff Ravine incident, Chun Tian chose the most traveled official road. She kept her dagger hidden inside her sleeve and followed the driver on their way.
Ganzhou lay roughly four hundred li from Suzhou–a journey of six to seven days by mule or horse. Travelers and traders wound along the foothills of the Qilian Mountains. It was early spring, and the land of Hexi was beginning to warm. The sky stretched deep and clear blue, mountaintops still dusted in glistening, crystal snow, while tender green buds could be glimpsed in the valleys below. Apricot, pear, and willow blossoms bloomed in succession. Bees with plump abdomens flitted busily after fragrance, wings buzzing. Below, the green plains rolled like velvet carpet. From time to time, a pheasant or wild hare would dart out of the brush with a whoosh. On the official road, hooves kicked up clouds of dust. Mosquitoes, horseflies, and gnats swarmed the air, and even the mules and camels, irritated, swished their tails to scatter them away.
The journey was long and monotonous. The mute cart driver often stopped at roadside inns for swigs of cheap grain liquor, murky yellow in color, one wen per flask. He would gesture toward the jug, asking Chun Tian with his hands whether he could drink. She would nod. Then he would take a sip and doze off with his eyes closed. The old horse knew the road well; it needed no guidance. Head down, it plodded along at an unhurried pace. When hungry, it would stop on its own to nibble grass at the roadside; when night fell, it would wander into the nearest wayside inn to rest. At this meandering rhythm, Chun Tian watched fine and handsome steeds gallop past her in the distance, and she realized they had fallen far behind the pace of others.
Along the road was a gaunt monk in straw sandals and a straw rain cloak, cheerfully riding a speckled little donkey. The donkey sometimes trotted playfully, sometimes trailed behind passersby at a sluggish pace. Its gait was entirely dictated by whim. The monk, eyes half-closed, never interfered. Each day, Chun Tian would spot him once or twice. Though his robes were tattered, his smile was warm and his eyes kind. Strangely, she once saw him eating meat. Occasionally, he would draw near, offer a cheerful “Amitabha” to the mute driver, and beg for a sip of wine.
Chun Tian bowed and asked, “Master, may I ask your Dharma name? Which temple do you serve as abbot?”
The monk laughed heartily: “This old monk is named ‘Yue’, call me Monk. I cultivate Zen in temples and seek the Buddha among men.”
Puzzled, she asked again, “Where does Master come from, and where are you bound?”
“From somewhere to nowhere.”
She could not understand, so he cheerfully pointed down the official road with a smile, “From the road behind me, toward the road ahead, of course!”
Perhaps he was simply a mad old monk. Before Chun Tian could speak again, he flicked the reins, and the little donkey trotted off, leaving his laughter trailing behind him in the wind.
The mule cart was crude, with gaps in its wooden frame that offered little shelter from wind or rain. It cost just a hundred wen a day. Along the road, lavish carriages drawn by four horses swept past with imposing grandeur, while barefoot peasants, faces weathered by wind and frost, trudged among the pack animals. Chun Tian saw a plainly dressed young woman, hair held by a wooden pin, leading a staggering toddler behind the mule cart. She reached out a hand and helped the woman and child aboard.
With her hooded face covered, only Chun Tian’s eyes were visible. The woman, seeing her dressed in travel gear, assumed she was a young man and appeared somewhat shy and uneasy. It wasn’t until Chun Tian spoke that the woman realized she was a young lady. At that, her tension eased.
“Oh, many thanks, many thanks.” The woman took the water flask Chun Tian offered, “So you’re a young woman.”
“En.” Chun Tian nodded and pulled down her head covering, folding it in her lap. Smiling, she said, “It’s just more convenient to travel like this.”
“Indeed,” The woman saw that Chun Tian looked only a few years younger than herself, with delicate features and a composed grace. Feeling a bit self-conscious, she reached up and patted her own messy bun. “It’s not easy traveling alone, especially with so many people on the road.”
The child in the woman’s arms had a round, chubby face and clutched the water flask with equally pudgy hands, gulping down the water. Then he looked up, eyes wide with curiosity. Chun Tian rummaged through her bundle and pulled out a few pieces of candy, kneeling to hold them out to the little one.
“Here.”
“Candy,” the toddler said, still learning to speak. With a squeal of delight, his plump little hands lunged into her arms. The soft warmth of him made Chuntian burst into a genuine laugh.
“Candy,” he giggled again.
“Bao Zi,” the woman called out, trying to pry the tightly clenched candy from his hands. Her face flushed with embarrassment as she turned to Chun Tian and said, “Aiyo, this little glutton of mine, please don’t laugh at us, miss.”
Chun Tian’s eyes and eyebrows crinkled with a smile. “He’s adorable. You’re truly blessed, jiejie.”
The two grew close after this exchange. The woman’s name was Lan Zhi, from Gaotai Town in Suzhou. Two years ago, she had married into a village further away. Upon hearing that her mother had fallen ill and with no males in the household and no mule or donkey available for rent, she decided to carry her child and walk all the way home.
When she heard that Chun Tian was traveling alone to Suzhou Garrison, she urged her repeatedly: “In Jiuquan County, soldiers on furlough fill the streets drinking, you must steer clear of them.” Lowering her voice, she added, “Especially those foreign troops. Most are Hu people who surrendered years ago, uncivilized and rough. If they so much as bump into someone, they’ll turn around and demand silver in compensation. Even the local yamen doesn’t dare provoke them.”
She continued, “Also, those Hu shopkeepers on the west side of the city–most of them run shady businesses and do all manner of crooked things. If you need to find lodging or a bite to eat, go east instead. My brother works at the Di Inn.”
Chun Tian nodded, committing it all to memory, and was just about to ask another question when the thunder of galloping hooves rang out from afar. In the blink of an eye, several tall horses charged forward, raising a cloud of dry dust that filled the air and into people’s noses. Passersby had no time to dodge–those in the way were lashed aside with whips and sent sprawling into the dirt with cries of pain. A merchant’s horse-drawn cart was spooked and bolted into the mule train, setting off a flurry of frightened braying. Chaos erupted in an instant.
The mule was startled and reared up in panic, sending the cart jolting wildly. Bao Zi, still babbling about candy, gave a startled cry as he tumbled toward the wall of the cart. Chuntian reacted swiftly, diving forward to catch him, shielding him with her body. Her vision went dark for a moment as her forehead struck the wooden wall with a loud thud.
By the time the panic settled and people regained their wits, the riders were long gone, vanished into a trail of dust. Lan Zhi hurriedly comforted her son while helping Chun Tian upright. Seeing the large red welt rising on Chun Tian’s brow, she grew anxious and remorseful: “Miss, does it hurt? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Chun Tian replied calmly, touching the spot herself. It was swollen, but nothing serious.
The passersby who had been knocked over patted dust from their knees and grumbled, “Who charges through like that? Even if they’re relay riders, this is too overbearing.”
“Looked like mounted messengers from the army,” someone said. “There’ve been quite a few passing through lately, perhaps something’s happened in the military.”
“Wasn’t there talk of troop cuts?” another whispered. “These past years have been peaceful, yet Hexi still has over a hundred thousand troops stationed there. I heard the cost of provisions and pay is too high, and the court’s considering withdrawing and reducing the numbers.”
“And the generals–will they agree to that?”
“Cut the army? How could they? Word is, the garrison in Liangzhou Prefecture has been training elite troops recently. And in Ganzhou, the Bureau of Pastoral Management is requisitioning horses from civilians.”
“What for? Could it be that they’re planning to fight again? Things have been calm on the roads the past few years. Hmph.”
“Even the Yumen Pass has tightened inspections lately. Travel permits are checked one by one. If people, goods, or livestock don’t match exactly, they’re taken to the military for interrogation.”
Chun Tian, ignoring the pain, sat up and listened intently. Could it really be, as Li Wei had said? That the Beiting Protectorate was preparing for war?
To the east, Suzhou Commandery bordered the Qilian Garrison; to the west, it reached Guazhou. Within the commandery, the Jiuquan Army was stationed, and the government seat was set in Fulu County. As one approached the region, villages and households began to appear. Women washed clothes by the river, sheep grazed at leisure, and bright-eyed children with twin buns held wicker baskets, peddling goods to passing merchants, smiling as they cradled their wares. These were mostly herbs, fruits, unidentified bird eggs, polished stones carried down from mountain streams, and even a kind of red blossom called “rouge flower,” crushed and stored in clay jars. The tints were as vivid as blood, used to tint fingernails or lips.
Lan Zhi, with her child in arms, disembarked partway and waved to Chun Tian: “Good meimei, remember what I said, be cautious on the road.”
Chun Tian nodded.
Suzhou was one of the four prefectures of Hexi, though militarily and politically it lacked Liangzhou’s strength, in wealth it did not rival Ganzhou, and culturally it was not as vibrant as Shazhou. This land had once belonged to the Wusun2, Yuezhi3, and Xiongnu4. It was here that Huo Qubing5 of the Han dynasty triumphed over the Xiongnu, bringing the Qilian range under the dominion of the Central Plains. The young and brilliant general was ennobled on this soil and conferred the title of Marquis; he poured the fine wine bestowed by Emperor Wu into a spring, letting his soldiers share in the honor.
Perhaps every soldier and general carries in his heart such a city–where iron and horse thunder, where powerful armies gather in formation, where imperial service is fulfilled–followed by luminous goblets brimming with grape wine, and the distant pursuit of titles and glory.
Chun Tian remembered: when her father departed all those years ago, it had been just like this. He told her mother, “When I have made my name and returned in splendor, there will be a General Chun Yue in the city of Chang’an, and you shall be the honored wife of a hero.”
But in truth, those who return home clad in glory are few. Far more leave their bones buried in the Wuding River, beyond the Yumen Pass where spring winds do not blow. No one knows. No one remembers.
Suzhou City lay at the foot of the Qilian Mountains. As the road stretched on, the greenery thinned, and vitality waned compared to Ganzhou. Slate-black mountain stone pressed heavily against the horizon, and gravel scattered across the ground, tumbling with the wind. Clumps of camelthorn and needle grass gathered into crescent-shaped clusters–one here, another there. From a distance, camels in the east and west lifted their heads to glance at passersby, then dutifully bowed again to chew their forage.
Farther west beyond Suzhou, the land gradually gave way to desolate gravel plains and sand dunes. Golden sand blanketed the earth; the wilderness grew bleak and barren. One might walk a day, even half, before encountering the oasis of a clear spring. Beyond the Yumen Pass, the budding green had yet to arrive, only the gleam of a blade, cold and sharp as snow.
Suzhou City was small, neither imposing nor splendid. The houses and streets were drab and somewhat run-down, exuding a rugged and arid air. A few main streets crisscrossed the city, all visible at a glance. The fare was mostly coarse dishes like mutton soup and flatbread. Wine shops were plentiful, each selling a locally famed spirit known as Emperor Wu of Han’s Imperial Brew, said to be the very wine Emperor Wu bestowed upon General Huo Qubing.
The drink was mellow and fragrant, and the region’s fruits were exceptionally sweet, most notably the chilled grape wine, prized for its crisp taste. Soldiers in armor often came by, hauling large barrels to purchase liquor, and drunken men could be seen sprawled along the roadside, snoring away. Perhaps nowhere else under heaven drank with such unabashed pride as did the people of Jiuquan.
Chun Tian thought for a moment, then instructed the mute driver to lodge on the west side of the city. The western quarter of Suzhou was a clutter of ramshackle dwellings and foul water puddled on the ground, a place where poor Hu people and passing merchants temporarily settled. It was also where the pack market was located, specializing in goods for travel: mules, horses, camels, pack frames, grain, and fodder.
She recalled once finding an old book in her uncle’s study, originally her maternal grandfather’s, a travelogue written decades ago by a merchant journeying west. It mentioned that in Suzhou’s pack market, there was a kind of ghost market. Those skilled in desert crossings would collect items from the dead lost to the sands: clothing, weapons, coin purses, ornaments, or unclaimed goods and livestock. There were also dealings in travel documents–those wanted by authorities or merchants without official travel permits could pay a guide to smuggle them past border sentries and checkpoints in secret.
Footnotes
- Huihe: ancient name of ethnic group who were ancestors of the Uyghurs and the Yugur ↩︎
- Wusun people: were an ancient semi nomadic steppe people of unknown origin mentioned in Chinese records from the 2nd century BC to the 5th century AD, oirignally living between the Qilian Mountains and Dunhuang. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wusun ↩︎
- Yuezhi: Nomadic pastoralist living in aird grassland areas in western part of Dunhuang. After a major defeat at the hands of the Xiongnu in 176 BC, the Yuezhi split into two groups migrating in different directions: the Greater Yuezhi and Lesser Yuezhi. This started a complex domino effect that radiated in all directions and, in the process, set the course of history for much of Asia for centuries to come. Many scholars believe that the Yuezhi were an Indo-European people. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yuezhi ↩︎
- Xiongnu: tribal confederation of nomadic peoples who inhabited the eastern Eurasian steppe. Modu Chanyu, the supreme leader after 209 BC, founded the Xiongnu Empire.After overthrowing their previous overlords, the Yuezhi, the Xiongnu became the dominant power on the steppes of East Asia, centred on the Mongolian Plateau. The Xiongnu were also active in areas now part of Siberia, Inner Mongolia, Gansu and Xinjiang. Their relations with the Chinese dynasties to the south-east were complex—alternating between various periods of peace, war, and subjugation. ↩︎
- Huo Qiubing: Famous young military strategist in the Western Han Dynasty with talents in martial arts and strategy.. In 123 BC, he fellowed Wei Qing to attack the Xiongnu people, making great achievements. After returning, he was named the Marquis of Wanhu by Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty. You can think of him as a legendary general in Chinese history maybe comparable to the role of Alexander the Great in the West. ↩︎
TN: Hope everyone is doing well! I love reading the authors descriptions of the different regions of China and the history of the trade routes, I think its fascinating!
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