Chapter 25: Yumen Pass
She found a Hu inn near the pack market. The mute driver tugged at her sleeve, his face full of concern, gesturing emphatically toward the eastern quarter of the city. Chun Tian paid him extra for the ride, nodding to reassure him and said, “I know. I’ll be careful.”
The innkeeper was a Yuezhi man with a high nose bridge and braided hair, running the place with just his wife. The shop was small and rundown, rarely visited by guests. When he saw Chun Tian at the entrance, he quickly brushed the dust from the table and greeted her with an eager smile. “Young man, please come in.”
She gestured farewell to the driver, then followed the exasperatingly slow innkeeper into the interior. It was just past noon. The innkeeper’s wife brought out a large slab of boiled mutton in a basin, served with a small dish of coarse salt and a bowl of sheep offal broth.
Chun Tian had eaten mutton like this before—back in Ganzhou. That day, Li Wei had taken her, Changliu, and Xianxian shopping for New Year’s goods. At a Hu-style diner, he had torn meat with his hands, wrapping it layer by layer in salt, scallion, and cilantro before handing it to her. She’d hesitated then, taking the morsel of mutton from his greasy hand and biting into it with a slight frown, only to glimpse the corners of his mouth lifting beneath his dark lashes that covered his eyes, revealing the faintest of smiles. She had felt terribly self-conscious at that moment.
Now that she was alone, she needed to summon a kind of bold, unflinching spirit, to eat with open-hearted defiance. But it was hard not to feel a little crestfallen.
She forced herself to finish, then requested a street-facing room upstairs, bracing herself for a steep charge by the innkeeper, but the final bill came out to just fifty wen qian more than other inns. She could not help but sigh. This was enough in these borderlands to feed and shelter someone for a full day. Here, fifty extra coins branded a place a black shop. In Chang’an, the same sum used to reward a maid might barely earn a sideways glance from a servant girl sent on errands.
In this world, for all things, if one wishes to act by courtesy and principle, one must first pay the price.
The innkeeper accepted the money, delighted, personally brought up tea and pastries himself. Chun Tian asked him where she could buy supplies for the journey west. The innkeeper looked her over and asked, “Young sir, where is it you’re headed?”
“I’m going to Beiting.”
Since the Yiwu route had reopened, many now traveled between the Western Prefectures and Beiting, but a young woman journeying alone was still rare.
“Please don’t be suspicious, Innkeeper. I’m headed to Beiting to find a relative,” she replied calmly. “I dress this way only for ease of travel, nothing more.”
“All the supplies you’ll need, provisions, water, sugared feed for horses, can be bought at the pack market,” the innkeeper explained, pointing things out one by one. He detailed what ought to be prepared for this season, how much to take, without missing a single thing. Chun Tian decided to follow him to the market to take a look.
What she’d heard along the road proved true–good horses in Hexi were in short supply. The value of horses in the pack market had risen sharply: an ordinary horse or donkey that used to cost one guan now went for two, and a sturdy grassland steppe horse could sell for dozens of guan.
She also heard that regulations at the Yumen Pass had tightened severely, drawing complaints from traders and merchants. Some large caravans carrying foodstuff had already been barred from exiting the pass, stranded and forced to wait just inside its gates. Chun Tian grew increasingly anxious, but there was nothing she could do. She stayed at the inn for six or seven days without ever finding the rumored ghost market, naturally, nor any guide who could lead her out.
The pass token she’d struggled so hard to obtain had been lost with her baggage in Red Ravine Valley. If she could not leave the Yumen Pass because of it, perhaps she’d be stranded here indefinitely.
In the northern territories, burial rites were kept simple. Except for wealthy families or landed gentry, it was not the custom to hold a hundred-day mourning or grand rituals. A few days after she’d left, Madam Li’s mourning hall was dismantled. The family kept only a long-burning lamp lit in the main hall. The windows and doors stood wide open, and Li Wei, with Aunt Zhao, was sorting through chests and boxes, most of them filled with Madam Li’s clothes and ornaments, her daily items, and the tiny garments from Changliu’s early childhood.
Changliu nestled against Li Wei’s side, watching Aunt Zhao sort through his mother’s old clothes from her illness, preparing to burn them. His heart felt heavy with sorrow. Li Wei took his hand and said, “If there’s anything you want to keep, go and take it yourself.”
Tears welled up in Changliu’s eyes. “Keep it all for Mother.”
“You must hold your mother in your heart, but you can’t think of her day and night.” Li Wei said, “One must live for the living, not for the dead.”
Two days later, Li Wei ruffled Changliu’s hair and said, “A-ye is going to bring your Chun Tian-jiejie back.” He sent Changliu to stay temporarily at Lu Mingyue’s home, saying only, “I’ll come back for him.”
At that time, he probably wouldn’t have expected he would be gone for so long, so long that it would change the course of his life.
Lu Mingyue embraced the two children. “Don’t worry. I’ll treat Changliu as my own. He won’t lack for anything.”
Changliu looked up with his round, clear eyes as his father mounted the horse. “Papa (A’ye), come back soon.”
“I will.” Li Wei patted his son’s head. “When Papa returns, I’ll take you to the academy to study.”
Helian Guang stood at the gate and tossed him a green-wrapped leather bundle. Li Wei walked over, clapped a hand on his shoulder, and laughed. “The women and children at home are in your care now.”
“You can rest easy,” Helian Guang’s eyes were dark with fatigue, a faint scratch still visible on his cheek. In a sullen, muffled voice, he said “A house full of little ancestors, I’ll serve them all properly.”
“Don’t bully anyone too much,” Li Wei laughed heartily. “What’s meant to be yours will find its way to you.”
After changing into a Huihe-style male outfit in the ready-made clothing shop, Chun Tian stepped out. Inside, the sound of bangles and bells tinkling rang through the air as a fair-skinned Hu courtesan with her snow-white waist exposed, glanced at her and let out a giggle. With crimson-tipped fingers, she gently poked Chun Tian’s soft chest, then tossed a white sash playfully across her blushing cheeks.
“No chest binding? Anyone can still tell you’re a girl.”
Having lived in the Li household for several months, Chun Tian had grown somewhat in stature. Caught off guard by the touch, she belatedly realized and quickly covered her chest, her face burning with embarrassment.
The Huihe people’s dress favored vivid colors, reds and greens especially, often crafted with overlapping collars and narrow sleeves, paired with long trousers and high boots for riding. The Hu courtesan helped style Chun Tian to resemble a young boy. When she turned to look in the mirror, she saw a pale-cheeked youth with a spirited, upright, almost heroic air.
The courtesan laughed. “Now that’s more like it. You’ll draw less trouble traveling this way. The desert’s hot by day, so wear the hood for shade. At night, the wind is bitter cold, wrap yourself in the felt coat, and you’ll be fine.”
Chun Tian thanked her repeatedly, purchasing clothes and warm outerwear. Just then, a commotion erupted outside, the city gates, it seemed. Word had it two civilians had been killed. Some said they were fugitives, others claimed they were disguised Turkic raiders. The city immediately went into lockdown, fear and suspicion hanging thick in the air.
By the tenth day of Chun Tian’s stay at the Di Inn, the innkeeper, noting that she was fully equipped with horse, provisions, and gear but still showed no signs of setting out, approached her discreetly in the quiet back courtyard after she had finished feeding the horses.
He smiled slyly and asked, “Is Young Sir planning to pass through the Yumen Pass?”
“I am.”
“Then… will you go by land, or across the river?”
Her eyes lit up instantly.
“How do you go by land? And what about crossing the river?”
“Heh, heh. Well…” The innkeeper lowered his voice and made a few cryptic gestures. “By land, you walk on your own. But crossing the river… well, someone builds the bridge for you.”
Chun Tian understood at once and asked in a quiet, slow voice, “Might the innkeeper help me cross the river?”
“Oh no, no. I’m just a humble innkeeper, tending my guests and minding my own business.” He made to get up and leave, but Chun Tian drew out a string of coins from her sleeve and slipped it into his hand. “Requesting the innkeeper to point me the way.”
That same day, a lean, sharp-eyed yellow-faced middle-aged man arrived at the inn, dressed like a merchant. The Innkeeper gestured toward Chun Tian seated in the back courtyard. The man nodded, then shook his head and turned to leave, but the innkeeper held him back. After a short exchange, the man came over and, in a thick Guanzhong accent, asked, “Looking to cross the pass?”
Chun Tian nodded.
“One hundred taels. I get you on the road–whether you make it through or not and pass the customs smoothly, that’s your fate.”
That was nearly all the money Chun Tian had. She took a deep breath, not yet speaking. Seeing her hesitate, the innkeeper quickly interjected, “The Yumen Pass isn’t what it used to be, these days, inspections are tight. This kind of job risks losing your head. A hundred taels–more than fair.”
Chun Tian agreed, paid a deposit, and gave the innkeeper a small fee. The next morning, he took her beyond the city gates, where the middle-aged man was already waiting. From his cart stepped a girl dressed as a maid, with a build nearly identical to Chun Tian’s. She stripped off her own clothes and handed them over so Chun Tian could change into them,
The middle-aged man was a minor lacquerware merchant from Guanzhong, traveling westward toward Beiting with several camels and two maids. Chun Tian donned the maid’s used clothing and boarded the cart. Her luggage was stashed away inside.
The slightly older maid beside her had a cold expression. She gave curt instructions: “If we’re stopped by soldiers or guards, don’t speak. Keep your expression calm. Don’t look nervous.”
Chun Tian nodded. The maid examined her face and found it too pale. She dabbed on some coarse yellow powder to dull her complexion–anything to make her look more forgettable.
The caravan set off westward. As they traveled, the scenery grew steadily more desolate. Nothing met the eye but a barren vastness, with not a shred of green to be seen. Even the needle grasses and desert scrub seemed to wear a veil of gray. Tall earthen ridges stood solitary on the horizon, while the wind whipped across the ground, howling in piercing gusts.
As they passed through Fangpan City, they rested for the night. The maid who shared the cart with Chun Tian seemed to be a concubine of their master and did not share a room with her. The inn’s rooms were made of tamped yellow earth, and all night the windows and doors creaked in the wind. She lay awake all night listening to the wind’s cry. The next morning, as they set off again, an unease rose within her–an anxious wish to leap ahead to Yumen Pass, to reach the Yiwu route as soon as possible.
By midday, a tall tamped-earth fortress loomed on the horizon, rising stark against the endless wilderness. Continuous rows of watchtowers stretched across the land, dividing “here” from “there” – this side was spring, summer, autumn, and winter; the other, blades, ice, and snow.
Herds of camels and carts crowded the path. There were more and more people–faces and languages mingled, voices clashing in a noisy tide. All around were mounted guards shouting commands, armed to the teeth, shouting and scolding loudly.
The checkpoint inspection moved at a crawl. The lines inched forward. The maid beside her spoke in a low voice the entire time, quietly explaining what to do, what not to do. Sitting inside the cart, Chun Tian felt as if her heart had sprouted wings, and with the wind, slipped toward that small, bright gate.
Time passed slowly. The cart started, stopped, and started again. Since leaving Chang’an, she had walked and ridden through more than three thousand li. And now, at last, the gate was within reach–the cherished wish she had clung to for years now nearly at hand.
Chun Tian bowed her head slightly, eyes fixed on the worn wooden floor of the cart. The horses flicked their tails to swat away insects. A checkpoint soldier questioned them, slowly and methodically: how many people, where from, going where, what goods. Everything matched. With a wave of the hand, he let the caravan pass.
The cart rolled forward again. The northern wind from the frontier funneled through the pass, bringing with it the dry sting of dust. She exhaled in relief and looked up–before her, the blood-red sun sank low into sunset, and the boundless northern desert unfurled like a great painted scroll.
At the beginning of this journey, she had flinched at every sound like a startled bird. But now, after enduring so much, she had made it through Hexi alive, teeth clenched, tears swallowed, despite the danger of death. She had never thought she could come so far.
Then came the sound of footsteps behind the cart–firm and fast. A large hand seized her shoulder and yanked her down in one swift motion. She cried out, caught off guard while immersed in her boundless fantasy, falling hard onto the dirt as the world spun around her.
Her heart leapt in panic, all her bittersweet emotions tangled in that one forceful pull. As she scrambled upright, she looked into the face of the man who had dragged her down: dressed in gray, his profile lit by the blood-red light of sunset, his brows and eyes cast in ink-dark shadow, eyes sharp and gleaming, like stars.
She knew this man.
TN: Hope everyone is doing well! It seems like having connections is more important than anything else along these trade routes. Have a great week ❤
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