Chapter 28: Changle Mountain
Northwest of Shipan City by ten li flowed the Hulu River, its waters fed by the melting snow of the Qilian Mountains. Though it was already the warm month of April, the river still ran icy, sharp and piercing. On either bank, dense groves of desert poplars twisted and knotted into deep shade, and reeds with emerald stalks and silvery plumes spread thick as a forest. From a distance beneath the moonlight, it looked like a veil of drifting frost, swaying gently in the wind.
Li Wei led Chun Tian on horseback through the reeds. The tall stalks concealed both rider and mount, and the crisp scent of vegetation mixed with the river’s cold, damp air filled their lungs. A sand partridge, startled from slumber by the hoofbeats, let out a harsh cry as it burst upward, wings flapping, flew over lowly on the river’s surface before vanishing into the depths of the reed marsh.
“This section of the river is narrow, and the reeds are thick. We can drive the horses across and stay hidden. Once we cross, we head northwest for fifty li over the Changle Mountains. Beyond the ridgeline lies Changle County,” Li Wei said, turning his horse to face her. His expression was solemn. “Changle is garrisoned. We can’t enter the city, we’ll sleep in the countryside. Then we travel another hundred li north through salt flats and sand, until we reach the official road to Yiwu. Follow that road to Yiwu, and we’ll find a way into Ganluchuan.”
“We have no travel permits. We could be caught and flogged or killed by garrison troops at any time. There are also bandits, quicksand, searing winds, plague. We must cross desert, dry riverbeds, wasteland, and snow-capped peaks. The road ahead is treacherous, far harsher than you imagine. Have you truly thought this through?”
She did not seem frightened. Under the moonlight, her face was calm and steady. She answered with quiet resolve, “I have.”
“Then let’s go.” Li Wei passed his riding whip to her. “The river runs fast. Hold on tight.”
The moonlight was bright, casting silver streaks across the rushing water, its sound loud and tumbling. The horse beneath them trembled as Li Wei guided her, and she tightly gripped the whip, following him step by step toward the opposite bank of the river.
In this season, the night was filled with the soft calls of insects, their sounds long and short, high and low, while the reeds swayed in the wind, creating a rhythmic ripple across the water. They had to move quickly, to avoid being seen by the signal fires on the beacon towers before dawn, and to hide in the steep cliffs of Changle Mountain.
At first, they galloped by horseback, the journey was covered by dense reeds, towering poplars, and the graceful red willows, shielding their vision. But as they moved forward, the springtime lushness began to wither. The plains opened up, vast as if the stars were about to touch the horizon, and the moon was flowing over a great river, though instead of water, there was only the endless stretch of low shrubs and grasses beneath their feet.
Chun Tian’s riding skills were naturally no match for Li Wei’s, and by now, sweat poured down her back, her hair and forehead soaked through. The cold wind, carrying dust and sand, whipped across her face, leaving her forehead caked with earth. After hours of riding, Li Wei led her through stops and starts, and just before the first light of dawn, they finally found their way into the mountain.
Changle Mountain stretched for hundreds of miles, barren and harsh, with steep slopes that were devoid of birds or water. The rocks were all weathered and crumbled. Each step on the slope caused the stones beneath their feet to shatter into rubble, tumbling down the mountain. Li Wei found a hidden hollow in the mountain, a sheltered crevice to tie the horses, and said to Chun Tian, “Let’s rest here for now.”
Chun Tian had not slept well for several days. After a whole night of travel, she was utterly exhausted, her energy completely drained. She had never ridden a horse for such long stretches, and now, sitting on the horse, her legs had swollen and become numb. Every slight movement felt like needles pricking her skin, but she held back the pain, refusing to show it. Despite her determination to keep up with Li Wei, she found herself unable to dismount.
Li Wei saw her brow furrowed, her face pinched with discomfort, a trace of pain between her eyebrows. Seeing her reluctance to dismount, after a moment of realization, he knew that the people of the central plains weren’t accustomed to long rides like those from the northern tribes. Yet, if she had made up her mind to go, these hardships were inevitable. He extended his hand to help her down. “Come down now.”
Chun Tian pursed her lip, brows tightly furrowed, and shook her head with all her strength. Li Wei understood instantly. He reached out and said firmly, “No matter how much it hurts, you have to get down. The longer you stay on the horse, the worse it’ll be later.”
She bit her lip and trembled as she clutched the reins, trying to swing herself down. Her face was flushed and drawn with pain. Li Wei flicked his whip into the air, the end looping gently around her waist. With a light tug, she stumbled forward, falling against his shoulder.
She gave a soft gasp from the full-bodied ache, light as a feather as he hoisted her over his shoulder and strode forward. With a swift motion, Li Wei tossed her onto a felt blanket, wrapped her tightly with both hands, and tucked the ends in firmly. She squirmed and sniffled within the blanket, finally exposing a small, gray dirt-smudged face. Her lips were pale and chapped. Li Wei remained calm, his tone even: “Rest well. I’ll go find something to eat.”
Curled within the warmth of the felt, Chun Tian gave up resistance. Her eyes glued shut almost instantly, and she drifted into a deep sleep. When Li Wei returned, he saw her fully swaddled in the blanket, not a seam left open, her shoulders rising and falling in rhythm with her breath, sound asleep, dead to the world. He shook his head with a small smile and quietly set about his tasks.
She didn’t know how long she had slept. It was a deep, dreamless rest. When she opened her eyes again, daylight was pouring in. The bright sun illuminated the yellow-red hues of the stone wall. The sky was wide and blue. Beside her, a faint wisp of green smoke curled upwards. A small blackened copper pot sat over a modest flame, gently bubbling with a broth in which some unknown stems and leaves floated.
“It’s a kind of licorice. Slightly sweet when boiled, helps restore strength. Should do you some good.” Li Wei said, leaning against the stone wall while whittling a branch. He tossed her a piece of sesame flatbread. “Tear it up and soak it in the soup.”
Though the Hu flatbread was fragrant and crisp, the bread was dry and hard to swallow on its own. Chun Tian nodded and tore off half, handing it to Li Wei. “Have you eaten yet, Da-ye?”
Li Wei nodded. Chun Tian sat upright, her movements graceful and refined as she reached for the food, each gesture measured and deliberate, her chewing quiet and composed. It was clear she had been raised with strict etiquette. Li Wei had never paid it much mind before, but now, watching her eat, he found it unexpectedly pleasing.
When the fire burned out, Li Wei pushed aside the ash heap and dug out three small, oval eggs mottled with gray, placing them before her. “Found a nest in the grass. Pity the sandgrouse flew off, only these were left behind.”
“What tiny bird eggs,” she said, eyes crinkling into a smile as she reached out to pick one up. The egg still held its heat, and she yelped when her fingers touched the hot shell, hopping out of the blanket and stamping her feet. All her earlier composure vanished. Li Wei couldn’t help but laugh aloud. Realizing how she must look, Chun Tian quickly hid her hands behind her back, face tightening in embarrassment.
After finishing the meal, Li Wei scattered the ashes and led the way deeper into the mountains. Chasing Thunder, his horse, once the lead steed of the Qilian mountain range, was keenly intelligent and followed obediently without needing the reins, guiding Chun Tian’s horse in turn.
The deeper they ventured, the more treacherous the path became. Wind howled through unseen crevices, scraping harshly against the cliff face. Loose stones shifted underfoot. Clusters of sea buckthorn bushes huddled low to the ground. Li Wei led her through a winding route, until they turned a craggy ridge and a narrow, hidden mountain pass appeared ahead, the wind slicing through it like a coiled serpent.
“This is a pass carved by the northern winds. Once we cross it, we’ll reach Changle County,” Li Wei said, moving in front of her. “Watch for falling rocks.”
They pressed against the gale for half the day. Eventually, the path widened and leveled. Chun Tian kept her head down, trailing just behind Li Wei. At his prompting, she looked up and the world opened before her. They had left behind the steep southern slopes of Changle. Ahead stretched a gently rolling landscape of grassy hills and dense, scattered brush, and beyond that, tucked behind the hills, lay Changle County.
The southern slopes of Changle Mountain were arid, but the northern slopes were fed by a seasonal river formed from the melting ice and snow of the Qilian range. This created a verdant oasis. At the height of spring, the land was blanketed in wild grasses as soft and lush as a carpet, and tiny blossoms hid beneath the leaves. The breeze brushed their foreheads gently, and the sky stretched vast and boundless. At first, the scenery seemed soothing and pleasant, but after traversing it for half a day, the hardship began to reveal itself. Not a cloud in the sky, not a sliver of shade on the ground, only the searing sun baking the earth. The heat was stifling, mouths parched, sweat pouring, and the warm wind whipped against them relentlessly. Chun Tian’s exposed forehead and the backs of her hands were burning. She wiped her brow, smearing her face with a sticky mix of sweat and dust. Her back itched and stung as though bugs had bit it. Restless, her mouth tasted bitter, and though there was still water left in her flask, she didn’t even have the strength to raise a hand and drink.
Li Wei had marched her through the day without offering a word of advice. These were only minor hardships, hardly worth speaking of. Greater trials lay ahead. He wanted her to taste this bitterness, to perhaps reconsider her resolve and retreat. Yet even as the sun began to sink low in the sky, she said nothing, trailing him closely without complaint.
As the sun dipped further west, Li Wei finally eased their pace. He dismounted to find a place for the night. Chun Tian, utterly exhausted, collapsed to the ground, limbs heavy, breath ragged. She looked around, dazed. The sun had just set, the evening wind had turned cool, and between panting and coughing, she asked, “Da-ye, are we spending the night here?”
Seeing her face worn and pale, Li Wei replied gently, “From here on, we’ll likely spend many nights in the wild mountains. There may be beasts, venomous insects, ants. Are you afraid? If you are, we can head to Changle County and stay the night in town.”
She wrinkled her nose and pulled a dagger from her sleeve. “I have my father’s blade. I’ve spent nights in the wild before. I’m not afraid.” She held up the dagger. “I once used it to kill a poisonous snake.”
Li Wei glanced at her slender wrist gripping the black blade, then broke into a smile. “Then tonight, I’ll rely on the lady’s fine weapon to guard us both and keep us safe.”
The mountains teemed with birds and beasts, and the ground was covered with lush patches of clover and alfalfa, blooming in purple and white–horses’ favorite forage. The two mounts neighed and trotted off on their own to graze in the richest patches. Li Wei chose a wind-sheltered slope to settle in for the night, untied his bundle, and asked Chun Tian, “What would you like to eat tonight?”
His tone was light, his demeanor calm, as if he were about to casually prepare a meal. Chun Tian stared blankly at the bulging pack filled with hard flatbreads, reaching out her reddened fingers to poke at one. Li Wei chuckled brightly. “No flatbread tonight.” From inside his tunic, he pulled out a small dark leather pouch, which held ten gleaming arrowheads. He swiftly attached them to the wooden shafts he had whittled earlier that day, wrapping a thin sinew string with nimble fingers. In no time, a small bow was assembled in his hands.
Chun Tian, caught off guard by the deft movements, asked, “What is Da-ye doing?”
“Hunting.” Li Wei gave her a few instructions before heading toward the woods. But he turned back after a few steps, pulled a slender cord from his clothing, and handed her a small brass whistle, warm from his body. It was a bright yellow-gold color, worn smooth from use. He had received it when he was thirteen and began riding and traveling with Old Li and the caravan, and it had hung at his side for more than ten years. He pressed the whistle into her hand. “Don’t wander. If anything happens, blow it. I’ll be nearby.”
Clutching the whistle, Chun Tian nodded at once. Dusk fell swiftly, and the breeze that slithered through the trees carried a damp chill. She didn’t dare stray far. Fortunately, the forest here was dry and full of dead wood. She gathered a pile of twigs and lit a fire with flint and tinder, then stretched her neck toward the trees, waiting for Li Wei’s return.
He came back quickly, carrying a plump wild hare and several downy chicks. There was no stream nearby to clean them, so he gutted and skinned the rabbit right there, threading it onto a sturdy branch and setting it over the fire to roast. The birds he wrapped in leaves and buried in the embers to bake. Watching his efficient and bloodless movements, Chun Tian couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration. Remembering the day at the Sun household when he killed the wild boar, she turned and said, “Da-ye, you really can do everything, even cook.”
Li Wei looked up at her with a sidelong glance and chuckled. “I once spent a year as a huotoujun, a field cook for the army.”
“Huotoujun?” she perked up with interest, edging closer to the fire to help pass him some kindling. “When Uncle Chen took my father to Beiting, my father worked as a scribe in the army. There are so many roles in the military, why would you become a cook, Da-ye?”
She likely hadn’t yet grasped the full weight of the world’s rules, that lineage and station were often barriers impossible to cross. In the army, there were no miraculous tales of nobodies rising to fame through a single battle. Those refined young generals who rose to prominence often treaded a path laid for them, step by deliberate step, openly and secretly. To ascend through the twelve tiers of merit to reach a command: bingcao (military clerk), biewei (assistant officer), xiaowei(commandant), duwei (captain), even jiangjun (general) –required not only luck and talent but relentless maneuvering. Yan Song had spent two decades in the army and still held only the modest post of a chief guarding the Yumen Pass. Her father, a minor bureaucrat, had started as a military scribe. Even the affluent and powerful Duan family of Liangzhou had spent generations and untold wealth to gain entry to court, and even now hadn’t secured their footing.
The Moli Army was known for its fierce and daring soldiers, half of whom were fierce Hu tribesmen who had submitted to the empire. Its officers were often sons of noble, loyal military families. After a victorious campaign, soldiers would earn two guan, two strings of cash, in reward, while cooks would earn eight hundred wen–a paltry sum. Everyone dreamed of going to the front lines to gain glory and wealth, but most began with menial roles like the fire cook, working their way upward from there.
Li Wei smiled faintly. “The army’s meals are crude, and most cooks make them sloppily. Someone knew I could cook and recommended me for the job.”
“Recommended?” Chun Tian muttered. The cook’s role was usually given to the aged or feeble soldiers. Why would such a job need a recommendation?
Li Wei patiently rotated the rabbit meat over the flames. The aroma of oil sizzling and dripping into the fire became apparent, hissing softly. He picked a handful of juicy herbs and sprinkled over them some coarse salt he carried. With care, he smeared the herb juice and salt over the roasting rabbit. Cutting off a piece, he skewered it with a knife and handed it to Chun Tian. “Try it.”
The aroma was mouthwatering. She had never eaten meat prepared like this. The salt and sweet herbs melted into the juices, bringing out the rabbit’s tender flavor. She blew frantically to cool the piping hot bite. Li Wei handed her a water flask and said gently, “Careful, it’s hot.”
He continued to slice the meat cleanly from the bone, dividing it in two and giving her half. Chun Tian, her mouth full of savory rabbit, bowed deeply and beamed. “Da-ye is really amazing.”
When they finished eating, Li Wei dug a pit to bury the bloodied ashes and remains. Outside the fire’s glow, insects chirped, birds called, and the night wind carried a chill. The stars and moon hung bright above them. They sat before the fire in silence. Chun Tian sat in a daze for a while before quietly asking, “What’s a military camp like?”
Li Wei didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “It’s late. Sleep now. We have to move early tomorrow.”
She nodded. Full and drowsy, she used a cloth to wipe her face and lay down on the woolen blanket. He tossed more firewood on the flames; the fire crackled as the wood split. She opened her eyes for a moment and glanced at Li Wei. He sat beside her, his figure cast tall and still, his shadow covering her. One long leg bent loosely, a wine flask in hand, sipping silently. He stared into the fire, its light flickering over his face, sometimes bright, sometimes shadowed.
Then she closed her eyes. As long as he was there, she felt safe.
TN: Hope everyone is doing well! It seems like they have a lot of obstacles and hardships ahead of their journey!
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