Chapter Twenty-Four

The "Great Road," or "Official Road," earned its name because it was funded and owned by the imperial court or government. These roads were primarily built to facilitate the travel of officials and the transport of essential supplies. The Great Qin Dynasty constructed many, including the magnificent and tragic Straight Road, the brutal Shangjun Road, the imposing Eastern Road, the most controversial Coastal Road, the most ill-fated Wuguan Road, and the renowned Western Road. The road to Shu is as difficult as ascending to heaven, yet it, too, is an Official Road. Plank roads were those constructed along cliff faces. The saying, "Openly build the plank road, secretly cross Chencang," refers to how Emperor Gaozu of Liu intentionally publicized the construction of a plank road along the cliffs to deceive Hegemon Xiang, while secretly taking a detour to launch a surprise attack on Chencang, ultimately securing victory.

As critical arterial lines for the imperial court, the safety and maintenance of these roads were the government's responsibility. Post stations were established along them to provide information, supplies, and protection for passing officials and envoys. The official in charge of a post station was called a Postmaster.

There is a "mountain path" leading from Southern Han to the Kingdom of Dali that also qualifies as an Official Road. Amidst the mist-shrouded forests and stone forests, this path is as much a direction as it is a road. Following the markers, it weaves like a faint, long dragon through towering mountains and lush forests, passing through stone forests or over stone slabs. The labyrinthine stone forest and the cyan slabs are engraved with markers and the traces left by past travelers. Around these markers, ancient trees reach for the sky; light filtering through the leaves dances on the fallen foliage below, keeping the ground alternately dry and damp, providing sustenance for the forest's birds and beasts. As the morning sun first touches the trees, the chorus of birdsong echoes through the woods, as if a hundred birds were paying homage to a phoenix.

Though this mountain path stretches over two thousand li, it has only a dozen or so post stations. The stretch from the stone forest to the forest, winding for several hundred li, has only one: the Stone Forest Post Station. Several li of the road before and after this station are paved with bluestone, laid during the time of Guan Yi’s great-great-grandfather. He was a "swift-walker" at the post station, primarily serving as a guide. Guan Yi’s grandfather also served as a swift-walker, as did her father for a short time before he went missing in a valley while guiding a group and perished. Shortly after, her mother remarried, leaving Guan Yi and her grandfather to depend on each other.

Guan Yi’s grandfather was like an ancient tree, having served as a swift-walker at the Stone Forest Post Station for decades. He was skilled in archery and deeply passionate about the sword. With few travelers passing through the station each year, he spent most of his time hunting or teaching Guan Yi swordsmanship. He never considered leaving, but Guan Yi was different. She had once heard an official from the capital say that the capital was a paradise where everything was wonderful and every wish could be fulfilled. Guan Yi had asked the official, who was speaking off the cuff, "Every wish? Sir, if I go to the capital, can I see my deceased father?" She had been missing him dearly.

The official, who loved to boast, hesitated for a moment before saying, "Of course! Little girl, if you go to the capital, not only will you see your deceased father, but you can see your deceased mother as well." He was trying to trick her.

Guan Yi replied, "My mother isn't dead! She remarried in the neighboring village; I saw her just a few days ago." The official was stunned and then laughed awkwardly. Guan Yi thought to herself, "Only a ghost would believe you."

Though she knew the official was a fraud, the encounter sparked a desire in her to leave the post station and go to the capital. Her grandfather told her that if she wanted to go, she must master the swordsmanship he taught her. Guan Yi believed him. Thus, she practiced in the forest every day, picking mushrooms on the way back to fry as a snack for her grandfather.

In truth, she only went to the forest to practice; she never picked mushrooms. Those were gathered by three boys her age from the station. The "little mountain lads" all liked her, but she never gave them a second glance.

When the first rays of morning light pierced the mist, Guan Yi would head to the forest east of the station. She would toss her basket aside and begin her practice. One of the boys would take the basket, while the other two stood in the distance, watching her. When they grew excited, they would dance and stomp, but they dared not make a sound, swallowing their laughter for fear that Guan Yi would ban them from the forest for half a month. In their hearts, they cursed her as "Guan the Domineering" and "Guan the Lazy," yet they longed to see her every day. If they didn't, they couldn't eat or drink.

By mid-morning, Guan Yi would sheath her sword. She would collect the basket filled with mushrooms and head home to prepare lunch for her grandfather. Day after day, she hoped to grow up quickly so she could go to the capital to see her father. Years later, she met a woman who would lead her away from the Stone Forest Post Station.

At the Jiang'an Inn in Southern Province, three days later, Lou Mingxuan prepared gifts for Li Muwen and Jiang Hong to take to Zhao Rouya and Xiao Tianjian, a symbolic "return visit" to the bride's family. The ceremony was held entirely within the Jiang'an Inn, with gifts moved from the first floor to the second, where Zhao Rouya and Xiao Tianjian stayed. Since the inn was Jiang Hong's home, this room served as her parents' house. The celebratory wine was also drunk there. It was merely a ritual.

Having gained Zhao Rouya and Xiao Tianjian as "parents," Jiang Hong was so overwhelmed with excitement that she often lost track of which room was her in-laws' and which was her own.

After the ritual, the couple departed to continue their journey toward the capital. Lou Mingxuan had Li Muwen and Jiang Hong escort them to the Thirty-Li Pavilion before returning. As the older couple bid farewell to the younger, they felt immense joy at having gained a virtuous son-in-law and a passionate daughter. Lou Mingxuan prepared to lead the Li family members toward Yangcheng. Jiang Hong, knowing her own background was modest and her temper volatile, feared she could not adapt to the strict etiquette of the official Li household. She claimed she could not bear to leave the family business and wished to stay at the Jiang'an Inn. Lou Mingxuan agreed. Li Muwen wanted to stay, but his mother refused, saying, "Son, you must return to Yangcheng. First, your father, the Censor, wants to see you; second, you have not finished your studies and must return to the academy to prepare for the upcoming imperial examinations!" She looked at him with loving expectation, "Muwen, you missed the last exam due to mourning; you cannot miss the next!"

Thus, the newlyweds were forced to part.

At dawn, thick fog filled the air. The Li family's entourage left the inn. Li Muwen rode Jiang Hong's "blood-sweating" horse at the back of the line—they had swapped mounts. This horse was Jiang Hong's beloved; it was spirited and intelligent, much like her personality. It walked through the mist, stepping gingerly, looking back repeatedly, unwilling to leave its old mistress.

Meanwhile, Li Muwen’s Baihua horse, tied to a post at the inn, was frantic. It leaped and reared, neighing loudly. Jiang Hong, sitting at the counter, was heartbroken by the sound. She left the counter, climbed to the highest point of the roof, and tried to hold her husband with her gaze, waving her hands and weeping. But her gaze could not stop him; Li Muwen’s silhouette soon vanished into the fog.

That day, the General of the South and her party entered the territory of Jingnan. Accompanying her, besides Gu Yuru, were over a dozen personal guards. Although the Jingnan region belonged to the Southern Han court, it bordered Northern Zhen, and the court seemed largely indifferent to it. It was a natural barrier with beautiful mountains.

As they rode, the General of the South looked at the rolling, green-dragon-like mountains. By noon, the horses were sweating. She slowed down and rode alongside Gu Yuru, asking, "General Gu, what are your thoughts on this journey?"

Gu Yuru replied, "Reporting to the General, the landscape is magnificent, but..."

"But what?" the General asked.

Gu Yuru leaned in and whispered, "The further north we go, the more desolate the villages and fields become."

The General remained silent. She knew it was the truth. When the Northern Zhen army had invaded before the fall of the capital, they had burned, killed, and looted. Many villages were left with nothing; women were abducted, men slaughtered, and homes razed. The survivors were forced to flee.

"Are my own father, mother, and Uncle Gu’s family not refugees from the Central Plains who have lived in Yangzhou for over twenty years?" the General muttered to herself. Her heart swelled with emotion, and her complexion paled.

Gu Yuru, observant, asked anxiously, "Did I say something wrong, General?"

The General shook her head, took a deep breath, and regained her composure. She looked at Gu Yuru and asked, "Sister Yuru, does this white battle robe look good on me?" She was trying to relieve the tension.

With her guards nearby, the General calling herself "Sister" surprised Gu Yuru. She stepped back and joked, "General, you look stunning! You look a bit like my brother, Li Muwen."

"Are you talking about the white-clad Li Muwen?" The General blushed, as red as the peach blossoms by the road. "Pah! You look like him!" She spurred her horse forward.

Gu Yuru chased after her, laughing, "He is my brother, of course I look like him!"

Ahead, thick smoke billowed from a village. The General raised her whip, signaling a halt. Gu Yuru rode up a mound, looked, and returned: "General, the village is on fire. It might be bandits!"

"Let's go!" the General commanded.

They met villagers fleeing in terror, shouting, "Run! The Northern Zhen soldiers are raiding again!"

Realizing it was Northern Zhen, the General shouted, "Brothers! It's the Northern Zhen raiders! Let's kill them!"

The General, being the fastest, charged into the village, her sword flashing. These were not mere bandits, but Northern Zhen soldiers stationed at the border, known for their extreme cruelty.

At the village entrance, the General’s sword clashed with the scimitar of a Northern Zhen leader.

"Who are you to block our grain-gathering mission?" the leader demanded.

"We are the border defense forces of the Southern Han Jingnan Command!" the General declared.

"Nonsense! The cowards of the Jingnan Command wouldn't dare!" the leader sneered.

"Ask again? I am the newly appointed Commander of Jingnan, the General of the South!"

The leader scoffed, "Never heard of you!" and charged. With one stroke, the General severed his head.

Gu Yuru and the guards charged into the village. The raiders, caught off guard, were soon overwhelmed. In a short time, the forty-plus raiders were all killed. Dozens of villagers had already been murdered, but the rest were saved.

That night, the village was silent, heavy with grief. The General stayed in a dilapidated house belonging to an old man and his grandson. The boy’s father had been killed and his mother abducted by the same raiders six months prior. The General shared her rations with the boy, gently wiping the crumbs from his mouth and comforting him.

Unable to sleep, the General walked into the courtyard, followed by Gu Yuru. Looking at the stars, she remembered her mother’s stories of being a slave in Northern Zhen. Her mother, Princess Zhao Rouya, had been captured during the fall of the capital and later rescued by her father and friends.

"Sister Yuru," the General asked, "do you know who my mother is?"

"Is she not your mother, Zhao Rouya, wife of Uncle Xiao Tianjian?" Gu Yuru replied.

"No," the General said, "my mother was a slave in Northern Zhen. She was a princess, the daughter of the former Emperor and half-sister to the current one. She was sent to Northern Zhen as a slave when the capital fell."

Gu Yuru was stunned.

"She returned because your parents and mine rescued her," the General continued. "But she lives in fear because she knows secrets about the court and the Empress Dowager. They have been trying to kill her ever since."

Gu Yuru finally understood why their parents had kept their origins a secret.

Late that night, Gu Yuru asked, "Will they come for revenge?"

"They are brutal; they will certainly come," the General said coldly. "And I hope they do, so I can show the world—and my mother’s sisters still enslaved in the North—that Southern Han still has people fighting for them."

The next evening, the party arrived at a post station. After settling in, the General ordered Gu Yuru to scout the area. Gu Yuru returned to report that a party led by the "Princess of Bashu" was also staying there, escorting a young nobleman to the capital.

The General frowned, realizing the Princess was her aunt. That night, in a quiet room, the General and Gu Yuru met with Princess Zhao Chuoyun. The young nobleman was Zhao Yuan, the only son of the Prince of Wei, who was being taken to the capital to be adopted by the childless Emperor as the future Crown Prince.

Before they parted, Zhao Chuoyun warned them, "Because the court is not yet pure, you must only call me Princess of Bashu, and I will call you General of the South. And never reveal that you are women."

Zhao Yuan and the attendants swore to keep the secret.