Volume One: The Commander of Southern Sichuan Chapter Four: The Hard Road Through Shu

Old Feng had returned. Wei Fufeng drove away from the gates of Famen Temple toward the entrance of the Baoxie Road at Mei County, arriving there without incident.

The crowds in Mei County astonished Wei Fufeng—there were far too many outsiders. Upon inquiry, he learned that most were from the Jianghuai region, forced to abandon their homes and flee to Hanzhong or Bashu, escaping turmoil and seeking a livelihood.

Outside the city, an unruly multitude of over ten thousand refugees had gathered. Wei Fufeng felt both relief and concern. A large crowd could ward off wild beasts and mountain bandits, but refugees without law or order could easily become bandits themselves.

After consulting with Old Feng, Wei Fufeng sold the carriage for a supply of rations and hired a group of ten refugees. He required them to carry Old Feng and the woman in green on stretchers, providing them with food in return.

The thirteen of them set out and soon reached the pass at Baoxie Road. The pass was guarded by Fengxiang troops, who demanded a toll, though it was much cheaper—only a single coin per person—than that at Ziwu Road. This was not because the Fengxiang military governor was merciful, but because Baoxie Road was an official route that, in earlier times, collected no toll at all.

Moreover, the authorities feared riots. Every warlord desired a large army, but a large army required grain. If the army were to run out of food, mutiny and rebellion would follow. In recent years, poor harvests plagued the Wei River plain. The military governor of Fengxiang lacked the means to expand his forces. The land had largely fallen into the hands of great landowners, and even powerful warlords needed their support. Thus, no matter how many refugees arrived, if the landowners would not accept them, the authorities had no choice but to let them pass.

Entering Baoxie Road, they traveled along the Xie River, which flowed south to north as a tributary of the Wei. The Bao River ran in the opposite direction, from north to south, joining the Han River. These two rivers, mirroring each other, marked the route through the Qinling Mountains—the origin of the name Baoxie Road.

Wei Fufeng now understood the hardship of the Shu Roads, climbing mountains and traversing precarious plank paths that could collapse at any moment. Each day they managed only thirty or forty li in a straight line, for the refugees traveled with their families, old and young, men and women alike.

Before long, the woman in green chose to walk, leaving only Old Feng to ride the stretcher. He held a sharpened bamboo spear with a blank expression, but his eyes were sharp, calm as he was carried along.

Wei Fufeng, walking as if he were merely a retainer, also wielded a sharpened bamboo spear.

At night, they camped in a forest. The three of them kept together, while the ten refugees formed their own group, each eating separately. Three women from among the refugees went off to a mountain stream.

Wei Fufeng lowered his voice in concern, “Sister, you haven’t bathed this whole journey. Why not go with them?”

“It’s better to stay dirty—to avoid trouble,” the woman in green replied softly.

“I’m sorry you have to endure this,” Wei Fufeng said apologetically.

“I’m not as delicate as you imagine. I grew up in the mountains,” she answered quietly.

“Which famous mountain did you grow up on, sister?” Wei Fufeng asked.

“I’d rather not say,” she replied bluntly.

Wei Fufeng smiled, but Old Feng then spoke quietly: “Don’t be alone. Not everyone traveling with us is trustworthy.”

Wei Fufeng was taken aback. Old Feng continued, “Anyone who can abandon their home is desperate, but it also means they have a ruthless streak. If we appear weak, they may harbor evil intentions.”

Wei Fufeng nodded. One must never let down one’s guard.

Old Feng added, “You two sleep first. I’ll rest a bit in the latter half of the night—after all, I have the luxury of being carried.”

Wei Fufeng nodded, wrapped himself in a tattered robe, hugged his bamboo spear, and lay down to sleep on the grass—mountain roads were exhausting.

The woman in green, however, sat cross-legged with her eyes closed, as if practicing some cultivation technique.

At dawn, Wei Fufeng was refreshed. After drawing water from a mountain stream and eating, the three of them set off once more, enduring a difficult two days until they reached Taibai Pass Town, deep in the Qinling Mountains.

Taibai Pass Town was built against the mountain with a fortress guarded by Fengxiang troops. In fact, it was an official post and trading town, the troops there collecting mountain goods. At this time, thousands of refugees had gathered outside its walls.

The Fengxiang troops forbade the passing refugees from entering the fortress. Wei Fufeng had no choice but to make do as a refugee himself, finding a place to rest and staying vigilant against sudden violence.

Luckily, the night passed in peace, and they continued on at dawn.

On the road, a woman from their group approached the woman in green to speak with her. Receiving no response, the woman left, disappointed.

Wei Fufeng likewise kept to himself, always traveling ahead or behind the woman in green. Another two days passed safely. At dusk, they stopped to rest in a mountainous area where refugees were gathered.

Wei Fufeng set down his book case, dropped wearily onto the grass, and lay back. The woman in green sat beside him.

The refugees set down the stretchers, and one of them went straight to Wei Fufeng. The woman in green opened the book case, took out six hard biscuits, and handed them over. The man accepted them and left.

Old Feng hopped over on his crutch, bamboo spear in hand. The woman in green gave him a biscuit, which he devoured. She handed another to Wei Fufeng.

Wei Fufeng accepted it, muttering lazily, “My stamina is worse than a woman’s.”

“You’re not used to hard labor, so your stamina can’t last. But you’re young—you recover easily,” Old Feng replied.

Wei Fufeng smiled. “Will our rations suffice?”

“They should. If not, we’ll dig up wild roots to fill our bellies. Most of the refugees here survive on what they forage,” Old Feng answered, chewing the tough biscuit.

Wei Fufeng sat up to eat. The woman in green silently handed him a bamboo flask of water and, for once, spoke quietly, “You should be studying at home.”

“In these times, book learning isn’t much use. I told you, if I hadn’t left home, I likely would have been conscripted or forced to labor,” Wei Fufeng replied softly.

“He’s right. Better to serve Lord Wei than be conscripted by the Tong Pass Army,” Old Feng agreed.

The woman in green was silent, nibbling on half a biscuit. She only ate half a biscuit each meal, gathering wild leaves along the way to supplement it. Wei Fufeng tried eating leaves too but found them impossible to swallow.

At night, Old Feng kept watch while the woman in green meditated. Wei Fufeng hugged his bamboo spear and slept deeply—until he was suddenly struck awake.

With a jolt of pain, he sat up. Before he could see clearly, someone yanked his left arm, pulling him forward.

Stones clattered to the ground—thud, thud, thud. Alarmed, Wei Fufeng gripped his spear, scanning the darkness.

He saw more than twenty figures, two of whom seemed familiar—they were the sturdy refugees who had traveled with them.

“Hand over your biscuits, or we’ll kill you,” a man growled.

Wei Fufeng, both frightened and furious, glared at the familiar refugees. “You’re in league with these others?”

“We’re from the same village,” the man replied, as if that justified his actions.

“With all these people, how much do you think you’ll get?” Wei Fufeng demanded.

The man faltered, opened his mouth, but only repeated, “We’re from the same village.”

“Go to hell!” Wei Fufeng lunged, his shout fierce as a tiger leaping from the mountains, his bamboo spear striking like a viper’s tongue.

The man shrank back in terror, raising a tree branch to block, but Wei Fufeng’s spear became a dark blur, thrusting through the branch and into the man’s throat. The refugee’s eyes widened in horror.

At the same instant, Old Feng attacked, springing forward on one leg, his bamboo spear striking even faster than Wei Fufeng’s. Before the threatening man could react, Old Feng’s spear pierced his throat.

The assailants cried out in shock, stumbling back—some turned and ran, others followed, leaving two corpses behind.

Wei Fufeng’s expression was grim; he couldn’t bring himself to look at the man he’d killed.

Old Feng said calmly, “Let’s go. We can’t stay here.”

The three of them set off into the night. Even with only one leg, Old Feng could manage on his own with his crutch, though more slowly.

After a while, the woman in green asked, “Did you intend to strike first?”

“Yes—and no,” Wei Fufeng replied softly. “Old Feng said only fierceness can instill fear. If we had let them all rush us, we might not have survived. We needed to break their unity and shatter their will to fight.”

“They only wanted food,” the woman in green said quietly.

“In these times, food is life itself. There are those who would eat others just to live. Few, like you, can survive on leaves,” Old Feng interjected.

“If I had acted, I could have subdued them. By killing, you’ve only made the road ahead more difficult,” the woman in green said softly.

Old Feng paused, then smiled bitterly and nodded.

Wei Fufeng was silent. After several days together, he knew the woman in green was kindhearted, devoted to the Daoist ideal of saving the world.

In truth, he hadn’t wanted to kill, but he agreed with Old Feng’s harsh lessons: in chaotic times, one could not afford to be merciful with enemies.

His silence was not agreement with the woman in green, but a desire to avoid discord.

There is a saying: It’s better to kill a thief than to guard against one. How could he rest easy with enemies so close, traveling through the perilous Qinling Mountains, knowing he could be pushed from the plank path at any moment?

For Old Feng, he would rather struggle along on his own than be carried by those who might turn against him.