That night, David Thompson drank with both sorrow and joy, and before he knew it, he had passed out at the table. When he sobered up the next day, the morning star was already shining through the paper-pasted window. His father, mother, and Uncle John, Aunt Mary had long since gotten up and packed all his belongings for him. His treasured bow and protective knife were all there, not a single thing missing. Even the little wolf Samuel had been placed in a burlap pouch handmade by his mother and hung on the back of the blue-patterned mule.

The big blue-patterned mule couldn’t stand the wild animal scent of the little wolf, and kept leaping forward and shying away, until Charles Thompson raised his whip, forcing it to lower its head and reluctantly join the caravan waiting outside.

With over a hundred pack animals gathered together, the scene was truly impressive. At George Clark’s command, the merchants lined up in a long procession and began to move slowly. The clanging of bells broke the morning silence.

“Xuzi, be careful on the road!” Old Charles Thompson greeted George Clark and the others once more, and after receiving their solemn promises, he walked over to his son and gave him some final advice.

“Mm, Dad, Mom, you both take care of yourselves too! And Uncle John, Aunt Mary, all of you be careful!” David Thompson replied, feeling as if something was about to spill from his eyes.

“If, if, just…” Mrs. Thompson-Bolton wanted to say something, but was afraid to jinx it, hesitating, reluctant to let go of the reins.

“What your mother means is, if you run into trouble, saving your life comes first—everything else is nonsense!” Charles Thompson whispered in his son’s ear, in a voice only family could hear. Then he snatched the reins and shoved them into David Thompson’s hand. “Keep up, don’t fall behind. Try to stay in the middle of the group. Eat more meat and vegetables at meals, don’t be stingy on the road—spend what you need to…”

His mount snorted and slowly followed the caravan. David Thompson looked back, and through his misty eyes, saw his father and mother supporting each other, waving at him. Behind them, the crowing of roosters was waking the village at dawn.

Even many years later, those two figures supporting each other would often linger in David Thompson’s dreams.

Note 1: Artemisia. In northern rural superstition, it’s believed that if Artemisia grows on the ancestral grave, it foretells great achievements for the descendants. So elders would say: “Xuer is the Artemisia on our family’s ancestral grave.”

Note 2: During the Sui and Tang dynasties, silver had not yet become the mainstream currency and had no fixed exchange rate with copper coins; it was mainly used as a valuable gift to bribe officials. It circulated in small amounts in Yunnan and the borderlands. This book references Song and Jin dynasty prices, with one tael of silver equivalent to two thousand copper coins. By the Ming and Qing, with an influx of foreign silver, one tael of silver was worth a thousand copper coins.

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Volume One: Song of the Frontier

Chapter Two: Beyond the Pass (Part One)

The farthest place he’d ever been was the county seat, and the highest ridge he’d ever seen was the big green mountain in front of the village. Although he had imagined the journey beyond the pass a hundred times in his heart, it was only after leaving home that David Thompson finally realized how different the world outside was from what he had pictured.

Compared to the towering Taihang Mountains, the big green mountain stretching nearly a hundred li was just a minor hill. Compared to the surging Luan River, the Yishui of his hometown was nothing but a small stream. North, then east, then north again, then turning east—the mountains around him grew ever higher, and the sky beyond the mountains ever clearer. Following the official road and swaying pontoon bridges, they crossed the Lai River, the Juma River, the Sanggan River. Along the way, more and more traveling merchants joined, swelling the caravan like a rolling snowball.

Shanggu was called a border commandery, but in reality, it was still far from the frontier. After traveling for five or six days, the caravan stopped at Ji County, the seat of Zhuo Commandery, for the final major resupply before heading beyond the pass.

“Check your luggage quickly—replace anything that’s missing. We’ll stay at Zhanglaozhuang for the afternoon, and tomorrow at the third quarter of the hour of the Tiger, we set out. After the hour of the Rabbit, we wait for no one!” George Clark led the caravan into a familiar farmhouse and shouted at the top of his lungs.

With a buzz, the merchants, reeking of sweat, scattered like startled flies. Some unloaded luggage, others tended to the animals. In the blink of an eye, the large courtyard was left with only David Thompson and Big Eyes Miller, sitting awkwardly on their horses, not knowing what to do next.

“Brothers, please help these two young men unload their luggage and feed the animals some good grain. They’re my juniors, and it’s their first time traveling far from home!” Amid the chaos of shouting and neighing, George Clark’s voice sounded especially warm. Several farmhands came over and, with many hands, helped David Thompson and Big Eyes Miller unload their luggage.

David Thompson jumped off his mount, wanting to help, but didn’t know how. He wanted to relax outside the crowd like George Clark, but was afraid he’d lose track of his belongings and someone might swap them out. Inside were the expensive brocades his father had bought, his favorite dried fruits, and a few silver beans hidden in the hem of a cotton coat…

“Xuguan, come have some tea in the cool shed—the host has already prepared it!” George Clark’s voice sounded again in his ear. David Thompson shook his head repeatedly, wanting to tell George Clark he was worried about his luggage, but afraid of offending the farmhands. He didn’t know whether to stand or go, stammering, sweat suddenly breaking out on his forehead.

The noon sun shone down from the bright blue sky, and the blushing youth with sparkling sweat on his brow became a unique sight among the bustling crowd. A few old merchants who had already settled their luggage and animals came over, patted him on the shoulder, and walked away with kind smiles. A few mischievous ones deliberately whispered in David Thompson’s ear, “Keep an eye on your stuff—the farmhands’ hands are never honest!”

Hearing this, David Thompson grew even more anxious, for his family’s hopes were wrapped up in that luggage. Just as he was mustering the courage to snatch it back, Big Eyes Miller gently grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t listen to those guys’ nonsense. If Uncle George didn’t trust them, would he have brought us here?” Corner-Eyed Miller stood beside David Thompson, speaking in a low voice to reassure him.