One year later.
"Sir, may I ask which direction the Qilian Mountains are in?"
Before a village wreathed in cooking smoke, a figure wearing a bamboo hat stopped an old man and asked politely.
The old man wore coarse hemp clothes, his shoulders bent beneath a heavy carrying pole. His whole body was sun-darkened as he curiously sized up the unfamiliar youth before him.
"Where did a young man like you come from?"
"I came from Chang'an."
"Chang'an?" The old man looked him over a few times. "The Qilian Mountains are near the Xiongnu border. What are you going there alone for?"
"Nothing in particular. I just want to take a look."
"You'd better stay away from that place. Xiongnu scouts show up there from time to time. Be careful, or you might lose your life!"
The youth merely smiled and said nothing.
"It's that way. Go another twenty li, and you'll see the mountain range." In the end, the old man still pointed out the road.
The youth thanked him, lowered the brim of his bamboo hat slightly, and headed straight toward the Qilian Mountains.
The old man watched the youth's departing figure strangely, shaking his head. Just as he was about to go home, he suddenly froze.
"Strange... why doesn't this carrying pole feel heavy anymore?"
He carefully checked the things in the baskets at either end. Everything was still there, yet the pole resting on his shoulders had no weight at all, light as a feather.
The old man muttered to himself, then hoisted the weightless pole and hurried home.
Without its weight burdening him, he moved as swiftly as flying. Before long, he reached his home five li away. Only when he crossed the threshold did the pole's weight return, dropping heavily to the ground.
"Heh,