The river wind howled, invigorating everyone it touched.
The large ship sailed along the canal, and Wang Yan sat on a small folding stool on the deck.
Beside him were Wang Dongliang, who had accompanied him north to Jingcheng through the cold tide, and two burly attendants. They handled odd jobs on the one hand and served as bodyguards on the other. Wang Dongliang was still young and not yet capable enough. He could hardly be expected to personally deal with every little problem—that would be far too undignified.
The four gathered around a small raised brazier, brewing pot tea laden with all sorts of ingredients. They ate fragrant, charred white-flour flatbreads and dried meat warmed over the fire. It kept them warm, filled their stomachs, and let them enjoy the sights along the Grand Canal. It was quite pleasant.
Yang Guang's construction of the Grand Canal had truly been a merit for the ages. Traveling by land would have taken Wang Yan half a month of wandering, while going by water took only three to five days. Moreover, water routes were relatively safer than land routes. A few petty bandits could occupy a hilltop and rob travelers with just three or five men, but that did not work on the water. Everyone traveled by boat; too few men would not suffice, while too many would bring grave consequences.
After all, grain transport was the lifeline that kept Bianjing, a massive city of a million people, functioning. If anything went wrong, it would be a matter of immense consequence, one that tugged directly at the sensitive nerves of the Song Dynasty's ruler and ministers, just as mentioned before.
Water travel was also smoother. It lacked the constant jolting of land travel. The main issue was the season; otherwise, Wang Yan