Across the yellow earth, a ragged band of more than three hundred people trudged along in scattered formation. On the flank of the column, a rider in tattered clothes swayed atop a tall horse with its every rise and fall.
At last, someone could not hold back any longer. He came over, cupped his hands in salute, and asked, "Military Marquis, are we truly heading north to Liaodong?"
"What else can we do? Other than the Western Regions, the grasslands, Liaodong, and Southern Yue, is there anywhere under heaven where we can settle down and survive? The Western Regions are ten thousand li away. The grassland barbarians have warhorses to aid them—how can common farmers like us possibly contend with them? Southern Yue is no closer than the Western Regions, several thousand li away. Miasma runs rampant there, the language is incomprehensible, and the customs are different. I fear the Han army would slaughter us all before we even reached Southern Yue.
"Only Liaodong is near enough. Its mountains and rivers provide natural defenses that can hold back invading enemies. The Buyeo barbarians have received no civilizing influence and know nothing of propriety. They bully the weak and fear the strong. We need only beat them into submission, then we can trade with them, earn wealth, enrich our brothers, and live free of worry from then on. The only concern is that Northeast China is a bitterly cold land. But with all our brothers united, what is a little cold and hardship to fear? Now that all our families have been scattered, so long as we keep our lives and reach Liaodong, I will make the decision for you all: settle new homes, marry new wives, have seven or eight children, carry on your family lines, and build new ancestral