The Songhua River in October carried autumn's harvest and solemn hush. The sky was high, the wind sharp; the reed tassels had turned white, and the pasture grass was abundant, perfect for grazing livestock and fattening them up. The river surface narrowed, fish leapt in midstream, and bark canoes used for fishing carried tribespeople in twos and threes. Looking out, the birches and poplars along the banks had all turned a brilliant gold, fallen from treetops to beneath their feet. The river wind blew and stirred them, and the golden leaves dancing nearby wove together with the dark-green pine billows in the distance into a boundless scroll. When the horsemen approached in a low rumble, white egrets rose from the reed marshes with clear, lingering cries. And so a Shaman on horseback looked at the golden autumn filling his eyes and asked.
"Gali, where are we?"
"Reporting to the Shaman, this is Lahasusu."
"Lahasusu? What does that mean?"
"Ancestral Priest, it's a very obscure description. It means ancient ruins and old houses."
Chief Ali smiled and explained in halting Nahua Language. Then puzzlement showed on his weathered old face, and he asked the old Gali, who was straight as an arrow shaft.
"The River God sees us! I've gone up and down the lower mouth of the Songhua River six or seven times, yet I've never heard there were any ruins called Lahasusu here."
"Reporting to the Ezhen, there are. Just ahead, on Qindeli'etu Mountain."
"Qindeli'etu Mountain? The mountain of skiing, casting nets for fish, and the river bend?"
"Yes! It's on the mountain behind the river bend. We'll head south from here, then follow the northern foot of the Wanda Mountains southwest. If we keep going along the Songhua River, we'll soon run into the scouts and horsemen of