The Return Voyage and Traveling Together

After Yan led the fleet away from the Greater Qing Tribe, they traveled upstream along the Fish River. This section of the river was narrower than the downstream section, and the trees on both banks were denser. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the tree canopy, falling onto the water and forming patches of dappled light that changed position as the boat moved. When the wind blew across the river, occasionally one or two leaves would fall, drifting on the water and slowly floating downstream with the current.

A few days later, the fleet arrived at the Bean Tribe's dock. The afternoon sun shone down from the west, casting long shadows of the people on the dock onto the planks and in the shallow water, swaying gently with the ripples. Many people were already standing on the dock. Bean Tribe's chief, Shunian, stood at the front, wearing a greyish-white linen robe. The collar and cuffs of the robe were faded from washing, but clean and spotless. He wore straw sandals, the edges of which were covered in dried mud, the weave marks still visible on the soles. Behind him stood several other chiefs, all dressed cleanly. He stood beside Shunian, craning his neck to look out over the river, his gaze sweeping over the sails of the boats that were gradually approaching the shore. Shibang wore a dark gray linen robe, a leather belt with a bronze buckle around his waist, and animal skin boots. In his hand, he held a wooden tablet with several lines of numbers engraved on it. He glanced at it and then looked up again, his eyes moving back and forth between the waiting crowd on the dock and the fleet of boats on the river, as if he were checking whether the number of people already waiting on the dock matched the record on the wooden tablet.

The boat docked, the gangplank was set up, and Yan stepped off. Fine dust from the river breeze still clung to his clothes, shimmering a pale grayish-white in the afternoon sun, but his spirits remained high, his steps large and steady. Shunian stepped forward, stopping before Yan, clasping his hands in a respectful greeting, the clasped hands making a short, crisp sound as they closed. He said, "Young Chief Yan, I've gathered eighty percent of the people here at the dock. Just give the order, and they can board the boat. The remaining twenty percent are at the camp watching over the warehouses and livestock, ensuring nothing is stolen." As he spoke, he glanced sideways at the waiting crowd on the dock, his palms outstretched as if to indicate their distribution and number, then turned back. "I've checked the list three times, every single household; no one is missing."

Yan's gaze swept over the waiting crowd on the dock. The members of the Bean Tribe stretched out along the dock's boardwalk. Some carried bundles on their backs, the straps digging into the fabric of their shoulders, leaving dark marks in the sunlight; some held children's hands, the children's fingers gripping the adults' fingers tightly; some supported the elderly, the elderly's hands resting on the arms of the young, their grip loose but never letting go. Most of their clothes were made of linen, some new, some old, some patched, the stitches fine and neat, as if carefully sewn. They stood in the afternoon sun, no one speaking, only a few children whispering, their voices carried away by the river breeze, silencing themselves when a gentle touch of an adult's arm was heard. Some were adjusting the straps of their bundles, some were stepping aside to make way, and some were looking up at the distant sails, as if calculating how much longer they would have to wait to step onto the gangplank.

Yan withdrew his gaze and looked at Shunian, saying, "Chief Shunian, you have done a very good job. I will settle these people in the Valley Tribe for rest and recuperation first, and we will bring you all over next year."

Shunian nodded, rubbing his fingers back and forth on his belt, and said, "Chief Yan, I trust you. Besides, you've sent warriors to help us strengthen our defenses. Even if we don't retreat to the Valley Tribe, we're not afraid. You take them to the Valley Tribe first, and I'll stay here with the rest of the men."

Yan looked at him. "Okay, are there enough people to stay behind? If not, I can leave some more."

Shunian nodded and said, "That's enough. With the soldiers you left behind, it's enough to hold the camp. There are people to do the work in the fields, and there are people watching the sentries by the river. The torches on the watchtowers are already prepared, so there won't be a shortage. If you take the men away, the pressure on my food supply will actually be relieved."

Yan nodded, then turned to Shibang beside him. Seeing Shibang turn to him, Shibang straightened his slightly hunched shoulders, as if a weighed-down branch had finally been released. He put away the wooden tablet and tucked the plank under his arm. Yan said, "Shibang, our Fire Tribe has left a thousand elite warriors and some warships with the Greater Qing Tribe. When you have time, go and patrol them, and while you're at it, gather the latest news and updates on the Tiger Tribe and Wolf Tribe."

After listening, Shibang nodded while standing still, patted his thigh, and said, "Okay, boss, I will definitely keep a close watch on this area. I will arrange for someone to go to Qingshi's side to coordinate and re-survey the patrol routes in the next few days."

Yan continued, his voice becoming more steady. "When I leave, I'll leave you with five ships with a carrying capacity of 100,000 jin and ten ships with a carrying capacity of 50,000 jin. Combined with the strength of the Bear Tribe and the Valley Tribe, you shouldn't have any problem dealing with the Tiger Tribe's flanking force. The Tiger Tribe can't spare any extra forces to cause trouble right now, and our strength will increase considerably next year, so we won't have to worry about the Tiger Tribe harassing us anymore. As long as you keep a good watch over this place, it will be a great achievement, and I'll recommend you to the chief for credit."

Upon hearing the words "request for commendation," Shibang's eyes lit up, like a Shitou that had been pressed down for a long time being turned over, its exposed side slightly warm in the sunlight. He raised his hand and patted his chest, saying, "Thank you, boss. Don't worry about things here. I'll keep in touch with Yingmu and make sure the communication isn't cut off. We'll send people to exchange reports every three days, and in case of emergency, we'll light the beacon fire."

Yan gave him a few more instructions, telling him to keep in touch with Yingmu of the Bear Tribe, Jia Li and Bailin of the Valley Tribe, and to work together to build and improve the beacon fires along the way, so that they wouldn't find that the signal couldn't be transmitted when something happened. Shibang agreed to each instruction, nodding for each one, as if he was using nods to write down the words one by one and storing them into his memory.

At the dock, members of the Bean Tribe were boarding the boat one after another. Some carried bundles on the gangplank, the edges of the bundles brushing against their knees, swaying gently with each step. Their boots made short, firm thuds on the planks, each sound carrying a sense of solidity. Some were supporting the elderly, their hands resting on the arms of younger people. Their steps were slow, but each one firm, as if they were confirming that the plank beneath their feet was stable before taking the next step. Some were carrying children, the babies nestled on their mothers' shoulders, their faces buried in their necks, seemingly fast asleep, their breathing even and steady. Occasionally, the children would stir slightly in their sleep before returning to their original positions. A young woman paused on the gangplank, glanced back at the dock, her gaze lingering for a moment among the figures seeing them off on the shore, then turned back and continued walking. Her steps neither slowed nor quickened because of that glance, as if she were completing a journey in her own way, one that needed no one else's farewell.

Yan stood at the edge of the dock, watching the figures boarding the ship. His gaze moved from the front of the line to the back until the last person stepped onto the gangplank before he looked away.

He turned to Shunian and Shibang, clasped his hands in a fist salute to them, and said, "Then I'll be leaving first. Keep an eye on things here. If there's any unusual activity, send word to the Valley Tribe immediately, and I'll bring a boat over as soon as possible."

Shunian returned the greeting with a fist salute and said, "Alright, take care on your journey." Shibang followed suit with a fist salute. The two stood on the edge of the dock, watching Yan turn around and walk onto the gangplank. When Yan reached the bow of the Chuantou, he waved to the dock again, then turned and walked off.

The fleet slowly departed from the Bean Tribe dock, continuing upstream along the Fish River towards the Valley Tribe headquarters dock. The sails billowed again in the afternoon sun, the white sails making a series of short, sharp flapping sounds as they unfurled in the wind, as if each boat was checking that it had caught the wind. Then the sounds gradually subsided, leaving only the continuous, low murmur of the wind and the water.

Several days later, the fleet finally arrived at the Valley Tribe's main dock. The dock was already packed with people, even more densely packed than on previous visits. The crowd stretched out along the open space between the dock and the camp, as if someone had measured the distance between each row beforehand. Daiyue stood at the very front, wearing a dark blue linen robe with dark stitching at the collar and cuffs, as if he had changed it specifically for today. Behind him stood several leaders and elders, all dressed neatly. No one spoke; only the wind blew through them, causing the hems of their robes to flutter slightly. Behind them, the 20,000 members of the Valley Tribe stood in long rows along the open space between the dock and the camp. The procession stretched as far as the eye could see. At its edge, people were talking in hushed tones, their voices scattering in the river breeze into a soft hum, like someone turning the pages of an endless book, each page turning softly before closing again. Someone was tidying the ropes binding their bundles, their fingers untying and retying the knots as if to make sure they wouldn't come undone; someone was squatting on the ground re-tying a loose bundle of cloth, tucking the edges into the loops and pressing them down with their palm to make sure they wouldn't come loose; someone turned their head and said something to someone next to them, their voice carried a short distance towards the campsite by the wind before dissipating, like a whisper replacing the final, peaceful rhythm before departure.

Qingsui stood not far behind Daiyue, wearing a light purple linen dress embroidered with a few Little Flower on the hem, like wild chrysanthemums just blooming in an autumn field, the stitches around the petals neatly finished. Her hair was tied in a braid that fell to her shoulder, the end tied with a light-colored string, a small section of the string left hanging loosely, swaying gently in the breeze. She held nothing in her hands, simply standing there with her hands clasped in front of her. Her gaze fell on the sails of the boats that were approaching the shore, her eyes sweeping from Chuantou to stern, as if confirming the number of boats, before settling back on the figure standing at the Chuantou, pausing for a moment.

The boat docked, the gangplank was set up, and Yan stepped off. Fine dust from the river breeze still clung to his collar, appearing a pale gray in the afternoon sun, but his steps remained steady. Daiyue stepped forward, clasped his hands in a respectful greeting, and said, "Young Chief Yan, all 20,000 members of the Valley Tribe have assembled at the dock and are ready to board at any time." He paused, glancing at the waiting group on the dock. "We'll settle the Bean Tribe members first. We won't rush to assign them work; let them familiarize themselves with their lodgings and rest for a few days first."

The two chatted for a few more minutes about the details of personnel handover and resource allocation. Their voices were not loud, but every point was explained clearly. At the dock, the members of the Valley Tribe were boarding the ship one after another. Daiyue stood on the edge of the dock, watching the figures boarding the ship. His hands were behind his back, and his gaze moved from the front of the line to the back.

Qingsui stood at the edge of the dock, her gaze shifting between the figures boarding the ships before settling on Yan—he was turning to Daiyue, exchanging a few final words, as if checking if the mooring ropes of a cargo ship were securely fastened. She neither stepped forward nor backward, simply remaining where she was. This time, her father, Daiyue, had arranged for Qingsui to be among the first to leave. Qingsui had gained considerable experience over the years and was now capable of handling many matters of the tribe independently. This time, she and Fengren were leading a group to the Fire Tribe's main valley. Qingsui was very happy because she would finally have some time alone with Yan.

Seeing that it was almost time, Yan said to Daiyue, "Chief Daiyue, I'll be leaving now. After this group arrives at the Fire Tribe, I will arrange their accommodations and work. I will come back next spring to pick up the remaining members of the Valley Tribe."

Daiyue clasped his hands in a fist and said, "Alright, I'll guard this place, nothing will go wrong. Just walk steadily on the road, no need to rush."

Yan nodded, his gaze sweeping across the dock once more, then he turned and walked up the gangplank onto the Chuantou. He stood at the bow, waved to the dock, then lowered his hand. Turning back, he called out to the cabin, "Let's go!"

The fleet slowly departed from the Valley Tribe's main dock, heading upstream along the Fish River. The sails billowed again in the afternoon sun, their white surfaces making a series of short, sharp slapping sounds as they unfurled in the wind, gradually being drowned out by the sound of the water. The cabins were full of people; some were talking in hushed tones, their voices muffled by the sounds of oars and water, as if they were bumping against each other in the corners and between the walls of the cabin, slowly finding their place. The sounds intertwined continuously and subtly, like someone repeatedly humming a familiar song in the same tune, each time enveloped by layers of oar and water noise.