Spring Arrived

Winter arrived, more steadily than expected. The north wind blew for a while, then stopped, then blew again, as if an invisible hand was constantly adjusting its direction, sometimes blowing straight from the north, sometimes slightly to the west, pushing the ripples on the river in the same direction. It snowed twice, neither much, covering the rooftops and threshing ground with a thin layer, like someone had laid a white cloth over the entire camp before dawn. After dawn, it slowly melted into water, dripping down the eaves and leaving rows of shallow pits. The soil at the bottom of the pits was compacted by the repeated dripping water droplets, gleaming with a dark luster. All the outposts of the Fire Tribe were operating smoothly, with ample food and firewood, and winter clothes had been distributed to everyone in advance. The grain sacks in the warehouse were stacked neatly, with gaps between each row large enough for a person to pass through sideways, making it easy to check whether the bottom sacks were damp.

Yan stayed at the Little Fish River Mouth Outpost for a while, then went to the Fire Tribe Tribe's main valley. He had long promised Qingsui that he would take her horseback riding after he finished his work, and he didn't want to delay that promise any longer. In the Fire Tribe's main valley, Yan rode Chasing Wind, the horse's hooves landing on the muddy ground with a steady and crisp sound. Qingsui rode Treading Clouds. Both horses were gifts from Daiyue to the Fire Tribe, their coats glossy, each Zongmao hanging neatly in the same direction. When she mounted the horse, wearing her dark red linen dress, her movements were more practiced than before, as if she had become familiar with Treading Clouds during her time in the main valley. The pressure on the Jiangsheng was also a little looser than before. She turned her head slightly to look at Yan, her gaze filled with a smile, like a short arc illuminated by the snow, waiting for him to spur the horse forward.

The two rode slowly along the dirt road through the valley, not very fast at first. The winter wind blew from the side, carrying the scent of snow and withered grass, fluttering the small corner of her crimson collar that had been turned up before it fell back down. Her riding posture was more stable than Yan had expected; her back was straight, and the position of her stirrups was just right, as if she had become accustomed to this height and rhythm. The two rode slowly along the dirt road in the valley, flattened by snow, their hooves leaving a series of similarly deep and shallow marks on the frozen earth, like someone drawing lines on paper at a steady pace with the same pen. Then Yan spurred the horse into a gallop. Chasing Wind Feng first trotted, then trotted, and then galloped. The wind whistled past their ears, carrying the scent of snow and withered grass, as if someone was sweeping past them with an invisible broom, swirling the fine snowflakes and grass seeds behind them. Qingsui followed, Treading Clouds's hooves flying, snow flying beneath her hooves. It was as if someone had scattered a handful of salt on the ground, which was then lifted by the wind and briefly shone in the air. Her laughter came back from ahead, scattered and gathered again by the wind, becoming intermittent by the time it reached Yan's ears, like a piece of cloth torn and pieced back together by the wind, with loose threads at the edges. She glanced back at him, her eyes curved, the curve of her eyes flattened by the wind, like an arc worn smooth by the cold winter wind, yet softer. Snowflakes landed on her deep red collar, quickly melting and leaving a small, darker, damp stain. The two ran along the valley for a while, then slowed down and walked side by side, neither speaking. The horses' breath condensed into white mist in the cold air, spreading and gathering again, like two people's breaths stirring the same chilly air in the morning light with different rhythms. The wind rustled the withered grass by the roadside, as if filling the gap of their silence.

In the past few days, Yan had heard something that surprised him. That afternoon, he was Chasing Wind Zongmao by the stables in the main valley, a coarse-toothed wooden comb in his hand, stroking the horse's neck. A young leader ran over from the training ground, telling him that Fengren was sparring with Jianya Fang and asking him to come and watch. Yan put down the comb, patted Chasing Wind's neck, and then turned and walked towards the training ground. The winter sun slanted across the training ground, casting long, thin, dark shadows of the people practicing. Fengren stood... In the center of the arena stood a man holding a wooden stick, its shaft gleaming from repeated use. Jianya stood before him, also holding a stick of the same length, slightly shorter than Fengren's, as if he had deliberately chosen one that suited his hand better. Jianya wore a short, bluish-gray linen robe today, the hem tucked into his belt, the cuffs tightened, giving him a more streamlined appearance than usual. He stood there, his center of gravity low, as if he had adjusted his body to a state of readiness for movement. The two men were about five or six steps apart, neither in a hurry to move.

Fengren struck first. His wooden staff sprang up from his side, whistling through the air, aiming straight for Jianya's shoulder. The staff drew a short arc in mid-air, its force swift and powerful, like a bowstring released and then released. Jianya didn't retreat. Just as the staff was about to reach his shoulder, he flicked his wrist slightly, using the side of his staff to meet Fengren's staff. Then, following the force, he pulled it to the side, as if catching a plank falling from a height—not blocking it head-on, but merely deflecting it an inch. Fengren's staff grazed Jianya's shoulder. The blow landed in empty space. He paused, as if he hadn't expected it to be deflected like that. He didn't stop, retracting the staff and immediately launching another horizontal sweep, aiming straight for Jianya's side. This time, the force was more concentrated than the first, as if the angle and speed had been adjusted. Jianya still didn't retreat. He slightly turned his body to avoid the trajectory of the staff tip, then lightly touched the inside of Fang's wrist with the tip of the staff. The strike wasn't heavy, but the position was precise, as if the trajectory of the staff's swing had been calculated beforehand—it landed precisely on Fengren's side. The Hegu acupoint on Fengren's wrist. Fengren's fingers went slightly numb, and the staff paused for a moment in his hand. The pause was brief, but enough for Jianya to increase the distance by one step. Fengren took a step back, adjusted the angle of his grip, and resumed his stance. His strike was more stable and concentrated than before, and he resumed the rhythm of the second move. But Jianya was always one step ahead of him, like someone glancing at the board during a game of chess and placing their piece in the position Fengren was about to reach. Forced back six steps, his boots left several deep and shallow drag marks on the compacted mud. On the seventh step, the wooden stick in his hand was removed, falling to the ground with a short, muffled thud. He stood there stunned for a while, his hand still gripping the stick, his knuckles slightly open and closed, as if he hadn't yet recovered from that rhythm. When he looked up, Jianya had already retreated to the edge of the training field, bending down to retie his boots, as if making sure his shoelaces hadn't come loose from the movement.

He dusted off his hands, then nodded to Fengren: "You have a good foundation. If you hone your skills for another two years, you should be able to fight me to a draw. Your attacks are fast, but sometimes you overuse your strength, and your retraction is a beat too slow." He spoke calmly, his tone as if stating something he already knew. Fengren stood there, as if replaying those words in his mind. He bent down to pick up the wooden stick from the ground, his fingers slowly tracing the shaft, as if trying to feel the interrupted rhythm in his own way. In the following days, Yan saw Fengren at the edge of the training field. Several times, he was sparring with different leaders, and his movements were more Chenwen than in the previous days, as if he was slowly adjusting his rhythm—he didn't rush to retract his staff after striking, as if waiting for his opponent to adjust their center of gravity before making his move. The staff repeatedly traced the same arc in the afternoon light, as if trying to reconnect the broken arc, step by step, piecing the broken beat back into place. His gaze was no longer just fixed on the movement of his opponent's weapon, but he began to observe the opponent's stance, center of gravity, and the direction of shoulder tilt, breaking down the movements into smaller components and then reassembling them piece by piece.

Yan spent five days in the Honbu Valley, riding horses with Qingsui and eating several meals she cooked—one of which was stewed mutton, the broth reduced to just the right consistency, the steam rising between the grains of meat when picked up with chopsticks. They also went together to the undeveloped hillside north of the Honbu Valley, standing on high ground and gazing at the snow-covered fields in the distance. The wind blowing from there carried the scent of earth and withered grass, and the crisp, clear air unique to before the snow melted, as if something was slowly awakening beneath the ground, inching its way up through the cracks in the permafrost. Qingsui stood beside him, her hands tucked into her sleeves, only a few fingertips visible at the cuffs, her gaze fixed on the white expanse in the distance, as if looking at a road yet to begin. After a while, she spoke, "By next autumn, that land should be able to be planted. Last time I went, I saw a thin..." "The water is clear; if we could bring it here, we could plant early rice on that land." Her voice wasn't loud, as if she were only speaking to herself. Yan didn't reply. He looked at the snow-covered land for a while, then turned his gaze back to her profile. The sun peeked through the clouds, outlining her silhouette with a warm hue. Strands of hair near her ear were blown by the wind and fell back down, briefly gleaming in the snow. He looked at her for a moment, then said, "Next autumn, I'll take you to that land for a walk." Qingsui didn't turn her head, but the curve of her lips twitched slightly, as if the smile was slowly spreading across her face, starting from the corner of her mouth and extending to the curve of her eyes. The wind passed through the gap between them, carrying away her breath, pausing for a moment in front of her face, as if a small wisp of it was caught in the wind before dissipating.

A few days later, Yan left the main valley and returned to the Little Fish River Mouth Outpost. Although he had been given leave by Jianshi, he found himself unable to stay idle. He woke up at dawn every day, unable to sit still in his room, and began to organize the plans that had been swirling in his mind all winter. He sat in his room, spreading out a map drawn on animal hide with charcoal sticks. The curled edges had been smoothed over many times, as if someone had repeatedly rubbed the edges of the drawing with their palm. He first slowly traced the course of the Fish River with his finger, from its source upstream to its confluence downstream, stopping at each major stronghold along the way. He drew two short horizontal lines with his fingernail at the locations of the Valley Tribe's headquarters and the Bean Tribe, as if marking the end and beginning of next year's migration. He drew a circle at the location of the Greater Qing Tribe and another at the location of the Willow Vine Tribe. He drew circles, then connected the two circles with a dotted line. He picked up a blank wooden tablet, the bone needle tracing the surface, pausing after each line of writing, as if confirming the number was correct. He listed the supplies that needed to be prepared in advance in several rows—seeds, tools, cloth, salt, herbs, bronze weapons—leaving blanks after each item and noting the corresponding quantities and usage times, as if laying out a year's worth of dismantling work on the same plank, waiting to take them out to dry in the sun one by one in the spring. He turned the tablet over, added a few more lines on the back, then rolled up the animal hide map and put it back in the corner. He knew that if he waited until spring to prepare, it would be too late. Winter, though cold, was the perfect time to inventory, organize tools, and repair ships—good enough that no one would get sunburned or soaked.

Winter slowly passed by under his fingertips. Every few days, he would go to the dock to check on the ships that were hibernating in the shipyard. He walked slowly, along the boardwalk from bow to Chuantou, tapping the seams of the planks with his knuckles to make sure the hull hadn't cracked due to the winter's drying. One day, he squatted at the stern of a 50,000-jin (25,000 kg) ship, running his fingers along the joint between the keel and the planks, confirming that the old crack hadn't widened further in winter. Only then did he stand up, bend down, and brush the sawdust and grass clippings off his knees. Sometimes he would squat beside a pile of timber, pressing the top few pieces with his palm to feel their moisture and texture, judging whether they could still withstand the winter's drying. After the spring arrived, the first batch of work was due. Occasionally, he would go to the warehouse to take stock of the prepared grain sacks and tools, running his fingers along the seams of the burlap sacks to check if the knots had been chewed by rats. The warehouse was dimmer than outside, so he stood at the doorway to let his eyes adjust for a moment before going inside. Someone was folding and stacking newly arrived burlap on wooden shelves. When Yan came in, they stopped what they were doing and stood up straight. Yan nodded to him, and the person lowered their head and continued working. During those days, he also gradually confirmed the time for picking up the first batch of people in the spring and arranged the stopping times and supply plans for each outpost along the way. Winter passed slowly like that, like pages of paper being turned by the wind.

The Valley Tribe's dock was already packed with people, even more densely packed than the last time he came. The crowd stretched out along the open space between the dock and the camp. Daiyue stood at the front, wearing a dark blue linen robe. His hands were behind his back, his back ramrod straight, and his gaze was fixed on the sails of the ships that were approaching the shore. Seeing the fleet dock, he took a few steps towards the edge of the dock and stopped where the gangplank had landed. His gaze lingered on Yan, from his shoulders to his waist, and he said, "Young Chief Yan, you brought quite a few people this time, didn't you? I counted the figures in the cabins on the dock, and there are many more than last time. The water is also deeper on the sides of the ships than in previous years."

Yan returned the greeting. "Yes, I brought 20,000 tribesmen here this time, and we plan to settle 10,000 each at the main camp of the Valley Tribe and the Little Valley Camp."

Daiyue nodded, glanced sideways at the neatly arranged lines behind him, and gestured with his chin towards the crowd on the dock. "With the addition of these 20,000 people, the harvest here won't be affected. With enough manpower, the land can be plowed deeper, and the irrigation canals can be built further. I've already gathered 20,000 people at the dock. As soon as your people disembark, these people can immediately board, one after another, ensuring the dock isn't empty."

Yan followed his gaze and saw the members of the Valley Tribe lined up in several rows along the boardwalk at the dock. Some carried bundles, others held children. Yan's gaze swept over the neatly arranged lines on the dock and then landed on Daiyue's face. "Good. The Little Valley Camp Outpost is also disembarking. Once the boats at the Valley Tribe headquarters are empty, the tribespeople can board. After these boats are full, the boats from the Little Valley Camp should arrive soon." He paused, lowering his voice. "Chief Daiyue, how is the situation in the north lately? A winter has passed; have there been any new developments from the Tiger Tribe and Wolf Tribe?"

Daiyue shifted his gaze from Yan's face, lingering for a moment in the downstream direction, as if scanning the course of the river with his eyes, before returning to his own gaze. "Not much has changed in the north. The Tiger Tribe is still strengthening its defenses; there's constant hammering and banging in the docks, and fires are lit at night. The Wolf Tribe has quieted down a bit; they've stopped sending ships to patrol near the Greater Qing Tribe's docks. The Willow Vine Tribe sent word that they want to learn more about the Fire Tribe. The Tiger Tribe is putting considerable pressure on them, and they're very interested in joining the Fire Tribe. They're also observing, wanting to see if we can truly withstand the Tiger Tribe's pressure. The people from the Willow Vine Tribe stayed for two days, inspected our camp and the field ridges, and said they would report back to the chief truthfully upon their return."

Yan nodded and said, "As long as the Tiger Tribe doesn't make any major moves, everything will be fine. As for the Wolf Tribe, as long as we keep a close watch, there shouldn't be any major problems. As for the Willow Vine Tribe wanting to join the Fire Tribe, the conditions we're offering are the same as yours, and we'd be very happy to welcome them."

Daiyue said, "After we take these 20,000 people from the Valley Tribe, the Valley Tribe and Bean Tribe will only have about 10,000 people left here. I will stay here and keep an eye on things. Once we all arrive at the Fire Tribe, you and Qingsui can start preparing for the wedding. You don't need to make any complicated preparations; just follow the tribe's customs. There's no rush, and we won't pressure you. We just want to make sure both sets of elders have a clear understanding of what's going on."

Yan nodded and said, "Okay, once we've settled the people and supplies, we'll finalize this matter. I'll send someone over in advance to discuss the specific time and arrangements with you."