Preparations for Departure

Yan led Dali through the camp towards the shipyard. As they passed the threshing ground, several tribesmen were squatting on the ground tying up the last few sacks of grain. The hemp rope weaved between their fingers, the knots tight and even. One of the older women, after tying one sack, pressed her palm against the surface before pushing it aside and dragging over the next. Some uncollected chaff was piled up at the edge of the threshing ground. Further on, several flatbed carts were parked at the warehouse entrance, piled high with grain that hadn't been unloaded yet. The wooden crates were padded with hay at the corners to prevent them from being damaged on the road. Two men were unloading the crates from the cart, each carrying one end, their steps synchronized, the crates landing on the stone slabs with a dull thud. Dali walked beside Yan, taking large strides, but slowing down every few steps, as if taking in every detail along the way. His gaze moved from the drying ground to the warehouse, then from the warehouse to the roadside wall, occasionally stopping to glance at the reinforcing wooden stakes at the corner of the wall before catching up again.

Upon arriving at the shipyard, Dabang was standing beside a half-finished ship's frame, holding a wooden ruler and measuring the distance between the hulls. He wore a grayish-brown linen robe, the front of which was streaked with sawdust. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his muscular forearms, which bore several shallow scratches from splinters. His hair was somewhat disheveled, swaying gently as he bent over to measure, as if he hadn't had time to tidy it before leaving home that morning. A circle of wood shavings lay scattered around his feet, some curled up, others crushed underfoot, the crushed shavings clinging to his shoes, which he didn't bother to brush off. Hearing footsteps, he turned around, saw Yan and Dali, tucked the ruler into his belt, rubbed the hem of his robe to remove the sawdust, and nodded to the two. His gaze lingered on Yan's face for a moment before shifting to Dali's, as if trying to ascertain why they had come.

Yan walked up to him and spoke in a low but clear voice, "Uncle Dabang, my father sent Dali to you to hand over his work. He'll be stationed at the Little Fish River Mouth Outpost from now on. Take him on a tour of the shipyard, workshops, warehouses, and the outpost itself so he has a general idea of the situation."

Dabang nodded, glanced at Dali first, and then spoke, his voice hoarse and earnest, typical of someone who had spent years working with wood and stoves. "Dali, the relocation of the Little Fish River Mouth Outpost is nearing completion. I know this place—the docks, pottery kilns, saltworks, armories, textile mills, and warehouses—very well. I could find the location of every beam with my eyes closed. I know which pillar was replaced last year, which wall leaks in winter, and which kiln's fire channel is prone to clogging. I've written it all down on a wooden board; I'll give it to you later." He paused, pointing towards the workshops next to the dock, his fingertip drawing a short arc in the air. "Now, the core of these places..." "The core technical personnel have already moved to the Valley Tribe Valley Tribe. In a few days, we'll take a boat there to transport some important workshop parts, as well as the families of senior and core technical personnel. The parts are all packed, and the families are registered; they can leave at any time." He paused, pressing his hand on the cloth belt at his waist. "Don't worry, although we've taken the core technical personnel, we've left a small number of you, and many apprentices are also staying here. Although their skills aren't yet refined, they've mastered the basics. They're just a bit slower, but as long as you work hard, we can restore production to its original levels next year. Those kids learn quickly; a few months of practice and they'll be half a master."

Dali listening, Dali nodded, slapped his belt with his palm, making a short, muffled sound. A slight smile played on his lips, and his voice was more steady than before. His gaze lingered on Dabang's face for a moment. "Dabang, I'm relieved to hear that. I was worried you'd take everyone away, leaving this place as an empty shell. As long as the apprentices are here, production will gradually increase. Back in Red Flower River Mouth, I started as an apprentice myself. The first batch of people who worked with me were all young boys, and by the second year they were fully capable of doing it on their own." He paused, tapping his fingers lightly on his belt. "Give me that board; I'll have someone make a copy later to keep here as a backup."

Dabang spoke again, his voice lower than before, as if shifting the topic from production to defense. He tapped his finger lightly at his side, as if setting the stage for his next words. "The land-based strongholds mainly produce food and other supplies and establish a defensive network, while the river mouth strongholds are primarily for storing supplies and production." He tapped his finger lightly at his side as he spoke. "The copper ingots for our bronze weapons are transported from the Deer Tribe's mines and processed here. The Fire Tribe currently only has that one copper mine, and copper is always in short supply. You need to use them sparingly; every copper ingot must be used wisely." He tapped his finger lightly at his side as he spoke, as if adding a point to the word "sparingly." "The Deer Tribe sends a batch of copper ingots every quarter, sometimes delayed by a few days due to the rainy season, so the warehouse can't run out of supplies. After you take over, have the apprentices in the weapons workshop first check the old materials. Use what's usable first, and store some as reserves when the new materials arrive. The old materials can still be used after being melted down; don't waste them."

Dali listening, Dali nodded, his palms opening and closing in front of him as if gathering the words into his own hands. He tapped his fingers for a moment before speaking, his voice carrying a calmness born from a deeper understanding. "I've noted down the matter of the copper. I'll have someone clear out the old materials in the warehouse, categorize them, put the usable ones on one side and the ones to be remelted on the other. When the new materials arrive, they'll be stacked by batch, and the amount used in each batch will be recorded. We'll do an inventory check at the end of the month. Copper isn't like grain; you can eat more grain if you have more, but you can't use copper recklessly. It's always better to be frugal."

Dabang nodded, then led him and Yan from the dock to the edge of the pier. Standing at the end of the walkway, he pointed towards the river and explained the locations and troop distributions of the strongholds at the mouths of the Pottery Salt River Mouth, Stone Creek River Mouth, and Red Flower River Mouth. He drew a line along the riverbank from left to right, and when talking about naval strength, he gestured with his palm, saying that each stronghold at the river mouth was equipped with several boats with a carrying capacity of 100,000 jin and 50,000 jin, as well as several smaller boats, which could be used for mutual support and mobility in case of emergency.

Dali listened attentively, occasionally asking a question or two, which Dabang answered one by one. He asked if the salt warehouse at the mouth of the Pottery Salt River Mouth had a moisture-proof layer, Dabang said yes, with charcoal and dry grass laid underneath, and a mat on top. He asked if the sentry post at the mouth of the Stone Creek River Mouth had enough torches at night, Dabang said yes, but not enough, and that he should get a new batch after he took over.

After saying that, Dabang pointed towards the dock. "Let's go, I'll take you on a boat to inspect the Fish River myself. We'll go downstream from here. I've got the boat ready, it's the second one moored by the dock, just walk over and get on." As he spoke, he raised his hand and pointed towards the dock, his finger pausing in the air for a moment before retracting it. He nodded Dali and glanced in Yan's direction.

Seeing that they were about to go on patrol, Yan nodded to Dabang and Dali, saying, "Uncle Dabang, Uncle Dali, you go on patrol. I still need to prepare for the relocation management center, so I won't go with you. If you have any questions, Uncle Dali, come find me when you get back." Dabang raised his hand to indicate that he understood, and then he and Dali walked towards the dock one after the other. Their figures gradually shrank on the boardwalk. Dabang's steps were steady, Dali's were large. They walked one after the other, their shadows stretched long on the ground by the afternoon sun, swaying gently with each step, until they disappeared at the corner at the end of the dock.

Yan watched them walk away before turning around and heading towards his brothers. He walked along the edge of the dock for a while, past several neatly stacked piles of timber, until he reached the north side of the dock, where Daya and Gubang had already been busy for some time. Daya was standing at the Chuantou of a large ship, holding a wooden tablet and checking the list on it to count the supplies being taken from the hold. He wore a dark gray linen robe, a leather belt with a bronze buckle around his waist, and straw sandals that clattered on the deck. His hair was tied back with a leather cord, with a few stray strands hanging down beside his ears, swaying gently in the river breeze. His gaze moved back and forth between the wooden tablet and the hold, marking each item on the edge of the tablet after he finished reading it. He flipped the wooden slip over to check the list on the back. Seeing Yan approach, he put the slip away, stepped off the gangplank, and spoke, his voice carrying the steadiness of someone who had worked all morning. "We came to the dock early this morning to prepare. I've checked the supplies list twice—the number of sacks, the seals on the wooden crates, the binding of the pottery jars—everything's been checked, no problems. A few sacks of grain were loosely tied, so I had them retied." He paused, pointing towards the fleet behind him. "This time we can take two hundred large ships with a carrying capacity of 100,000 jin each, two hundred ships with a carrying capacity of 50,000 jin each, and some smaller boats to the Valley Tribe. The ships are more than enough. The people are grouped by family. The list is here with me; would you like to take a look?"

Yan took the wooden tablet from him, scanned the markings on it, and handed it back. "No need to look closely, I trust you to handle things." He paused, glancing in the direction of the Gubang. The Gubang was squatting on the edge of the dock, retying several bundles of hemp cloth tightly with a short rope. His fingers moved quickly through the knots, tightening them before he bit the end and pulled, tying the knot. Hearing Yan's voice, he looked up, pressed the rope to the ground, stood up, and dusted off his hands. He stood there like a firmly planted wooden stake. When he spoke, his voice was loud and clear, with the decisiveness that only comes after things have been arranged. "The chief will be going with us. I saw his ship docked at the dock just now, in the outermost row. His ship is bigger than ours, and it has flags flying on it, the flags fluttering in the wind, easily recognizable."

Yan nodded, turning his gaze from the edge of the dock to the boats moored along the shore. Two hundred large ships, each with a carrying capacity of 100,000 jin, stood at the forefront, their hulls forming a continuous wall, like a floating city wall. The bronze battering Chuantou on their bows gleamed with a dull luster in the afternoon light. Behind them were two hundred ships with a carrying capacity of 50,000 jin each, along with some smaller boats, densely packed together, filling the entire stretch of the river. The sails were furled, the masts stood tall, casting crisscrossing shadows in the afternoon light, making the dock floor appear and disappear in shifting light and shadow. He observed for a while, then spoke, his voice low but clear. "Let's start moving the supplies. First, take people to move the supplies from the dock onto the ship. Move the grain and tools piled up on the dock as well. As for personnel, once everyone who's going to the Valley Tribe has arrived, they'll board the ships. Let's try to finish moving the supplies from the dock this afternoon and depart three days from now."

Daya and Gubang responded simultaneously, turning and heading in their respective directions. Daya went towards the warehouse to urge the arrival of the last remaining supplies; Gubang walked to the gangplank and began directing the soldiers on the dock to carry bags of grain onto the ship. He stood on one side of the gangplank, gesturing and shouting, "Slow down, slow down, move that bag to the left a bit, don't let it hit the ship's side."