Chapter 28: Journey to the Capital for Study

Guo Jia approached the carcass of the deer, wearing an aggrieved expression. “It’s always like this,” he complained. “We chase it all the way, and in the end, Yi gets all the credit!”

Hearing this, Luan Yi burst out laughing, retrieving the blood-soaked iron discus from the stag’s head. As he wiped the sharp edge clean on the grass, he replied, “Just luck, nothing more.”

But Dian Wei knew well that it was not mere luck. For years, Luan Yi had diligently practiced throwing, and now, within fifty paces, he could hit his mark nine times out of ten. Though his range could not compare to a bow, the sheer weight of the discus carried a force few could withstand—even Dian Wei could not guarantee he’d be able to catch it within fifty paces.

They gathered firewood and built a blaze. In the forest’s shade, they roasted venison over open flames and drank wine, sharing stories of the world, a sense of melancholy rising unbidden in their hearts.

It was now the fourth year of Guanghe. The previous year, peasants in Cangwu and Guiyang had raised the banner of rebellion. Yet, lacking numbers and military skill, they were quickly suppressed by government troops, as insignificant as a pebble cast into water, stirring no great waves. This spring, the Xianbei tribes had raided south into the provinces of You and Bing, leaving devastation in their wake.

With the situation thus, it was pitiful that Emperor Ling of Han still indulged in his pleasures, content and self-satisfied. The entire court of civil and military officials likewise enjoyed their own peace, locked away in the false prosperity they themselves had constructed. Little did they know that in three short years, the Yellow Turbans would sweep across the land, and the Han dynasty would truly teeter on the brink of collapse.

Luan Yi felt an anxious urgency in his heart. He did not wish to see the Han dynasty consumed by the flames of war—especially when it was brother fighting brother. War brings nothing but misery, a tragic song composed of blood and flesh. He longed to stop it all, but… though he had earned a small reputation, he was still a minor figure, a mere scholar. He had no power to steer the fate of a dynasty, let alone halt the Han’s headlong rush toward the abyss.

He felt powerless—truly powerless.

As they drank, Xun Yu rose to his feet and bid farewell to his friends. He was now sixteen, he said, and if not for his wedding the previous year, he would have long since departed to travel and broaden his learning. Next month, he planned to set out to visit wise men across the land and see for himself the beauty of the realm.

In ancient times, scholars believed that traveling ten thousand miles was better than reading ten thousand books. Thus, when their studies reached a certain point, they would journey far and wide to gain experience and spread their reputation for virtue and talent. The customary age for such scholarly travels was around fourteen; at sixteen, Xun Yu was already overdue.

Travel in those days was difficult. A journey could last a year or two, or even decades. No one knew when they might meet again.

For nearly four years, they had spent each day with Xun Yu, becoming the closest of friends. Upon hearing of his impending departure from Yingchuan, Luan Yi, Guo Jia and the others could not help but feel a pang of sorrow.

Luan Yi thought for a moment and asked, “Wenruo, where will you go first?”

Xun Yu replied, “Luoyang. I wish to see the capital with my own eyes.”

Luan Yi remembered that since becoming a disciple of Cai Yong, his master had twice passed through Yingchuan on his way home, yet he and Guo Jia had never visited their teacher’s residence in the capital. He suggested, “Brothers, why don’t we accompany Wenruo to Luoyang and pay our respects to our master together?”

At the prospect of not having to part ways with Xun Yu immediately, everyone nodded enthusiastically. Young Guo Jia was especially excited by the trip to the capital, shouting with delight.

In those days, parents were not so strict with their children as they would be in later generations. Fourteen- or fifteen-year-olds often traveled the breadth of the Han empire. So, after the hunt, when the young men explained their plans to their families, no one tried to stop them.

Old Master Luan Tao even raised both hands in support, only Yi’s mother was reluctant and worried. Seeing his daughter-in-law near tears, Luan Tao comforted her boisterously, “That boy! Even I can’t best him now—who’d dare bully him on the road?”

As he approved Yi’s journey to the capital, Luan Tao had another idea: since it was no small thing to go to Luoyang, Yi should bring along plenty of gold and silver, local specialties, and the little crafts their family business produced. These could be presented to officials and wise men, paving the way for future connections.

Yi agreed, leaving the preparations to the old master.

He never imagined that the gifts would fill ten large carts! The first three carts were laden with gold and silver, the next three with silk, brocade, and bronze wares, and the final four with novelties like illustrated books, folding fans, and abacuses that Yi had devised in recent years.

Glancing at the procession stretching from one end of the street to the other, Yi felt a bitter amusement, complaining to the old man that he was going to study, not on a merchant’s errand—surely there was no need for so much?

The old master simply ignored his protest, his tone severe: “A poor home but a rich road! Take it, or you’re not going to the capital at all.”

Yi could only acquiesce. On the agreed day, he set out for Yangzhai’s west gate, gloomily leading the caravan.

At the head of the procession rode Luan Yi himself. He wore a scholar’s white robe and a silk headscarf, a white folding fan in hand.

On the fan’s surface was painted a vivid scene: ripples danced across a cool, clear lake, two lively fish darted among lotus stems and leaves, and a proud lotus blossomed radiant above a bed of lush green. In the top right corner, in a bold, flowing script, Yi had inscribed: “Untainted by the mud, washed by pure waters, noble among flowers!”—his own hand, full of heroic spirit.

A precious sword hung at his waist, and beneath him trotted a fine horse from Xiliang, shining white and handsome. With his own immaculate attire, Luan Yi cut an elegant, almost holy figure.

At his sides rode Dian Wei and Luan Fu. Towering Dian Wei made a perfect pair with his warhorse; his fitted warrior’s robe accentuated his powerful build, and the twin halberds glinting from his saddlebags, together with his fleshy face, were enough to strike fear into the heart of any would-be bandit.

Behind them came twenty sturdy horses, each pulling a cart loaded with treasure, watched over by thirty of the Luan family’s retainers. Among them was little Cui, who had pestered endlessly to come along—she was eager to see the sights of the capital.

Yi relented, thinking how rare such a chance would be for a young woman, who after marriage would seldom travel so far from home. So he granted her request.

Once outside the city gate, Yi was amused to see Xun Yu’s caravan join them.

Compared to the Luan family’s caravan, the Xun family’s was even more impressive—thirteen wagons in all, flags of both families snapping in the wind, a truly grand sight.

In contrast, Guo Jia, Shan Fu, and the others traveled light. They slung their bundles over their shoulders, carrying only a few changes of clothes and their favorite books—nothing else, not even a single coin. They knew full well that with Yi and Xun Yu along, there was no shortage of money.

They looked every inch the freeloaders.

At dawn, the wheels began to turn, and the party headed west along the main road.

This so-called main road was hardly more than a flattened dirt track, slightly smoother than a country lane. The surface was packed earth, solid enough in fair weather but turning to a quagmire with a single heavy rain; afterward, it would be left pitted and rutted, impossible to keep in repair.

Luan Yi and his friends pressed on northwestward over this rough terrain. Riding on horseback was bearable, but poor Cui, jolted about in the carriage, soon grew dizzy and sore, wishing she could walk instead.

But the road was long—at least thirty li each day—and no young woman could manage that distance on foot. So Cui alternated between walking and riding. When walking, she would cast envious glances at the men on horseback, wishing she too could ride.

Unbeknownst to her, long-distance riding was no easy task, as only those who had truly ridden could understand. The horse’s body rises and falls with every step; to stay seated, the rider must grip tightly with both legs, a strenuous effort. The coarse hair rubs constantly at the thighs; after many miles, it was not uncommon for blisters to form.

Though Yi and his friends appeared carefree by day, each night in the inn told a different story. Huddled together, they would strip off their trousers, air their wounds, and help each other apply medicinal powder.

Mischievous Guo Jia would hover nearby, peeking and teasing, sometimes staring in amazement, sometimes laughing out loud—“Wow, Shan Fu’s is so small! And look at Brother Mao—impressive!”

“Get out of here!”

The Xun and Luan families were both prominent in Yingchuan. The Xuns were a venerable clan of officials, while the Luans, though new money from four generations of trade, wielded their own influence among both the upright and the underworld.

In ancient China, whether in times of peace or chaos, bandits and brigands were a constant presence. With such a vast land, it was easy for outlaws to hide in the mountains and make a bloody living. There was even a saying that robbery was one of the three hundred and sixty trades.

As the region’s wealthiest merchants, the Luans often traveled widely, and dealings with bandits were inevitable. The Luans were always generous—paying tolls when due and helping the bandit chiefs when they were in need. Thus, they earned a reputation for kindness and integrity among the outlaws. Whenever the Luan family’s banner was displayed, the bandits would show respect and never resort to murder or robbery.

So, despite the size and wealth of the combined caravan, their journey was peaceful. If anyone did try to block the way, a few strings of cash would see them safely through.