Chapter 29: Reunion with an Old Friend by the Wind-Tomb Ferry

Fang let out a low moan of grief, her body trembling violently. Ye Chang’s heart was heavy with sorrow as well, so he failed to notice anything unusual in Fang’s words.

“Eleventh Brother… You’re still so young. Don’t go to Chang’an. Let the clan elder send someone on your behalf.” After a moment, Fang crouched on the ground and spoke again.

“It’s all right. He is my own brother. If I don’t go, who else can?” Ye Chang replied.

“Eleventh Brother, you don’t understand. Chang’an… Chang’an is not a good place!” This time, Ye Chang finally realized that, for Fang, Chang’an was a place of heartbreak, and it wasn’t merely because of Ye Shu’s situation.

He had no heart to ask further at this moment, only insisting, “Sister-in-law, my brother is in trouble. The letter couldn’t explain everything. I must go there myself to ask. I am his brother—nothing can change that, so I must go. I’ve already spoken to the clan elder. While I’m away, he will visit often. If you face any difficulties, please speak to him freely. I’ll also have Xiang and Chunming stay with you. Though they’re young, they’re clever and can lend a hand.”

“Take Chunming with you. You’ll need someone to look after you when you’re away from home.”

“Don’t worry, Sister-in-law. I have friends to look out for me—especially that shopkeeper Qin, who’s currently in Chang’an. I won’t act recklessly. This trip is to investigate and bring back... Besides, if anything happens, Chunming is too young; he’d only slow me down instead of helping.”

Listening to Ye Chang’s orderly reasoning, Fang finally raised her eyes to look at him, discovering her young brother-in-law’s expression was unusually cold and severe.

Indeed, it was a kind of wintry severity, like snow and ice atop the mountain—seemingly ordinary, yet radiating chill beneath the surface.

Ye Chang said nothing more to comfort her, feeling that no words could match the power of action. The next day, he entrusted all affairs to Ye Dan and set off alone, meeting Lin Xicheng in Xiuwu County.

“Master Ye, be cautious on your journey to Chang’an, and do not delay along the way.” Lin Xicheng arranged a caravan for him; Ye Chang joined them, and as they departed, Lin Xicheng gave another careful warning.

He was usually rough and careless, but his meticulous instructions now made Ye Chang realize his own troubled mood was obvious, even to such a straightforward man. He managed a smile, nodded his thanks, and urged his horse to follow the caravan.

The horse gifted by Qin Qingshou became his companion for the journey.

From Xiuwu to Chang’an, there were two routes: one crossed the Yellow River at Mengjin to reach the eastern capital Luoyang, then through Hangu Pass to the outskirts of Tongguan; the other followed the official road along the north bank, crossing at Fengling Ferry to arrive at Tongguan. There was also the option of traveling by water up the Yellow River to Sanmenxia in Shanzhou.

Ye Chang was anxious to reach Chang’an quickly, but the caravan’s destination was Luoyang, so he parted ways midway, taking the north bank road alone and traveling day and night, enduring much hardship.

Fortunately, although Emperor Li Sanlang of the Great Tang was already immersed in wine and pleasure, and the empire was riddled with hidden dangers, the realm was still largely peaceful. Ye Chang was cautious and sought no trouble, so for ten days he encountered no significant issues.

“So this is Fengling Ferry!”

When the rushing Yellow River finally appeared before Ye Chang, he had reached Fengling Ferry, one of the largest crossings of the river at that time, renowned for the saying “A rooster’s crow is heard in three provinces.” Yet, to Ye Chang, it seemed quite ordinary—apart from the sight of competing sails, there was nothing remarkable.

There was no grand bridge as in later generations, and though there were many boats, Ye Chang had no interest in admiring those small, cumbersome vessels.

After all, Chinese shipbuilding would not see a great leap until the Song dynasty; now, the boats were not only small but also difficult to maneuver.

The government had set up a checkpoint at the ferry to manage crossings, but now it was merely a matter of collecting fees. Commoners like Ye Chang paid their dues and still had to find their own ferry.

“Are you here to cross, sir?” Seeing Ye Chang pacing at the ferry, someone approached and asked.

“Yes, I wish to cross at Fengling Ferry. Do you have any advice, sir?” Ye Chang saw that the man was thin and did not look like a rogue and greeted him politely.

“Are you a scholar roaming the world?” The man smiled. “I dare not accept your courtesy, sir. My humble surname is Lü, the ninth in my family. I make my living as a boatman here at Fengling Ferry. If you trust me, please follow.”

“Oh?”

“Rest assured, sir. I’ve served many scholars like yourself. Not long ago, there was one who went west, full of high spirits, shouting, ‘How could I be a mere reed-dweller?’ as he boarded the boat…”

Ye Chang’s heart stirred at these words. “Such words—was the gentleman’s surname Li?”

“Ah, how did you know?”

“Could he be named Bai, with the courtesy name Taibai?”

“Exactly! He called himself Li Taibai.” The boatman laughed. “I crossed the river with him, listening to his bold singing all the way. He seemed full of ambition—no doubt headed for the capital in pursuit of great opportunity.”

“How coincidental! I didn’t expect he’d enter the capital before me. Perhaps I’ll meet him there.”

For once, Ye Chang felt his mood lighten.

Because of his love for classical culture, he was quite familiar with the great poet immortalized in history, Li Bai. At this time, Li Bai was already over forty, yet still unsuccessful, living in seclusion with the Taoist Wu. It was only through Wu’s recommendation that he received an invitation from Li Longji, Emperor Li Sanlang, and began his journey to the capital.

But Ye Chang did not know that this time, Li Bai’s entry into Chang’an was three months earlier than recorded in history.

“Do you know this Taibai, sir?” the boatman asked.

“I’ve long heard his name, but never met him.”

“They say he’ll stay a while at Mount Li—it’s cooler there, whereas Chang’an is sweltering in summer.”

“Oh…”

As they chatted, Ye Chang followed the boatman to the riverbank. The boatman called out, and soon a boat among the several moored nearby approached. The boatman was bare-chested, his muscles like bronze, sweat glistening like pearls, and he brought the boat to Ye Chang.

“Please board, sir. One person and one horse to cross the river—three copper coins for you, five for the horse, eight coins in total,” the boatman said. “We do honest business here—never cheat our customers!”

Ye Chang eyed the small boat, then himself and his horse, and felt his scalp tingle. The boat looked barely large enough for a few people, and there was water pooled at the bottom. He suspected that putting himself and his horse aboard might sink it. The other boats were much the same.

There seemed no choice… Yet, the poor shipbuilding skills of this era meant river and sea travel would be severely limited. If only there were innovations in shipbuilding—what a promising path that would be.

Though they took his eight coins, the boat wouldn’t actually cross with only him. They had to fill the boat before departing. Luckily, Fengling Ferry was one of the largest crossings, with merchants and travelers gathering from all directions. Soon, the boatman brought several more passengers, and the tiny boat was packed with nearly ten people.

“That’s enough, let’s go!” someone urged.

“Please wait, sir. One more passenger and we’ll depart.”

“This boat is packed with people and horses—you’ve made plenty. Why insist on one more?”

“You jest, sir. It’s rare for the weather to be clear and the Yellow River open for crossing. We poor folk must seize these few days to ferry passengers and feed our families…”

The boatman smiled apologetically but would not move. They claimed hardship—only a few months each year could they ferry passengers. Even then, the river’s waves were a deadly threat; every year, many boatmen drowned.

“It’s already late morning—if we don’t go now, we’ll miss lunch at the next stop. You want to eat, but we don’t?” one impatient passenger snapped.

Ye Chang felt hungry as well. Just then, a small boat drifted by, carrying a variety of Yellow River fish. Ye Chang’s heart stirred; he led his horse off the boat.

“Sir, why are you disembarking?” The boatman was alarmed.

“I’m hungry—I’d like to eat before crossing.” Ye Chang smiled. “I see you have a pot and firewood. Here are two coins—let me borrow them. By the way, sir, I heard you sell sugar—do you have any rock sugar?”

He addressed a merchant carrying a load, who quoted a high price for sugar. Rock sugar was expensive; he had only brown sugar. Ye Chang didn’t mind. He bought sugar, sought vinegar, ginger, scallions, and dogwood berries from the fishermen, and purchased a large Yellow River carp. After cleaning the pot, he gutted and sliced the fish, then started a fire.

He had just begun when someone suddenly called out, “Master Ye?”

Ye Chang recognized the voice. He looked up and saw Shi Shanzhi, the burly monk, approaching in a sorry state.

“What a coincidence! We meet again, Master Shanxin,” Ye Chang greeted.

Shi Shanzhi grinned, “Well, well, finally someone who’ll feed me… Master Ye, I’m starving!”

“Sometimes being late is better than being early. Since you’re here, one fish won’t be enough… Hey, fisherman, another Yellow River carp, please!”

Ye Chang bought another large carp, handled it as before, and started cooking on the riverbank. He intended to make sweet and sour carp. Despite lacking some ingredients—especially using brown sugar instead of rock sugar—his skill was such that before long, the aroma of fish filled the air, causing passersby to salivate.

While cooking the fish, Ye Chang asked, “Shanzhi, how did you end up here?”

“I might ask you the same!” Shi Shanzhi replied.

Both spoke at once, then burst into laughter. Though Shanzhi was a rough monk, he was not foolish. He saw worry in Ye Chang’s eyes and didn’t press, only sharing his own story: “I stayed at the Ten Directions Temple for two days. The old monk was so stingy—after making me shave my head, he sent me to gather firewood. In anger, I beat that Dao Ning fellow and left…”

“You’re certainly a straightforward man—leave at the slightest disagreement!” Ye Chang believed him; Shanzhi was the kind to do just that.

“You have no idea. That temple is full of stupid monks. If I stayed too long, I’d become one, with nothing in my eyes but incense and offerings.”

“So you’re not one of them now?” Ye Chang joked. “I think you drink and eat meat, raise your bowl to eat, put down your chopsticks to curse—if you’re not a vulgar monk, you’re certainly a petty man.”

“Nonsense! I am the pure white lotus, Shi Shanzhi.” The monk laughed, rubbing his bald head.

Just then, a carriage appeared by the riverbank.

The aroma of the fish wafted into the carriage, and a corner of the curtain was lifted, revealing a face.

“What a delicious smell! Aunt, shall we have some fish?” It was a beautiful woman, about twenty-five or twenty-six, asking someone inside.

“If it’s not inconvenient, I’d like some,” came the reply from within.

“Don’t worry, Aunt.”

The beautiful woman jumped out, drawing everyone’s attention. Ye Chang was focused on the fish, but Shi Shanzhi noticed her immediately, his thick brows furrowing. “That woman has remarkable skill.”

Ye Chang looked up only then, catching the scent of perfume as the beautiful woman approached. “Fisherman, is this fish for sale?”

“What rudeness! This fish is for the monk’s meal—how could it be for sale?” Shi Shanzhi snapped. “Don’t bother us—away with you!”

“Monks eat fish?” The beautiful woman’s brows arched.

“Ah’e, come back. This master is a Shaolin staff monk,” called another voice from the carriage.

A middle-aged woman descended next. Though well-preserved, her age showed in the lines at her brows. Her eyes were bright, but Ye Chang paid more attention to the pair of short swords at her waist.

“Aunt…”

“If it’s not for sale, we won’t insist. We’ll find food after crossing,” the middle-aged woman said.

“If you don’t mind, I can buy two more fish and cook for you both,” Ye Chang offered, his eyes lingering on the swords.

“Wouldn’t that delay your journey?” the woman asked.

“Whether I’m early or late by half an hour makes little difference,” Ye Chang replied.

By now, the first two sweet and sour carp were ready. Ye Chang and Shanzhi ate heartily, with the monk’s mouth glistening with oil. Meanwhile, Ye Chang began cooking for the two women and their driver. As the fish was half-done, the sound of galloping horses suddenly came from behind, followed by a joyful shout: “Here they are, here they are!”

The middle-aged woman frowned, looking up at the newcomer.

The man bowed, smiling, “Madam, why did you leave so quickly?”

“I had matters to attend to.” The woman replied coldly, “Young Lord Geng, your hospitality over a hundred miles is appreciated. Please return now.”

“Linghu Ling sent me to invite you. Isn’t this a bit much, madam?” Geng’s face darkened. “Linghu Ling has prepared rare delicacies and awaits with an empty seat. Yet you would rather eat this roadside rubbish, ignored even by dogs and pigs, than attend his banquet. Are you truly so ungrateful?”