There was no need to worry about anything like forced seizure — all sorts of tribal peoples lived in Jindian, and the tribespeople were plain and simple by nature, valuing freedom and closeness to nature. That girl named Lianghaya had wanted to buy She Wanlin.

Old Chou wouldn’t sell him, and so she let it go.

When she left, she still lingered, gazing appraisingly at She Wanlin’s face with some reluctance, and finally took a cloth bundle from inside her robe and tossed it to him.

The woman’s laughter rang out like silver bells: “Little lad, I am Lianghaya of the Baituo tribe. If tomorrow you regret this, come find me.”

Having said that, she pulled her horse’s reins and rode off with a flourish.

She Wanlin bent down to pick up the small cloth bundle, unable to react for a long moment.

On the journey from Yanjing to Jindian, he had seen countless women — some on red boats, some on tower boats, and now these out in the wilds. However one wanted to put it, the farther one got from the imperial capital, the more vivid and alive these women seemed to become.

Seeing no one around, Old Chou hoisted his bundles and leapt aboard the boat. Seeing She Wanlin still standing there in a daze, he mocked him: “What, having regrets? Too late — she’s long gone.”

She Wanlin held the bundle and asked, “This — this is a young lady’s belongings. What should I do with it?”

He didn’t want to ruin her reputation.

Old Chou waved it off indifferently, and the two of them walked toward the cabin together. “What should you do, what should you do? Did you think she’d give you something valuable? Those tribes are dirt poor — at most it’s some salt. Now that you’re out here, from this point on, strange things will keep happening. Best get used to it.”

Once inside the cabin, he bolted the door before opening the three large bundles to sort through the goods.

This trip out had cost a fair sum — a full fifteen taels. He’d assumed a small town like this wouldn’t have much worth buying, but who could have guessed the town actually had two large general stores. That had delighted him to no end.

She Wanlin sat down and opened the small cloth bundle. Inside was soft leather; inside the leather was oiled paper; inside the oiled paper was coarse manure-paper… and after peeling back layer after layer — sure enough, there were a few lumps of salt, not quite yellow, not quite white.

Watching Old Chou set out bag after bag of fine rice and flour on the table, he swallowed hard. It had been so long since he’d seen good food — not for lack of money, but because it truly couldn’t be bought.

The Tan family was formidable; they had a hand in everything people ate, wore, and spent here. Even in places where there wasn’t a shop for a dozen miles, you couldn’t simply open one even with money — you had to go to the government office and buy the right to do so.

In the past he hadn’t been able to smell food from a distance, but now he could tell what was inside just from the scent through the cloth.

He immediately claimed a bag of osmanthus cakes and ate two in quick succession before asking, “Uncle Chou, how did you know it was salt?”

Old Chou laughed and set a stack of decent cloth scraps on the table. “Heh! You’ll understand in a few days. Around here, people don’t value anything as much as salt. That girl really spent a fortune on you, heh heh… These few pieces of cloth aren’t bad either. Tomorrow when we reach Jindian, I’ll find you a tailor and get you a few changes of clothes. Wretched place — nothing to be had for anything.”

She Wanlin, still young and thin-skinned, thought it over and wrapped the salt back up carefully, planning to bring it back to show his grandfather.

Old Chou had bought no small amount on this trip — tea cakes, candles, hair oil, cloth scraps, grain, coarse goods… even a few glazed tableware pieces, glazed both inside and out.

The more She Wanlin looked, the more astonished he became. “Why did you buy so much?”

Old Chou scoffed. “Who knows what that troupe master Zhang has in mind — we’ve boarded a pirate ship, so to speak, with no idea when we’ll get off. It’s not easy to come across a town like this, so why not stock up? That old boot’s cooking — even a dog wouldn’t sniff at it!

Besides, once we reach Jindian, who knows what things will be like there. Just the other day I heard them say the money they collect is all debased coin, yet plenty of shops in Jindian won’t take debased coin — only silver. We’re outsiders, so we can’t go flashing wealth around carelessly. Better to stock up on goods instead. This trip, I practically bought out that little shop.”

She Wanlin nodded, no longer in the mood to complain about the Tan family or the local magistrate — such foolish talk.

There were simply too many wretched things to complain about all of them.

He did think of something else, though, and asked: “But I heard that girl say she was going to Aicheng to buy Nian’an. What is Nian’an?”

Old Chou made a sound of understanding and thought a moment before smiling. “Oh, Nian’an — it just means ‘year after year, safety and peace.’ It’s the yearly tribute the various tribes give to the Tan family. And it’s not just the Tan family that demands it — it’s an old custom of the border towns. Spring has just passed, after all, so it’s about that time.”

She Wanlin’s eyes widened slightly. “From what you’re saying, is this something the imperial court permits?”

Old Chou rolled his eyes. “That’s an odd thing to ask. Did the Xitan people ever ask for less, back in the day?”

She Wanlin objected: “No, but shouldn’t these tribespeople be subjects of Daliang?”

Old Chou looked surprised. “Subjects of Daliang? Ha, you’d think so, but do they even want to be?” He worried he might be leading a child astray with such talk, so he stood there thinking for a while before choosing his words carefully. “Actually, it’s been this way through every dynasty, even if the books don’t say so… Look, young master, I don’t understand the grand principles myself. I’ll just tell you what little I know — you don’t have to believe all of it, and I might not have it entirely right either.”

She Wanlin nodded, watching Old Chou sit down and scratch his head for a long while before he spoke. “This Nian’an thing, honestly, it’s a lot like how the old jianghu factions used to pay tribute to the reclusive elders — it’s basically a cost paid to buy safety and keep your life.

See, along the border there are little tribes like this. They don’t intermarry with us, they don’t even speak the same language as us — they have their own ways, and we have ours. There’s no meeting in the middle. And if we tried to rule over them, would they ever accept it?”

She Wanlin shook his head.

Old Chou clapped his hands. “Right, they wouldn’t accept it. So naturally there’s endless conflict, and eventually rebellion. Look at this Jun’ang tribe today — clearly their menfolk have all been wiped out in fighting, which is why a woman was forced to come out and take charge…”

She Wanlin was startled. “Wiped out?”

Old Chou nodded firmly. “Wiped out. Fighting over water, over taxes, fighting over land — they all say this land has belonged to their family for generations, and they don’t even acknowledge Daliang, let alone the Emperor You. The mountains are high and the emperor is far away — behind closed doors, each family makes its own rules.

Especially in the border towns, fighting breaks out over the smallest things. We say something and they don’t understand it, they want something and, well, take this salt for instance — you can’t just hand it over freely, can you? And it’s not just salt — iron tools, even grain, none of that can be given freely either!”

She Wanlin lowered his head and thought a moment before nodding slightly. “Is there truly no way to civilize them?”

Old Chou nodded. “There is. They raise cattle and sheep and sell them to us; we sell them tools and salt. If a larger tribe bullies them, we send troops to keep the peace — that’s the Nian’an, essentially. There’s a balance to it, and it all depends on how the officials in charge handle it. It’s not easy to manage — too lenient doesn’t work, too strict doesn’t work either. It’s a headache all around…”

Once he finished speaking, Old Chou studied the young princeling’s expression closely, and found his face calm — with none of the talk one might expect about how such dealings harmed the natural order, or how it amounted to exploiting the common people.

He simply sat there, one hand eating cake, the other picking through a few lumps of salt.

Old Chou asked him, “What are you thinking about?”

But the young man said, “This isn’t government salt.”

Tsk, this little scamp — why did he think so differently from other children?

Old Chou sighed helplessly. “You’ve figured that out too.”

She Wanlin smiled. “I’ve guessed at the edges of it. They have no money in hand, so they can’t cause much trouble. That’s the gist of it, isn’t it?”

Old Chou gave a wry laugh. “Ah, that’s roughly the idea. Anyway, none of this is written in the history books — they deliberately avoid it. Those sages and virtuous ministers won’t mention such things either, but since ancient times, most border governors and frontier officials have done exactly this, dynasty after dynasty…

Whenever it comes to border tribes, none of them escape it — they’re constantly squeezed and drained by us bit by bit, just so they never have the strength to cause trouble. And if they’re unwilling — well, then it comes to fighting…”

She Wanlin sat in silence, and Old Chou, assuming the boy was simply feeling the hot-bloodedness of youth, offered a word of advice. “Young master, looking at it plainly, going by how every dynasty has handled it — it’s not right! It’s not that no one’s ever thought of another way. There really are good officials out there, but around here, well, we’ve never had a magistrate who stayed in office a hundred years!

Everyone’s got their own abilities, but who has the time to spend managing something like this? Officials serve three, five years and hurry off again — who wants to come to the border towns, right? And in the end, human decency just can’t be spoken of anymore. Once people refuse to follow the law, there are only two roads left — kill them, or… well, that’s just how it is. You… you’re upset now…”

Old Chou noticed something off in She Wanlin’s eyes and stopped talking.

She Wanlin only smiled faintly, reached out to grab a bag of osmanthus cake, and walked out without another word.

Watching his retreating back, Old Chou snorted with a laugh. “Heh, truly is She Qingling’s grandson — that grit, hard through and through, inside and out.”

The river wind pushed the opera boat rocking side to side. She Wanlin ate his cake facing the river. He had never before seen such crude, coarse pastries, yet now he was eating his way through half a bag in quick, steady bites.

Before long, the sound of an opera gong striking up drifted over from the distance — was the stage being warmed up?

He sat back down in his usual spot, gazed that way for a while, then muttered, “In ancient times too there was the chasing of the deer — only after Chi You was slain did the Yellow Emperor rise. How much more so now — the victor becomes king, the loser a bandit. How could I, how would I dare speak carelessly of it…”

She Wanlin’s world was a complicated one. Since childhood he had studied under She Qingling, always viewing the small through the lens of the large, never measuring the affairs of the world by the wits of a single person alone.

But the world of the young troupe apprentice Zhang Yongbao was simple enough to be shaken by two copper coins.

The next day at noon, Zhang Yongbao came back to deliver food. Seeing no one around, he furtively pulled two copper coins from inside his robe like a thief and gave them to She Wanlin, begging him to keep them safe.

His hands trembled so badly he could barely hold still, and his face had drained of all color from fear.

She Wanlin weighed the two coins in his hand and asked, “You want me to hold these for you?”

Zhang Yongbao’s voice cracked as he clutched She Wanlin’s hand with both of his. “Brother! Brother, please, you must keep this secret — if, if the troupe master finds out, he’ll never keep me on…”

She Wanlin took the coins and looked the honest boy up and down. He too was overcome with shame, having skimmed two coins from the tips tossed onto the stage — the whole way here he’d been trembling with fear, his nerve nearly failing him three times over.

Worried the boy might be developing a thief’s habits, She Wanlin advised him: “Your troupe master isn’t easy either, and he treats you all decently enough. If you already know to be afraid, why still do such a thing?”

Zhang Yongbao’s lips trembled, and his eyes reddened at once. Being a boy destined to play the young female roles, his tears fell rather becomingly, and She Wanlin didn’t try to stop him.

After crying for a long while, the boy finally choked out: “I… I wanted to buy Yangdan’s freedom. Good brother, you’re a good man, I beg you…”

At this, She Wanlin remembered the matter and asked, “You want to redeem your younger brother?”

Zhang Yongbao nodded vigorously, then pleaded further: “Yes, little… no, brother! You don’t know — here along the Three Rivers, there are plenty who sell children. The trade belongs to Cai Xianzi’s family, so you can only sell to him. That part isn’t even the scariest thing. The scariest is…”

His eyes were full of dread. He looked around again before lowering his voice to tell She Wanlin: “The scariest is being sold to Aicheng in Jindian, especially boys. Once they go, if no one redeems them within a few years… they’re just gone. Please, young master, please, I beg you, with your great kindness, please help…”

Something stirred in She Wanlin’s heart at these words. He pocketed the two copper coins and nodded to Zhang Yongbao. “Then, I’ll hold onto them for you for now. Did you hear some idle gossip about this? Don’t believe everything they say — how could someone just be ‘gone’ for no reason? What, do people buy children just to kill them for fun?”

Zhang Yongbao wiped his tears. “No, no, it’s not idle gossip, everyone knows about this…” He glanced around fearfully once more before lowering his voice further. “Young master, they say the Tan family… keeps an evil dragon in the mountains, that all their wealth and fortune comes from this dragon guarding the mountain — and that the dragon specifically eats young boys.”

Expecting some mysterious tale, She Wanlin instead found this childish nonsense and had to suppress a laugh. “Oh, an evil dragon, is it?”

Zhang Yongbao’s face turned deadly serious. “Yes! That dragon has three heads and six arms, eight legs, a head and forehead of bronze and iron, and eats at least ten young boys a month…”

She Wanlin cut in. “Enough, enough, that’s not a dragon, that’s Chi You, or Nezha, or some kind of demon spider that’s achieved sentience. No dragon looks like that.”

The jacket and short coat he’d worn as a child had that very creature embroidered on it too — just one claw fewer than a dragon, called a python.

Zhang Yongbao swallowed hard, and after struggling for a long moment, said: “Anyway, anyway, that’s roughly the meaning of it. Everyone knows the Tan family has a dragon, kept inside Kangna Mountain, and… and every spring equinox it cries out in the valley. It’s true, really — the boys sent to Jindian, in the first few years their families can still redeem them, but if they don’t… after that, there’s just no word of them ever again.”

She Wanlin naturally wasn’t inclined to believe this readily, and eyed him sideways.

Zhang Yongbao sniffled. “If it weren’t true, why would my elders back home, seeing me, tell me to go look after Yangdan? This isn’t something that can be said openly, but everyone understands what it means — they want me to find some way, but what way could I possibly have…”

He grew more and more distressed as he spoke, not even knowing when he’d manage to save up enough to redeem Yangdan… nor whether, after all this time, Yangdan was even still alive.

Below the boat, Zhang Yongchun, growing impatient with the wait, called out a few times.

The boy dared not delay any longer. He glanced once more at She Wanlin’s hand clutching the two coins, bowed to him, and climbed down the rope off the boat.

Watching the two young boys carry their large basket away, She Wanlin returned to the cabin still holding the coins. He casually tossed the two debased coins onto the table and set aside a bowl of mixed vegetable rice.

Today, thanks to that wealthy landowner Tian’s generosity, the mixed vegetable rice even had a visible slice of pork with the hair still on it.

Old Chou was crouched by the charcoal stove cooking meat porridge. Seeing the coins, he laughed. “Well now, where’d young master strike it rich?”

She Wanlin instead asked him with a smile, “Uncle Chou, do you know of Kangna Mountain?”

At these words, Old Chou’s expression turned grave at once. “Kangna Mountain? How do you know about Kangna Mountain?”

For years, that name had appeared again and again through his own network of contacts — though at great cost, every person sent to investigate had never returned.

She Wanlin walked over to the charcoal stove, crouched down, and stared at the porridge. “So you do know of it?”

“Mm.” Old Chou nodded, setting the porridge pot down on the ground with his bare hands, his expression now utterly serious as he warned She Wanlin: “This trip out, just treat it as broadening your horizons. Eat well, drink well, enjoy yourself when you can. You’re clever enough that not everything needs spelling out. Especially once we reach Jindian tomorrow — Kangna Mountain and the like, don’t even mention it, understood?”

She Wanlin looked utterly unconcerned. “Understood or not, you’ll have to tell me what this is about first. Let me hear it, then I’ll decide.”

Old Chou looked troubled. “You, child — and here I just praised you!”

But the boy had already picked up bad habits: “Don’t bother praising me. I’m not much older than little Bao and the others. Tell me first, let me listen, and if I’m satisfied, I won’t ask further.”

Old Chou drew a breath, and after a long pause, his voice came out hollow: “If I told you that place has a demon that eats people, would you believe me?”

At the post station outside Yanjing’s Xiaonan Mountain, Huo Qiqian had dressed herself as a housekeeper matron and was keeping a bride-to-be company with idle chat. The bride knew Qiqian had been sent by the escort agency to guard her personally, so she wouldn’t let her serve tea or pour water, only had her stand by in attendance.

As for the matchmaking matron who had come from Jindian, she talked endlessly, seemingly with no regard for the fact that the young bride was only sixteen this year, her small face pale with fright, all while chattering on and on.

“Our Jindian has this Kangna Mountain, and my goodness, there’s a Dragon King living inside it, who eats little children, you know…”