Chang'an, April 5, 200, Dawn
Lavender-pink clouds contrasted the dark violet sky as they reflected the sun's not yet visible glow. Wind buffeted the crisp, spring air at the exposed areas of my face that my scarf failed to protect. Luckily, my armor kept me pretty warm, but it was still heavy to carry around. I looked away from the sky and turned towards the carts and camels. I watched the others in my caravan load the carts with food, blankets, water, silk, paper, and other goods. I watched hungrily as the merchant loaded a pallet of oranges onto the cart. We wouldn't be allowed to eat anything we needed to trade, but if I was careful, I might be able to make some oranges…disappear unnoticed. The merchant saw me eying his cargo and glared daggers as me. I immediately looked away and felt shivers down my spine. I guess I don't need any oranges. I pulled out my map to see which cities we would be traveling to. Dunhuang. Taklimaka Desert. Marakanda. Antioch. All places I have only heard of from other, braver soldiers who had ventured out beyond the protected borders. What did they see out there? What would I see out there? I hoped there would be an absence of bandits, mosquitoes, spiders, snakes, and, well, anything scary. I have always jumped at the mention of anything threatening, but my father was a soldier, so my fate had been sealed long before I could decide what to fear. In only a few months, we were expected to travel roughly 1000 miles while dragging along cargo and camels! I took a worried glance at my water skin. Would we have enough water? Enough food? Enough-
"Hey!"
I flinched at the sudden sound and searched for the source of the voice. As I was turning my head, a slap on the shoulder startled me.
"You ready, Pi Lin?" he questioned. I gave him a weak grin. He slung his arm around my shoulder and smiled, "Aww, Come on. Don't look so down, this is going to be great! Traveling, sight-seeing, and food…eating! I can't wait to see all the pies. I am going to learn all these new recipes and be," he mimed a large arch with his hands, "China's Best Baker!"
I laughed at his antics. Wang Peng (Wung-Pung) always seemed to know the perfect way to cheer me up. My worries from before were gone. "Yeah. You really do love your pies, but what about the people in Dunhuang and Marakanda? Do you think they will like them?" I teased.
"Absolutely!" he promised as he pointed a finger at me. "Everyone loves my pies. Always. Even you." He bragged. I laughed again and agreed with him. He really knew his stuff when it came to pies.
We talked for a while after that, but we had to leave soon. Our conversation was cut off when the caravan leader announced our departure. I turned to look at the city, my hometown, and turned back around. I would see it again in a year, that is, if I was lucky, and I was never lucky.
Dunhuang, June 1, 200, Evening
The golden embers drifted up towards the dark sky dotted with a vast multitude of stars. I could feel the warmth of the fire contrast the cold night air as it drifted from the north onto my skin. I rubbed my hands together and held them in front of the flames. Even though we were all gathered in front of the fire with a rather close proximity to each other, a cold wind occasionally found its way to our shivering selves. I felt Wang Peng shift next to me as the wind nipped our faces and made our eyes water. I looked over to the elders who were telling stories while the children were gathered around them with eyes filled with curiosity and excitement. As I watched the embers glow and the flames dance, I craned my neck to hear the elders' tales.
"And then the great warrior prince defeated all of his enemies, and they all lived happily ever after." The old man smiled. Now that he was finished, he could sit down and enjoy some long-awaited rest.
"Mister?"
A tug on his sleeve directed is attention to a little boy who looked up at him with big, pleading eyes. "Yes, child, what troubles you?" he inquired trying his hardest not to sound slightly annoyed. The boy pointed to his right at the opal-colored carved statues with fear in his eyes.
"What are those scary blue dolls?"
"Oh," the old man laughed, "there's nothing to be afraid of. That is a statue of the great Buddha. Now let me tell you a story…"
That's right. I remember hearing many stories about Buddha and other philosophers from the other soldiers. The tales about the gods and founders always sounded amazing and magical, but distant. I had never met anyone with any direct experience with anything like Confucianism, Buddhism, or Hinduism; only priests who stayed in the temples and carried out their own sacred rituals. If Hinduism and Buddhism both came from India, what else did China have from India? What did India have that was Chinese? I guess all the philosophies traveled along with the spices and silk, except they came from the people, not from the silkworms or herb gardens. What would life be like without the Silk Road? People would not have had such a rapid means of exchanging ideas and goods. That is, if it made it through the Gobi Desert.
I have heard many fearful stories of the Gobi Desert, and the terrors it holds. Instead of milestones, there are the skeletal remains of unsuccessful caravans to guide the way! I shivered. What if we…ended up like- A punch to my shoulder shook me out of my dreadful thoughts.
"Ow! What was that for?!" I yelped, offended.
"That," Wang Peng started, "was for being a worry-wort." I blanched. "Oh, come on! I know that look." He made a face and cried in a high-pitched voice, "That's the oh-no-we-we-are-doomed look." He accused. I just looked at him while trying not to laugh. I had to keep some dignity. I couldn't let him know he made me laugh. That would be too much of an ego boost for his own good. "You need to stop worrying, and start enjoying yourself. You may never see a desert again! So calm down." He commanded. Maybe Wang Peng was right. Maybe we would be fine. But I just couldn't shake this feeling of danger.