Prologue

When autumn arrived in Chang’an, the Egretgrass Post beyond Yumen Pass was exceptionally beautiful.

Especially at sunrise.

The Tianshan and Jinshan mountains on the horizon gradually revealed their outlines in the darkness, their silver-white peaks slowly shifting to a golden hue.

Those golden rays seemed to emanate from these two vast mountain ranges, gradually filling the boundless desert and sea of sand.

Desolation and bleakness were the prevailing themes at this moment. Standing on the boardwalk outside the post, gazing into the distance, the sky seemed within reach, yet an overwhelming sense of loneliness would often wash over like a tide, as if one were utterly alone in the entire world.

However, whenever this feeling became too intense to bear, simply withdrawing one’s gaze could restore a fleeting moment of tranquility.

Clear streams irrigated the continuous meadows, converging into serene lakes.

A cluster of a dozen or so houses comprising the post stood by the lakeside, where rampant bulrushes easily swallowed the roads beyond the boardwalk. The grass known locally to herders as egretgrass was not the same as what people in Chang’an called by that name; it was merely a slender grass that bore no flowers. Yet in the morning breeze, countless emerald strands swayed gently, brushing against the railing of the boardwalk with a soft rustling, exuding an incomparable gentleness.

The reeds in the lake, however, bore large white blossoms resembling the tails of white foxes, their reflections mingling effortlessly with the clouds drifting in the azure sky.

The crystal-clear lake revealed no fish beneath its surface, but was home to many frogs. Perhaps due to the coldness of the water or the sheer number of frogs, despite being surrounded by lush bulrushes and reeds, there were no mosquitoes at Egretgrass Post.

Many white egrets appeared when the silver mountains in the distance had fully turned golden. Unlike geese that traveled in flocks, these birds preferred solitary leaps and flights over the wetlands, embodying an air of utter freedom.

They infused the Egretgrass Post with vibrant life without causing any noise.

At the heart of the post stood a house built over the water, with one room resembling a painted boat floating on the surface.

In that room by the window sat Xie Wan, clad in richly embroidered robes.

Leaning against the windowsill, one hand resting outside, his fingers hovered just above the water. Though his fingers never touched the surface, their slow, casual movement cast reflections that seemed to reach deep into the lake’s depths.

Beneath the water, soft, long grasses swayed continuously, as if graceful women were dancing in time with his fingers.

The bleakness of the distant mountains transformed here into a solitary stillness, a scene most young talents in Chang’an would never have the chance to witness. Had they been here, they would have been ecstatic, drinking fine wine and inscribing poems on the post’s walls until satisfied.

Such young talents would wonder what kind of extraordinary person could have chosen such a wondrous place for a post.

To others, the affluent and renowned Xie Wan was naturally one of those gifted young men.

But that was only in their eyes.

Not only would he never behave so, he found such people laughable.

Just as those atop a mountain can easily see the vastness of the plains, someone in his position could readily discern the true nature of things.

The ingenious person who selected this spot was merely a schemer seeking to curry favor with the Xie family.

This post, which should never have existed, had long since exceeded the Tang Empire’s logistical limits.

To those young officials, it might symbolize the Tang’s commitment, yet by next winter, this post would likely vanish.

No army would be stationed here, nor would a large number of exiled prisoners be sent to build a frontier town.

The greatest significance of this post was to add a bold stroke to his résumé, enabling him to claim numerous military achievements.

This would make people believe that scions like him remained pillars of the Tang, not merely enjoying luxury by ancestral privilege.

Upon returning, many poems depicting frontier scenery and soldiers would circulate, earning him genuine admiration from young officials.

He always kept a few poet-scholars nearby, supported by the Xie family’s funds. If these men produced fine verses, the expenses for entertainment would also rise, though all poems would bear Xie Wan’s name.

His future wife would be either from the Liu clan of Hedong or the Pei clan of Hedong.

Those so-called young talents longed for things as unattainable as stars in the sky—things he possessed by birthright.

The only regret for someone like him was that life was mostly dull.

For the future that ordinary people experience and cannot fathom, the outcomes had long been predetermined in his world.

This had been true for many years past and would remain so in the years to come.

There was an innate vast gap between people, just as autumn leaves carpeted Chang’an and blizzards brewed in the desert beneath the Tianshan foothills. Yet here, at Egretgrass Post nestled in a valley shielded from the biting wind, the grass would only begin to wither a month later.