On A Journey

The wind came from the north, but the people in the wind headed toward the north. The carriage went around Xiao Mountain and quietly passed through the empty space between Yanjing and Cangzhou. Just before they reached the North Sea, snow fell again at the end of February.

It was very cold. Every direction was impassable. A thin layer of snow covered the carriage like a sugar-dusted black bread as it moved slowly through the wilderness.

Driving the carriage, Wang Qinian wore a raincoat that barely managed to block the snow. His eyelashes and the mustache on his upper lip had both been frozen by the snow. He appeared somewhat wretched. However, his usually spiritless eyes seemed unusually clear and sharp in the wind and snow. They swept slowly across the two sides of the road, not passing up any possibly suspicious movements.