Yangguan (Yang Pass)

Sòng Yuán’èr Shǐ Ānxī, or translated from Chinese to English as Seeing Yuan Er off on a Mission to Anxi, is a poem written by famous Chinese poet Wang Wei in the Tang Dynasty (618-907 CE). The poem, as well as multiple other poems by Wei, revolve around the idea of leaving one’s homeland. However this poem in particular became very famous, and was later converted into the song “Three Variations of Yangguan,” a very famous Chinese farewell song sung as early as the Tang dynasty.  By record, Wei’s inspiration was the melancholy of leaving China through Yangguan.

I was in the Gobi Desert, with few rations and tiring feet. I tasted nothing but the sand that crept into my mouth every time I dared to breathe. Being a travelling merchant, I would go all across the Silk Road, stopping in cities to trade. My next stop was to be Yumen Pass, where I would be escorted out of the country to Kyrgyzstan. Seperated from my caravan by bandits, I was left wandering this massive landscape with no sign of civilization. The only oasis I’ve heard about was the Crescent Lake, but I miscalculated my path and wandered too far north to reach it. My only hope was to get to the Great Wall, as there may be troops on guard that could point me in the right direction. Even then, though, my odds of surviving to make it there were slim.  

The distant galloping of horses made me jump out of my skin. I turned around just in time to see two huntsmen, one bringing their steed to a stop on my left, and the other on my right. It was clear they were native to the area, by the look of their sun-baked skin. Mounted on their horses, they were about four feet taller than me.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen!” I called to the riders. “Can you tell me where the Great Wall would be?”

The two horsemen stared at me, then to each other. “你看。 新鲜的野猪。”

The other responded with “我们应该捕捉它吗?“

I did not understand anything they said to me. Before I could try reasoning, a sack was thrown over my head, while the other tied it shut.

When I was able to remove it, I was lying in a small, dark space that reached only to the top of my head. Nothing  illuminated my vision but a small crack in the wall. Putting my eye to it, I saw I was in a moving cart in a caravan. Attempting to leave was not an option, as I found my hands were tied. My stomach was growling, and the only food in sight was a crude horse feed. I decided it would be better to sleep off my hunger until I reached my destination.

My head hit the edge of the cart in a short stop, and soon after the top was lifted and the two huntsmen towered over me. Looking to my left, I saw the horse feed was diminished. Apparently, my resolve did not outweigh my hunger. The men dragged me out, my hands still bound, into what appeared to be the front yard of some form of outpost.

The area I stood in was surrounded by tents with travellers going about their business near them. The entire area was adorned with Chinese decorations like banners and lanterns, but the place was unlike any Chinese settlement I had seen before. It was located in the desert, far away from any other towns. It also appeared that military enforcement had taken up strategic posts around the area. Towers in the distance were built to ward off intruders from all angles.

A man, seemingly a part of the military guard based on his uniform, drew my attention to my more pressing matter of being captured.

“你是白痴!” The man yelled to the huntsmen. “这不是野猪!走开!”

At this, the huntsmen scurried off. In my current situation of having my hands bound behind my back, being captured and brought to an isolated village, and nothing fending off my hunger besides oats that would prove disgusting even amongst the horses they were meant to be fed to, I was becoming slightly agitated.

“Hello,” I began humbly. “Would you happen to know where I am, or why?”

Much to my surprise, his response was in English. “Ah, yes,” he said in a slow, wise tone. “We do not get many travellers, so my men thought you were a wild animal and brought you back to be eaten by our townsfolk. You are in Yangguan, or the Sun Gate, as it would be in your language. It is a frontier defense post which serves as a staple to our combat. But what brings you here?”

“I was separated from my caravan on the way to Yumen Pass,” I explained. “I was trying to reach the Great Wall when your huntsmen found me.”

“If you’re looking for Yumen Pass, it’s directly north of here. You’ll need to get moving soon if you want to make the journey before sunset.”

I gave him my most gracious thanks, and he provided preserved meat rations for my journey ahead, as well as a steed to take me to my destination. Despite my wretched experience, turning my back upon Yangguan seemed to fill me with a sort of melancholy. It felt as if this was the last stop on a route leaving home for those that dwelt here. I had not been in China long, but I enjoyed my time here. Yangguan would most likely be the last sign of orderly life before I would reach Kyrgyzstan. With a heavy heart, but intent flowing through my veins, I strode off into the vast emptiness to the North.

“Seeing off Yuan’er on a Mission to Anxi.” Mountain Songs, www.mountainsongs.net/poem_.php?id=850.

“Yang Pass.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 28 Dec. 2017, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yang_Pass.

 

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