It was never Kang Zhenzhu's accessory, just like that white horse— it was interest collected early from a gen…
It was never Kang Zhenzhu's accessory, just like that white horse—
it was interest collected early from a general during a trade deal in Chang'an.
Through dust and miles, she carried it to many places: Chang'an, the northern deserts, Jiangnan, Jingchu.
And to those hometowns spoken of by others, or recorded in registers.
She trekked thousands of miles, delivering name after name home.
Some had been gone so long their homes had forgotten them.
But fortunately, the general remembered.
Forty years, frost dyeing her temples, she suddenly thought it was her turn for one final journey.
The setting sun forged her golden whip into flowing fire. From the depths of the wilderness came the echo of camel bells.
She raised her whip and galloped toward the golden light.