Tales from Nányuè: a soldier writes home
Posted: Thu Dec 26, 2013 8:35 pm
Father, Mother, little Huanchen,
May fortune bring you a full harvest and no locusts.
It has been six months since I was stationed at Chuanguzhou, and only now am I allowed to write home. I have sent my prayers with this letter in hopes that no ill befalls it before reaching your hands.
When I left, you asked me to tell you about all the strange things I see. I am afraid there is not enough paper to give Chuanguzhou a description worthy of it. The city is ancient - predating even the empire itself I am told - and the oldest buildings and walls are constructed from slabs of basalt larger than our house. There is no question that great sorcery was involved in its creation. The city has three great walls around it, in concentric circles, and I shudder to think of the foes which required their creation.
Sergeant Guo assures us that we need the walls today just as much as they were needed in ancient times. I am forced to agree. When archers need more than one arrow to shoot down a jungle mosquito, one has to wonder what other dangers lurk in the massive jungles not two days ride from the city. Although I am but newly out of basic training, already sergeant Guo has us on lumber camp guard details, so there is every chance I shall discover the answers for myself.
The human inhabitants of the jungle are fierce and unforgiving, armoured in reptilian leathers and bark, and often wielding weapons crafted of wood and bone. We must go armoured at all times for their habit is to attack suddenly, then vanish, raining down darts upon us from blowpipes. My comrades are already showing signs of nerves. Our wariness of sudden attacks is so bad that, when one of the labourers was blowing ash out of their pipe early one morning, I instinctively ducked for cover.
I have commissioned a new erhu from a local artisan. I miss playing, but I must wait until it is finished. Regrettably, that limited the amount of paper I could buy, and I have almost run out of space. Next time I promise I shall buy more paper, so I can send some sketches of the city. When you respond, please give me news of our village.
Is everyone well?
Your son, Pingzhi
May fortune bring you a full harvest and no locusts.
It has been six months since I was stationed at Chuanguzhou, and only now am I allowed to write home. I have sent my prayers with this letter in hopes that no ill befalls it before reaching your hands.
When I left, you asked me to tell you about all the strange things I see. I am afraid there is not enough paper to give Chuanguzhou a description worthy of it. The city is ancient - predating even the empire itself I am told - and the oldest buildings and walls are constructed from slabs of basalt larger than our house. There is no question that great sorcery was involved in its creation. The city has three great walls around it, in concentric circles, and I shudder to think of the foes which required their creation.
Sergeant Guo assures us that we need the walls today just as much as they were needed in ancient times. I am forced to agree. When archers need more than one arrow to shoot down a jungle mosquito, one has to wonder what other dangers lurk in the massive jungles not two days ride from the city. Although I am but newly out of basic training, already sergeant Guo has us on lumber camp guard details, so there is every chance I shall discover the answers for myself.
The human inhabitants of the jungle are fierce and unforgiving, armoured in reptilian leathers and bark, and often wielding weapons crafted of wood and bone. We must go armoured at all times for their habit is to attack suddenly, then vanish, raining down darts upon us from blowpipes. My comrades are already showing signs of nerves. Our wariness of sudden attacks is so bad that, when one of the labourers was blowing ash out of their pipe early one morning, I instinctively ducked for cover.
I have commissioned a new erhu from a local artisan. I miss playing, but I must wait until it is finished. Regrettably, that limited the amount of paper I could buy, and I have almost run out of space. Next time I promise I shall buy more paper, so I can send some sketches of the city. When you respond, please give me news of our village.
Is everyone well?
Your son, Pingzhi