Chapter One: Xue Ju

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“Ah, so this is the famous Gaolan Mountain from before,” Li Wenyuan said as he stepped off the car and stretched lazily.

“Yes, in the language of the Xiongnu, Gaolan Mountain means ‘the great mountain by the river.’ It’s said that this name dates back to the time when the First Emperor of Qin unified the six kingdoms,” replied his companion with a smile, unloading their gear from the car.

“Alright, we rarely get a chance to get away from our advisor and relax—so stop with the lectures already,” Li Wenyuan said, grabbing the equipment from his friend, slinging it carelessly over his shoulder, and striding toward the nearby tents.

He was here to take part in a hunting event organized by the Archery Enthusiasts’ Association. Though they called it a “hunt,” the organizers had simply placed various targets in the woods ahead of time. Participants, working in pairs, would enter the mountains in turn, shoot the targets, leave an arrow marked with their name beside each one, and retrieve a token from the target. The pair who collected the most tokens would be declared the winners.

The next day, at the break of dawn, Li Wenyuan and his friend had breakfast and began preparing their gear for the mountain. Hearing the occasional metallic clinks from Li Wenyuan’s side, his friend turned and asked, “You brought iron arrows? This event is going to be pretty physically demanding. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

Li Wenyuan slung his quiver and bow over his back and, after ensuring nothing impeded his movement, checked each arrow before placing it in the quiver. Hearing his friend’s question, he looked up with a smile: “I’ve gotten used to it after all these years. After so much study of history, I still want to experience what it’s like to use iron arrows firsthand.”

“You’re one to talk. Taking time off from your research to come hunting must have really annoyed our advisor. I bet you’ll get an earful when you’re back,” his friend said with schadenfreude.

“No worries. I finished that Sui and Tang history paper ages ago—just needs a bit of polishing before I hand it in,” Li Wenyuan replied, seeing that his friend was also ready. He opened the door and headed to the assembly point, collected a map and provisions, and entered Gaolan Mountain with his companion.

Dew had settled on the loess highlands that morning, and the moist air was a balm to parched lungs, making one want to throw open their chest and breathe deeply. After a brief rest under a tree, Li Wenyuan and his friend continued on and soon spotted their first target. Li Wenyuan nocked an arrow and released. The iron arrow shot forth like a meteor and struck the target. Perhaps due to its force, the target fell to a small ledge below.

Li Wenyuan’s friend, a child of the mountains who hadn’t lost his agility despite his years at university, climbed down to retrieve the token and told Li Wenyuan to proceed and search for the next target, promising to catch up with the map in hand.

Seeing that he couldn’t be of much help, Li Wenyuan told his friend to be careful and set off along the planned route.

The sky had brightened a little, but a thick fog had settled, reducing visibility to barely a dozen paces. Li Wenyuan, worried about stumbling forward blindly, decided to stay put, took out his canteen and map, and waited for his friend while confirming the route and hoping the fog would lift.

Time passed; the sun rose, the fog dissipated, but still his friend hadn’t appeared. Li Wenyuan grew anxious, when suddenly he heard shouting nearby—an angry human voice and the roar of a beast, unmistakably a large predator. As someone born and raised in the city, Li Wenyuan had no idea which animal it could be. He quickly packed his things, left a marker for his friend, and hurried toward the source of the sounds.

Arriving silently, he saw a man in iron armor leaning against a tree with a sword, beside him a horse lying in a pool of blood and a massive wild beast. Looking closely, Li Wenyuan realized it was a wild boar, its tusks still dripping blood and its body covered in wounds clearly inflicted by the armored man’s sword. Yet the man was near exhaustion while the boar, driven mad by pain, summoned its final strength and lunged at him. Sensing danger, Li Wenyuan drew an iron arrow, raised his bow, and let it fly.

The armored man, seeing the boar hurling itself at him, rolled aside in desperation, dropping his longsword in the chaos. He scrambled to his feet and drew a short dagger, but when he looked back at the boar, he saw its massive head pinned to the tree by an iron arrow, lifeless.

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Staring at the iron arrow embedded in the tree, the man drew a sharp breath, turned toward Li Wenyuan’s direction, and called out with a cupped-fist salute, “May I ask which brave soul came to my aid? I am Xue Ju, Commandant of Jincheng. Please reveal yourself so I may thank you for saving my life!”

Li Wenyuan was just as surprised by his arrow’s effectiveness. It had barely made a splash on the archery targets, yet worked wonders on a living creature. While marveling at this, he heard the armored man introduce himself as Xue Ju, Commandant of Jincheng. This was strange indeed—he and his advisor were currently studying the tomb of Xue Ju. According to his advisor, though Xue Ju later became ruthless, he had nonetheless kept the people of the Hexi Corridor safe during times of chaos, sparing them from the ravages of the nomads.

Li Wenyuan’s thoughts raced. The histories described Xue Ju as both fierce and striking in appearance, a man of mixed reputation. Could this person be a fellow Sui-Tang history enthusiast using “Xue Ju” as an online alias? After all, who would reveal their real name to a stranger? Hearing the man’s archaic speech, Li Wenyuan was both amused and competitive—after all, he was a graduate student of history himself. Why not play along in this little drama and see who breaks character first?

With that decision, Li Wenyuan slung his bow over his shoulder, stepped out from behind the tree, cupped his fists in return, and declared, “General Xue, I am Li Wenyuan, a native of Longxi. Forgive my rustic manners. Since you claim to be Commandant of Jincheng, do you have proof?”

Xue Ju laughed heartily, “You are no ordinary woodsman to know to ask for an official’s badge. Very well, you saved my life, it does no harm to show you.” With that, he unfastened his badge and tossed it to Li Wenyuan.

Li Wenyuan caught it and was immediately struck by its heft. The design and characters were identical to the one he had examined from Xue Ju’s tomb with his advisor, except that the tomb’s badge had only just been cleaned and its inscription was barely legible. The existence of this badge, perfectly preserved, unsettled him. He gripped it tightly and asked, “Are you truly Commandant Xue Ju of Jincheng? What year is it right now?”

Xue Ju was momentarily taken aback before replying, “It is the sixth year of Daye. Why do you ask? Have you lived in seclusion so long that you’ve lost track of the times?”

Li Wenyuan’s mind went blank. Only when he heard Xue Ju’s answer did he snap back to reality, murmuring to himself, “The sixth year of Daye... the sixth year of Daye.”

Xue Ju, ever eager to befriend worthy men, had already been impressed by Li Wenyuan’s feat of pinning the boar’s head to a tree. Sensing an opportunity, he reassured him, “Brother Li, since you’ve lived in the mountains for so long, why not accompany me to Jincheng? As commandant, I can arrange an official post for you. Wouldn’t that be livelier than this lonely existence?”

Li Wenyuan, regaining his composure, felt a surge of excitement. If this really was the sixth year of Daye and given Xue Ju’s attire, perhaps it was true. Why not go to Jincheng and see for himself? If it was a ruse, he would surely spot the flaws; if not, Xue Ju was a formidable figure, and he could follow him for now and try to unravel the mystery. He replied, “I am from Longxi, come here to visit a friend, but found no one and have been hunting to get by. When I entered the mountains, it was still the Kaihuang era, so I know nothing of the Daye years. I beg General Xue’s guidance.”

Together, Xue Ju and Li Wenyuan dealt with the boar’s corpse and buried the horse. During this, they exchanged birth dates—each intentionally reporting a few years off—and Li Wenyuan addressed Xue Ju as elder brother, which greatly delighted the latter. Xue Ju cut off the wild boar’s hind legs to roast over the fire and regaled Li Wenyuan with news and events of the day. Li Wenyuan gradually pieced together the era and confirmed that he had indeed traveled back to the Sui dynasty.

Retrieving his arrow from the tree where the boar had been pinned, Li Wenyuan returned it to his quiver and sat by the fire, pondering his future. Other than his bow, a quiver of iron arrows, and nothing else, fate had brought him here—he could not let this chance go to waste. He vowed to leave his mark and help forge an even mightier Tang dynasty!

After finishing their meal, they packed up, and Xue Ju heaved the boar’s carcass onto his shoulder and led the way down the mountain. That evening, Xue Ju had Zhai Changsung brought to his home, summoned his two sons, and said to Li Wenyuan, “Brother, these two boys are my sons. I’d like them to become your disciples and learn archery from you. What do you think?”

Li Wenyuan followed Xue Ju’s gaze. The older boy had fierce tiger eyes that made one wary of crossing him, while the younger sat quietly reading and, noticing Li Wenyuan’s gaze, nodded politely. These were surely Xue Ju’s sons, Xue Rengao and Xue Renyue. Knowing their historical importance, Li Wenyuan quickly declined, “Brother Xue, my archery is nothing special. I dare not mislead your sons and jeopardize their future.”

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Xue Ju laughed, “There’s no need for such modesty, brother. That arrow of yours, piercing a boar’s head and sinking inches into hard wood, is a feat I have never seen. My boys are long past the stage of basic training. As commandant, I’ve often campaigned against bandits and made many enemies. If you could teach them some skills for self-defense, it would put my mind at ease.”

Li Wenyuan now understood—he was being asked to act as bodyguard for the two boys. That suited him just fine; it was a chance to get close to Xue Ju. “If it’s only for self-defense, I know a little. Since you trust me, General, I will gladly teach your sons what I can. Please have some bows brought tomorrow, so I can see how strong a bow they can draw.”

Xue Ju nodded, “That’s no problem. I’ll have the soldiers send some over tomorrow.”

That night, Li Wenyuan returned to the room Xue Ju had arranged for him, his heart in turmoil. The room was fully furnished, and soon a maid arrived with ten strings of coins—not the white coins minted in the later Daye years, but the earlier Kaihuang five-zhu coins, a thousand coins to four catties and two taels. For ordinary folk, a few strings a month would suffice for food and clothing, but Xue Ju had given him ten strings for a month—truly matching the historical record of his vast wealth and generosity to heroes.

Li Wenyuan accepted the coins and, seeing the maid had not left, asked, “Is there something else?”

The maid bowed deeply and said, “Master sent me to attend to you, sir.”

Li Wenyuan was taken aback—Xue Ju was generous indeed. First money, now a woman? Yet this little maid had kept her head lowered the entire time, piquing his curiosity. “What’s your name? Raise your head and let me have a look at you.”

She obeyed, raising her head and replying, “My birth name is long forgotten. After entering the household, Madam gave me the name Qiuniang.”

Li Wenyuan had already been moved by Qiuniang’s melodious voice and, now seeing her face, was even more resolved to keep her close. She was not striking in a way that stunned at first glance, but had a gentle warmth, like a spring breeze, that grew more enchanting the longer one looked.

He nodded. “Very well. You may stay. Wake me at dawn tomorrow—I need to prepare archery practice for the young masters.” With that, he ignored Qiuniang’s startled expression, undressed, and fell into a deep sleep. He was simply too exhausted: hunting in the mountains, inexplicably traveling through time, saving Xue Ju by chance—so many bewildering things had left him drained.

Qiuniang, seeing him fall asleep at once, breathed a quiet sigh of relief, though she also felt a twinge of disappointment. She was born a slave, and seeing this man so favored by her master, she thought that if she could get closer to him, she might even be freed and reclaim her family name.

With a complicated heart, Qiuniang blew out the candle.