Half a Moon

A dozen days later, Xinghan City had been completely transformed. The uneven ruins and towering wild grass that once surrounded it were nowhere to be seen, replaced by a vast stretch of level ground, spacious enough to rival a small county town.

The Yunu Pass was the first fortification that had to be established. Thanks to the relentless labor of the workers, a stone wall nearly ten feet high had already been built, leaving only the river as an entrance and a broad gate named “Yunu Gate,” spanning twelve feet. Above the river, several feet high, a floating bridge made of round logs had been nailed across, anchored into the mountain wall. Within the narrow river, countless sharpened timbers could be faintly seen densely packed.

The Old Road at Yuhu Pass was exceptionally wide, stretching nearly a mile. Before construction began, Wang Bo had insisted that the wall must be at least thirty feet wide, with large mountain stones on both sides and the center packed tightly with compacted earth and crushed stone. Progress was slow, and so far only a wall as tall as a man had been built, but it was clear that once completed, it would be nearly impregnable.

The speed with which these two passes were constructed owed much not only to the diligence of the workers but also to the fact that the mountains near Dingxiang were typical rocky hills. Years of erosion had split the rocks along the mountain paths, and all the fragments had fallen into the valleys, making it very convenient to source materials for building the walls. Wood and stone were plentiful.

After inspecting the walls, Wang Bo ordered that once they reached twenty feet in height, “hidden soldier caves” should be constructed on the outer side of the walls for defense during enemy sieges. This ingenious idea astonished the generals. Wang Bo’s concept was based on the reality that nomadic tribes at the time lacked siege engines—there were no stone-throwers, siege towers, or battering rams. If this were the Central Plains, such walls would likely crumble under repeated bombardment.

The “hidden soldier caves” were Wang Bo’s inspiration after a sleepless night. The lowest caves were six feet square, just enough for a single archer, with a narrow shooting slit positioned upward. When enemies attacked, archers would fire blindly as soon as the enemy approached, focusing on quantity rather than precision. The outer wall remained stone, with thick logs lining the interior. A small bell was hung with rope; archers fired when they heard it.

Higher up, the caves grew larger, accommodating more archers, and the shooting slits gradually angled downward, broadening the field of vision while still blocking most enemy arrows.

Near the top of the wall, the largest and densest caves were built every three feet, with wider shooting holes—some for pouring boiling oil, some for dropping stones, and some for thrusting spears at the attackers.

Having finished his design, Wang Bo closed his eyes and imagined the scene: barbarian soldiers charging toward the wall, only to be met with a storm of arrows from above and below, struggling up the ladders, only to be assaulted by spears, arrows, and boiling liquid. He could not help but shiver, grinning wickedly, which made the rebellious Chen Dao beside him curl his lip in disdain.

Since joining the Xinghan Army with his uncle Chen Rong, Chen Dao had been silent, even when Wang Bo asked him questions directly. He spoke little, hoarded his words, and responded to the teasing of Ping Han and Xu Chu with contemptuous looks. Wang Bo, lacking detailed knowledge of Chen Dao’s past, could not accurately gauge his current state, but the young man’s cold aura made clear he was no ordinary youth.

Upon inquiring with Chen Rong, Wang Bo learned that Chen Dao had been harmed by chaos; once cheerful as a child, he had changed after losing both parents. But for a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old to track his enemy across a thousand miles and take revenge amidst a sea of imperial soldiers—what perseverance! Wang Bo was initially wary of keeping him close, fearing that Chen Dao’s long blade might one day find his own neck. Yet such talent was wasted if unused. With Chen Rong’s agreement, Wang Bo assigned Chen Dao as a squad leader among the spearmen.

Years of silence erupted during the battle at Jingxing Pass, where Chen Dao, blade in hand, charged through half a battalion of Changshan soldiers, showing all his dangerous potential. After the battle, covered in blood and following Wang Bo up the hillside, Chen Dao wept freely. From then on, he was appointed Wang Bo’s personal guard captain, diligent and loyal, though his eternally cold gaze unsettled anyone who approached Wang Bo, making them uncomfortable under his stare.

A few days later, scouts reported from outside the passes: Yunu Pass was being watched by barbarian cavalry, while a merchant caravan approached Yuhu Pass.

Wang Bo recognized that their arrival was inevitable. He immediately ordered all militia and logistics troops building barracks on the open ground to be dispatched to Yunu Pass to accelerate construction, while the cavalry drove off the barbarians. As for the merchant caravan outside Yuhu Pass, he sent troops to ambush in the woods, intending to detain the caravan upon approach, and then personally identify and deal with them.

Leaving a few auxiliary troops to lead the elderly, sick, women, and children in building the camp, Wang Bo, accompanied by his two bodyguards, hurried to Yuhu Pass.

Seeing the walls taller by two feet since his last visit, Wang Bo’s nerves calmed. After greeting everyone, he rolled up his sleeves and joined the construction, waiting for the merchant caravan to arrive.

Merchants crossing the passes generally avoided the autumn and winter when barbarian horsemen were rampant, choosing to travel in spring and summer, crossing Yanmen Pass to trade with the tribes. They usually bartered, exchanging salt, ironware, and tea from the Central Plains for pelts and fine horses, rare commodities in Han territory.

Some even smuggled weapons and armor, bribing the guards at Yanmen Pass to sell them to the barbarians—a risky venture, but the lure of profit drove merchants to persist.

Most local tribes, aside from a few vicious ones, rarely robbed passing caravans, nor did they frequently extort or force sales. Even these wild people seemed to understand that overexploitation harms their own interests. Of course, this applied only to familiar faces; strangers risked their lives.

A group of several dozen burly men, accompanying wagons and leading mules and horses loaded with goods, slowly entered the unfinished Yuhu Pass.

The men guarding the wagons wore short headscarves and had weathered, dark faces—evidently seasoned travelers. Their attire was short and clean, and they carried gleaming short blades, with the occasional long spear. Followed by a group of fierce Xinghan soldiers, they showed no sign of panic, clearly used to such situations.

A middle-aged man, slender and dressed like a steward, stepped forward, dismounted, and clasped his hands in greeting. Though he appeared to address the crowd, his eyes furtively glanced at Wang Bo, recognizing him as the leader. He spoke loudly, “We are the Wang family caravan from Taiyuan! On orders from our master, we journey to Yunzhong. Should the lord offer us passage, we will be most grateful!”

With a wave, he called, “Bring it!” Two men behind him immediately carried forward a large chest and opened it before Wang Bo and his party.

“Lord?” Wang Bo was surprised. He thought to himself: does this fellow take us for bandits? The chest was sizeable, but its contents modest—only two jars of wine, a bag of silver, and several bolts of cloth.

“Where in Yunzhong are you headed? For what purpose? Are you in league with the barbarians?” Wang Bo looked at the chest and spoke slowly, lips curled.

The middle-aged man paused, then bowed again, “Lord, you are too severe! Bring another!” Another chest was brought out and opened: this time, more silver and cloth, no wine, but tea and salt instead, plus many small bags.

He continued, “I did not know this place now belongs to the lord! Please forgive our lack of courtesy. These humble gifts are but tokens, and we hope the lord will accept them!” He bowed again.

“A shrewd one!” Wang Bo was amused, and straightened his posture, saying, “I too am newly arrived and do not understand the situation. Please enter the pass and rest for a few days, and we will decide then.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and returned inside the wall, leaving the steward uncertain.

The steward had no choice but to lead the Wang family caravan, under the supervision of soldiers, into Yuhu Pass and the Xinghan camp. No one came to greet them, and as night fell, they pitched their tents and settled in.

For several days, this continued. The Xinghan Army did not touch the caravan’s goods, but posted guards nearby. The steward sought an audience with Wang Bo repeatedly, but was always refused. As days passed, the anxious steward finally sat outside Wang Bo’s tent, refusing to leave.

Unable to rid himself of the persistent visitor, Wang Bo finally had him brought inside.

The steward entered, knelt with a pained face, and said, “General Wang, whatever your command, please say so! I will do my utmost! If things continue like this, I cannot answer to my master! I beg your understanding!”

Wang Bo waved him up and smiled, “We have been here over a month. Our purpose is twofold: to establish ourselves and to build a pass to block the barbarians, relieving our Han people from their suffering. I already know the Yunzhong region is occupied by the Xianbei. How can I let you pass?”

The steward dropped his head and smiled bitterly, “It used to be so! I have traveled here for years with the Wang family caravan, and did not know the general... Perhaps this time, I will offer more...”

“I do not covet your goods! If I needed them, I would trade fairly. But as you see, Xinghan City is just beginning. The camp is not established, defenses are not built. If I let you pass now, and news leaks, the barbarians will covet this place. It would be disastrous!”

“Therefore, I must offend you this time. You will remain here for ten days or so, until the pass is built, then you may go west. How does that sound?”

“How long will it take to build the pass?” the steward asked urgently.

“I estimate... no more than half a month, and you will be sent west.”

“This... hmm... it must be so. Thank you, General! I will prepare fine wine to reward your men!” With a clear outcome, the steward knew there was no use in hurrying, and began to chat with Wang Bo.

Wang Bo was happy to learn more about the situation. Through their conversation, he gained a clearer understanding of the caravans traversing the frontier, and the distribution of tribes around Yanmen, Dingxiang, and Yunzhong.

West of Guji Mountain, north of Yinshan, and across the vast plateaus and hills encircled by the Yellow River, the Eastern Han court had once granted these lands to the Southern Xiongnu, encouraging them to settle and swear allegiance to Han. The court could recruit warriors from their tribes at any time, especially when faced with incursions by the Xianbei or Western Qiang. The Southern Xiongnu chieftain was required to dispatch cavalry to assist. Craftsmen and farmers were sent by the court to teach them farming and weaving, but weapon-making was strictly forbidden, and the Southern Xiongnu were not allowed to learn such skills.

The exploits of Li Guang, Wei Qing, Huo Qubing, and others during the reign of Emperor Wu left a legacy of awe. Since submitting to Han, the Southern Xiongnu had settled peacefully, gradually adopting agricultural habits, though they still retained some nomadic customs but to a lesser extent. Over time, Han culture deeply permeated, especially in places where they mixed with Han people, making them little different from Han natives.

However, during the reign of Emperor Huan, the court’s corruption led to abuses by officials such as the Protector-General and Colonel of the Xiongnu, who oppressed the tribes. With the powerful Xianbei encroaching from the north, the Southern Xiongnu found themselves increasingly vulnerable. Some tribes, harboring resentment against the court, allied with the Xianbei to invade Han territory. Still, most Southern Xiongnu remained relatively friendly to Han people.

In contrast, the Xianbei Budugen tribe entrenched in Yunzhong and Wuyuan grew ever more aggressive as the Han’s control of the north waned, invading year after year, pillaging the borderlands and razing cities. Wherever they went, Han people were wiped out—men enslaved, women and wealth taken as spoils. Only a few powerful clans could escape catastrophe by forging ties with them.

Thus, the greatest enemy for the Xinghan Army to establish its foundation here was the Xianbei Budugen tribe, followed by Kebineng’s tribe in northern Youzhou, and some Wuhuan people.

The Wang family of Taiyuan frequently traded among the Southern Xiongnu, the Xianbei, and Han people, as did the Linghu and Hedong Wei clans. Many smaller local caravans from within Yanmen Pass also engaged in these risky ventures, though their danger and profit were less than those of the powerful families connected on all sides. They had to pass through checkpoints, endure extortion, worship at temples, and—at the slightest misstep—lose everything, even their lives.

Once familiar, Wang Bo asked, “Do you ever smuggle arms and armor in your trade with the tribes?”

Wang An, the steward of the Wang caravan, smiled sheepishly and admitted, “Occasionally!”

Wang Bo’s expression turned serious. “From now on, as I reside here, normal goods such as salt, iron, tea, and cloth will not be taxed for now, but ironware must be limited! Arms and materials for war will be heavily taxed, and especially dangerous items are strictly forbidden! If anyone is caught smuggling, no matter the amount, all will be beheaded! Remember this, and inform all caravans!”

“I will remember! I dare not challenge your authority, General!”

“Do not worry! My aim is to reduce the harm the barbarians inflict on our Han people. The Xinghan Army will welcome all passing caravans and will not mistreat them without cause. Rest assured!”

After sending Wang An away, Wang Bo suddenly realized: since the tribes and Han caravans trade here, and Xinghan Army controls this key route, could they not profit from commerce?

What could he offer? Paper? Impossible! The barbarians have no use for paper. Furniture? Unlikely! It’s needed more by wealthy Han households, and easily copied... What is quick to produce, not easily imitated, and—crucially—something he knows how to make?

Unable to think of a solution, Wang Bo scratched his head, took a sip of water from a bamboo cup, and was struck by inspiration: wine! Yes, high-proof spirits! Useful for warmth and healing. He leapt for joy.

Startled, Xu Chu burst in, gave him another disdainful look, and with silent sarcasm: “You madman! I won’t bother with you!”

During the Han era, wine was brewed from millet, single in variety and very low in alcohol content. Poor filtration meant the wine was often full of sediment—hence “cloudy wine.” Some homemade batches could even turn sour.