Chapter Four: The Twin Ginseng of Male and Female

Luo Kun left Guping Town with Wang Huai’s caravan, heading toward Shanhai Pass. He noticed that most of the goods on the dozen or so wagons were covered with oilcloth, and, not knowing what they carried, asked Wang Huai, “Mr. Wang, since we’re heading to the northeast to trade, why bring so many things with us?” Wang Huai replied, “From Guangdong to the northeast, the journey is long, and carrying ready silver is inconvenient. The wagons are loaded with silk, tea, and other fine southern goods. In the northeast, we exchange them for furs, medicinal herbs, and mountain delicacies. This way, profits multiply tenfold. It’s the merchant’s usual practice—much more practical than simply carrying silver to buy goods.” Luo Kun was secretly astonished, realizing there was great skill among merchants.

By noon, the caravan arrived before the mighty Shanhai Pass, and from afar, they saw the Great Wall. The workers grew excited. Luo Kun, seeing the Wall for the first time, was amazed. The winding ramparts stretched like a dragon across mountains and ridges, disappearing into the distance—truly magnificent. He was transfixed. Soldiers guarded the pass, examined the caravan’s papers, collected tolls, and let them through. Luo Kun, still on horseback, gazed at the Great Wall, exclaiming in wonder. Wang Huai laughed, “One is not a true man until he’s seen the Great Wall! Brother Luo, you’re a true man now.” Zhang Lu joined in, “Just passing by doesn’t count—you have to climb it yourself. When we return, we should take a good look; it feels different then.” Wang Yunping said, “Climbing it is tiring; it’s better to admire it from a distance.”

Wang Huai then asked, “Do you all know the story behind the Great Wall?” The escort Huang Kui replied, “Emperor Qin Shi Huang built the Wall—who doesn’t know that?” Wang Huai continued, “Master Huang, do you know Emperor Qin’s true purpose in building it?” Huang Kui answered, “To secure the frontier and prevent barbarian incursions—didn’t we see soldiers guarding the pass just now? Is there another reason?” Wang Huai nodded, “Everyone knows what’s recorded in history: the Wall is a military barrier against foreign invasions. But that’s only half the truth. The other half, which is most important, is Emperor Qin’s real intention.” The group grew interested. Wang Yunping urged, “Please, Uncle, explain it to us.” Wang Huai agreed, “Very well, let me tell you to pass the time.” He continued, “I have an old friend, a master of geomancy, who calls himself Master Xiayun.” Wang Yunping asked, “Is that the madman who visited the family last year?” Wang Huai said, “Yes. Though eccentric, Master Xiayun possesses extraordinary skills, especially in geomancy.” Zhang Lu scoffed, “Geomancy is trickery—what expert can emerge from such arts?” Wang Huai replied, “Geomancy is profound and hard to grasp, but it has proven effective—whether for official success or wealth, many benefit from its wisdom.” Eager for stories, Zhang Lu asked, “What did Master Xiayun say about the Wall?”

Wang Huai spoke slowly, “Master Xiayun said the Great Wall is a ‘dragon conduit for water’ in geomancy, also known as ‘Azure Dragon Water Conduit.’” The group found this intriguing and pressed for details. Wang Huai continued, “After Qin Shi Huang unified the realm, the land was at peace, and people longed for stability. Yet he rushed to build the Great Wall, mobilizing the nation. This was because, after the conquest of the six states, all the brilliant minds gathered under his rule. One sage proposed a plan to secure the dynasty: creating this geomantic layout to ensure the Qin empire’s enduring legacy. Historians are unaware of the Wall’s real purpose; they rely on the records, so there’s no debate.” Huang Kui interjected, “Before Qin, Yan and Zhao had walls; Qin merely expanded them. How does that relate to geomancy?” Wang Huai said, “In the Warring States, Yan and Zhao’s walls were for defense—mere ‘scattered dragons.’ Once Qin unified the realm, a singular ‘long dragon’ was needed. High, thick walls cannot stop an invading army; Qin Shi Huang knew this. So the Wall was built not to keep out barbarians, but to secure the empire through geomancy. The Wall stretched from Lintao in the west to the eastern Liaodong coast, intended to channel the water of the East Sea.” Wang Yunping was surprised, “How can it channel the East Sea’s water?” Wang Huai explained, “It’s a symbolic channel. China already has the Yangtze and Yellow Rivers—‘water dragons’ flowing east to the sea, their veins nurturing the nation. The ‘Azure Dragon Water Conduit’ draws water from the East Sea, regenerating its energy, signifying the turning of fortune, ensuring the dynasty’s longevity. The Great Wall’s grandeur formed the largest geomantic layout, attempting to harness nature and forever secure the realm.”

The group found Wang Huai’s explanation mysterious but plausible, listening ever more intently. Wang Yunping asked, “If the Wall’s geomancy protected the Qin, why did the dynasty perish after only two generations?” Wang Huai replied, “There are many reasons. First, Qin Shi Huang died early, before the layout was fully established; thus, the energy was not renewed, and the dragon vein remained dormant.” Huang Kui laughed, “You tell good stories. The Wall has always been a military defense; how could it inspire such mystical tales?” Wang Huai countered, “If for military use alone, why extend the Wall into mountains and places unreachable by armies and horses? Why spend such enormous resources, causing rebellion and unrest? Surely Qin Shi Huang understood this?” “Well…” Huang Kui was stumped. Zhang Lu said, “Yet the Qin fell quickly. The ‘Azure Dragon Water Conduit’ did nothing.” Wang Huai sighed, “To overcome nature requires patience. Qin Shi Huang was too hasty, seeking stability at any cost, ignoring the people's suffering. The layout was vast, and before it was complete, its energy was leaked by a woman’s tears.” Zhang Lu laughed, “You mean Lady Meng Jiang’s tears?” The workers burst out laughing. Wang Huai nodded, “Yes, Lady Meng Jiang.” Huang Kui said, “Her story is widely told; there’s even a temple by the Wall. But could she really bring down the Wall with her tears?” Wang Huai said, “Lady Meng Jiang was in truth Lady Jiang—‘Jiang’ means dragon. Haven’t you heard of the Phoenix Chick Pang Tong dying at Fallen Phoenix Slope in Three Kingdoms?” Zhang Lu said, “That’s coincidence.” Wang Huai replied, “Coincidence is extraordinary. Lady Meng Jiang may have been the dragon maiden incarnate; her cries shattered the incomplete Azure Dragon, which, unable to bear it, destroyed itself over eight hundred li. After she brought down the Wall, Qin Shi Huang was furious and sought to kill the one who broke the dragon vein. A sage advised that Lady Meng Jiang, being the dragon maiden, had broken the layout because her grievance was too great. Once the dragon’s energy was lost, there was no remedy, except perhaps for Qin Shi Huang to marry Lady Meng Jiang, easing her grievance and stabilizing nature with humanity. Though he had countless beauties in Epang Palace, Lady Meng Jiang, no matter how celestial, was the one who threatened his empire. Yet, for the sake of the layout, Qin Shi Huang had to try. But Lady Meng Jiang, a resolute woman, after failing to find her husband, drowned herself. Thus, the Wall’s dragon energy was lost in Qin’s time. Later repairs preserved only residual energy, but the effect was much diminished.” The workers exchanged glances, secretly murmuring, “Nonsense! Nonsense!”

Wang Huai continued, “When Qin Shi Huang built the Wall, to prevent others from discovering the ‘Azure Dragon Water Conduit,’ he burned books and buried scholars, keeping the populace ignorant and destroying many rare texts. Once the dragon energy leaked, the Wall lost its geomantic power and became merely a military defense, ushering in dynastic changes.” Wang Yunping asked, “Does the Wall no longer have any mystical effect?” Wang Huai replied, “Master Xiayun said, though the Wall’s power to secure the empire is gone, its spiritual energy remains. Sadly, war and destruction left it broken, and its tail has become a desolate desert, meaning the water energy is lost. If fully restored, with the head and tail joined and no breaks, deserts might turn to oases, and the nation’s fortune could be prolonged; the ‘dragon conduit’ would still hold some spiritual energy. That’s why the current dynasty values Wall repairs, from the Yalu River in the east to Jiayu Pass in the west. Beyond defense, there may be deeper reasons.” Wang Yunping added, “The Wall looks like more than one line—some walls run parallel and are far apart.” Wang Huai replied, “Master Xiayun says these are ‘companion dragons,’ guarding the main vein. If the Wall were continuous from sea to end, its energy would be immense.” Wang Huai’s discourse left the caravan workers bewildered. Luo Kun secretly admired, “Mr. Wang is truly learned!”

After two more days, the caravan entered the lands of the Jurchen. During the Ming Dynasty, the Nurgan Commandery was established in the northeast, but as the Jurchen grew stronger, its effect waned. Yet trade between Jurchen tribes and the interior continued: silk, tea, crafts, and ironware went north in exchange for cattle, furs, herbs, and northeast specialties—especially busy in autumn.

Wang Huai’s caravan reached a checkpoint, which was crowded with Jurchen soldiers, rigorously searching everyone and everything leaving the pass, while those entering were let through without scrutiny. The atmosphere was tense. The caravan’s members were puzzled. After paying the tax, Wang Yunping told Wang Huai, “Uncle, it seems the Jurchen are searching for something important.” Wang Huai felt a twinge of unease, but the caravan continued. Luo Kun, seeing the northeast for the first time, was delighted by its landscape, so different from the heartland. The caravan aimed for populous towns and stayed in horse inns for rest.

After several days, the weather felt cooler than inside the pass, and mountains and dense forests grew more frequent. Wang Huai, Huang Kui, and others grew tense and vigilant. By afternoon, the caravan entered a plain, and everyone relaxed; Zhang Lu joked with some workers. Suddenly, dust rose ahead, and more than a hundred riders approached. Huang Kui shouted, “Bandits! Beware, everyone!” The workers were alarmed, drew their weapons, and protected the wagons and goods. Wang Huai, though pale, knew he must remain calm and called, “Don’t panic—observe and respond.” In a moment, the riders swept in, fierce masked men brandishing weapons, surrounding the caravan from both sides. In seconds, they encircled the wagons.

Huang Kui saw trouble and, mustering courage, rode forward and addressed them, “May I ask which heroes you are?” He drew his sabre. The leader in black laughed coldly, took down a massive hard bow, nocked a long-feathered arrow, aimed at Huang Kui, and called, “Take this!” The bowstring twanged, the arrow flew. Huang Kui, startled, tried to parry, but the arrow struck the back of his sabre with a sharp clang, snapping it in two. His right arm was numbed, nearly losing sensation, and he dropped the broken hilt, shocked, retreating his horse. He realized the assailant had spared him, and dared not speak further. The workers were terrified, pale with fear. Luo Kun was amazed, thinking, “Such powerful archery!” and grew worried for the caravan.

The black-clad leader, having subdued the caravan with a single arrow, stowed his bow. Another black-clad man shouted, “Travelers, listen well! We will neither rob nor kill today, but please unpack all goods and belongings—we seek one thing. Once checked, we’ll leave. Refuse, and we’ll act.” Wang Huai was alarmed, knowing the wagons held fine southern goods—surely the bandits would seize them. With years of experience, Wang Huai realized resistance would bring disaster, and judging from the archery, these weren’t ordinary bandits, perhaps truly searching for something. He instructed Wang Yunping, “Do as they say, unpack and open everything.” Wang Yunping hesitated, but seeing Wang Huai’s resolve, turned to the workers, “Unpack everything, lay it out carefully—don’t damage anything.” The workers began unloading, and soon bolts of silk, tea packages, and crafted wares covered the ground, dazzling to behold. Luo Kun marveled, “So many fine things!” and worried even more.

The black-clad leader waved, and dozens of his men rode forward, dismounted, and rushed to examine the goods. Wang Huai closed his eyes, thinking, “It’s over!” Yet the masked men ignored the scattered, easily inspected items, focusing only on the large packages, tossing them aside after checking, taking nothing. They were indeed searching for something specific. Wang Huai and the others were astonished, unable to guess what they sought. After thorough searching and finding nothing, including checking every person and horse, they whistled, mounted, and rode off, leaving the goods untouched. One whispered to the leader, who nodded and said, “Sorry for the trouble!” With a wave, the hundred riders galloped away, vanishing in a cloud of dust.

The workers were still shaken, bewildered by the bandits’ conduct. Wang Huai sighed in relief, muttering, “Lucky!” He called, “Pack up, let’s move—what are you waiting for?” The workers snapped out of their daze and hurriedly reloaded the goods, Luo Kun helping. Wang Huai, on horseback, pondered the bandits’ actions, unable to understand. Escort Huang Kui, red-faced, approached and seemed about to speak. Wang Huai waved him off, “The bandits were formidable; it’s not Master Huang’s fault. We lost nothing—don’t blame yourself.” Huang Kui bowed and withdrew.

The goods loaded, the caravan moved on. Though the ordeal was frightening, they became even more cautious. As they traveled, population density increased, and they felt safer. Yet strange people often appeared, sometimes secretly following and observing the caravan. Horses appeared before and behind, seeming to scout, then disappeared when finding nothing. The entire northeast was tense. In inns, people whispered, apparently discussing a priceless treasure. Because of their earlier fright, the caravan avoided asking questions, lest they attract trouble. Oddly dressed strangers watched them with suspicion. After several days, they reached a large Jurchen settlement—the caravan’s destination. From afar, they were spotted by the tribe, and a young Jurchen rode out, asking, “Are you Wang, the Guangdong trader?” Wang Huai replied, “Yes, I am.” The youth said, “The chieftain has awaited you—let me report.” He galloped off.

At the village entrance, a welcoming party emerged, led by an elderly Jurchen, followed by forty or fifty strong young men, all armed with bows and knives. Wang Huai rode forward. The elder called out, “Are you Wang Huai, our old friend?” Wang Huai responded, “Chief Aguhong, is that you?” The two met, clasped hands, and laughed like old friends reunited. Aguhong waved, his men parted to make way, and Wang Huai rode alongside him, chatting as they led the caravan into the settlement.

This was a large settlement with a thousand households, houses built with wooden stakes, orderly and neat. Whole pelts dried on rooftops, slabs of cured meat and strings of mushrooms hung under eaves. A few fierce hunting dogs barked, but were soon silenced by their masters. The settlement exuded ruggedness and wild charm—a unique northeast flavor. The caravan’s arrival stirred excitement; old and young crowded to watch, making it lively. The caravan was welcomed into a large courtyard, their wagons and horses taken care of. The workers, feeling at home, trusted the Jurchen hosts to unload and store the goods, and followed the hospitable hosts indoors to drink. To welcome the distant guests, the settlement prepared a sumptuous feast, with mountain delicacies filling the tables. Wang Yunping, Huang Kui, Luo Kun, and the workers were urged to eat and drink heartily by the generous Jurchen, who were bold and fond of wine, encouraging laughter and merriment.

Wang Huai was invited alone upstairs by Aguhong, where a finer feast was ready. They sat, raised their cups, reminisced, but did not discuss business—an old Jurchen custom. After a few rounds and exchanges of sentiment, Wang Huai said, “Chief, there’s something unclear to me—please advise.” Aguhong smiled, “We’ve been friends for years, speak freely—ask anything.” Wang Huai described everything that had happened after leaving the pass. Aguhong put down his cup, solemnly saying, “This tale is long. You’ve just arrived; a month ago, in the sacred land of our northeast, Changbai Treasure Mountain, a rare ‘Paired King Ginseng’ was unearthed.” Wang Huai exclaimed, “Such a marvel!” He was astounded.

Aguhong took a sip and said, “It’s a once-in-a-millennium event—who could have imagined it would happen here.” He urged Wang Huai to eat, then continued, “A young tribesman dug it from a stone outcrop; that night, the outcrop collapsed once its spirit was gone.” “Oh?” Wang Huai gasped. Aguhong went on, “The youth sold it to a mainland trader for thirty thousand taels of silver. Afterward, the buyer was so thrilled, he abandoned all his other purchases and left with his trusted men. But days later, the news spread: the trader and seventeen companions were found murdered in the wilderness, the ‘Paired King Ginseng’ missing. Since then, the northeast has been in turmoil, with bloodshed everywhere.” Wang Huai said, “No wonder your tribe’s soldiers and those bandits are so active and anxious—it’s all for this treasure.” Aguhong said, “Our grand chief has promised: anyone who brings the treasure will be rewarded with five thousand fine horses, ten thousand cattle and sheep each, three hundred slaves, and a good plot of land to rule.” Wang Huai exclaimed, “Such fortune!” Aguhong continued, “The ginseng is our sacred mountain’s treasure and won’t leave the northeast; hence the tight searches. While the treasure hasn’t left, its whereabouts are unknown. This month, all sorts of people—both virtuous and criminal—have converged here for it, and who knows how many will die for it.” Aguhong shook his head. Wang Huai was amazed.

The next day, Aguhong had all the furs, herbs, and mountain goods gathered in the settlement displayed. Wang Huai was delighted to find more goods and better quality than previous years. He made a trade list with Aguhong, specifying what each side wanted. Aguhong ordered his men to prepare the goods, and inspected Wang Huai’s southern specialties, which he liked. Wang Huai then took Wang Yunping and Luo Kun to nearby settlements to order more goods, returning to Aguhong’s by evening. Aguhong hosted another feast, with merriment lasting into the night.

After a few days, Aguhong’s goods were nearly ready. Wang Huai, busy checking them, sent Luo Kun to urge the other settlements to prepare their orders, giving him a tael of silver for food. Luo Kun happily accepted.

The settlements were not far; Luo Kun visited them all in one day. The chiefs told him the goods were ready and rewarded him with silver. After finishing, Luo Kun left the last settlement and, feeling tired, rested under a tree.

At that moment, rapid hoofbeats startled Luo Kun. He rose and saw a fast horse coming from the southeast, pursued by several riders. Alarmed, he hid in the grass and watched. The horse stopped under a poplar, and its rider, dressed in blue, glanced at the distant pursuers. Realizing escape was unlikely, he took a long wooden box from his back, jumped down, hurried behind the tree, and, seeing no one, hid the box in the grass, covering it with more grass. After surveying the surroundings, he mounted and rode off. Soon, a dozen black-clad riders passed in pursuit.

When they were gone, Luo Kun left his hiding place, thinking, “That man seemed anxious—what did he hide?” He went behind the poplar, found the flattened grass and the hidden box, and opened it out of curiosity. Inside were two thick birch bark sheets, wrapping something. He removed the top bark, finding a layer of green moss. “Why so elaborate?” he wondered. Removing the moss, he shook his head in disappointment, “So it’s just two joined wild radishes.” Luo Kun had seen similar things in Aguhong’s settlement and, asking Zhang Lu, was told it was a northeast specialty—wild radish, since Luo Kun didn’t recognize ginseng.

He had, by chance, found the famed “Paired King Ginseng” that had shaken the northeast. Ginseng is precious and kept fresh with moss. Luo Kun, unaware, thought it was just two joined wild radishes. Looking closely, he laughed aloud, seeing they had grown into human shapes—one like an old man, one like a young maiden, their long beards entwined, embracing. “No wonder he discarded it—two naked radish dolls hugging are embarrassing. How did it grow like this? The beards are too long.” Luo Kun played with it a while, then wondered, “Can you eat it raw?” Feeling thirsty, he bit into it. It was bitter at first, then sweet. He shook his head, “Not as tasty as garden radishes.” He took a few more bites, thinking, “May as well eat it all.” He ate both roots, then chewed up the remaining beards, swallowing them all without waste. Wiping his mouth, he saw it was late, tossed the bark, box, and moss aside, and returned to Aguhong’s settlement.

Back, Luo Kun reported his errands to Wang Huai, who praised him. Not thinking the “radish” worth mentioning, Luo Kun said nothing. Wang Yunping, Zhang Lu, and others were busy packing goods; Huang Kui’s apprentices helped. Seeing Zhang Lu packing wild radishes, Luo Kun remarked, “Wild radish isn’t tasty—rather bitter!” Everyone laughed, and Luo Kun was bewildered. An elderly Jurchen approached and said, “This young man is new to the trade and hasn’t seen such things.” Zhang Lu explained, “He’s new and doesn’t ask about business, so he doesn’t know.” The elder nodded, “I see.” He told Luo Kun, “What you call wild radish is actually what your people call ginseng—a powerful tonic.” “Ginseng?” Luo Kun was surprised; he’d only heard of it, knowing it was a luxury for the wealthy. The elder pointed to the ginseng in Zhang Lu’s hands, “This is cultivated ginseng, not wild—still expensive.” Opening a fine brocade box, he showed wild mountain ginseng, “This is true wild ginseng, called ‘club ginseng,’ venerated as ‘mountain god’ by us. It grows in high, dense forests, shaded, and is very hard to find.” Luo Kun saw the ginseng in the box was much like what he’d eaten, though smaller. The elder added, “See, this wild ginseng has dense wrinkles and long beards. Though small, it’s over a hundred years old, worth hundreds of silver taels—much more in the mainland.” Luo Kun was dumbfounded, regretting, “Heavens! What I ate was a great mountain ginseng! It must be worth at least a thousand taels.” He slapped his head in remorse. The others laughed, thinking Luo Kun was blaming his ignorance. Luo Kun was about to mention the odd ginseng he’d eaten, but thought, “Better not—telling would only make it worse.” He shook his head and went inside to rest.

Lying on the wooden bed, Luo Kun thought, “So that man was being chased for the ginseng—it’s valuable. Too bad I didn’t know and ate it as a radish. I’d better keep quiet, or those ginseng hunters might kill me.” He felt at ease, knowing no one would discover he’d eaten it. Then he mused, “Ginseng is a tonic for the rich. Since it’s good for health, it shouldn’t harm me.” He patted his stomach and shook his head, feeling nothing unusual, and was reassured.

Toward evening, Zhang Lu called, “Brother Luo Kun, Chief Aguhong invites us to another feast—come quickly.” Luo Kun was delighted and sprang up, following Zhang Lu to the hall. The food was laid out—large chunks of meat and bowls of wine. The workers crowded the table, and Zhang Lu pulled Luo Kun to sit, as the Jurchen hosts urged them to drink. Normally Luo Kun could eat and drink well, but now, sitting at the table, he felt no hunger or appetite. “I didn’t eat much at noon, and my stomach isn’t full—why do I feel unable to eat?” Zhang Lu saw him dazed and not touching his food, and said, “Brother Luo Kun, why not eat such good food?” Luo Kun shook his head, “I’m not hungry—you go ahead, I’ll leave.” He rose and left. Zhang Lu thought, “He must have eaten something good outside, so now he can’t stomach this; well, more for me.” He ate with the workers.

Back in his room, Luo Kun was perplexed. Stranger still, he couldn’t sleep all night, feeling energized and excited. In the morning, the workers remarked, “Hey, Brother Luo Kun, why are you so lively today?” Luo Kun was confused himself. At breakfast, he felt even less hungry, a sense of fullness inside, and excused himself, thinking, “Could the ginseng have over-toned me? What now?” He grew worried.

Meanwhile, on a mountaintop southeast of Aguhong’s settlement, thirty riders gathered, all in black, led by the archer who had snapped Huang Kui’s sabre—the famed “Mighty Bow King” of the northeast, named Gong Changjiu, master of a giant hard bow, with nearly ten thousand outlaws under him. Of the seventy-two famous greenwood strongholds in the northeast, fifty-six answered his command—he was the grand chief of the region. His men were fierce; Jurchen tribes feared him, and even their iron cavalry had failed to defeat him. “Mighty Bow King” was a legend throughout the northeast.

At this moment, a stronghold chief named Du Jian pointed down the mountain and said, “Grand Chief, when the brothers caught ‘Swift Grass’ He Xiong, the treasure was gone. Chief Lei Tianbao broke He Xiong’s limbs in anger, and He Xiong confessed to hiding it while fleeing. The brothers found the place, but only found an empty box and two pieces of bark—it’s clear someone else took it, and He Xiong wouldn’t dare trick us. Most likely, someone from this nearby Jurchen settlement picked it up.” Gong Changjiu stared down, saying, “Send men to investigate secretly. If it’s found, bring it back. If the Jurchen hide it and refuse… slaughter the settlement, leave no living thing.”