It was snowing heavily and the mountains on both sides of the river were covered in white, making a bleak scenery with withered trees that stretched on for as far as the eyes could see. Through the bare trees, one could see carriages and travelers trudging along the perilous winding mountain paths, heading in the opposite direction from Yan Liqiang.
Yan Liqiang stood at the bow of the ship, watching the scenery ahead of him through his squinted eyes. The fluttering snow fell on his shoulders and the bamboo hat he wore, piling up into a layer of snowy white in just a flash.
"We climb the Taihang Mountain from the north;
The upward trek is harsh when we march forth.
The rough meandering footpaths twist and turn;
The wheel breakdowns bring us grave concern.
Before my eyes, the towering trees are moaning;
Above my head, the northern wind is groaning.
