Chapter 1: A Millennium of Canal Transport Nourishes Jianghuai, an Astounding Omen Foretells the Rise of Twin Stars

To speak of the Grand Canal, the millennia-old Silk Road on water, one must trace its origins to the city of Luoyang at its heart, connecting the North and South of the empire. It is a vast network formed by the Yongji Canal, the Tongji Canal, the Shanyang Ditch flowing downstream, the Yangzi entering the river, and the rivers of the Jiangnan region. With the Grand Canal project entering a new era, the waterway transport reached its peak. At the same time, the ancient Han Ditch underwent comprehensive dredging and renovation, widened and deepened to over three hundred li in length, with a water surface forty paces wide.

The Han Ditch became the vital hub linking the waterways of the Jianghuai region and the North and South, enabling the rich resources and grain from the prosperous Jianghuai and the golden triangle of the lower Yangtze to be transported unceasingly by water to the capital, Luoyang.

In the first year of the Yongle reign of the Ming dynasty, Emperor Chengzu Zhu Di appointed his trusted minister, the Earl of Pingjiang, Chen Xuan, as the chief commander overseeing canal transport, stationed at Huai’an to manage the grain tribute. Huai’an became the central node of North-South water transport, one of the four major prefectures on the water route, securing Shanyang County’s irreplaceable status and earning it renown in the capital.

It was the dawn of the sixteenth century, in the year 1506, as a new chapter in human history was turning. One evening, strange clouds gathered in the west of Shanyang County. With a sudden, inexplicable crash of thunder, the fiery clouds in the west transformed before everyone’s eyes: two azure dragons spiraled in the western sky, lifelike and majestic, as though they would descend upon the mortal realm.

The celestial anomaly terrified the townsfolk into prostrating themselves, but one man stood out amid the crowd—Zhou the Half-Immortal, famed throughout Shanyang. He watched, standing tall, as the sky changed in the west, a smile on his lips.

Zhou the Half-Immortal, with his youthful face and white hair, exuded the air of an immortal, his features refined and distinguished. Stroking his beard, he murmured, “Do not fear, do not panic, this is a sign of auspicious fortune! Heaven shields us; soon, two stars will descend upon this treasured land of Shanyang.”

“What stars, Half-Immortal? Pray enlighten us,” someone asked, glancing nervously at the two dragons dancing in the sky.

“They are the Literary and Martial Stars,” he replied, waving his banner and laughing as he departed.

The celestial marvel soon caused panic among the officials, and messengers rushed to report to the county magistrate of Shanyang: “My lord, come quickly and see!”

“What is it? Why all this panic?” The magistrate, savoring his tea in the side hall, asked calmly without even looking up, engrossed in admiring his cherished Yixing teapot.

“My lord, the Literary Star, the Literary Star has descended!” the messenger cried, pointing outside at the strange sky so different from usual.

At these words, the magistrate’s beloved teapot slipped from his hand and crashed onto the table. He had no time to care for it; hastily arranging his official robes, he looked up to the west. Indeed, the sky was unlike any other day, its color extraordinary. Without a second thought, he rushed out into the courtyard and gazed westward.

The spectacle before his eyes left him utterly dumbfounded. Two azure dragons soared through clouds and mist, their lantern-like eyes staring intently down at Shanyang. In a flash, with a sweep of their tails, they vanished.

Darkness fell. A bolt of lightning tore through the gloom, thunder roared in succession, and a torrential rain poured down.

The magistrate, having witnessed nothing before, was now struck with terror. Ignoring his attendants’ protests, he fell to his knees in the rain and cried out toward the western sky, “The magistrate of Shanyang humbly bids farewell to the divine dragons!”

He looked up again and saw the two dragons heading north toward the ancient town of Hexia. Was that not the direction of the old town? The magistrate rose, brushed the rain from his robes, and muttered to himself, “Could it be true that the Literary Star will descend upon Shanyang?”

That night’s fierce rain gave the townsfolk a night of good dreams. By morning, the apparition of the twin dragons at dusk had faded from most minds, replaced by more practical concerns of daily life. The ingrained habit of minding one’s own business prevailed; only scholars and diviners like the Half-Immortal might be restless with thought.

The next morning, as the fiery sun climbed above the treetops and the summer wind blew ever fiercer, cicadas called incessantly from the willows lining the roads. The relentless heat drove people to seek coolness, some drawing water from wells, others gathering in the shade to fan themselves.

In every alley and street, talk of the Half-Immortal’s prophecy naturally arose. Though he was famed for his uncanny predictions, the townsfolk remained divided, arguing passionately, each side holding firm to its view.

Just then, a gong sounded and the magistrate’s sedan chair set out from Shanyang County.

He traveled westward, ascending the great canal embankment, shaded by verdant trees on either side, a sudden coolness soothing his heart. The canal’s waters swirled southward, boats plied back and forth on its surface.

A convoy of boats drifted downstream, flocks of birds chased the waves, and birdcalls echoed along both banks—one was reminded of Li Bai’s famous verse: “On either bank, the gibbons’ cries never cease, while my light boat has sailed past ten thousand hills.”

Against the current, a large boat was being hauled upriver. The barge haulers struggled with each step, their hoarse chants suddenly ringing in the magistrate’s ears: “Heave, ho, hyo, heave, pull, pull, pull, pull…”

The boatmen, stripped to the waist, were tanned black by the sun. Five or six of them bent low, hauling the huge wooden vessel forward, feet sinking into the muddy bank.

The barge haulers’ song was deep but powerful, echoing through the river bend like a crashing tide, startling a flock of birds into flight.

The magistrate lifted the sedan’s window and looked at the boatmen’s dark faces, their foreheads furrowed, sweat streaming down onto the earth.

Prosperity brings suffering to the people; decline brings suffering to the people. The magistrate reflected silently, and before he knew it, the sedan had reached the ancient town of Hexia.

“Stop the sedan,” the steward called cheerfully, folding his fan as they arrived at the imperial dock. The bearers halted at once.

Standing upon the embankment, the magistrate gazed eastward: the gray walls and black tiles of the ancient town lay before him, steeped in history. On the old stone-paved street, vendors’ cries rose and fell, the crowd bustling shoulder to shoulder.

“Careful on the steps, my lord,” the steward said, leading the way and supporting the magistrate as he descended.

“So slippery!” The magistrate nearly slipped, saved only by his steward’s grasp, cold sweat breaking out on his brow. The dozen or so wide flagstones, worn glossy by the years, gleamed beneath his feet.

“How fragrant, how delicious!” the magistrate exclaimed, inhaling the aroma of fried pastries from the nearby shops.

At last he reached the gentle stone street, where the townsfolk had already retreated to the sides, leaving a clear path for him. The magistrate set aside his official airs and quickly strode along the green stone pavement into the heart of Hexia Street.

The celestial omen of the two azure dragons had left the magistrate restless and sleepless. Early the next morning, he rode his sedan to the ancient town in search of answers. Alighting at the imperial dock, he stepped onto the uneven green stones and wandered the ancient streets. He found the town’s central role truly irreplaceable, nestled beside the canal and intimately bound to the thousand-year history of grain tribute in Huai’an.

The green stone slabs whispered tales of the ancient town’s millennia of change. The winding streets shone with the centuries-old charm of Hexia. Industrious and honest townsfolk bustled through the narrow lanes, the vibrant life of the marketplace plain to see. The magistrate was filled with joy—was it not a great accomplishment to see peace and prosperity among the people under his governance?

To know what happens next, stay tuned for the following chapter.