Last Hun

Author: Gao Jianqun
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-07-01
Features: The Xiongnu, a nomadic grassland people who revered wolves, once roamed the vast lands of northwest China. Wild, brave, and fierce, they were formidable warriors who rose from the grasslands, clashed with the powerful Qin and Han dynasties, and dominated for centuries. They conquered vast territories with their iron cavalry, and wherever their cattle and sheep grazed, that became their domain. But this most formidable and shocking equestrian nation of human history, at the height of its glory, left no written records and mysteriously vanished from the historical stage. The Last Xiongnu is a highland epic that recreates the century-long history of this special region in northern Shaanxi, where the Xiongnu left deep footprints. The author strives to find traces of the Xiongnu people's historical trajectory. The work presents the epic life stories of two generations from three families. On a high mountain slope, a young girl is driving cattle while threshing. She wears a red robe. The robe, recently dipped in the water at the bottom of the valley and still damp, shines brilliantly in the August sunlight of the highlands; with a gentle breeze, it seems like a flag waving in the wind. At that time, the highlands were not as ancient, weathered, or fragmented as they are today. The threshing songs were also not as round and graceful as they are now. The songs were sung directly from the throat, with "ah" as the only lyrics of the entire song. At the foot of the slope flows a small river, and beside it lies an ordinary village in the northern Shaanxi highlands. The village is called Wu'er Castle. Wu'er Castle bears witness to a proud conquest history of the Xiongnu. The Xiongnu cavalry once crossed the Great Wall and marched south into the Central Plains, penetrating deep into the interior, capturing states and counties, and abducting a batch of Han people. Among the captives, those with a bit of beauty were selected to serve as military concubines, the best of whom were added to the inner households of the aristocracy, while the rest, rougher in appearance, were driven to this sparsely populated place to build a village similar to today's concentration camp, named "Wu'er Castle." Such Wu'er Castles exist in many places where the northern Shaanxi highlands meet the Ordos Plateau. Later poets recorded history in verse, expressing regret with the line "The Xiongnu built Wu'er Castle high." But "Wu'er" did not refer only to the people of the Wu region today. The Xiongnu generally referred to the Han people they captured as "Wu people." The second and third generations of Wu'er Castle emerged, and the strong highland winds made the fair-skinned and delicate people tougher and stronger. The gurgling mountain springs swelled the teats of their nurturers. They sowed millet and buckwheat on the slopes and hilltops, corn and flaxseed in the valleys, and love on the land and kang beds. The gentle and melancholic Jiangnan folk song "Oh, a Fragrant Jasmine Flower" was transformed by the highland breezes into a clear and sharp highland folk tune, while the activity of "sitting in a boat" during the Spring Festival dragon dances could be seen as a remembrance and tribute to their Jiangnan water towns. The young girl sang the song. Mature crops were spread on an empty space at the top of the mountain, baked by the sun. A group of cattle walked slowly in small steps, circling around the threshing area. Wherever their hooves stepped, grains fell from the ears. One hand of the young girl held a whip, while the other held a winnowing basket, preventing any cow from suddenly raising its tail and defecating. Her song was filled with self-pity. The sky was extremely high, and the clouds floated far away, where the earth and sky met. The land was vast, and the quiet highlands were empty of people. Therefore, she could sing freely without worrying about anyone calling her out of control. Since she was young, she had been accustomed to this way of shouting when driving the cattle. Her voice had changed from a child's to a girl's now. The people of northern Shaanxi call this method "singing to the mountains." Apart from serving secular purposes like plowing, threshing, and herding sheep, its essence lies in dispelling inner loneliness and fear. With loud, resounding shouts, they declare war on this numb, silent, and monstrous highland. The frozen highlands remain eternally patient in silence, as if asleep, but in reality, they are devouring the emotions of any bird or beast, devouring the emotions of all living beings. It seems to be performing a sacred work, making all creatures that fall into its mouth numb here, losing their vitality, and becoming inanimate or almost inanimate. But the sun burns fiercely overhead, day after day, urging planting and harvesting. According to Lord Byron, the sun makes girls mature early, and women in places scorched by the sun are passionate. The sun will not spare our helpless bodies; it will roast and bake them, turning them into flames. Lord Byron was right about women; he truly understood them better than us, because as he said, under the autumn sun, amidst the intoxicating fragrance of ripe grains, and in the dazzling brilliance of the red robe, the young girl suddenly felt her forehead burning and a dizzying sensation. A mysterious force emerged within her, and the desire for life to bloom and bear fruit arose. But she did not realize what was happening; she just felt dizzy. She rested for a while on the grass piled high and softened by the sun and the cattle's hooves, and took a nap. She had a dream, as dreams of girls are always beautiful and secret, but she immediately woke up because reality was more beautiful than the dream. While she was dreaming, the cow also stood on its four legs, closed its eyelids, and took a nap. Now, it looked at the awakened mistress with surprised eyes: her cheeks flushed, her spirit vibrant, and the whip cracking loudly in the air. Following her master's wishes, its hooves lifted and fell like flowers, swiftly like rain. The same song, with "ah" as its only lyrics, now, apart from its contemplative, lonely, and helpless elements, became joyful and excited, as if an emotion was being released. The song echoed endlessly on the highlands. "Ah—," "Ah—," leaping from one hilltop to another.