It was as I watched the men erecting the tent which Lu and I would share that I glanced up into the hills and thought I saw a figure move behind a rock some distance away. I remarked on this to Mr Lu. He accepted that I had probably seen someone, but he reassured me.
'It is not surprising. Probably only an observer - a scout sent to keep an eye on us and make sure that we are not a disguised military expedition. I doubt if we shall be bothered by him.'
I could not sleep well that night and I must admit that in my exhaustion I had begun to regret the impulse which had sent me on this adventure. I wondered if it would all end in some sordid massacre, if, by morning, my stripped corpse would lie amongst the remains of our camp. I would not be the first European foolish enough to embark upon such a journey and pay the ultimate price for his folly. When I did sleep, at last, my dreams were not pleasant. Indeed, they were the strangest and most terrifying dreams I have ever experienced. Yet, for some reason, I awoke from all this feeling completely refreshed and cleansed of my fears. I began to be optimistic about our chances of reaching the Valley of the Morning and ate the crude fare served us for breakfast with immense relish.
Mr Lu was moved to comment on my demeanour. 'We Chinese are famous for our stoicism,' he said, 'but we could learn something from your British variety!'
'It's not stoicism,' I said. 'Merely a mood. I can't explain it.'
'Perhaps you sense good luck. I hope so.' He indicated the rocky hills on both sides of us. 'A fairly large company of men has been moved up in the night. We are probably completely surrounded.'
'Do they mean to attack, I wonder?' I glanced about, but could see no sign of the soldiers.
'I would suppose that this manoeuvre is a precaution. They are probably still wondering if we are spies or part of a disguised army.'
I now noticed that our men were betraying a certain nervousness, fingering their rifles and bandoliers, glancing around them at the rocks and muttering amongst themselves in an agitated fashion. Lu Kan-fon was the only person who seemed unconcerned; speaking rapidly, he gave orders for our pack horses to be loaded and, at first reluctantly, his men moved to obey. It was only when the last bundle had been secured and we prepared to mount that the soldiers revealed themselves.
Unlike many of the government troops, these men wore uniforms which were distinctively Chinese - loose smocks and trousers of black, yellow, white and red. On the backs and fronts of the smocks were big circles on which had been printed Chinese characters, evidently giving the rank and regiment of the soldier. Some wore skull-caps, while others had wide-brimmed straw hats. All were clean-shaven and well-disciplined and all possessed modern carbines, apparently of German manufacture. While their guns were pointed at us, they were held at the hip rather than at the shoulder, denoting that no immediate harm was intended to us. Immediately, Mr Lu held up his hand and ordered his men not to touch their own weapons, whereupon there emerged from behind a large bush a mounted figure of such splendid appearance that I thought at first he must surely be arrayed for a festival.
He rode his shaggy pony slowly down the hillside towards us. He must have been well over six feet in height and with massive shoulders and chest. He was wearing a long brocade gown embroidered for about a foot round the bottom with waves of the sea and other Chinese devices. Over this was a long satin coat with an embroidered breastplate and a similar square of embroidery on the back, with the horseshoe cuffs, forced upon the Chinese by the Manchus when the present dynasty came to the throne, falling over his hands. High official boots, an amber necklace of very large beads reaching to his waist and aureole-shaped official cap with large red tassel, completed the costume. There was a large sword at his side, but no other visible arms, and he guided his pony with one hand while keeping the other on the hilt of the sword, somehow managing to retain an impressive dignity while the horse picked its way down to where we waited, virtually frozen in position.
His face was expressionless as he rode into our camp and brought his mount to a halt, looking us over through his slanting, jet-black eyes. Mr Lu and myself came in for a particularly close examination, and it was while the man was inspecting me that I decided to try to break the atmosphere and bowed slightly, saying in English:
'Good morning, sir. I am a British citizen on a private journey with these traders. I regret it if we have inadvertently entered territory which you would prefer to remain un-travelled…'
My rather mealy-mouthed speech was interrupted by a grunt from the magnificent rider, who ignored me and addressed Mr Lu in flowing Mandarin.
'You know who I am? You know where you are? What is your excuse for being here?'
Mr Lu bowed low before speaking. 'I know who you are, honourable one, and I most humbly ask your forgiveness for giving you the trouble of needing to inspect our little caravan. But we were travelling by train until yesterday when the train met an obstacle and was forced to return to the nearest town. We decided to continue overland…'
'You were seen leaving the troop train. You are spies, are you not?'
'Not at all, mighty General Liu Fang. The troop train was the only available transport. We are merchants: we are on our way to trade in Shantung.'
'Who is the foreigner?'
'An Englishman. A writer who wishes to write a book about our country.'
At this quick-witted piece of invention the legendary General Liu Fang showed a flicker of interest. He also appeared slightly mollified, for he had no reason to suspect I was anything but a neutral party in his territory (as, of course, I was) and probably thought it might be in his interest to cultivate the goodwill of one of the foreigners whose aid he was rumoured to be seeking.
'Tell your men to disarm themselves,' he ordered, and Mr Lu relayed the order at once. Scowling, his men unslung their guns and dropped them to the ground.
'And where is your immediate destination?' said the general to me in halting French.
I replied in the same tongue. 'I have heard of a particularly beautiful valley in these parts. It is called the Valley of the Morning.' I saw no point in beating about the bush, particularly since I might not have another opportunity to discover the exact whereabouts of my destination for some time.
General Liu Fang plainly recognized the name, but his reaction was strange. He frowned heavily and darted a deeply suspicious look at me. 'Who do you seek there?'
'No one in particular,' said I. 'My interest in the place is purely, as it were, geographical.' I, in turn, noting his reaction, had become cautious of revealing anything more.
He seemed to relax, momentarily satisfied with my reply. 'I would advise you against visiting the valley,' he said. 'There are bandits in the area.'
I wondered to myself sardonically what he called himself, but of course let nothing of this show on my face as I said: ‘I am grateful for the warning. Perhaps with the protection of your army…'
He gestured impatiently. "I am fighting a war, monsieur. I cannot spare men to escort foreign journalists about the country.'
'I apologize,' I said, and bowed again.
There was still considerable tension in the situation and I noted that the soldiers had not relaxed but were still pointing their rifles at us. There must have been at least a hundred of them in well-protected positions on both sides of the valley. The general returned his attention to Mr Lu. 'What goods do you carry for trade?'