The Fall of Qin

Heavy snow blanketed Hangu Pass. The old gatekeeper rubbed his hands together, white breath drifting from his nose and mouth. Blind, he had always relied on his ears in place of his eyes.

There was still some time before dawn. The old man listened to the cold wind howling beyond the pass and the Yellow River rushing by. What a magnificent land!

The gates opened. Leaning against the wall, the old man heard a horse clopping along the stone road, its hooves ringing crisply.

The rider wore a heavy coat and a cloak, with bamboo slips tucked against his chest. He dismounted, brushed the snow from his clothes, and said respectfully to the blind old man, “I... came from... Han... How much farther... is Xianyang... from here...?”

Unable to see the man’s face, the old gatekeeper could only hear his voice. He realized the man had a stutter.

The old man tilted his head to listen, then replied, “Beyond the pass is the old Hangu Road. It’s fifteen li long. After that, Xianyang is another three hundred li away.”

Han Fei asked another question. “Is... the road... ahead dangerous?”

The old man replied with a helpless expression, “Under Qin rule, the roads are safe. But if you’re looking to become a marquis or a minister, this road will be difficult. You could even lose your life...”