The Great Wilderness of Guandian: A Century of Jingchu Migration

Lin Huai'an gently stroked a cold stone by the fire pit with his fingertips and slowly spoke. "Escape is the worst option. Holding out is a dead end."

The militiamen lined up outside the courtyard, their gun barrels forming a dark mass, aimed at dozens of mountain dwellings halfway up the mountain. The leader stood at the forefront on horseback, his face sinister, and with a single sentence, "colluding with rebels," he could decide the fate of the entire mountain community.

Retail investors genuinely admire and respect him. Without anyone recommending him or creating hype, this ancestor of the migrants who fled thousands of miles into the mountains unknowingly became the backbone of the entire group of scattered households in the mountainside. Bamboo whistles became a life-saving signal in the remote mountains during a chaotic era. Three short whistles signal the entry of strangers into the mountains; a continuous whistle signals the entry of bandits.

The first three years that Lin Huai'an settled in Guandian were rare peaceful years in the deep mountains. With favorable weather, harmonious neighbors, successful land reclamation, and surplus grain in the family, the wooden house was replaced with adobe walls, the yard was piled with firewood and straw, children surrounded her, and the smoke from the stove never ceased.

He is a man of few words, a man of many tasks, a man with a hard life, and a man of steady character.

The mountains of Guandian do not accept pampered people, but only those who are willing to endure hardship.

In times of chaos and famine, the government is preoccupied with its own problems, while soldiers and bandits pass through and exorbitant taxes weigh heavily on people. Ordinary people are left helpless and destitute. For those who cannot survive, the only way out is to flee.