The Vast Steppe and the Great Wall’s Completion

The golden grasslands of autumn stretched endlessly, their undulating waves of yellow-brown grass impossible to fully capture in words or images. The white birch trees stood proudly frosted, the ancient poplars burned crimson like fire, the majestic blue mountains cut across the horizon, while tranquil rivers flowed through the landscape beneath an infinite azure sky. Scattered across this panorama were countless grazing sheep and cattle. Even the most skilled artist could never fully reproduce these hues, nor could the wisest philosopher comprehend the grandeur of this scene.

On this day 2,217 years ago, the autumn steppe burned with an intense flame.

The Great Wall was finally to be joined at the outskirts of Jiuyuan, sending the entire Yin Mountain grassland into fervent excitement. Along the towering ridges of the Yin Mountains, banners of all colors fluttered in the wind while the deep, resonant blasts of ox-horn trumpets mixed with the thunderous beats of great drums and gongs that seemed to reach the heavens.

On the grasslands south of the Yin Mountains, black armored cavalry formed two massive square formations separated by considerable distance. Between these formations, thousands of herders from both sides of the Yin Mountains drove their cattle, horses and sheep, creating a cacophony of animal cries and human voices. Some danced wildly around bonfires, others drank and sang lengthy ballads, some bartered goods, while still others wrestled to test their strength. For the first time in years of continuous warfare, the vast grasslands were filled with busy celebration.

Additionally, tens of thousands of common laborers who had worked on the wall’s construction, their heads wrapped in black cloth and dressed in coarse clothing with packs on their backs and iron plow handles in hand, crowded excitedly along the inner slopes of the majestic wall, pointing and commenting. The mountains and plains teemed with people, their voices rising like ocean waves.

At the central open area of the grasslands was the junction where the eastern and western sections of the Great Wall would meet. The western wall coming from Lintao in Longxi and the eastern wall from the Liaodong coast were about to connect at the edge of the Yin Mountain grasslands north of Jiuyuan. Currently, the brick wall and battlements were completely finished except for one large central stone that had yet to be placed in the final crenelation. This stone would be set during today’s completion ceremony to seal the beacon tower’s dragon gate at Jiuyuan.

Now, the central dragon gate and beacon tower were completely draped in red, with forests of banners above and below. Two massive red cloths hung from the beacon tower, each bearing huge white silk characters. The eastern banner read: “The Great Qin of a Thousand Autumns, Driving Out the Northern Barbarians,” while the western proclaimed: “The Ten Thousand Li Long Wall, Protecting China’s Southern Borders.”

“Lord Meng, the ten thousand li wall is finally being joined!” exclaimed the elder prince Fusu.

“Young master, over a million laborers can finally return to their fields with plows on their shoulders!” replied Meng Tian, the general.

Standing together at the beacon tower’s crenelation, both men were overcome with indescribable emotion. In just one month, Meng Tian’s hair and beard had turned completely white. Though Fusu showed no visible aging, he had become thin and darkly tanned, his face weary and marked by hardship.

Since the emperor’s traveling camp had passed through Jiuyuan on its way south along the Straight Road, and Wang Li’s request for an audience had yielded no clear information, Meng Tian and Fusu had sunk into unspeakable unease. During this time, Meng Tian received one official document from the Langzhong Prefecture stating that the Langzhong Commander had already received an edict to proceed to Ganquan Palace, and that Jiuyuan’s petition regarding returning laborers had been sent there for the emperor’s review.

Thus learning the emperor was residing at Ganquan Palace only deepened the clouds of suspicion in Meng Tian’s mind. Several times he proposed traveling south to Ganquan to seek an audience, but each time Fusu firmly dissuaded him. Fusu’s reasoning was sound: since His Majesty had gone to Ganquan to rest, his condition must have stabilized somewhat and state affairs would return to normal channels. There was no need to request an audience without being summoned, which would only irritate the emperor.

Though Meng Tian felt Fusu was being overly cautious and rigid, he didn’t insist. After all, Meng Tian treated Fusu as the crown prince, and without Fusu’s clear willingness, any action might backfire. However, Meng Tian remained vigilant and immediately proposed another plan: accelerate the wall’s completion, hold the ceremony, then immediately begin sending the million laborers home. After this major state and border affair was settled, the two of them would return to the capital together to see the emperor.

This time, Fusu agreed with Meng Tian’s proposal because the general raised a critical question Fusu couldn’t answer: “The emperor’s diligence in governance is unmatched in history. How could he repeatedly refuse audiences with his border commander and supervising prince? How could he fail to respond to the petition about a million laborers? Even if the emperor were too ill to handle affairs, how could the governing chancellor remain silent? All these things—could there be major reasons behind them? We can wait a short while, but not forever.”

After that discussion, the two separately supervised the eastern and western wall sections, completing final construction in less than a month to reach today’s great joining.

“The Ten Thousand Li Long Wall Completion Ceremony begins! Music!” The master of ceremonies’ long cry, accompanied by golden drums and trumpets along with the cheers of countless people, drowned out the mountains and grasslands, startling Meng Tian and Fusu from their distracted thoughts.

As the two composed themselves solemnly, the master of ceremonies’ voice carried again on the wind: “The supervising elder prince Fusu will sacrifice to heaven on behalf of His Majesty the Emperor!” Immediately, the herders stopped their dancing and singing, the common laborers ceased cheering, and the animals grew quiet. The vast grassland became as silent as a secluded valley.

Fusu strode from the beacon tower’s great banner to the sacrificial altar before the crenelation. Bowing once to heaven, he unrolled a bamboo scroll and read the prayer: “August Heaven above, your servant Ying Fusu petitions on behalf of His Majesty the Emperor: The Great Qin expanded eastward, unified China, created civilization, vigorously implemented new policies, and brought stability to all under heaven. The northern barbarian threat has lasted centuries, with the Xiongnu running rampant and repeatedly invading the Central States. To protect the people, we built our Long Wall. From Lintao in the west to Liaodong in the east, stretching ten thousand li to serve as the nation’s fortress! We pray Heaven’s protection that the Long Wall may endure forever, safeguarding our people in lasting peace!”

Even as Fusu’s drawn-out voice still echoed, the mountains and grasslands erupted in thunderous shouts of “Long live the emperor! Long live the Long Wall!”

“General Meng seals the Long Wall!” After a long pause, the master of ceremonies’ announcement swept across the grassland again.

Amid horns and drums, the white-haired, white-bearded Meng Tian walked forward solemnly from beneath the beacon tower’s great banner to the waiting dragon gate. Two elderly engineers draped in red led two bare-chested strong men carrying a large square stone wrapped in red cloth, which they placed properly on the table beside the gate.

Meng Tian bowed deeply to the engineers, then to the two young men, and finally to the red-wrapped stone. Then he lifted the stone with both hands, raised it overhead, and shouted: “Your Majesty! The ten thousand li Long Wall is joined!” As his voice echoed, the red-wrapped stone slammed into the final gap of the Great Wall with a thunderous crash.

Suddenly, the mountain laborers raised their iron plows in cheering jubilation like a dancing forest, tears streaming as they shouted: “The Long Wall is joined! The laborers can return to their fields!” Following their cheers, a test column of wolf smoke rose from the beacon tower while groups of herders below began dancing and singing, soon joined by endless harmonies across the boundless grassland.

The Yin Mountains stand majestic, the border wall stretches long,
Southern lands grow rice and grain, northern plains raise herds strong.
Countless laborers toiled in foreign lands with sweat and blood,
While herders sought water and grass, composing peace’s interlude.
The blue dome stretches endless, the great dragon flows wide,
A unified Chinese realm shares our great nation’s pride.

That day, Meng Tian ordered all the army’s stored aged liquor brought out, with oxcarts continuously delivering it until piles of wine jars formed small hills before the beacon tower. Tens of thousands of soldiers, herders and laborers gathered like a human ocean on the grasslands before these wine mountains, drinking all manner of alcohol, singing every kind of song, and dancing wildly in countless styles. Strange tongues from all corners mingled into a singular roar of noise while diverse clothing from every region merged into a sea of color. Golden-haired, blue-eyed Xiongnu, powerfully built Linhu tribesmen, dark and lean Donghu people, and black-haired, black-eyed, yellow-skinned Central Plains folk all blended freely together. Meat and drink were shared without distinction of ownership, regions mixed without regard to north or south, people mingled without separation by gender or age—everything flowed freely across the great grassland, singing joyfully in unrestrained revelry…

Fusu became thoroughly drunk for the first time in his life.

At the edge of the boisterous crowd below the beacon tower, Fusu unconsciously left Meng Tian and merged into the celebratory current. After downing several large bowls of unknown liquor, his heroic spirit suddenly erupted, his long melancholy vanishing without a trace. Wandering past tents and bonfires, through flowing crowds of merrymakers, Fusu roared songs with or without words, danced wildly with familiar or unfamiliar steps, and drank every manner of wine whether recognized or not. His face burned like flame, sweat poured like rivers, and his heart grew intoxicated like the delicate maidens languid on the grass. Laughing, singing, dancing, running, jumping, shouting, lying down—he knew not where he was, who he was, whether dreaming or awake, nor how far between heaven and earth he drifted!

That day, Fusu only clearly knew one thing: such happiness and comfort, such carefree ease, was absolutely unique in his life. Hazily, his soul seemed to rise from some profound foundation, floating lightly like a goose feather toward the blue sky, the great sea, the endless depths of the grasslands…

Meng Tian personally led a capable cavalry troop that searched for a full day and night before finding the soundly sleeping Fusu by an unnamed lake at the southern foot of the Yin Mountains. Nestled among flaming red poplar trees, the hidden lake reflected Fusu curled on its shore covered by a layer of slightly frosted red leaves, his hands extended into the clear water, his face displaying an expression of incomparable contentment…

When Meng Tian silently lifted Fusu, the cavalrymen’s eyes moistened. The accompanying physician carefully examined him and exclaimed in surprise that the elder prince suffered from an extremely rare drunken coma requiring quiet recovery over ten days before full sobriety would return.

For the first time, Meng Tian erupted in anger at the supervisory headquarters’ guard commander, immediately stripping him of military rank to serve under penalty. He sternly ordered that if the elder prince went missing again, all responsible guards would be beheaded. At that moment, all officers and soldiers at the supervisory headquarters wept without protest—no one argued that the general had no authority to punish the supervisory minister’s subordinates. Instead, without discussion, every officer and soldier removed their rank insignia and uniformly shouted: “We willingly accept punishment! We serve under penalty!”

The plan for immediate southward travel was postponed.

Deeply worried, Meng Tian could only lay groundwork while waiting for Fusu’s recovery. During this time, he issued five consecutive general orders to publicly launch follow-up matters from the wall’s completion, ensuring court and country would know. The first order directed all labor camps to immediately begin sending workers home in batches, retaining only one-tenth as guards for beacon towers until the army took over. The second redeployed the 300,000 troops—100,000 elite cavalry would garrison Jiuyuan’s main camp, another 100,000 would form a new Liaodong camp, while the remaining 100,000+ infantry and cavalry would be divided into dozens of wall garrison units based around beacon towers.

The third order directed all heavy repeating crossbows to key wall sections immediately, with provisions, equipment and armor transported to beacon towers for storage as military bases. The fourth allowed wall laborers suitable for and willing to enlist to be counted and assigned to camps. The fifth appointed governors from ten commanderies along the wall—Jiuyuan, Yunzhong, Yanmen, Longxi, Beidi, Shangjun, Shanggu, Yuyang, Liaoxi and Liaodong—with Jiuyuan’s governor leading efforts to properly settle and compensate laborers injured or killed during construction and their families.

Beyond these five orders, Meng Tian drafted two memorials—one to conscript 100,000 border troops from northern commanderies as reserve forces, another requesting the emperor order all commanderies and counties to halt labor conscription and properly settle returning workers. Normally, Meng Tian would have dispatched fast couriers to Xianyang with these to facilitate swift imperial decisions—this had been Qin’s dynamic administrative tradition for years, where no official accumulated unresolved matters. Yet now Meng Tian did the opposite—not only withholding the memorials but issuing earth-shaking general orders, some even exceeding legal authority. His sole purpose was creating major disturbances at Jiuyuan that the capital couldn’t ignore, forcing Xianyang to summon Fusu and Meng Tian. If even such commotion provoked no response, it would confirm national crisis and imperial abnormality, justifying Meng Tian’s forced return…

Just then, an imperial envoy arrived at Jiuyuan.

“Who is the envoy?” Meng Tian immediately asked the scout for the name.

“Envoy Yan Le, with proper credentials!”

“Yan Le? Who is that?”

“This humble one does not know.”

Meng Tian fell silent. By precedent, envoys to Jiuyuan were always senior ministers—besides the emperor himself, usually Li Si, Meng Yi or Feng Jie. Who was this Yan Le? Despite thorough familiarity with court officials, Meng Tian couldn’t place any major minister named Yan Le worthy of envoy status—how bizarre! Instantly suspicious, Meng Tian took a 500-man cavalry troop to intercept the procession outside the pass.

Seeing banners and entourage approaching, Meng Tian neither dismounted nor spoke as his cavalry formed a formidable square blocking the road. A man rose from the leading carriage and announced at length: “The Commandant of the Imperial Coach Office specially bearing imperial orders as envoy Yan Le presents himself to the Marquis of Jiuyuan, Great General Lord Meng!” Respectfully listing Meng Tian’s titles and honors, the greeting was impeccably proper.

Familiar with court ritual and imperial regalia, Meng Tian recognized everything as authentic at a glance. Yet he still didn’t dismount or speak after the envoy’s introduction. For the time it takes to eat a meal, both sides remained frozen in icy standoff, the envoy growing visibly uneasy while the Jiuyuan cavalry stood silent and stern.

“Dare I ask the general’s meaning by this?” Yan Le finally broke the silence.

“Yan Le, when were you appointed Commandant of the Imperial Coach Office?” Meng Tian solemnly demanded.

“Ten days ago. Does the general wish to inspect my seal?”

“Envoy, proceed to the city.” Meng Tian coldly dismissed him.

The cavalry parted to form a corridor through which the procession passed. Meng Tian’s troop neither led nor followed, instead galloping back along another mountain path to enter the city first. After settling in his headquarters, his aide reported the envoy sought audience. Meng Tian indifferently directed that Yan Le be lodged at the courier station to await the prince’s sobriety before jointly receiving the edict. Once the aide departed, Meng Tian secretly summoned Wang Li for consultation before both proceeded to the supervisory headquarters.

Though Fusu had awakened three to five days earlier, his dizziness seemed lingering—his dazed, wandering eyes, erratic movements and sudden bursts of laughter all drew deep frowns from Meng Tian. The general visited multiple times daily, but whenever serious matters arose Fusu would inexplicably laugh: “Lord Meng! Nothing compares to the grasslands! Nothing compares to aged wine! My heart is drunk with song!” His bright, innocent laughter brimming with tears was too painful for Meng Tian to bear, leaving him sighing in silent frustration each time.

Today was different—Meng Tian brought Wang Li to rouse Fusu from stupor to wakefulness and resolve.

“Elder Prince! An imperial envoy has arrived!” Wang Li loudly announced upon entering.

“Envoy… envoy…” Fusu stared blankly out the window at the grasslands, mechanically repeating the familiar word.

“The emperor has sent someone! Your father has sent someone!” Wang Li emphasized each word heavily.

“Father! Father is here?” Fusu whirled with sudden delight.

“Father sent someone! An envoy! With an edict!” Wang Li gestured emphatically while shouting.

“I understand. Cease your noise.”

Clearly stirred from familiar memories, the joyful intoxication drained from Fusu’s face, replaced by the exhaustion and melancholy Meng Tian knew well as he slumped at the table wordlessly. Meng Tian approached and bowed solemnly: “Elder Prince, the nation’s fortune hinges on this moment. You must be clear-headed and resolute in speech.”

Fusu started, then stood abruptly: “Lord Meng, please wait briefly.” He strode to the rear hall. After the time it takes to eat a meal, Fusu reemerged with damp hair loose about his shoulders, a clean silk robe replacing his sweat-soaked undergarments. Washed in cold water, he appeared fresh and composed, completely devoid of his previous disorientation.

“May Lord Meng instruct me.” Fusu bowed deeply to Meng Tian and sat solemnly opposite.

“Elder Prince, this envoy’s origins are suspicious, causing me deep concern.”

“Dare I ask why the envoy is suspicious?”

“Prince, you must understand—the Commandant of the Imperial Coach Office is a critical position under the Commandant of Guards, a pivotal palace post always filled by meritorious military officers. Commandant Yang Duanhe was a senior general reassigned, with all key subordinates being experienced military officers. Before the emperor’s grand inspection tour, the post was held by Army Orderly Sima from Wang Ben’s headquarters—a man in his prime. How could he be abruptly dismissed after the tour without major offense? And if such an important official committed crimes, wouldn’t we know? This Yan Le is unknown to anyone—isn’t that suspicious?”

“What does this envoy’s background signify?” Beads of sweat formed