The world of film and television starts from the flow of money

The leaden sky hung low, and the last rays of the setting sun struggled for a moment on the western horizon before being completely extinguished.

The north wind grew even more rampant, lashing everything on the ground like an icy whip. The temperature was plummeting, and the swirling snow and sand stung our faces, instantly stealing away the last vestiges of warmth from our skin.

In this desolate wasteland ruled by cold and twilight, a large caravan halted in a depression in a frozen riverbed.

This is a Sogdian caravan.

The caravan was quite large, with over a hundred people and far more camels and horses.

On the back of the exceptionally tall white camel leading the caravan, An Lushan, the caravan leader wrapped in a thick black fox fur cloak, surveyed the chosen campsite. (An Lushan is a common Sogdian name, derived from the Sogdian transliteration of "Alexander")
This is a shallow depression formed by the erosion of an ancient riverbed. On the east side, there is a low earthen cliff that can provide some shelter from the fierce, cold winds from the north. The ground is relatively flat, and although it is covered with frozen snow and withered grass, it is much better than the surrounding uneven, rocky beaches.

"Stop! Set up camp right here! Quickly! Move fast!"

An Lushan raised his hand, which was covered by a thick leather glove, made a gesture, and then jumped off the camel.

The order was given, and the entire caravan instantly erupted in excitement. The long journey had left both people and animals exhausted, but everyone knew that in this desolate night that could freeze a person into an ice sculpture, quickly establishing a camp that could withstand the cold was the first priority for survival.

Camel drivers and horsemen guided the restless animals. The camels groaned softly, their massive bodies trembling slightly in the cold wind, their long eyelashes covered in frost. Driven by their masters, these "ships of the desert" obediently bent their front legs and folded their hind legs, their heavy bodies crashing down onto the cold frozen ground, forming a semi-circular barrier.

The strongest male camels, laden with the most valuable cargo, were placed on the outermost perimeter. The horses, however, were tethered together on the inner side of the camel pen, constantly stamping their hooves and snorting, appearing even more restless. The workers kept trying to soothe them and draped them in simple blankets for warmth.

Meanwhile, the young and strong guards and laborers began unloading supplies from the backs of several camels specifically used for carrying tents and tools. Their movements were swift and coordinated, clearly indicating they were already accustomed to this. Heavy felt tents, leather ropes, and thick wooden stakes were quickly passed around and deployed. The dull thud of hammering the stakes sounded particularly powerful in the wind. The tents, with their distinct Western Region style, were covered with multiple layers of thick felt, providing better protection against the cold and retaining heat.

Several experienced veterans cleared a relatively sheltered area in the center of the camp and lit several campfires. The orange flames burned brighter and brighter, the flickering flames dispelling some of the darkness, and the firelight illuminated tired faces etched with the marks of wind and frost, red from the cold.

An Lushan was about forty years old. He was not tall but was unusually sturdy. He had the typical deep-set eyes and high nose of a Sogdian, and his beard was neatly trimmed, but at this moment it was covered with ice crystals.

His sharp eyes constantly scanned every corner of the camp, checking whether the tents were secure, whether the goods were properly covered, and whether the livestock were properly settled. Occasionally, he would issue brief instructions in Chinese or Sogdian with a heavy Sogdian accent.

The cook in charge of the meals carefully poured out a small amount of precious millet from a tightly wrapped leather bag, mixed it with a large amount of snow water, and cooked it into a thin porridge over the fire. He then took out naan bread, as hard as a rock, and carefully toasted it by the fire. Although the aroma of the food was faint, it greatly comforted people's hungry stomachs and weary souls.

The guards did not completely relax; some remained in leather armor, carrying scimitars or bows and arrows, patrolling the perimeter of the camp, their vigilant eyes constantly scanning the depths of the twilight-shrouded wasteland. They strained their ears, catching any unusual sound in the wind—the howl of wolves, or, more dangerously, the clatter of horses' hooves.

The guard leader was a burly man named Shi Tuole. Shi Tuole was a descendant of the Shi Kingdom, one of the Nine Sogdian Clans, and had some Turkic ancestry. He was tall and imposing, like an iron tower. He wore old but well-maintained leather armor, over which was a dirty sheepskin cloak, and a curved knife hung at his waist. A hideous scar ran down his face from his brow bone to the corner of his mouth, adding to his already fierce appearance. He was currently carefully wiping his bowstring with a piece of frozen grease to prevent it from becoming brittle and breaking due to the cold.

The camel drivers and horse handlers busied themselves tending to the livestock, bringing out beans and salt to feed the hardworking camels and horses. They used gloves or coarse cloths to wipe the frost from their nostrils and the corners of their eyes, and checked their hooves for injuries.

Several veiled women were also in the group, gathered near the warmest tent, talking in hushed tones, their voices broken by the wind. A Zoroastrian priest, dressed in a plain white robe, was offering a brief evening prayer facing south, a silver ritual vessel engraved with flame patterns gleaming in the firelight.

Although the goods unloaded from camels and horses were tightly wrapped, clues could still be discerned from their shape and details. The largest quantity was bundles of brightly colored silk. Occasionally, a corner of the felt would be blown up by the wind, revealing a smooth luster and intricate, luxurious patterns, enough to suggest its exorbitant price and the immense allure it held in the eyes of the nomadic steppe nobles.

There were also boxes of porcelain. The workers were extra careful when moving them. They were exquisite pieces from Xing and Yue kilns. They were fragile and easily broken, but they represented the highest level of craftsmanship in Eastern civilization and could be exchanged for gold of the same weight in the West and on the grasslands.

Tea leaves are pressed into sturdy tea bricks, wrapped layer upon layer in moisture-proof oiled paper and bamboo strips. This is the life-sustaining drink that nomadic peoples of the grasslands rely on to digest meat, and it is the hardest currency among hard currencies.

In addition, there were precious medicinal herbs from the south, exquisitely crafted gold and silver utensils, and so on. These goods were about to be transported to the Turkic camp and the more distant Western Regions city-states to be exchanged for furs, fine horses, jade, and even more gold and silver.

When the last tent was secured, all the goods were properly placed, and the aroma of porridge and rice began to fill the air around the campfire, night had completely enveloped the wilderness.

The sky was an almost inky blue, with a few cold stars twinkling high in the sky, serene and distant.

People sat around the campfire, holding steaming bowls of porridge, sipping it slowly, and munching on softly toasted naan bread.

An Lushan sat down, took a bowl of hot porridge from the cook, and first glanced warily at the boundless darkness surrounding the camp. Aside from the wind, there were only a few faint, drawn-out howls of wild animals, whether wolves or something else, that could not be discerned.

Nights in the wilderness are not safe; bandits, Turkic cavalry, and even hungry wolves can all pose a deadly threat.

…………

Night had fallen. The arduous journey and the bitter cold of the past few days had taken their toll, and most people huddled around the fire or in their tents, trying to rest and recover their strength. Only the guards on night watch were still trying to stay alert, slowly pacing around the edge of the camp. Their shadows were stretched long and short in the flickering firelight, and the sound of the wind, mixed with the snorting of livestock and the long howls of wild beasts in the distance, added to the somber atmosphere.

Shi Tuole had just finished a round of inspection and was about to return to the campfire to have a bowl of hot porridge when, in the instant he turned around, his movements suddenly froze, and his sharp gaze instantly fell on the edge of darkness on the outskirts of the camp, barely touched by the glow of the campfire.

Almost at the same time, the other guards on guard also noticed the abnormality, gripped their weapons tightly, and looked warily in the same direction.

Mixed in with the sound of the wind was an extremely faint sound that seemed out of place in the natural environment—the subtle "crunching" of footsteps on the frozen, hard snow crust, and there was more than one.

"Someone!"

Shi Tuole let out a low growl, and the entire camp tensed instantly. The previously relaxed atmosphere vanished, and the men instinctively shrank into the center of the fire or into their tents, while the guards quickly grabbed their weapons and, at Shi Tuole's signal, spread out in a semi-circle, facing the direction from which the sound came, nocking their bows and drawing their swords half an inch from their sheaths.

An Lushan abruptly stood up, oblivious to the spilled hot porridge on his fur robe. He squinted, staring intently into the darkness, countless thoughts flashing through his mind: Bandits? Turkic cavalry? Or some other ill-intentioned fellow?
Under everyone's watchful eyes, three figures gradually emerged from the shadows, exposed to the flickering light of the campfire.

The leader was a man.

He appeared to be in his early twenties, with an extremely ordinary appearance—the kind of person who would disappear instantly in a crowd. He wore a blue cloth robe that seemed utterly out of place for the season, without a fur coat or a padded jacket. Yet, in this desolate, frigid night where breath turned to ice, his face showed no sign of cold or hunger. Unlike most people, his lips were not bluish-purple from the cold, and his body did not tremble. Even his breathing was as steady as if he were strolling in a spring courtyard.

His expression was one of almost indifferent calm, his eyes deep and unfathomable, sweeping over the heavily armed Shi Tuole and the entire camp as if he were looking at a few stones by the roadside, without stirring the slightest ripple. This unusual calm, in this environment, was more unsettling than any ferocious demon.

A woman was standing half a step behind the man.

In stark contrast to the man's ordinariness, the woman seemed to absorb all the light around her the moment she appeared.

The woman wore a pure white fur coat made of some unknown animal hide, with strands of hair as lustrous as ripe chestnuts peeking out from the brim of the hood. Beneath the hood was a strikingly beautiful face. Her nose was high and straight, and her brown eyes, illuminated by the firelight, shone like the finest amber, gleaming with a wild, lively, and slightly cunning light. Her red lips were slightly upturned, seemingly carrying a faint smile, and even wrapped in the heavy fur coat, the shapely, vibrant lines of her body could not be completely concealed.

Another woman followed to the man's right.

Compared to the chestnut-haired woman, her appearance was rather plain. She wore a simple blue cotton dress and a worn-out cloak, looking completely unremarkable. However, upon closer inspection, one would notice that she possessed exceptionally beautiful eyes, clear and bright like stars in a cold night.

The sudden appearance of this trio in the desolate, cold night was itself eerie. The man in the lead, in particular, stood out starkly against his thin clothing and calm expression.

Shi Tuole gripped the hilt of his knife tightly and shouted in heavily accented Chinese, "Halt! Who are you? Where did you come from?!"

Upon hearing this, the chestnut-haired woman stepped forward, her smile deepening slightly. She opened her mouth, and fluent, uniquely rhythmic Sogdian words rang out like a nightingale's song, breaking the tense silence:

"May the light of Ahura Mazda protect you. Respected caravan leader, please forgive our intrusion in the dead of night. We are not bad people, but merely travelers lost in this desolate wilderness. My master..."

She turned slightly to the side, gesturing to the calm-looking man: "...He and his maid, along with myself, originally intended to go to Mount Yudujin, but we encountered a blizzard and became separated from our guide and caravan. We have been trekking across the wilderness for two days. We saw the firelight here and followed it here, hoping to receive your protection and permission to join the caravan on its westward journey. We are willing to pay you a fair price."

An Lushan's wariness hadn't completely dissipated; he carefully observed the three. The chestnut-haired woman spoke fluent Sogdian, even carrying a hint of the accent of an ancient family from Samarkand, which made him relax slightly. But he was more concerned about the ordinary-looking man who remained silent and possessed an eerie air. The man hadn't uttered a single word, nor had his gaze shown much fluctuation; he simply stared back at him calmly. That calmness, ironically, instilled in the experienced An Lushan an unfathomable pressure.

"Yudujin Mountain?"

An Lushan responded in Sogdian: “That’s no easy journey. The grasslands are not peaceful these days either, with refugees, bandits, and wolf riders roaming everywhere. The three of you… don’t look like ordinary travelers.”

As he spoke, his gaze lingered for a moment on the man's thin clothing.

The chestnut-haired woman smiled gently, reached out, and slowly took out something wrapped in soft deerskin from her bosom. She untied the rope, held the contents in her palm, and handed it to the light of the campfire.

In an instant, a series of suppressed gasps seemed to rise from the surroundings.

It was a gemstone.

A sapphire, resembling solidified deep-sea water or a slice of autumn night sky, about the size of an adult man's thumbnail, was meticulously polished, displaying a perfect hexagonal prismatic crystal shape. Under the flickering campfire, a blue aura seemed to flow slowly within the gem, so pure and flawless that it seemed to draw in one's very soul. The quality and size of this rough stone alone were enough to buy nearly half of the caravan's goods!

An Lushan's pupils contracted slightly. He was a connoisseur; sapphires of this quality usually only appeared in the far west, or in legendary veins atop snow-capped mountains, each one priceless. The fact that this woman could casually produce one indicated that her background was definitely not simple.

The chestnut-haired woman smiled slightly: "This 'Tear of the Sky' is our reward for joining the caravan and for your protection until we reach Yudujin Mountain. I wonder... what does the esteemed leader think?"

An Lushan's heart pounded violently. The value of this sapphire far exceeded the usual travel expenses and could even cover most of the risks and losses the caravan might encounter on this journey.

He quickly weighed the pros and cons in his mind. These three people were indeed of unknown origin and could potentially cause trouble. On the other hand, their lavish spending suggested they had powerful backgrounds and might be connected to some influential figures. Moreover, having three more seemingly extraordinary people traveling with him in this wasteland might not be entirely a bad thing. At least that strange man gave him a strange sense of security (a feeling that was absurd, yet undeniably real).

An Lushan took a deep breath of the cold air, suppressing his greed and doubts, and a shrewd merchant's smile appeared on his face: "Guests from afar, it is fate that the God of Light has guided you to this place. I, An Lushan, on behalf of the caravan, welcome the three of you. This gem... is far too precious."

He spoke of its preciousness, but his gaze never left the azure gem.

The chestnut-haired woman smiled slightly, as if she could see through his thoughts, and gently placed the gemstone in An Lushan's outstretched palm: "No amount of reward is too much for saving my life. Leader, you don't need to be so polite."

The gemstone felt cool to the touch, but its deep blue color seemed to carry a scorching heat. An Lushan quickly tightened his grip, tucked it into his robes, and then called out loudly, "Shi Tuole, prepare a clean tent for the three guests, and bring some hot porridge and naan bread!"

The tense atmosphere instantly eased. The guards put away their weapons, and the other men curiously sized up the three newcomers, especially the stunning chestnut-haired woman.

The ordinary man, who had remained silent until now, finally turned his head slightly and gave the chestnut-haired woman a barely perceptible nod. For the first time, his gaze truly swept across the entire camp, passing over the curious, wary, and envious glances, before finally settling westward. A faint glimmer of light flickered in his calm eyes. (End of Chapter)