The man perked up at the last statement. “I thought you were able to rotate every year!” The guard turned
away. “I was… overlooked. My superior never let me leave. Anyway,” the guard gazed at the young man with
pity, “you need to work now. See you later.” And he started to walk down the sizzling walkway.
The man, now relieved of hunger, found the strength to stand up. He looked at the kind guard, who had
almost gone out of sight.
Mid-autumn, the Great Wall, Qin dynasty
The man was outside of his quarters late at night, which was strictly against the rules.
He leaned against the slate, taking in the majestic view while thinking over the events that had happened
during the day. Four more deaths, two from exhaustion, two from starvation. It would’ve been three men died
from starvation hadn’t the guard given him the bread…
The man’s thoughts returned to the guard. The guard was peculiar enough to give him the bread. But the
man could see that this guard was unlike the others. He wondered why. Then his thoughts wandered to his home.
If only he could write to his family! His eyes rested on a pile of stones left unattended near him. That will do,
the man thought. Then he ran back to his quarters and fetched a chisel.
A few weeks later, the Great Wall, Qin dynasty
The man had been writing on these stones for weeks, pouring out his anguish, anger and sorrow onto them.
His worries and troubles had lessened since he started writing on these stones, and it had become his favourite
pastime. All the time, without him knowing, the kind guard observed him from a distance, watching him craving
his sorrows onto the stones…
The days turned into months. Before long, the harsh, unrelenting winter descended.
Winter, the Great Wall, Qin dynasty
It was the cruellest in years. Howling gales whipped every inch of exposed skin, and snow accompanied
the fierce winds, hurtling themselves against the sturdy Great Wall. The only defence the workers possessed
against the freezing enemy was a thin fur pelt, but it was clearly inadequate, as the wind seeped into the holes of
their pelts. The brutal, savage guards whipped those unfit for working in their thick, warm fur coats, and a great
number passed away from severe beatings.
But the man didn’t give up his practice of chiselling on the stones. He had to, despite the teeth-chattering
cold that made his body worsen each day. It had become a mission for him, to survive during the day to be able
to chisel one stone during the night.
One night, the man was outside, once again chiselling on a stone. This time, the kind guard finally
emerged from the shadows and approached him. The man was startled at first to see a guard, but relaxed when
he saw the familiar face. The ageing guard crossed his legs next to the man.
Silence for a while. Then the guard spoke. “I once had a relative like you. He was among the first workers
who laid the first stones for the Great Wall.”
The man raised his eyebrows, which were starting to freeze. “Who was he?”
“
My father.”