W39:D1 - Lesson Plans for Ancient China - The Foundation of Ancient China and First Dynasty -The ABP

My Land, My Boundaries: A Settler's View of Ancient China – Told by a Settler

My name is Li Wei, a humble farmer and potter of the North China Plain. I wake with the sun each day to tend to the fields along the Yellow River, but I often find myself staring out beyond the horizon, wondering what lies past the vast lands that cradle us. You see, I may not be a scholar or a noble, but even I understand that our land—what we call Zhōngguó, the Middle Kingdom—is shaped and guarded by the towering giants of the earth and the endless seas. These barriers have kept us safe, shaped our stories, and defined who we are.

 

To the West: The Mountains That Touch Heaven If you travel far beyond the fertile plains and trek endlessly westward, you will come to the roof of the world—the Tibetan Plateau. It is a high, cold, and harsh land where few can live, where even breathing is a struggle. It rises like the back of a sleeping dragon, and further beyond it lies the Himalayas. These mountains are so tall, they scrape the sky and block the clouds. They are said to be the home of ancient spirits. For those who have attempted to cross them, few ever return. The mountains stand as guardians, keeping us apart from the peoples to the southwest—those from the Indus Valley, I’ve heard, though I’ve never met them. The journey would be impossible. The mountains have kept us apart, and so we have grown in different ways.

 

To the North and West: Deserts of Silence To the north of our villages and rice fields lie the dry, empty lands. The Gobi Desert stretches far and wide. It is not just sand—no, it is rock and wind and lifeless heat. Beyond that lies the Taklamakan Desert, which some call “the place of no return.” Traders sometimes tell stories of brave souls who try to cross it, but most speak of bones buried beneath the dunes. These deserts, like the mountains, isolate us. They make it difficult for strangers to arrive and harder for our people to leave. Even if they tried, the deserts offer no water, no food, and no shelter. They are not just wastelands—they are nature’s walls.

 

To the East: The Endless Ocean To the east, past our rivers and forests, lies a boundary unlike the others—the vast Pacific Ocean. I’ve seen it once, when I was a boy and traveled with my uncle to the coastal village of Langya. The water seemed to go on forever. Fishermen there say it never ends, that it wraps around the world. No one can build a road through the sea. Boats can cross it, yes, but in my time, few dared to sail too far. The sea is both a mystery and a moat, cutting us off from lands that may exist beyond it.

 

The Shape of Our World and the Shape of Our Lives So you see, our homeland is held in the palm of nature’s hand. The rivers give us life, but the mountains, deserts, and seas keep us apart from the rest of the world. Our villages grow strong because they must depend on each other. Our rulers and ancestors have built their ways without the influence of foreigners. Our writing, our customs, our gods—they are ours alone, born from the land and shaped by the boundaries that cradle us. We are not like the peoples of Mesopotamia, nor the dark-skinned traders I once heard about from the lands of the south. We are something different, something whole unto ourselves.

 

Gratitude and Guardedness I am grateful for our rivers that flood and feed us. I am grateful for the mountains and deserts that keep out the raiders and strange tongues. But I also wonder, sometimes, what lies beyond. Could others live as we do? Could they have gods, plows, or songs? Perhaps I’ll never know. But I do know this—our geography is no mere backdrop. It is the sculptor of our civilization, the reason our ancestors thrived here, and the reason I plant seeds each spring knowing the land will embrace them. The Middle Kingdom is not just a name—it is the truth of our place in the world, surrounded by the natural