Apprenticeship is certainly not a vocation for the weak. Even if an individual is deemed strong, the robustness of this strength gets tested on the job. Within two months of operation, Yang Li had eleven apprentices quit within the first week of work. 
   The job, at least to Mr. Li, was facile. His workshop generated copies and specialized in the printing of philosophical, spiritual and religious texts. Strategically located in Kaifeng, the capital of the Northern Song Dynasty, the workshop welcomed royal officials, merchants, and traders on the silk road hoping to purchase meticulously crafted copies of these texts. The works of Yang Li had imprinted the most distant of lands, touching the hearts of the Japanese, Koreans, all settings that were heavily influenced by Chinese culture and thinking.
   On the twelfth day of the month, an inquisitive young girl rang the bells of the workshop. Without a wrinkle of age on her radiant skin, she remained composed and quiet. The dark hue of her irises transformed into a honey brown as they illuminated under the Chinese Sun.
   ¨Excuse me, sir. I would like to apprentice here,¨ the girl inquired.
   Mr. Li let a chuckle escape his traditionally solemn nature. The brightest of Song China couldn´t handle his work, and yet a young child thought she would be able to? At the very maximum, to an extreme stretch, this girl was sixteen years old. 
   ¨Assuming you are serious, you will begin within the hour and shall start by transcribing the Indian sutra I have received from a fellow merchant. In my workshop, there is no inevitability of mistakes. Mistakes are fatal and will result in immediate expulsion,¨ Mr. Li recited off from a script in the depths of his mind with his focus directed elsewhere. 
   ¨Then I shall get to work,¨ the girl replied.
   To Mr. To Li´s astonishment, the girl was a diligent learner. Her grasp on the ink pen was adroit as she executed the intricacies expected of her. This child revealed herself to be Hua Xiong from the southern provinces of China, where traditional Buddhism commanded everyday life. Yet, Hua was brisk to well-verse herself in Zen (also known as Chan) Buddhism. This religion blended traditional Buddhism with the ancient Chinese religious tradition of Daoism, as many monks of the time saw parallels between the two religions. While Hua had no experience with the Daoist way of life, she was astute to learn not only the discipline, but also its translation into various other vernacular languages. Zen Buddhist printings had been of great demand amongst Mr. Li´s Korean and Japanese clients, who were eager to bring home these translations from Song China.
   Mr. Li´s faith in Hua officially solidified when she made her first sale, bringing in thirty cash coins by selling a culturally syncretic piece. A translation of a Buddhist sutra was purchased by a wealthy merchant from the Khmer Empire, who intended on employing it in a temple like the Angkor Wat which blended both Hindu and Buddhist symbols. Mr. Li was acclaimed amongst the East Asians, but he was merely an obscure secret to the South and Southeast Asian world. Hua changed that for him. 
   Mr. Li´s renown grew beyond anything he had ever expected. Within just weeks, Hua´s translations broadened away from traditional Buddhism to the newest intellectual wave engulfing China: Neo-Confucianism. Officials and scholars visiting Kaifeng from Korea and Vietnam desired copies of Zhu Xi´s works, which coalesced abstract ideas from Buddhism, Daoism and traditional Confucianism. 
   Hua found a sense of belonging in her amity with these diverse concepts. In a sense, she had gained a distinct worldview while being confined within the walls of the workshop. By picking specific elements of all of the cultures she witnessed, Hua stitched together a new definition of wisdom.
   Shortly, people from the far lands of Europe and Arabia stood alongside the Asian scholars at this workshop. One what initially seemed to be an uneventful afternoon, a tall man with snowy skin arrived. His skin was not the only indicator of his stance as an outsider, as his ruby robe deviated from the local Song fashion.
   ¨Good morning, Sir. What brings you here to Kaifeng?¨ Hua inquired.
   ¨Greetings. My name is Marco Polo, and I am looking to bring back some of your art to my home in Venice,¨ the man revealed.
   Hua´s eyes grew to encompass the vast majority of her upper face. She had heard from merchants that the Song dynasty was in ruins and was soon to be taken over by the Mongols, and how the Great Khan was admitted to be welcoming towards foreigners, but she was not expecting this metamorphosis of power so soon. 
   The man appeared to be under an enchanting spell. The shelves of Buddhist sutras and Neo-Confucian writing enraptured the attention of the man, and his jaw remained detached from his mouth for many instances of his visit.
   ¨My Venetian people would have never even postulated the brilliance and wealth of this empire. Had I known of the diversity of this city, I would have never embarked on a journey across the world! It is as if I can see every culture, every corner just in this workshop. I shall write about all I see,¨ the man reflected.
   His expressions lingered in Hua's mind for hours. Hua´s father would always tell her about the wonders of the Silk Roads, but they truly facilitated more than just trade. They facilitated connection. The Silk Roads were such a boon, such a beauty. 
   But somewhere hidden underneath Hua's awe was a hard truth. Not everything the Silk Roads brought was enlightenment.  
   Murmurs of conversation soon filled the streets of Kaifeng, a strange illness was on the rise across the empire. The vexing fleas and rats amongst the Silk Roads carried a grave threat, the sickness of the Bubonic Plague. 
   This menacing hazard had kissed Mr. Li. While talking to a customer, the elderly man collapsed over his desk, his breathing restrained with murky swellings developing all over his arms.
   The illness had reached Kaifeng. 
   Merchants ran. Officials were quick to follow. The flourishing state of Kaifeng and its jovial people had decimated to miniscule numbers.
   Hua could no longer be an apprentice. She had to become her own master. 
   She had to do it for Kaifeng. 

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