In the winter of 1942, inside a modest apartment in Tianjin, a ninety-one-year-old man quietly passed away. His death attracted little attention in the chaos of wartime China, yet the life behind it was extraordinary. Born into a poor boatman’s family and later celebrated as a pioneering merchant, An Wenzhong embodied a rare fusion of personal grit, national commitment, and commercial ingenuity. His story, though rooted in one man’s fate, reflects a broader historical transformation in which ordinary people became unwitting participants in the reshaping of China’s frontier.
An Wenzhong’s life intersected early with the turbulence of the late Qing dynasty. As a young laborer hauling towboats along the rivers of Zhili, he had already grown familiar with hardship. In 1868, when Zuo Zongtang prepared to transport massive quantities of military supplies to Shaanxi after suppressing the Western Nian rebels, the government issued a public call for vessels and boatmen. The wages were attractive, but the task was demanding and dangerous. War had barely receded, the route was long, and few were willing to gamble their lives for silver. Driven by poverty but also by a keen sense of opportunity, An volunteered immediately. It was a decision that would reshape not only his own future, but also the commercial history of China’s northwest.
When the supplies reached Xi’an, An observed the severe scarcity of daily necessities within Zuo Zongtang’s camp. Soldiers possessed money but had nowhere to spend it; the rugged frontier terrain made access to basic goods nearly impossible. Sensing both need and opportunity, An modified his role: instead of returning home, he acquired a pair of shoulder baskets, filled them with locally sourced essentials, and followed the army, selling goods as the troops marched. His small mobile business—improvised, risky, and physically exhausting—proved remarkably successful. Within a few years, he had saved three hundred taels of silver, a fortune for a man of his background, and returned home to Yangliuqing amid the admiration of neighbors who saw in him a rare example of upward mobility.
But fortune never promised constancy. While later transporting grain with partners, An encountered a sudden sea storm and lost everything he had worked for. Stripped again to poverty, he made a familiar decision: he repacked his baskets and rejoined Zuo Zongtang’s forces, which were now advancing into Xinjiang to confront the regime of Yakub Beg. This recurrence marked more than personal persistence—it signaled the beginning of a commercial phenomenon. His example inspired other Yangliuqing men to follow military camps westward, forming what later became known as the camp merchants.
By 1875, when Zuo Zongtang, already past sixty, launched the grand campaign to reclaim Xinjiang, the logistical deficiencies of the expedition became painfully clear. Supply lines stretched thin across desolate terrain, leaving over 100,000 soldiers without reliable access to basic provisions. Recognizing the crisis, Liu Jintang, commander of the vanguard, proposed recruiting merchants to accompany the army and provide goods. Zuo agreed without hesitation. In that moment, a symbiotic relationship emerged: the military gained supplemental supply chains, while merchants gained unprecedented access to new markets across the frontier.
Among these merchants, An Wenzhong became a central figure. His understanding of soldiers’ needs was intimate and pragmatic. Beyond staple goods, he carried medicinal plasters, simple clothing, toiletries, and even small luxuries like tobacco, dried fruits, and wine—items that restored a sense of humanity to men stationed far from home. The journey was grueling. Caravans traveled through barren deserts and snow-covered passes, losing men to illness, bandit attacks, and extreme weather. Many who followed the advancing camps never returned. Yet the merchants persisted, propelled by necessity, opportunity, and a growing sense that their work served not just their own survival but also the survival of the army.
As the campaign progressed, Yangliuqing peddlers expanded their presence across the frontier, eventually spreading into nearly every major settlement in Xinjiang. Recognizing their contributions to the supply effort and the stabilization of newly reclaimed territories, the Qing court granted An Wenzhong and others permission to build rammed-earth houses near the Grand Crossroads of Ürümqi. What began as itinerant, precarious commerce thus transformed into permanent settlement. Shops emerged, markets formed, and a new commercial ecosystem took root.
Once settled, An established a store called Wenfengtai, which became a key node in Xinjiang’s developing economy. He supplied troops with necessities but also served local residents of various ethnicities. Xinjiang’s communities were eager for goods from inland China—copperware, medicinal herbs, silk, and household items—while merchants like An recognized the high value of local specialties such as Hetian jade, Ili animal furs, and Turpan raisins. Through these exchanges, a two-way commercial bridge emerged between Tianjin and the distant frontier.
Trade between the camp merchants and nomadic groups followed rhythms shaped by season and tradition. Barter dominated: flour, tea, cloth, and tools were exchanged for livestock, fine pelts, and high-quality leather. Transactions were grounded in trust and mutual benefit, qualities that enabled merchants to operate safely in regions where political control was often fragile. Over time, these exchanges strengthened economic links between the interior and the frontier, contributing to broader patterns of cultural interaction and mutual dependence.
As commerce flourished, so did cultural exchange. Through the merchants’ movement, technologies, artistic styles, and social ideas from inland China gradually reached Xinjiang. At the same time, frontier customs and goods entered the consciousness of the interior. The merchants’ presence fostered a subtle but significant process of integration. It supplemented the Qing government’s frontier strategy with grassroots economic and cultural networks that the state itself struggled to build. In this sense, An Wenzhong and his peers were not merely merchants; they were intermediaries between worlds.
Over the decades, the Great Camp Merchants evolved from battlefield suppliers into fully entrenched participants in the frontier economy. Their families took root, communities formed, and a new generation grew up speaking multiple languages and navigating multiple cultures. Their work supported soldiers but also facilitated exchanges among Han, Uyghur, Hui, Kazakh, Mongol, and other ethnic groups. In doing so, they shaped a century-long record of ethnic interaction and commercial integration in China’s northwest.
When An Wenzhong died in 1942, his personal fortune mattered less than the transformation he helped initiate. His life was a microcosm of resilience: a man repeatedly battered by circumstance yet continuously rebuilding, innovating, and expanding the possibilities of his environment. From a poor boatman’s son to a frontier magnate, he demonstrated how individual agency—when aligned with national needs and historical opportunity—can leave a lasting imprint far beyond one lifetime. His journey remains a reminder that history is often advanced not only by generals and officials, but also by the ordinary individuals who shoulder their baskets, follow the uncertain road, and carve new paths across unfamiliar lands.
Source: dzh, tjxqda, xinhua
