Yongning third year, the Fifth month by the southern calendar, the announcement of Princess Uli of Khilan’s engagement spread to every corner of the steppes.

People could not believe their ears hearing the news, all frantically bombarded the message bearer: Princess Uli? That battle-born, eyes above the sky, never gave a damn about any man, twenty-and-eight and haven’t married Princess Uli?

The messenger inundated by inquiries became so annoyed, answered “Yes, yes,” repeatedly, and skimmed off to the next place. Even though everyone still had a belly full of questions, no one could catch him again.

So all gathered together and speculated excitedly.

Who will Princess Uli marry? What does he look like? What is so good about him? No, no, to have the guts to marry this princess; his courage is already above the rest.

They talked and talked, but there was still no confirmed information.

And a few days later, during the worship of the Divine Tree, the news came.

The Rite of the Divine Tree is a grand annual holiday in Chienye. The Grand Shaman of Guifang¹ would paint his face red and green, dance barefoot swinging the pure gold bells on the banner poles, dip the pointy white grass in water, and make prayers for the people. And the spectators could also take glimpses from afar at the lofty Chienye royalties, who usually hide behind the veils of the Jursu Heights.

The Divine Tree grows on the Kurze Hill, colossal in body, luxuriant in foliage, its crown akin to a verdant cloud; and the tribesmen call it the “Mother Tree”.

A tall ceremonial terrace rose by the side of the water. On the adjacent poles, hung blue porcelain bowls containing pure water, fine wine, and lamb flesh. The Guifang sorceresses quietly muttered the scriptures, while an Iq’zamon vestal danced en pointe along the thin edge of a porcelain bowl, her body light as a feather. Everyone was worried that she would accidentally fall, but at every wobble, she would twist her supple waist and continue her swirls.

King Andai and his queen came in splendid raiments. They kowtowed the True God, and the princes and princesses followed suit. Then the martial, civil, and religious leaders came in three rows and paid their respects one by one. Chienye prioritized the military, hence the left row held the higher prestige. Due to General Yujien’s absence, the chief seat was vacant, Cher Baochi, Guo Wuliang, Ting’schi, then the various ranks of military officers followed behind. Their shining armor and stout figures roused immense admiration from the onlookers. The right-side civil magistrates’ line seemed feeble in comparison, with the Grand Principle Suerhu in the lead. Then several sect seniors, a handful of ushers, intendants, and secretaries followed in assembly. Standing in comparison, their scanty hair and bloated bodies appeared lacking in authority. The Supreme Sage and various shamans stood between the two queues, carrying themselves with self-assumed spiritual superiority. With their eyes on the sky and noses pointing towards heaven, they carried themselves contemptuously above the masses.

Crown Prince Allonby was only eighteen and already bore a mighty full beard, giving him an authoritative appearance. He didn’t spare a single glance to the ceremonial terrace, and left with an haute air right after his prayers. But his company, Cher Vei, instead stole multiple peeks towards the dancing vestal on the podium.

At the completion of the rites, King Andai issued a diplomatic commission, ordering Dardum and Ting’yu towards Khilan to felicitate Princess Uli’s marriage.

Cheers boomed in the crowd, full of happiness.

General Dardum, the elder brother of the Queen, had an affable temperament, and everyone called him Old Dum. Little Ting’yu rarely showed his face, and all merely knew him as General Ting’schi’s only son, who rode in a wheelchair every day and didn’t seem able to walk.

Everyone looked towards the wheelchair and found a lanky, handsome young man sitting with a tight frown. If one could disregard his overly pale complexion, he was an uncommonly pretty boy.

They pitied him for a great round, and gradually scattered.

And Little Ting’yu’s brows creased all the deeper.

~

When the generals and nobility heard the news, they all teased Dardum and congratulated General Ting’schi, wishing the little general’s journey to be as peaceful as riding a cloud.

“Uli and our General Yujien have been acquitted for over ten years. This task should have been his. How did it land on this old man?” Dardum grumped, feigning a glower.

“Old Dum,” Grand Principle Suerhu said with a laugh. “You have no idea. Years ago, Princess Uli loved Yujien with a fever and tried all she could to marry him. Unfortunately, our general preferred gentle-tempered girls and had no taste in that flavor. And the Princess, in her outrage, vowed to marry no one… If you let him go, wouldn’t that stir up her sorrows?”

Those who haven’t heard this old rumor were very amused. “This princess has too much pride! General Yujien is the supreme champion of the steppes. Tens of thousands of girls want to marry him. What are we to do if they all vow to wed no other?”

Those who heard it before also couldn’t stop their mouths from supplying, “Then we really ought to change the candidate! Consort Na had passed for a couple of years, and the general would still rather mourn his beloved wife in solitude in the City of Ghosts than associate with anyone. If we let him and the princess meet again, and perhaps the pair of broken hearts can…”

The group shared a mysterious smile. Only the Crown Prince’s mastyer, General Guo Wuliang, had a few sensible words: “You bunch of old farts, mouth full of nonsense. Princess Uli and the general are dear friends. What intrigue, what romance? The general stays in the City of Ghosts to train soldiers. He just doesn’t want any disturbance.” Turning to Little Ting’yu, he enjoined kindly, “Don’t listen to this rubbish. When you get to Khilan, just drink and present gifts, and if Old Dum gets drunk and starts babbling, just drag him away.”

“Are there any princesses in Young’ching?” the youngest royal princess, Tuzai, whispered to her mother.

~

When Little Ting’yu left the ritual, he had already been distraught. However, when he finally returned to the Wolfbend Mountain, General Ting’schi also lectured him: “Do you remember what his Kingship said? It doesn’t matter what the method is, open Swai Young’s mouth. What’s with the frown? When the time comes, is it really up to you?”

It so happened that his mother Madam Yaa was circling around, searching for his clothes, and muttering under her breath of her dissatisfaction with the ceremonial gown being too old-fashioned, or the jewels on sleeves not bright enough.

Madam Yaa turned to look at the threshold and dropped the gown on her hands, protesting: “Yu’er doesn’t like these things. Why are you always forcing him? What’s wrong with letting him go through his days in peace?”

General Ting’schi dropped the liquor bowl, looking at the doorway.

“He is the son of a general! He says goodbye to peace on the date of his birth,” he said grimly.

Although his tone was severe, it contained an unfathomable depth of grief.

Madam Yaa brought it up no longer. She silently took out a few treasured pieces from her own jewel box, and sewed them onto the sleeves of her son’s ceremonial attire.

~

The switchgrass at Wolfbend Mountain had grown past a man’s waist, but most had fallen from the trampling of the rite watchers, exposing the suze flowers hiding beneath.

Little Ting’yu stopped his wheelchair and stared blankly at the flora. Tigerhead Twine observed and volunteered, “Little General, I’ll go pick some flowers.” And Little Ting’yu assented.

“I don’t want to leave the Mei waters and go to Khilan to be some wedding facilitator!” he brooded. “I don’t even know Princess Uli at all. What is there to celebrate marrying at this age? The Young’ching elder seems difficult to deal with. What can I do to convince him peacefully? Do we really need to use… force?”

His chest was full of apprehension. Even pressing it down tightly scarcely helped at all.

“If only I had Fongning by my side!” he thought.

As he pondered about Fongning, he remembered him hiding in his bed and disappearing in the end. Although he knew he must have used a clever trick to escape, he still worried: “Did Qu Lyn catch him?”

And at this moment, “… Cher Vei, can’t you get going fast?” the lazy drawl of the little lord prince passed before him.

His heart lurched. Brushing aside the switchgrass to look, he heard the disordered stomps of the horseshoes and saw Prince Allonby riding forward with a pack of brightly dressed boys.

“Cher Vei, are you blind? See where the sun is already?” Prince Allonby became impatient with Qu Lyn’s pushes.

“That’s correct, you are pulling behind! If we miss the prince’s bow practice time and General Wu starts to blame, you will be the first to go down,” General Shivon’s nephew Agula also chimed in with his two-teeth-missing mouth.

Cher Vei remained dragging behind. He was holding something in his lap, laughing. “My Lord Prince, please don’t be angry. If you have this deary in your hand, you will be reluctant to go fast as well.”

Little Ting’yu observed that he was carrying a person in his lap, who was wrapped in a blanket, with only their long hair showing through the scant cover.

“These wandering dancers aren’t even worth licking the feet of my goddess,” sneered Allonby. “Ah, Princess Ulaador! Stars fade in her presence, even the moon cannot compare to her bright complexion…. I already vowed to marry none other than her. She is the only queen in my heart.”

He closed his eyes and reveled in his muses. Raising his lids, he saw Little Ting’yu’s wheelchair in front of him. He generally spent his time within a specific circle of obsequious nobilities, and was not well acquainted with this aloof young man. Not bothering for salutes, he trotted around him, assuming his nonobservance.

“Look at this beauty! See this waist!” Cher Vei was showing off to Qu Lyn. “Tsk, tsk, supple like this, and won’t break no matter how you play with it…”

Qu Lyn had his eyes half closed. “My family has a slave with a waist softer than her by tenfold, the appearance…” He closed one eye as if examining someone in his hand, then closed it again and said, “… also much prettier.”

“For real?” Cher Vei swallowed his drool.

“Why would I lie to you,” Qu Lyn said lazily, then abruptly turned to Little Ting’yu. “Cousin, what do you say?”

Little Ting’yu, startled by the question, didn’t have time to react. “What?” he said with a frown.

“Unfortunately,” Qu Lyn turned back to Cher Vei. “My cousin already took them to bed. You are too late.”

Cher Vei tsked in amazement, staring at Little Ting’yu’s legs. “I didn’t realize the Little General … even though … he doesn’t fall behind in this business, you really cannot judge someone by their looks,” he muttered.

“Who are you talking about? Fongning?” asked Little Ting’yu. He had no idea what they were saying,

“Fongning? This name sounds familiar,” Allonby asked, turning his head all the way around.

Someone reminded him: “It’s the one last year, when the Southern envoys came, the one from the little lord prince’s house… the slave,” as he spoke, he made a heart carving gesture.

“Oh yes, the one that my Lord Father rewarded rings.” Allonby understood. “What are you guys saying, who bedded who?”

Cher Vei stared at Little Ting’yu with horror on his face. “Slave… male?”

“Cher Vei, what do you know? Only the boys got the special flavor, cousin, am I right?” said Qu Lyn.

Little Ting’yu knew what he was saying was foul. “Don’t speak blind words, Fongning is my friend,” he denied icily.

Qu Lyn chuckled. “So I am wrong. You two haven’t slept.”

“You don’t allow it; how can I sleep with him?” Little Ting’yu was confused.

As his words dropped, a cacophony of laughter came from the other side. “Qu Lyn, this cousin of yours, really…” Allonby was beside himself, slapping his stomach.

“Oh no,” Agula suddenly yelled, “General Guo is here!”

Watching afar, a man came riding across the sea of switchgrass, carrying a clean-cut face and warm smile. Who is it but Guo Wuliang?

Guo Wuliang carried imperial orders to teach these boys archery. Even the Crown Prince must call him Mastyer whenever he sees him. He was usually gentle in his conduct but serious in his training. When the group saw his appearance, dread at once roused in their hearts. They raised their heads, the time for the archery lesson had long passed, and their hearts sank further.

“What do I do with this female?” Cher Vei panicked.

Everyone was running in circles, panic-stricken. Knowing Guo Wuliang, who came from a poor upbringing and had invariably been kind to the commons; if he were to see the group’s blatant disregard of the code of conduct in taking by force, he would definitely give out a severe punishment.

“Hurry, dump her in there,” Qu Lyn instructed in a low voice, pointing at the switchgrass.

Cher Vei searched around for a dense bush.

Guo Wuliang saw their delay and came forward with a frown. Cher Vei was distraught with panic. Having nowhere to let go, he haphazardly tossed the girl to the ground, and the bundle rolled towards Little Ting’yu’s feet.

“What are you all doing here? Why aren’t you at the archery range?” Guo Wuliang asked.

“Mastyer! we left especially early…” Allonby pulled forward at once, answering loudly, “Agula, you explain!”

“We were on the way, and …” Agula also shifted forward towards Guo Wuliang. “Umm, this mare won’t stop feeding on the flowers by the side of the road, and it just … won’t move,” he explained.

“Horses eat flowers?” queried Guo Wuliang, not convinced.

Qu Lyn, smooth with his words, spoke instead: “Something’s gotten into Cher Vei’s horse. It’s gone crazy, and has been eating the flowers by the water all this time. We thought it was funny, so we watched it for long. Mastyer, did we miss the time?”

The group said one thing after another, surrounding Guo Wuliang within a circle of flowers. Cher Vei glanced apprehensively at the ground, and seeing the distance, wiped away his sweat and muttered “Almost” under his breath.

Little Ting’yu was disabled in his legs, hence had no bearing on riding or archery, and was not familiar with Guo Wuliang. Watching their despicable faces, he had no desires to see any further and turned to leave.

However, the grass shifted and the person inside the blankets struggled towards him. Little Ting’yu paused. He recognized her as the Iq’zamon vestal dancing earlier today. He couldn’t see her clearly on the podium before. Looking closely now, he discovered she was very young, no more than eleven or twelve. A pair of beautiful eyes, full of tears, implored longingly at him.

He did not want to bother at first; he turned the wheels and started to pull away. However, Qu Lyn’s words of comparison between her and Fongning rang in his ears once more, and his heart jumped. “I cannot save Fongning! They must treat Fongning like how they are treating this helpless little girl.”

He exhaled a long breath, and made up his mind, “Uncle Guo!” he called out.

Guo Wuliang had good ears and heard right away. “Is it Yu’er?” he called back warmly.

Little Ting’yu’s heart was pounding, he raised his head and answered, “It’s me! Uncle Guo, I cannot move. Can you please help me with a push?”

Guo Wuliang smiled. “Of course. Do you need Uncle Guo to escort you back?” He dismounted and came forward at a fast pace.

Little Ting’yu turned his face to avoid the crowd of sharp looks.

Guo Wuliang saw the girl. “Why is there a…” he exclaimed.

He understood at once. He squatted down, lifted the blanket, released the girl from her bindings, took out the mouth stuffing, pulled over his own horse, and helped her up.

Little Ting’yu saw her tattered clothing revealing skin on many spots, hesitated, then took his own Lonicera embroidered cloak and passed it to her.

The Iq’zamon vestal returned him a look full of gratitude, took the cloak and wrapped it around her small body, and rode away.

Guo Wuliang turned and looked glacially behind him.

“It’s Cher Vei!” Prince Allonby immediately yielded.

Guo Wuliang nodded slowly and snapped:, “Cher Vei to receive twenty whips and grounded for half a year. Everyone else is to practice two extra hours every day, and is not allowed to attend fest hunts for the next three months.”

“But we didn’t touch her, not a single finger….” Agula grumbled his grievances.

“Failure to report wrongdoing, tolerating personal favors, and attempting to quibble? Go run ten laps around the target range!” Guo Wuliang condemned.

The swarm resentfully took off their outer wraps and started running. Qu Lyn lazily took off his heavy gold collar and threw it at Little Ting’yu, sneering, “Great cousin, noble hero, great man!”

“Qu Lyn, follow along!” Guo Wuliang pressed.

Qu Lyn shrugged his shoulders and began jogging indolently.

Little Ting’yu saw him go and inclined slightly. “Uncle Guo, I shall be off.”

“Huh?” Guo Wuliang was dumbfounded.

“Tigerhead Twine!” Little Ting’yu called.

Tigerhead Twine ran back from afar with two large flower wreaths. “Why gone for so long?” Little Ting’yu asked.

“I was making the flower crowns! There are so many suze flowers blossoming by the river. I made two, one for Little General, and the other for little big brother Qu.” Tigerhead Twine replied.

Little Ting’yu smiled and took the flower crown. Finding it solidly made with hundreds of flowers, he thought it was cute and followed to wear it on his head.

Guo Wuliang observed his movements.

“Yu’er, I have something… that I wish you can help me with,” he asked abruptly.

Little Ting’yu stopped. “What does Uncle Guo need me to do?”

“Let’s talk over there.” Guo Wuliang pointed at a cluster of flowers as he spoke.

Little Ting’yu nodded, passing the gold collar to Tigerhead Twine. “Tigerhead, help me take this to the House of the Lord Prince Qu,” he instructed.

~

Guo Wuliang pushed him beside the white flowers by the switchgrass. The fresh flower crown released a faint fragrance that danced softly in the light breeze of early summer.

The long silence gave a weight to the atmosphere, and Little Ting’yu felt the unbearable load.

“Uncle Guo, what is the business you speak of?” he asked.

Guo Wuliang made an umming acknowledgement, but didn’t say a word.

After a while, he finally started: “This task, although I am asking you personally, you do not need to report. And when you see me in the future, do not speak of it.”

Little Ting’yu lips twitched. He wanted to say something, but held it in.

Then Guo Wuliang’s tender voice rang lowly in the soft breeze:

“I want you to help me go look at someone, ask her how she’s doing…no, don’t ask, just take a look from afar, afar will do. See if she is eating a lot or a little, if there are smiles on her face, and happiness in her heart.”

“Uncle Guo, how can you tell whether one is happy in their heart?” Little Ting’yu asked.

“How silly of me. I’m sorry.” Guo Wuliang laughed. “Then just look for her smiles. I hope that fair face of hers will only have smiles, never any sorrow.” Seeing a grass stub in his flower crown, he nipped it away for him.

Little Ting’yu was moved by his sincere words, thinking this must be someone important to him. “Uncle Guo, who is this person? Is she your sister?” he enquired. He considered Guo Wuliang being married for many years, having a pair of son and daughter, it can’t be someone else; it must be a sister.

Guo Wuliang was momentarily stumped. “Yes, sister. There were five of us in those days, the King, General Yujien, Cher Baochi, and me, and her. We were the best of friends, and the closest … family,” he said awkwardly.

As he spoke, he stared at the flower crown on his head, his gaze molten thick with something unutterable.

“She loved to wear this flower and looked beautiful in them. It’s been how many years, yet that look of her with a head full of flowers, smiling as she runs around, is still imprinted right in front of my eyes. I genuinely wish the best for her… But where she lives now, there is not a single suze flower to be found.”

“Then just go see her, go send her flowers. Will that do?” said Little Ting’yu.

“I cannot go, even if I see her…” Guo Wuliang said, shaking his head, “I can’t say anything.”

He patted Little Ting’yu’s hair and smiled. “Right, this is Uncle Guo’s task. If you remember, take a look. … Actually, it doesn’t really matter if you look or not.”

Little Ting’yu nodded with half understanding.

“I will accompany you back,” said Guo Wuliang.

Little Ting’yu frowned, believing that he’d forgotten something important, but couldn’t recall what it was.

By the time he arrived at the foot of Wolfbend Mountain and his bodyguards came to greet him, he finally remembered. And he called desperately, “Uncle Guo, you didn’t tell me who it is!”

He turned to look and saw only switchgrass in the landscape. The man had already gone.

~

Night at Jursu Heights was usually loaded for the senses. Every nobility owned tens and hundreds of beautiful women, whether it was to hear them serve wine with their dainty voices, or to sing and dance for entertainment, or to use them for pleasure, or for slaughter, or to give away, it was all their word. Everyone was content in their hearts and felt the night was passing too fast. Even the overseer and superintendents beneath the great gers shared their master’s privileges. Though they cannot entertain all night, they could at least enjoy themselves for half it. Kurze Hill stood on the other side of the water, but all the residents were common nomads; they didn’t have a single important figure to embellish their front. Although they had many in number, it was no use. Count through the entire line of yurts by the water, and one could only count one tavern. It could be said to be very bleak.

This tavern was the Nien house. When the last ray of the golden sun scatters, the Nien house would allow its first customer to enter. As the evening fell to darkness, the nomads would cram into the tavern. And when the sky becomes completely black and the stars come out, it would be the busiest time of day for the shop.

The Nien house sold only one kind of alcohol: Green Wine.

There were no pretty young girls running around in blushes selling breasts full of tenderness. There was only a seventy-or-eighty-year-old crone called Matron Nien, with a bulbous body akin to a round cake, a hoarse voice, and a face with two eyes turned up. The liquor was diluted with water; she scammed the customers like daggers to the bones, and no matter how much money one spent, she never put up a good look.

And the words one usually hears were:

“Shove it.”

“Pay up.”

“Get lost!”

These were the tough men of the steppes, men who furtively hid pocket money from their wives to gather for a good night out after three-five days of hard work, to unload their sorrows and pleasures between fellow men. Even though the liquor was fine without complaints, some could not stuff their tribulations.

Once, a hot-tempered one finally stood up against the proprietor. Matron Nien did not bat an eyelid, nor move her thighs. She let him scream and yell and break three liquor bowls.

But after the second day, the troublemaker never showed up again.

And no one saw him ever again.

Henceforth, everyone behaved obediently, not even daring to make any extra noise in their drinking games.

Fortunately, the Nien house had another stunner sharing the acclaim of Green Wine.

A figure ineffably exquisite, with a face like a flower, a voice smooth and silky, even the breath ethereal and sweet, and with words like pearls, with just a few sentences it would penetrate your heart and make you feel the contentment of a hearty, fine wine.

Also, he was very approachable. Any time you want to see him, just raise your head and look. You want him to drink along, just call: “Hanr, Nien Hanr, Come!”

He would gracefully walk over one step after another, on a path filled with stinking feet and reeking sweat, raining with liquor, but he strode as if being showered in floral petals.

Once forward, he would speak in that sweet, luring, youthful voice, and inquire softly, “Big brother, buying me a drink?”

The one being called would feel crumbs all over, their fingers would become red, not just wine, they would whole-heartily give him the entire grassland.

When they leave, he would lean on the door, look at them through his poignant eyes with that reluctant expression, and ask in a soft voice, “You will come tomorrow?”

None could escape without a pounding heart and burning limbs. All nodded relentlessly and had a hard time going home.

Although tomorrow they will again suffer Matron Nien’s aggressive growls and be butchered like dogs, they will still come in their delirium, to continue their stupor in this bewitching dream.

This day Hanr wore a pale green robe, his cloud-like raven black hair was brushed to one side, and a fresh suze flower perched on another ear, dangling as he walked, and looking as if a dew could fall down its petals.

This dress-up would appear ostentation on a real girl, but it looked perfect on him.

When the others saw him, they felt their immediate satisfaction. They became drunk without any alcohol.

Without regard to the attention, he let the corner of his eyes curl, personally poured a bowl of wine and attentively presented it to a table. “Brother Gu,” he called sweetly.

The one being called was a square faced fellow with an apelike waist and tigerlike back, metallic muscles, and a towering build. His fanlike left-hand arm was held out, wrestling with the guy on the opposite side.

He frowned at his approach, and waved his other hand to shoo. “Scram.”

Nien Hanr was not at all perturbed. He sat down instead, and spoke to the other side, “Old Ha, busy?”

Old Ha was at a critical moment. Green blood vessels popped all over his head, he also had no time to respond. With a “Heya!”, he put down the square face fellow’s left hand onto the bar. “Gerrgu, time to try the right hand with me!” he hollered.

The square-faced fellow, Gerrgu, knocked on the empty bowl on the table, expressionless. “Drop!”

Old Ha cringed; the words apparently hurt his flesh. He felt around his waist and threw out a small silver dime. It danced and rolled in the bowl.

Despite just being slighted, Nien Hanr smiled ever so sweeter. “Brother Cher’er, what are brother Gu and them doing?” he asked another sitting by the bar, a diminutive and skinny monkey like man.

“Old Ha wants to see who the best arm wrestler in Chienye is, but is stingy with his prize, what fart is there to see.” Cher Bien smirked with a mouth full of silver glimmer.

“That is certainly interesting.” Nien Hanr was enlightened. He casually swiped Old Ha’s wine and started sipping silkily.

Old Ha ignored him. “Come on! Do it!” He raised his neck in challenge.

“… You want to buy my hand with this?” Gerrgu glanced at the bowl, humphed and scoffed,

Old Ha flustered, lifted his waist purse, and tossed out five-six silver coins, clattering to the bottom of the bowl.

Gerrgu didn’t look at him. Instead, he jiggled his sleeve pocket, took out two gold ingots, and let them swivel in his palm, a look of unspoken contempt showing plain on his face.

“Look old Ha, they are looking down at you,” said Nien Hanr, tittering.

Old Ha couldn’t stand provocations. Green and purple ran up his face. He gritted his teeth, then took out a small brocade box from his chest, solemnly presented it onto the bar, and carefully opened the lid.

“Your second bro has seen plenty of these chaff boxes,” Cher Bien snuffed. “They all take them out gingerly like that. When you open them, it’s all fake… fake…”

His two pupils suddenly straightened into the box, unable to move any further.

A pearl akin to a water droplet sat in the box, revealing a ghostly luminance.

“Rodent Cher, you know the goods. Have you seen this before?” Old Ha challenged him.

“This is General Yu, Yujien’s….” Cher Bien’s throat rolled with a hoarse sound.

“You know your business,” Old Ha exclaimed. “Exactly! Years ago, when General Yujien was preparing the marriage escort for Consort Na, he ordered for a pitch-black wheelhouse. Its walls and vaulted ceiling were inlaid with a thousand and eight hundred pearls just like this one. And Consort Na rode this city-worth carriage from Shinran to Chienye and married the greatest champion of the steppes. The day she arrived at the Mei waters also turned out to be a pitch-black night; there was not a single star in the sky. But the thousand and eight hundred pearls emitted such splendid brilliance as if all the stars from the heavens had fallen down to earth.

Nien Hanr’s crystalline eyes glimmered. “… To experience this once in life would just make it worth it,” he whispered.

However, Gerrgu frowned. “How did you come by this? Is it stolen—”

“Shut your trap!” Old Ha instantly jumped. “This jewel of mine came the proper way. After the Princess Consort passed, General Yujien obviously moved this carriage away. Or else wouldn’t he be distraught at seeing it every day? Eventually, some of it would naturally fall off. My nephew in the Ghost Army… Shish, you guys wouldn’t know even if I tell you, take out your catch!”

“Old Ha,” Cher Bien remained staring at the jewel, but his mouth moved. “I heard there were three types of these pearls, one type like the one you have here, just round in shape; another apparently the size of a bird egg, a single one of those could lighten an entire grand ger. What you got here is a secondary item, not the serious goods.”

“As big as a bird egg, there is only one in a thousand. You think they are like glass beads? Sure, you are saying my treasure is good-for-nothing. Why don’t you take out something better?” Old Ha spat.

Cher Bien searched around his body, then finally took out a couple of gold ingots and a crystal pendant. Usually this would have been a heavy wager, but now they compare insignificant against Old Ha’s pearl.

Gerrgu is an honest-hearted fellow. “Not down. Your item is too expensive.” He saw they lost in the wager and admitted defeat right off the bat.

Old Ha felt more elation in seeing their poverty than winning ten times, pressing on the empty wager bowl, yelling, “Come on! Why you pulling out! The wager had already been pledged! How can you get off? Hanr, who are you betting for?”

“I’ll bet you!” Nien Hanr pursed his lips, smiling.

Old Ha burst out laughing, extremely pleased. All of a sudden, his hand became heavy, hearing two clinks, two sparkling jeweled rings fell into the bowl.

“I’ll bet with you!” said a laughing voice.

“Brother Fongning!” Gerrgu and Cher Bien stood up, calling in unison. Only one sounded accusatory, and the other exhilarated.

“Dear brother,” said Cher Bien, ecstatically rubbing his hands. “You are second bro’s family, second bro’s darling,”

“Who asked you to bet these? Put them back on.” Gerrgu was instead displeased.

The one who came was indeed Qu Fongning. He, Gerrgu and Cher Bien were all Syrs. After the fall of Syr, they became slaves of House Qu Sharraugh. They slept in the same yurt for many years; hence, they were closer than anything. Seeing their anxiety, he giggled. “Brother Gu is arm wrestling somebody. Of course, I need to come cheer. The three of us are better than one. Seeing you lose the wager makes me unhappy too,” he said, and sat down next to Gerrgu.

“If I lose, I lose. Why should you sink those precious rings of yours?” said Gerrgu accusingly.

Qu Fongning leaned on his shoulder, smiling. “I believe in brother Gu; he always wins, never loses.” And he pointed at the table, signaling for alcohol. Gerrgu immediately passed it to him, yet Qu Fongning tilted his lips instead, and Gerrgu took the bowl to feed him. The entire procedures proceeded with such streamlined familiarity, apparent to had been refined from day-to-day practice.

Cher Bien swirled the rings in the wager bowl. “Old Ha,” he said, “we’ve pledged, you better sit down for the game.”

Old Ha was put back into place after a brief moment of gratification. Now his lips contorted and couldn’t follow-up.

Cher Bien swirled more rapidly, “What, my brother Fongning’s these two rings are not worth your lousy pearl?” he urged on.

Old Ha’s face turned uglier by the second. Looking at the rings, seeing two bright and peerless rubies, one square and the other round, both the size of a fingertip, just the jewels themselves were already extremely rare treasures. Not to mention their origin story, it was a personal reward from King Andai, representing the highest honor of the tribe. Even he couldn’t believe himself if he said they were worse than his pearl.

He felt his regret, hastily collapsed the brocade case, and swiftly hid it back into his bosom. “I am … bound for other engagements, not playing, not playing!” he muttered.

Cher Bien raised his arm and swept across his eyes, grinning, “No, Old Ha! The item is already in the wager. How can you withdraw the match?”

His sleeve fell back, revealing a glistening object on the tips of his fingers — what is it but that pearl?

Old Ha sat back down vexedly, then simply made up his mind to let it go all together. “So I am down. Why should I be afraid of you guys? Perhaps I’ll keep the pearl and win a pair of rings,” he said, and started rolling his wrists, preparing for the hard challenge.

Qu Fongning seemed to have entirely lost his spine, leaning languidly on Gerrgu’s side. “Little Hanr, where are you going, as I recall you just vouched for Old Ha, aren’t you going to put something down?” he suddenly demanded.

When Nien Hanr saw him come, he started to shift his body away little by little. By now he had already sneaked off by a few steps. Hearing him call his name, he furrowed his fair brows and turned to smile sweetly at him. “Little big Qu brother, what are you asking Hanr to put in?”

“Take your belongings, put into a bet,” Cher Bien cut in, “win, and lose at your own discretion, three-seven divide, is called a wager. For example, this pendant—” Taking out a crystal locket and throwing it into the bowl, he pointed. “I bet on Brother Gu! If Old Ha wins, you two take it.”

Playing with the ends of his braid, “I am the poorest one here, I don’t have a single penny. What is there to wager?” Nien Hanr protested flippantly.

The match had begun on the bar, but Qu Fongning didn’t bother with it at all. Biting his finger, he examined Nien Hanr up and down, then his gaze stopped on the floret in his hair.

Nien Hanr had been wearing this flower for half of the evening, in coming and going, in greetings and receiving, and felt no coyness with it. Now this look was making him feel uneasy, and he unconsciously touched the corner of a petal.

“Let’s wager this flower of yours.” Qu Fongning pointed at his hair.

Now the two on the bar were deadlocked in a stalemate, two muscular arms were in full tension with the wrists locked together, even the wooden bar was shaking ceaselessly. The only difference was in Old Ha’s intensely contorted face, and Gerrgu’s expressionless composure.

Old Ha channeled his entire strength on the one arm, no longer in balance in his seat. He pinned one foot to the ground, and his back started arching. All of a sudden, Gerrgu’s hand shifted slightly, Ola Ha’s heart jumped, and he redoubled at once, attempting to crush his opponent with one final push.

Yet, he saw Gerrgu stirring Qu Fongning’s waist and chiding him, “Sit down properly and don’t move, big brother’s arm can’t focus.”

Horror rose in Old Ha’s heart. “I am using all my might, even breathing is difficult, yet he can open his mouth to talk,” he thought.

His dejection affected his vigor. Soon after, Gerrgu made a roar and slammed him down. A loud bang, dust stormed, the bar cracked and broke in half.

With pain rampaging across arm to shoulder, Old Ha could no longer hold straight. Gerrgu casually swung his wrists, held up his wine, and drank a sip.

He had nothing to complain about and subsequently left. Cher Bien took the pearl, kissed it, caressed it, and wouldn’t let go of it. Gerrgu took the rings and attentively put them back on Qu Fongning’s hands.

Qu Fongning got up with a laugh and hooked around Nien Hanr’s arm. “You lost! Come here, let the big brother take your flower,” he said.

As he spoke, he walked them back towards the wine cellar behind him. Nien Hanr struggled but felt an iron clutch around his hand. How could he escape?

The guests in the tavern looked up and saw a white bird chasing a green cloud. How pretty they looked! They all felt the trip this evening was especially worth it and asked for another bowl of wine.

The wine cellar was already cramped, and Qu Fongning cornered him the moment he followed in.

Nien Hanr tried to keep up a smile, continuing his whine. “Little big Brother Qu, let me go please, my bosom hurts.”

“Sickly beauty, quit the act. I have something serious to ask,” Qu Fongning scoffed.

Nien Hanr passed a glance at the door and withdrew his smile.

“You are so capable, you got things you need to ask others?” he said coolly.

Qu Fongning’s lip curled. “Who let my little pet have so many ears and eyes, and be so well-informed? I must ask you about this business.”

“What is it?” Nien Hanr stood up and straightened his fallen wrap, not looking at him.

Qu Fongning also looked at the door. “What are the chances for the owner of that pearl to go to Khilan?” he spoke rapidly.

Alarmed amazement streamed out of Nien Hanr’s eyes. He stared at Qu Fongning, and Qu Fongning stared back. For a while, nothing moved in the cellar. There wasn’t even the sound of breathing.

And then, Nien Hanr laughed.

He opened his pretty lips, then closed and opened, finally speaking slowly, “Why should I tell you?”

“Because I need to know.”

Nien Hanr smiled ever more beautifully.

“But I don’t want to tell you.”

“You know why I am asking; and you know why you must answer.” Qu Fongning grabbed his robe.

“I know, I understand, but I do not want to tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because I dislike you.” Nien Hanr observed the rising fury in his eyes and made a never before decadent smile. “Qu Fongning, or whatever other name, anyway, you—the person in front of me, I dislike you. Every time I see this gaze of yours, that’s right, these—thinking you can do anything, nothing can’t stop you—eyes. I just want to hold out my hand, and whoosh—gouge it out, just like how you carved out that heart!”

Qu Fongning was silent. His fingers gradually tightened.

“You want to batter me? Kill me? Come, try it.”

Qu Fongning looked at him, then signed and released his hand.

“I see, so this intel was difficult to come by. But I want it. What are we to do? How about this? Let’s make a deal, you tell me, and I have a little secret to tell you as well.”

He regarded Nien Hanr’s face, and a smile blossomed.

“This secret has to do with a jade ring. This ring is as white as the moon, its radiance mesmerizing. It must be an extraordinary treasure. The jade itself must have an uncommon backstory. Let me see, it’s either Nanyue or Dali.”

Nien Hanr’s excitedly reddened face instantly lost its colors.

Qu Fongning observed his reaction with amusement.

“Studying it closely, the make is exceptional as well. Even from the royal palace, perhaps…”

“Seven tenths,” Nien Hanr interrupted him.

Qu Fongning admired his expression. “Oh? How so?”

Nien Hanr clenched his silvery teeth, explaining reluctantly, “Princess Rojun’s wedding gowns was sent into the City of Ghosts on the day before last.”

Qu Fongning paused, he frowned slightly, and fell into thought.

“What can you do by knowing? That man…humph, he is slier than a fox, and more vigilant than a wolf. You want to get through him? That’s harder than hiking up the sky,” Nien Hanr said coldly.

Qu Fongning’s gaze reverted back to him, chuckling, “I would not dare. I only pity his loneliness after losing his wife. I just want to send over my pretty sister to accompany him in bed,” he teased, caressing his cheeks.

Nien Hanr swept away his hand in disgust. “Fuck off, why, don’t, you, go, yourself,” he spat out his words one by one.

Qu Fongning giggled and came closer to him. “Little sister Nien, you just can’t keep your temper in. Since time immemorial, those who do greatness never pity about trifles. If I can make you… accompany them for a few nights, what’s the big deal? You grew to be this delicate; you are born to serve in bed.”

Nien Hanr’s gaze froze. He swung his hand for a slap. Qu Fongning stood unmoving. Just before his hand landed on his face, he detained it and guided it to stroke along his own cheek, his voice threatening: “If you keep this up, I’ll bed you first.”

The drapes at the door suddenly lifted. “Brother Fongning, why so long? Hurry out, Uncle Hwei is here to pick you up,” Cher Bien’s rodent-like face poked in and called.

Qu Fongning answered clearly, let go of Nien Hanr hand, and straightened his robes for him. “Good sister, brother is leaving. Behave well at home.”

Nien Hanr wretched the robe back from him. “Dear brother, please go ever so gently. I hope brother will be spotted soon, and die corpseless in an alien land,” he said dryly.

Qu Fongning walked on for a few steps and turned. “By the way, I should tell you, I do not fear fox nor wolf. No matter how vigilant or sly, they cannot escape my palm, because I…”

He stood on the top step of the wine cellar, on the high ground, and made a hurling gesture.

“… am the hunter.”

Nien Hanr watched him, and couldn’t come up with any words of mockery for the moment. And all of a sudden, he felt a draft by his ear; he had picked away that flower.

~

When the tavern was in the height of business, new guests filled in as soon as a table emptied.

Nien Hanr was struggling to carry a dark wine pitcher from the cellar. The moment he popped his head out, people saw, and seven or eight hands immediately came to help. He didn’t bother to convey his thanks, and instead sat down at the bar by Matron Nien.

The lion bone bar was constructed from a complete set of white skeletons. With him sitting there airily—a fresh flower on white bones—what a terrifically stunning scene it looked! The one who carried the wine almost dropped the pitcher just from gawking at it.

He spied Gerrgu’s table and saw a middle-aged man at their addition. White streaks ran down his bangs, his face sunken in with creases crisscrossing from his lips, and carried a woeful expression. He was communicating seriously with his hands in sign language. Qu Fongning hooked and swayed around his neck in coquetry, clamoring, “Uncle Hwei, Uncle Hwei, let me tell you….”

Nien Hanr looked at it full of contempt and humphed under his breath.

Matron Nien was napping on the Persian rug, not opening her lids.

“Suffered a loss?” she spoke behind him. Nien Hanr didn’t move.

“… He saw the moon ring,” he bit his lips and uttered bitterly.

“What did I tell you?” Matron Nien opened her saggy old eyes, reproaching icily, “flesh being in a tiger and wolf den, that cursed object will be the death of you. Not just about having it in your hands, even thinking about it is a hazard.”

Nien Hanr dropped his head. “This is my only object of longing. If even this doesn’t exist anymore, I… can’t make it through another day.”

Matron Nien’s ancient throat released a hoarse laugh. “That is why you cannot compare with others! You sit here all teary-eyed being ‘I the bright moon,’ while they already established their reputation from carving hearts, and have infiltrated their way into the most restless center of Jursu Heights. If you least learned three tenths of the ruthlessness he uses on himself, it would’ve been more than this…”

By this time Qu Fongning had taken off his golden hair band, and slipped Nien Hanr’s flower into his hair, whining at Uncle Hwei. “Look at me! Look at me!” Uncle Hwei watched him and made a few gestures; it must’ve been complimenting his good looks.

Nien Hanr stared at his contented expression, his eyes cold. “I just can’t see him eye to eye.”

Matron Nien made a dry laugh. “The spirit of one moment hurts others, hurts self. Your honored country really doesn’t know what they are doing, picking a kid like you.” Crossing her legs, she dropped her lids to continue her nap. “The southern crudes know people better—even though I don’t like this kid either.”

“What?” Nien Hanr’s heart leaped. He spun around.

“That kid’s face, handsome, arrogant. Even if someone stomps it to the ground, makes him half dead, it wouldn’t do a thing to him… Just like the person I hate the most in my life, they are exactly the same.”

“What happened to that person?” Nien Hanr asked.

“I broke one of his hands…” Matron Nien yawned, answering tiredly, “Why?”

“Can you break him?” Nien Hanr looked expectantly at Matron Nien.

Matron Nien reopened her lids and examined Nien Hanr for a moment. “You want him to die?”

Nien Hanr’s eyes chilled, the corner of his lips bit down a sense of malevolence.

Matron Nien reverted her gaze, and her lids sank back down.

“No.”

“Why?” Nien Hanr persisted.

Matron Nien remained silent, lifting a finger, and pointed in a direction.

It was that slouched back Uncle Hwei. He was making silent language with his two hands, each missing a thumb.

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