Songshr held the hem of the cloth dress with her head down, and surreptitiously made through the bustling crowd, back to her original location.

People huddled and jostled along the way, all relating the name that shook the steppes for the past two days, the boundlessly prospective young man. Some talked about the heroic save, and some patted about him besting the King Kong with smarts. And those really adept at inquiries dug out the tale of him striking a wild wolf with bare hands, and carving out its heart in the palatial ger.

Songshr listened shyly and also with a faint pride. She felt that what they said all sounded especially sweet to the ear, and very wished they keep on talking about it.

Even until she came back to Little Ting’yu’s side, she still couldn’t help wanting to listen.

“Fongning is much better than what they said,” Little Ting’yu said to himself.

Songshr nodded in agreement and straightened the wheelchair for him.

Little Ting’yu gave her a cursory inspection and suddenly enquired, “Songshr sis, where is your bow ribbon.”

Startled, Songshr hastily hid her bare wrists, and considered a lie of misplacement.

Then the longhorn suddenly boomed on the arena.

“Thank you for waiting. The archery finale begins now!” announced the deployment officer, beaming with joy.

And they heard the rocking of wheels. A strong, hunky bull with smooth, glistening hair was pulling forth a unicycle cart, running bombastic from the straw shed at the starting point of the racecourse. As it passed, the sharp ceremonial marshal, sharp in eye and hand, swiftly plotted a tall flagpole on the cart from the side.

There was no flag on the flagpole save a petite yellow monkey. The monkey had a long tail, and it was curled tight on the top of the pole. On its hand, it held a palm sized bow mark.

The monkey was very mischievous. It held the target hoop and turned it back to forth in play. Seeing the crowd clapping for itself, it straight out threw the target into midair, caught it, then again and again, and started juggling.

The contestants were fretting to death when they saw it. This target moved up and down and left and right. How were you supposed to aim at all?

The ceremonial marshal didn’t empathize with their grief, and instead waved a rally flag. Teams of people immediately popped in from the four corners of the racecourse. Each had a piece of red cloth, and all started taunting the bull.

The bull’s eyes shot red. Breathing in heaves, it rampaged amok, crushing the track fences into a wreck. The little unicycle cart wobbled and staggered east and west and almost toppled over. On the tempestuously shaking pole, the monkey lost its ease too. It screeched wildly, sprung from hand to foot, and the target wobbled even more.

The scene was truly comical, and everyone was dying with laughter. Only the contestants dragged sullen faces and moaning signs, completely misaligning with the joviality air.

And when the competition actually started, it was even more bleak. Don’t even mention the red mark, just hitting the target was considered pretty good, since most of the archers couldn’t even scratch the side of the flagpole. When the flagpole turned all the way to its side, people laughed slamming their chests and pounding their feet, and shrieked with tears running down their faces.

Prince Allonby had been full of confidence, yet upon seeing this lively target, his heart started drumming as well. He figured he had learned some methods for shooting unpredictable targets, and though he was not completely sure, he must be much better than these paltry fishes.

As for that slave boy, he obviously belonged in the bottom category of paltry fish. So with this thought, he thus felt reassured.

But suddenly, a round of excited uproar came from behind the contestants’ yurt. The crowd jostled forward as if rushing to the fair, all scrambling to look at the young warrior of new found fame.

Qu Fongning was still riding the rumpled little black horse. Clad plain without adorn, shouldering his Moon Frost, he slowly appeared before the waves of people. And no matter how they yelled his name, he only darted them a swift glance and pursed his lips, and not said a word, as if hoping everyone would calm down.

But as soon as people saw his bow, calm could not come down. Everyone started whistling funny, bustling in waves, ringing across the grassy plains.

That godly bow, which General Yujien used to demoralize enemies, was wrapped layers upon layers of bright bow ribbons of all colors, like veiling icy cold death with a sheer of soft love.

Oyghrmuki had squinted his eyes and craned his neck from afar, saw it and instantly started chortling. “General, look at that on Little Skylark’s back!” he said with a point.

Yujien smirked, made no comments towards his student of soaring repute, and said instead to Oyghrmuki, “This flippant nickname of yours probably won’t do after today.”

Oyghrmuki rounded his eyes and considered: the little skylark is already so striking, he really doesn’t look like the little bird in the white frocks and little bells anymore. Fortunately, he had a slew of knickknack titles, and thus immediately changed his call: “I see our Little Syr is really popular with the girls. He’ll get spirals in his eyes just from picking out these little ribbons today.”

Prince Allonby witnessed the little slave gaining so much thunder, his displeasure soured more. Only because the others were all looking, else he wouldn’t hate to send an arrow to his ass.

Suddenly, a gentle rock of wheels rang up from the horizon. The rhythmical mechanism already sounded grandiose from afar, and as it approached, it brought an instant shine to the eyes.

The coach, glittering in magnificent jewel brilliance, was topped with a splendid white cap; the opulence of the car alone was needless to describe. The four horses drawing the carriage were uniform in build, and their hair silvery white had not a single off-colored strand. And the tassels of bridles, draped with long, soft silvery fringes, drooped all the way to the ground. On the car window, the jewel-grey curtains swayed gently in the wind.

The Supreme Shaman, Elder Nakhijyu of the Rites Department, guided beside the car with a magnificent team of shamans in fluttering turquoise cloaks, and two more rows of gold crowned Guifang sorcerers were dancing and chanting in whirls behind the coach. Elder Nakhijyu respectfully bend his back from the horse towards a splendidly dressed emissary, and as they spoke, he pointed towards the crowded field.

The emissary listened and acknowledged, turned to prostrate before the interior, and addressed the person within. This report passed through the ceremonial marshal by the car — through the grand chamberlain — through the female attendants — through the repeated calls of the lady-in-waiting — and the curtains finally stirred, showing that the person inside had heard.

Soon, the hoofing clicks of the white horses faded, and the carriage gradually stopped by the deep autumn banks of Mei waters, looking like a jewel grey cloud tethered by the hand of the sun.

These exotic curiosities stole the attention of the carousing people, who all protended their necks on watch, wanting to glimpse what kind of person sits in that car.

A dark-skinned chamberlain came forth a few paces and announced: “Her Royal Highness, the Benevolent, the Prosperous, Princess Ulaador of our humble kingdom of Bi’ro, is praying for rain for all beings under sun, and hopes to borrow the path along your sacred waters. She admires the youthful gallantries of your honored country and wishes to grant a gift to the victorious champion.” Kneeling on one knee, he held both hands subserviently towards the car, waiting to transfer the princess’s gift.

“We’ve only conquered the City of Kazarr last month, and we’ve got a princess coming to pray for rain today. Old Lio Fox isn’t so great at war, but is sure swift in making peace!” Oyghrmuki said with giggles.

“Give and take. The Old Fox is generous enough!” Yujien smiled as well.

The crowd had never seen this legendary princess and instantly boiled with excitement. The outer ring, originally upset at not being able to squeeze in to watch the race, now became the happiest crowd, who immediately held their ground, and would not trade it even for gold.

Prince Allonby saw the sudden appearance of his goddess, his throat dried and tongue parched, stars popped in his eyes, and even his words stuttered. “Ugh….laa…” he called weakly and could not make another sound.

Then they saw a delicate hand, like that of a jade branch, slowly extending from the coach curtain. It held a soft and fluffy silvery-grey bow ribbon tied to the shape of a butterfly. And the movement faintly allowed a glimpse of Princess Ulaador’s face.

Those who saw clearly immediately lost their minds into a plummeting chaos. “How could there be such incredible beauty under heaven?!”

They forgot to breathe, they only watched in a drunken delirium.

On the grasslands, there passed a bloody and beautiful myth. A long, long time ago, somewhere far, far away, there was a nomad girl who held a long whip in her hand. Any man who had seen her face would scramble before her yurt, and beg to have her whip their bodies.

The men who her whip struck all turned into the calves and lambs. Then in the morning, she would drive the cattle out, and on the vast wilderness of the great steppes, she would graze the horses, shepherd the sheep, brush and wash, and sing.

Her face as pure as a cloud, and her lips sweeter than a fresh bud…

Those who first heard it cannot comprehend it at all: why would a good heaven and earth pillaring man be willing to weep and tear and beg before someone’s yurt, just for a fiery course of whiplashes? Why would someone be willing to turn into cattle for someone else, without regret? There are plenty of handsome people in the world. What’s so special about a beautiful face?

But now, everyone understood.

Tens of thousands of gazes settled on the silvery grey bow ribbon on the chamberlain’s hand, and all wondered: “Who will get such a gift?”

Elder Nakhijyu waved his hands, motioning for the games to continue. The ceremonial marshals hurried to blow the long horns and conducted the people by the racecourse to reopen the tournament.

And now Prince Allonby was terribly nervous; the golden bow handle had become sticky with sweat in his hand.

When his turn came, he desperately tried to focus on the mark, but as soon as he was reminded that those beautiful eyes were watching behind his back, it was as if a ring of fire was burning in his heart, and blazing his anxiety. Despite this, he hit seven out of nine arrows, and compared to the other contestants, it was a miraculous score.

The monkey knew the manners well. Seeing someone hit the mark, it immediately held up the target and conducted a round of show. Prince Allonby surveyed the surroundings with pride on his face, hoping that the goddess of his heart would take a look.

Qu Fongning followed on course, airily held the bow, drew, and shot. Every arrow shot forth with a round of heaven piercing and earth quavering cheers from the sides of the racecourse; for six continuous arrows, each landed smack on the red center.

Prince Allonby’s face turned uglier by the count. As he saw him taking out the seventh arrow, he howled countless curses in his heart.

Unexpectedly, Qu Fongning didn’t hurry to send out this arrow. He let go of the string, backhanded a draw, slowly pulled out two more arrows to a total of three, and arrayed them in a row on his bow.

Prince Allonby was startled but also silently sniggered. “This wretched brat is showing off on purpose. True god with your heavenly eyes, please make him shoot the air,” he prayed.

At this moment, all was silent save for the huffing of the ox. On top of the pole, the monkey’s black, beanlike eyes wheeled around, and it looped the target onto its tail and started swinging left and right.

Qu Fongning followed the movements with the arrow tip, with breath as calm as still water, and then, closed his eyes, and the silver thread swayed lightly like a qin string and the arrows left the bowstring and — bang — all three nailed simultaneously onto the mark. The force of the shot receded not, for it propelled the target onwards. Yet the monkey was remarkably clever. It panned its tail and instantly swiveled its body into a grab. As soon as it got its hand on it, it opened its arms, and cupped a full moon embrace.

The audience around the stadium saw clearly: the tip of all three arrows dug deep into the red center.

Qu Fongning recovered the silvery bow into his arms, and whirled for a flippant glance to his back, the curve of his lips belying a small smile.

Having seen this, the dark-skinned chamberlain dashed before him, and holding the bow ribbon with two hands above his head, he proclaimed in a clear voice, “For the mightiest champion of your honored country!”

Qu Fongning thanked and bent down to receive. Prince Allonby watched with fire crackling from both eyes, almost ready to extend his own hand to intercept the reception.

Qu Fongning nipped with the tip of his fingers, only feeling the silk light and soft and carrying a faint soft fragrance. He slanted a look at the prince, suddenly raised his hand, and, astonishingly, tossed the bow ribbon away.

Songshr was holding tight onto her chest, worrying about the tournament for him. Just as her heart dropped, she saw him throwing something towards her, and instinctively retreated a step.

With the raging tumult of screams and cries, the silvery-grey butterfly bow ribbon landed on Little Ting’yu wheelchair.

Little Ting’yu, taken aback, held the silk ribbon and sat dumbfounded, uncertain of its meaning.

When the girls saw it, they felt a torrent of victorious joy, almost as if they had defeated the beautiful enemy by the water. Even though Princess Ulaador personally granted a bow ribbon, she couldn’t steal away the heart of this young Damu.

The girls of the steppes had always been bold and candid. In this moment their spirits surged high, and with a unison heart, they flooded to Qu Fongning like tidal waves, and linked their hands together into a colossal circle. They sang and danced, their soprano voices ringing in concord.

The men also refused to fall behind. They rounded up immediately, and with unison howls, they tossed the youngest Damu of the grasslands high into the sky. And the height they tossed was truly as deafening as they sounded.

Although the ceremonial marshal, who was holding gifts for the Damu, tried to maintain order, he gave up momentarily, and also abandoned himself into the carousing human tide.

Even Songshr, who was such a mild and reserved girl, flushed red from this feverish gaiety, “Big Brother Little Ting’yu, I’m so happy today! I’m going to dance!” she told Little Ting’yu shyly.

Little Ting’yu’s pale face also glowed with an ineffable radiance. He held tight to the bow ribbon and let her go dancing. If best, she should dance for three days and three nights, and better not rest for a single moment.

The carriage by the water stayed for a while and quietly went away.

Yujien also held his gaze for a moment before turning to Oyghrmuki. “Return!”

Oyghrmuki had been high in spirit, and was ready to go for a dance and drink up all the nomads’ mare milk wine reserve along the way. On his command, he had to leave grudgingly.

~

When they returned to the City of Ghosts, they could still faintly hear people’s cheers.

Yujien ate supper with his subordinate commanders and captains, then finally returned to the main ger, and poured himself a cup of wine. Then he heard a rustling voice coming from the outside, it was saying:

“Grand Chamberlain Oyghrmuki, your horse’s got a terrible temper. It’s too stubborn! I almost got tossed off!”

“You go get me some of that green wine, and I’ll steal Shadow Leaper for your next time,” Oyghrmuki smacked his lips and said shamelessly.

“Okay!” Qu Fongning promptly replied.

Yujien was reclining on the wolf head throne, finding the overt plot funny when the curtains were swept aside, and Qu Fongning came in a swoosh, his entire body glowing as he saw him. “General!” he cried, and came lunging towards him.

Yujien was sent flopping backward from the lunge, and nearly spilled half his wine. Qu Fongning was entirely riding on his lap, like a little creature, his lashes flickering with glitters, his entire face pressed in and asking: “General, did you see my match? Am I your proudest student?”

Yujien touched his back. It was hot, full of sweat. He had probably hurried here as soon as he extricated himself from over there. Presently, he was also touched, and said: “Of course. You are my pride today!”

Qu Fongning listened with eyes full of ecstatic mien.

“Then can I see your face?” he chased immediately. Yujien leaned back a little and wrapped around his waist.

“No rush, I just thought of an even better prize,” he said with a smile.

“What is it?” Qu Fongning asked impatiently.

“Next year when spring breaks, take you down Jiangnan¹, how about it?” Yujien asked leisurely.

Qu Fongning’s body suddenly halted for a beat. “Re…. really? To… war?” he asked, stammering.

Yujien spanked his bottom. “Can you call going to war as a reward? To take you to see the sceneries of the Southern Nation, to open your horizon!” he said.

Now Qu Fongning was elated. “That’s great!” he cheered, and hurried to peer at his mask. “Then can I still see you?” he enquired.

“You cannot have it both ways. You can only choose one!” Yujien said with a frown, teasing him on purpose.

Qu Fongning drew a long ahh, his voice full of rue and sadness.

Yujien instead started swaying easily in his chair. “Come on, pick: Jiangnan, or me?”

Qu Fongning, wedged between two handles, stumped long in his quandary, and then forlornly dropped his head. “…Jiangnan.”

Yujien was immensely satisfied, nodded his head to show approval in his judicious choice, of which couldn’t be any more correct. Qu Fongning stared wistfully at his mask and raised unhappily. “You are not showing me. I’ll go ask Grand Chamberlain Oyghrmuki!” he said.

“You ask him? See if he dares to speak? The boss’s gonna peel his skin!” he threatened.

Oyghrmuki immediately betrayed him from the outside, “Been flayed a dozen times! Come, Little Syr, come show me your ribbons. Old Oyghr will tell you the General’s stories, one by one!”

Qu Fongning immediately wanted to hear. He lifted his legs and prepared to retreat. Yujien caught his hand with a chuckle. “Don’t heed him. I’ll tell you in the future. You want Shadow Leaper, don’t look for him either. Come find me!”

Qu Fongning wobbled about in his palm and romped around for a while, before giggling to say “Fine.”

~

The short-haired superintendent straightened his white headdress, and was accounting through the signed-out clothes and accessories page by page. Although the one standing before him was the little Damu with excellent credits, he remained extremely stringent with no smile and nothing amiss.

In comparison, the Little Lord Prince, who just entered, appeared terribly undignified. His chest was wide open, carried a full stench of alcohol, and only had a golden earring on one side of his ears. As soon as he saw Qu Fongning, he called “Yo,” crooked over, and pressed him atop the silver-locked dark wood cage. “My little champion, hello!” he chuckled tipsily. “My Lord Brother almost didn’t kill me! You are committing some master-icide here!”

Qu Fongning, impassive under the frontal assault of his drunken vapor, held his waist with two hands. “Careful, master,” he said, leaned into his shoulder, and said in an undertone, “the prince’s pomp has been crushed?”

Qu Lyn laughed deliriously, wrapping one of his legs around his own waist, also laughed softly by his ear. “Not just crushed, more like completely lost it. Now the big title of his inferior skills had been passed around so much as even the deaf have heard it! You didn’t see his furious, rabid expression at the feast just now. Tsk, tsk, tsk! Your master got an enormous appetite just from looking at that ugly face of his and had one too many cups.” The excitement in his voice was insuppressible. As he spoke, he stroked lovingly along Qu Fongning’s calves, all the way into the root of his thighs.

The austere and serious superintendent would not see this sort of sordid scene, and quietly creased his brows. He was of the perfectly abstained sort, and thus immediately shut his eyes and retreated.

“This humble servant is honored to see Master’s delight,” he said docilely. And after a pause, he spoke again, “Excuse for the pitiful servant’s stupidity: though the culture of our tribe favors combat ability, the prince is unique in his status, it doesn’t seem necessary for him to convince the commons of his superiority in martial prowess.”

Qu Lyn laughed again, his expression full of scorn and arrogance. “I teach him profligacy and debauchery, you make him stay in the lower wind. And within three years, I shall make his name, stature, mentality, and physiques fall, one by one, into an abyss irredeemable beyond salvation.” The viciousness on his face had not a trace of inebriation.

Qu Fongning’s gaze stirred. “Master’s stratagem is truly ingenious,” he praised wholeheartedly.

Qu Lyn drew back his hand and rearranged his earring. “How are you doing over there? You’ve got the seed yet?” he grinned, side-glancing him.

Qu Fongning followed to stand up and pull together his clothes. As he heard, his lips curled. “He was delighted to see my learning the essence of his archery, commended me for a good session, and promised me many things. He also said, on the next dawn of spring, he will take me south for experience,” he said.

Qu Lyn was greatly pleased. “Then you got seven to eight-tenths of assurance. Jiangnan, with its red flowers and green willows, is perfect for inducing sentiments. You just need to keep him happy along the way, and you shouldn’t need to worry about having half of Sky Gale Cliff in the future!” he said with a laugh.

“All merits to Master’s diligent teachings, this simple servant would never have such brains,” Qu Fongning said solemnly.

Qu Lyn nipped his face, suddenly curious. “Do you also talk to Yujien Tianhung this seriously?”

Qu Fongning didn’t lie at all. “No, just a little cuter than this,” he said.

“Then give me a cute one!” Qu Lyn said immediately.

Qu Fongning raised his eyes to regard him, considered briefly, and said, “This method is useless for the Master. This humble servant will not use it.”

Now Qu Lyn was intrigued. “Useless to me, but you dare to use it on Yujien Tianhung?” he said.

Qu Fongning’s liquid gaze rippled a peculiar look. “Because he eats it,” he breathed.

~

On the following day, an autumn drizzle started to fall during the height of afternoon training. When the gongs struck for withdrawal, Yujien’s full set of black military uniform had clung wet onto his body, and his leather boots were full of mud. As soon as he returned to the main ger, Oyghrmuki urged him to change. But Yujien wasn’t bothered. “Change what? I need to leave again soon,” he said. Looking at the sky, he only saw a looming grayness; it was difficult to tell whether it was already dusk.

“Your disciple’s archery is already number one on the steppes. He doesn’t need you anymore! You two’s destined bond as mastyer and disciple is hereby over!” Oyghrmuki spited him on purpose.

“He dares! I’ll break both of his hands, and make him relearn from the beginning!” said Yujien.

Oyghrmuki made two funny laughs. “You’ll begrudge your ass!” And suddenly looking outside the ger, he yelped, “Little Syr! Come look at your evil mastyer, who is saying he will snap your hands! Are you still going to pay him mind?”

Yujien lifted his head and really saw Qu Fongning, all dripping wet, supporting himself on the bone of the ger, heaving his breaths. As he heard, he waved his hand and seemed to have said something, but he panted so hard that they couldn’t make out what it was.

Striking another look, he was really a shaggy mess! With a face looking like a drenched chicken, his belt pulled off by someone, and even his tunic was ripped tattered half-way. Oyghrmuki was both startled and amused. “What happened?” he asked in haste.

Qu Fongning blushed, but didn’t answer.

Yujien already saw the vestiges of multiple red rouge prints on his face, and mixed with water, it really made a dismal look. “I knew you couldn’t hide from them,” he laughed, motioned him to sit hither, and wiped him clean with his thumb.

But Oyghrmuki still didn’t get it, and even huddled in press on the question. Yujien waved and shooed him off to the side. “This is one powerful ploy, and the most difficult one to resist in the world. It’s called … ‘the heart of a maiden.’ You’ll never understand!” he said.

Oyghrmuki immediately felt belittled. “How wouldn’t I understand? When the general was young—” he rebutted, but before he could finish, Yujien had sent him out with a kick.

Then he turned to chuckle at Qu Fongning. “It looks like you can’t go to the water side anymore.”

Qu Fongning was still clutching at his chest, unsettled in spirit. “I dare not go anymore. I’m actually a little scared!” Then, turning to regard him, he broke into a little smile and enquired, “When you were young, were you also chased by girls like this?”

Before Yujien could speak, Oyghrmuki shouted to cut in from the outside, “You wouldn’t imagine! I remember when our general was twenty years old. North from the Heavenly Mountain and south to Dali, girls swarmed everywhere like butterflies and chased our general east and west with nowhere to hide. And in the end, he could bear no more, grounded his teeth and slapped on a demon mask! Meaning you can all can chase all you like, but the old boy like you not!”

Qu Fongning nodded in enlightenment. The gaze that watched the mask also changed considerably.

“Hurry stoke the boss some fire!” barked Yujien. Then he turned and nipped Qu Fongning’s face, and dismissed with a chuckle. “Don’t listen to his babble. I looked really vicious when I was young, and people would sooner run away when they see me. How would there be anybody foolhardy enough to come chase?”

Qu Fongning held his hand with mischief flooding in his eyes, which were obviously saying: “I don’t believe you!”

Oyghrmuki finally raised the charcoal flames. As he carried it into the ger in with his two hands, he entreated Qu Fongning to watch out for the dampness, and urged him to take off his clothes to dry by the fire. Qu Fongning answered in the affirmative but didn’t hurry to undress. Instead, he took out a pair of silvery grey gloves and started carefully drying a damp corner.

Oyghrmuki saw and was curious again. “So many new gimmicks!” he remarked.

Qu Fongning nodded. “A friend gifted it to me,” he said.

Yujien studied the glove. It glittered with silvery sparkles, the silk texture soft and supple, the back was embroidered with a pale teal lonicera, the wrinkles at the wrist were extraordinarily exquisite, and the drawstrings were set with a ring of glistening jewel pieces. He knew at once. “This is one clever and crafty friend!” he said with a smile.

Lonicera was the Western Army’s crest; it flew year-round at the Wolfbend Mountain garrison. Qu Fongning saw he had guessed it, felt a little embarrassed, and faintly lifted his head. “Of course, it’s my friend!” he said.

Yujien, King Andai, Guo Wuliang, and Cher Baochi had built their deep connection through continual mutual supports along their long campaign since boyhood, hence their profound affections for each other were incomparable with anyone else. He placed great weight on the friendships made in the days of youth. And seeing Qu Fongning intimate with Little Ting’yu, his liking towards him augmented to another level.

Soon, the charcoal flames blushed scarlet and illuminated the interior of the ger warm and cozy. Qu Fongning took off his tunic to dry, revealing a smooth bare spine. While Oyghrmuki teased him as the “little furry chick,” his hands dug east and west, took out one of Yujien’s black commander-in-general garbs, and made him drape it over. It was a winter parka and was significantly larger than his summer tunic. Gowning it, Qu Fongning rolled up several loops and barely stretched his hands out. Yujien supported himself on his hand, watching him. “Your house really didn’t give you anything good to eat, eh? Haven’t grown a bit for all this time!” he teased.

Oyghrmuki immediately dragged Qu Fongning to the arched doorway to measure his height. Qu Fongning darted him a look along the tow and quietly made a few hand gestures towards him: “It’s you who grew too tall!”

Yujien watched on mirthfully. During the opening when Oyghrmuki went out to clear the martial field and prepare the bow marks, he told him, “These gestures are very good, they look good! Next year when we are down Jiangnan, you ought to make them like this.” And seeing a sleeve fell down on one side, he pulled him forward to help him roll back a couple loops.

Qu Fongning looked forward to it very much. “Okay!” he answered, and after some thought, he added in haste, “Then you ought not to lose me. I don’t know how to speak and I don’t know the way. If I get lost, I can’t come back. I heard the Southerners hate us. They for sure won’t give me anything to eat. If I go hungry for a couple days, there won’t be a me anymore!”

Yujien imagined him lost all by himself, banging a broken bowl and walking drearily in the Southern rains, and couldn’t help letting out a roaring laugh.

“It’s not funny at all!” Qu Fongning humphed softly, and said, “You’ll never find another exceptional student like me. It’ll be such a pity for him to die of hunger!”

“You are absolutely right. You’ve spoken fair and just. It looks like I need to furnish you with extra lessons in the Southern tongue?” said Yujien, smiling.

Qu Fongning’s eyes beamed with a glow. “Yes! I want to learn!” he said, catching onto his sleeve.

“This is not in our agreement. You want to learn, you need to first call something nice. Something studious, call mister, call sir!” said Yujien on purpose.

“Not calling!” Qu Fongning refused without consideration.

“Not teaching then!” Yujien feigned ire, sat up from the wolf head throne, preparing to swing him off.

Qu Fongning’ kneecaps were brushing against him, almost kneeling onto his thighs. He shook his sleeves and whined pitifully, “Then I’ll starve to death.”

Yujien knew it was pretending. With his ability in the rich, abundant lands of Jiangnan, how would there be a need to fret over sustenance? He saw, although his teeth and tongue were soft and gooey, his eyes were full of wiliness, obviously showing in plainness: “I am outright pretending, are you going to go for the hook or not?”

He also pretended to contemplate for a bit, feeling that this sort of adorable hook wouldn’t hurt having a go at it, and promptly spanked his bottom. “Then starve you to death!” he said, raised holding his hand, and took him towards the sleeping quarters on the rear cliffs.

Qu Fongning uncovered his evil-plan-accomplished grin, and deliberately asked, “General, where are we going?”

Yujien raised his arm, feigning a spank, and Qu Fongning instantly ducked to one side, giggling without cease. The long commander-in-general garbs dragged on the ground like a dress and became soiled with mud. Yujien was staring at him, and he hastened to lift it in rolls, held them in a pile in his arms, and started walking carefully, like a new bride coming to jump across the charcoal brazier at her husband’s house².

No one could find their wrath seeing this look. Yujien also laughed, exasperated. “Why can’t I be your elder? Little brat! The old boy is bigger than you by fifteen years!” he said.

Qu Fongning grinned but didn’t speak. He mused in his heart: “For this you gotta ask his Lordship Prince Qu. It’s he who doesn’t allow me to concede to your wishes. I was instructed as such! I am very innocent!” And the more he thought, the more he started giggling again.

~

Yujien’s sleeping quarter was certainly unique. Qu Fongning stood by the doorway and couldn’t help letting out an audible “ahh” as he looked east and west, trying to find whether the tent top had ripped open a hole, or which face of the vesture was pulled aside, and let the gust in. Or else, how could there be a floor full of knickknacks, blades and spears, tea set, go set, and tactic books everywhere, and all in a strewn mess?

Yujien appeared easy and strutted across the messy wreckage, impassive. “Men’s places should be like this.”

Qu Fongning curiously picked up the two lumps of curled-up clothes from the floor. The color was grey with dust and there were no strange smells, but to say it’s clean would be a stretch. “Doesn’t Grand Chamberlain Oyghrmuki manage for you?” he asked.

Yujien was digging amongst a couple of rectangular standing vases in the corner. “Men need their own secrets,” he said nonchalantly.

Qu Fongning was unconvinced. Judging from the level of unkemptness, even if there was any secret, he probably wouldn’t be able to find it himself.

Yujien plucked the calligraphy and art in the vase seven and eight askew, finally found an art scroll of yellow binding, and pulled it open. “This is the one, look!” he said gaily. He hung it on a bronze hook and pulled the holding string, and a long art scroll unrolled vertically into exhibition.

Lifting his head, Qu Fongning was taken aback as the painting projected itself onto his retina. And in an instant, his breathing nearly ceased.

Ink strokes drizzled across the scroll fabric, impressively illustrating the sublime rivers and mountains of Jiangnan.

He was momentarily silent, then focused his gaze, watching the mesmerizing, strange peaks, the curvy stripes of rivers, the misty rain across the landscape in just the right thickness and tint; it carried an unutterable air of refreshing elegance and gentility. With a few more looks, he very wished he could just walk into the painting and become the third autumn osmanthus, or the branch of plum blossoms by the willow pond.

Yujien observed the glittering light in his eyes. “What do you think?” he asked with a chuckle.

“It’s sublimely beautiful. I would love to live a whole life in this painting,” Qu Fongning answered dreamily.

Yujien smiled. “You thought the same as I,” he said, looking at the painting, and pointed. “The Southerners have no effective counters against our sieges and conquests, the martial ones still sharpens their blades and spears, but the literary ones can only transfer their sentiments onto the mountains and waters. However, if the attitude of transference is incorrect, the painting would not look pretty. Some people keep an unbalanced bitterness in their hearts; their strokes and brushes are filled with the air of blades and arms, and have completely lost the ethereality of art. Some people live such a surreal, nihilist life with their top and bottom empty, thinking that they eat not the mortal smokes of men. But in truth, their souls are dead, and their spirits are dastardly. This ‘Thousand Leaves Vista” has a rare manner of balance and composure, neither haughty in its beauty, nor servile in the face of power — pure and peaceful — it holds greatness in abstraction. This spirit of candor is extremely rare amongst the Southerners. Perhaps this is what it means to ‘do nothing to do something, begin well and finish well. ³’”

Qu Fongning understood none of the ideas, but followed to look. He only felt the misty waters and frosty trees all beautiful to sublimity, and the blankness between the dried ink and the white sheet loomed a deep sense of beckoning, graceful and genial, neither supercilious nor cavalier.

Then he saw a big segment of the top right corner blurred from moisture, unknown to be from rain or wine. There were a few lines of inscriptions, with the first few lines had already washed away, and the only visible portion read:

…jeweling the flourishing splendor of the sun and the moon, houses furnishing the scrolling fabrics of the crimson clouds.

Flickering of dawns, like fireflies flitting sparks upon withered stubbles,

Lighting and thunder, like summer bugs fluttering pinions on fall pales.

Brilliant magnificence of the plum blossoms, limitless winds of the vast universe.

With late spring as the ingredient, the grand course is to be.

In the ancient manners of Chang’an, the keeping gifts of the willow branch⁴, enter the seat aplenty,

Thousand li of Jiangling, the enchanting lures of the lush mountains, the feast all shall be.

Delicate hands of misty waters, waiting attentive in courtesies,

Long rains at budding times, filling golden grain distilleries.

Doors open for guests, will thou comest for a drink?

The bottom left inscription read:

First year after mid-century, Third month, the third, noon, after a nap at the Cloud Retaining Moon Assuming Repose. Work of leisure, and to remember Wu-lang.

He watched quietly for a while before asking, “General, what did you say this painting is called?”

“It’s called ‘Thousand Leaves Vista.’ The Southern Emperor Zhao Ting requested the palatial arts bureau to paint the ten thousand li of rivers and mountains. They called upon hundreds of painters, who, through works of heart and blood, painted him thousands of pieces, but he was satisfied with none. Only until this piece appeared, it finally suited to his pleasure, and he commended, ‘a thousand pages admitted, and not worth one of Shen-lang’s!’ And henceforth, the title of the ‘Thousand Leaves Vista’ came into circulation,” answered Yujien.

Qu Fongning nodded in understanding. “It seems like this Shen-lang must be an impressive artist,” he said.

“He is not an artist. His name is Shen Ziwan. He is an atmospheric figure in the Southern literary world. His Marquessate title is very interesting too, called ‘Idyll.’ Of the highs and lows of the Southern Empire, there isn’t one who doesn’t know Marquess of Idyll, Shen Qi’s grand name,” Yujien said with a laugh.

Then he pointed to the inscription and said, “He’s got some mouth! The heaven and earth, the sun and the moon are all vessels of his house; the sceneries of Jiangnan are but the courses on his feasts! The misty waters as concubines, the spring rain as wine, and he’s opening the front door to receive guests; anyone can go for a cup.”

Qu Fongning lifted his face in imagination, visualizing this cup of long rain at budding time a thousand li away, and he thought at length spirited away.

Yujien looked too towards the painted scroll, he spoke with a cold sneer, “‘Doors open for guests, will thou comest for a drink?’ Since he is so hospitable, how can we not humor his enthusiasm, and sweep his mood? And so it happens that the name of this painting sounds exactly the same as our tribe’s title in the Southern tongue. This ‘Thousand Leaves Vista,’ eh, is bound to belong to Chienye⁵.”

Qu Fongning’s lashes shuddered, and his fingers couldn’t help curling tight beneath the shroud of the sleeves. Coincidentally, Oyghrmuki called from the martial field. “The Southern states are more or less like this. I’ll tell you in depth in the future,” said Yujien. He extended his hand over naturally, held his hand, and led him away.

On the martial field that day, Yujien taught him the method of “Split shot”: to shoot out multiple arrows to hit multiple targets, and all without deviation. He explained the theories of multitasking the heart and mind and demonstrated with the bow. He nocked two black arrows on the string and released them simultaneously. One after another, they zoomed towards the mark. Yet the front arrow suddenly reduced its speed half-way in mid-air. The rear arrow quickened instead, and as it came upon the bow mark, it suddenly accelerated into a pierce — with a kalaa — it broke through the fore arrow along its parallel length, and dug deep into the red center.

Qu Fongning watched with enraptured wonder and hurried to start practice. Yet when he tried on hand, it turned out to be many times more difficult than usual. His express advancements in archery had large credit through the theories of “Synchronizing Harmony.” In past practices, he only needed to settle his heart in focus and project the path of travel of a singular object. How could it be easy to suddenly divide his attention in two? Yujien stayed behind him for explanations and corrections for an unprecedented length of three hours, but he still could not scratch on the method. As he practiced, his heart became increasingly engrossed with anxiety, and even missed his aim.

Yujien didn’t find it odd. He helped him tidy up the bow. “This split shot study is meant to train your humility. One must relieve their hauteur and anxiety, and with time and age, it will be learned,” he said.

Qu Fongning felt defeated and raised his face weakly from his envelope. “General, if I can’t learn this properly, are you going to break my hands?” he asked.

His height only reached Yujien’s chest. His jaw pressed on the breastplate mirror of his uniform, and his cheeks puffed up. Yujien regarded his wet, black eyes and felt a peculiar tenderness in his heart. It thumped gently. “How can I bear it?” he said with a chuckle.

Qu Fongning hastened to cover his ears. “Don’t come so close to me,” he said in a small voice.

Yujien finally remembered how to address him and deliberately leaned into his ear. “Mn? What?” he asked in his deep, low voice.

Qu Fongning’s ear flushed red at once and he dug his face fast into his chest. Yujien felt the muscles across Qu Fongning’s entire body tense, rigid, and even his composure became unsteady, for he had to hold on to one of his arms.

Qu Fongning refused to lift his face and appeared cross at his meritless victory. He humphed in his embrace, “Your voice sounds like teasing the tip of my heart with a feather! You mustn’t do this to me! I can’t take it!” he said.

Yujien felt immense contentment in finding his vital weakness. And he cradled him up the horse, crossed the misty autumn rain, and sent him back.

~

Qu Fongning’s heart flamed with anxiety. As soon as he got off the horse, he caught Uncle Hwei, and asked about the principles of the “split shot.” Uncle Hwei pondered at length, but also found no solution. His sky mesh hand had no set techniques. It dissolves challenges upon encounter; for it becomes strong in the face of strength, like boats rising with the height of the tide. He understood himself this method of split strikes, but he could not explain it plainly and succinctly to Qu Fongning. The two discussed late into the night, but still made no progress. Gerrgu woke after a sleep cycle. “… Actually having a harder time falling asleep not hearing Brother Fongning’s draw practice tonight,” he said dozily, kicked Cher Bien’s rear, and turned back to sleep.

Uncle Hwei patted Qu Fongning, indicating the idea wouldn’t come in a short time. There was no rush for resolution immediately, and a good solution was bound to come in the future. As soon as he laid down, he felt a warmth on his chest. Qu Fongning had snuggled up to him, resting in his arms. He heard a teeny voice ask, “Uncle Hwei, how big is the Southern Empire?”

“That is enormous,” Uncle Hwei answered quietly. “East to the eastern sea, west to the western pass, north to… Cangzhou, south to Yungui⁶. Four capitals, thirty states, two hundred forty prefectures, a vast twenty-nine thousand li.”

Qu Fongning sighed, lifted his hands and looked at it for length, and shook his head.

Uncle Hwei knew his thoughts and signed as well. “Take all under the sky as the web, and none will be lost.” He held his hand over his eyes and urged him to go to sleep.

Qu Fongning kept his eyes open in the darkness by himself, and only quietly fell asleep after a long time.

~

With this matter on his heart, he practiced with increased anxiety on the martial field on the following day. Even when he was being taught the southern tongue, he remained distracted and spirited away. Only until Yujien admonished him, “The time is short. If you can’t learn these phrases in the next three months, you must act a little mute!”

He finally panicked. “Isn’t there still half a year before the dawn of spring?” he asked in haste.

“Wishful thinking! The demeanor and air of the northerners deviate inherently from the southerners. If you just swagger down like this, it would be akin to a wolf strolling into a sheepfold. And they are going to drown you with their spit alone. Then how can you expect to sightsee with lax and ease? Before we go to Jiangnan, we’ll first go south to the Minnan and Fujian area⁷ and stay for three months. That is an infamously barbaric region in the Southern states. They lack no sorts of wild and strange things there. By then if you still got some exotic air about you, they’ll see you as a Minion⁸; and they wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. This strategy comes from the tactic of outflank, and it’s best for hiding one’s identity.”

Qu Fongning’s heart jumped. He raised his eyes and said, “General’s idea is truly fantastic. This way, they won’t suspect a thing!” Then he lowered his head and said, “the southerners are quite different from us. Their faces and bodies are all slenderer by a loop. Their skin is fine and pale. And when they talk, they always hold a slight frown, like they don’t really want to talk to you. And when they encounter things that should make them happy, they hide their faces behind the little goose feather fans and only show a little demurred smile, showing that she is kind of happy with what she was granted.”

As Yujien listened to the end, he understood he was talking about Lord Prince Qu’s Jiangnan concubines, and found his descriptions novel and interesting. “Southerners like to strive for ‘elegance’ in whatever they do, hence they always carry around a natural manner of unnaturalness. To say one sentence, they can run on a tangent to the edge of the horizon and the corners of the oceans. To make a pot of tea, they’ll broil it grand and slow, and take their long-refined sips. Let the clouds and mists gather around the peaks and mountains, and they won’t say a word. This is what’s most frustrating!” he said with a grimace, recalling the pretentious face of the southern magistrates during the peace treaty negotiations.

Qu Fongning held up his liquor bowl, acting out a burn with his fingers, and creased up his little brows. As Yujien saw it, how was this broiling tea? It was honing a knife! And he started to laugh again, completely throwing away all the serious manners of teaching.

~

And so it was for several days, when the literary and martial studies proceeded slowly and unproductively. Until one day, as Qu Fongning opened the bow in shot, a sudden light flashed across his head. “How am I so stupid? Synchronizing harmony, why would you need to connect with foreign objects!? You just need to focus your spirit on the arrow itself and let it become an extension of your body. Wouldn’t that do?” he mused. Then he immediately removed his focus from the bow mark and started performing the way of sky mesh. He focused his breath, directed his mind upon the body of the arrow until his spirit attached to it, fusing the two intentions together. And he shouted a call, “Return!” The arrow shot forth, and truly, before it touched the target, it turned around askew and landed by his feet, exactly like the path in his heart.

He was ecstatic with unutterable elation. And he followed to practice for six hours straight before retiring. By the end of the day, he could send out three arrows at once and hit targets of left, right and center instantaneously. Yujien saw him break through another difficult hurdle within a few days, and felt, among his genuine amazement, a thorough delight. With a few more days of training, not only did he refine the technique of split shot, his singular shorts also grew more and more handy.

Now everything finally suited to his wishes, and he became much more earnest in learning the southern tongue. The official southern language was precise and nuanced. Thus, he studied nothing of the abstruse, and only picked on some simple day-to-day phrases. Despite this, it was still difficult to catch on verbally. Often he would get the right pitch down, then he would forget the grammar and talk all topsy-turvies. Yujien taught him a phrase, “Kind soul, please be charitable, grant me something to eat!” He thought long and hard, and finally said, “Kind, soul be, charity give, please eat something of me!”

Yujien was so amused at hearing this that he couldn’t teach anymore. When he usually spoke the northern tongue, his voice was that of a youth with a touch of rustling scratch. It was vivacious and crisp, like a little creature full of vitality. And it was outgoing, ready to pounce on people anytime. Yet as he bit one word after another in the southern tongue, it was very different. It completely morphed into a sense of resistance, somewhat forbearing, and somewhat imperious. As though if you leaned closer a bit, he would be cross, sweep around his sleeve, and walk away. But this going away wouldn’t be cold and unforgiving. It was like he would turn around for a look anytime, to see whether you followed after him. This kind of voice, and the words it spoke all up-side down incoherent and inarticulate—It was irresistibly adorable! Yujien wouldn’t hear enough of it, and teased him to say it again and again. Every time laughing beside himself. But he didn’t correct him and let him remain mistaken.

Qu Fongning knew he was making fun of him, became very unwilling, and completely twisted around his neck. “Don’t want you to teach anymore!” he said. Yet after a while, he found another pretty blue cover booklet. He flipped through it. There were pictures and words. And he held it like holding a knife, leaned against his knees, and asked Yujien to teach him to read, forgetting altogether his recent renunciation.

Yujien took it, glanced over the cover, and smiled. “Yoo, little scholar, picked a poetry book,” he said. Turning open the cover, he quickly skimmed it once through, wanting to find the easiest one to teach him.

A moment later, he selected one, and taught:

“Sun rise river blossoms redder than fire, spring comes river waters as blue as azure.”

Qu Fongning repeated after him. This poem was very rhythmic and easy on the lips. Thus, he read perfectly without error. Although his enunciation was a little off, overall, it was very correct.

Yujien listened with surprise. “You’ve changed into somebody else? How come you talk so differently?” he said, pinching his face.

Qu Fongning immediately answered him in perfect northern tongue, “You sound very different yourself!”

“How so?” asked Yujien.

Qu Fongning gestured a bit, finding it too difficult, and outright dodged around this inquiry. And he immediately asked many questions, “What is the sunrise river blossom? There are blooms on the river? How come I’ve never seen it before? The flowers of Mei waters all bloom on the banks. In Khilan, there are flowers that grow on the waters, but they are tiny, and you can’t see them far away. They don’t look like fire at all!”

Yujien gestured as well, and felt no matter it was for him to explain or make him imagine it himself. It would be too difficult. And he thus answered no more and threw away the baton altogether. “You’ll know when you get to Jiangnan!”

Yet he still held his patience and finished teaching him this troublesome Southern poem. Qu Fongning propped against him and read quietly,

“Miss not the south of river? ⁹”

He chuckled silently in his heart, and slowly flopped down, pillowing entirely on Yujien’s knees, and refused anymore to get back up.

~

And so, day after day, all he read were verses from “Homeland three thousand li¹⁰,” “Greeting from friends and family of Luoyang¹¹,” “Ignorant of barbarians words, empty Chu man’s heart¹².” They noticed not of the longer drafty nights, and the rain outside the ger turning into hail and then turning into snow. Oyghrmuki was the worst with the cold. Well in advance of the weather, he fired up a circle of fire dragon on the ground, stoked a bowl of scarlet charcoal flames, and placed it next to the thick lambskin blankets in the main ger. The octagonal silver candelabras were lit with tallow lights. In this bright, cozy environment, no one could move after they sit down.

But none of this was of any use to Qu Fongning. When he was inside, he often leaned against Yujien’s body or on his lap. And later, he straight up sat in the hollow between his thighs, and let him completely envelop himself to teach poems against the flames. For the world revered Chienye Ghost Sovereign was only his backrest. Sometimes he would even doze off, and his drool would drip onto Yujien’s clothes. It was really preposterous. However, as soon as the lecture concluded, he would promptly wake up, and totter ruggedly towards the outside. Oyghrmuki, seeing his slim figure and paper-thin clothes, tried to retain him with great effort, urging him to stay over at his yurt. Qu Fongning thanked him, and said, “Where I live, it is as cold as outside, and I dress as thin as paper. If I get used to sleeping warmly, I can’t fall asleep once I go back.” He almost didn’t tear apart Grand Chamberlain Oyghrmuki’s heart, who frantically looked for many old pelts and fur coats, and bundled him up all tight and secure.

With the blink of the eye, it was the depth of winter in the twelfth moon. One day after the snowstorm settled, the draft bit back, and it was colder than usual. When the two were on their evening reading session, Oyghrmuki especially prepared a boiling pot of milk tea¹³ for Qu Fongning, and carried over two jars of fen chiew¹⁴ for Yujien, who ladled it in bowls and warmed it up over the fire. The liquor was all thirty, forty-year-old vintages, and as it baked on the flames, the entire ger interior permeated a vinous aroma. Qu Fongning cradled his milk tea pot watching him drinking with ease and verve, and couldn’t help staring at his rolling throat, and swallowing his drool. Yujien deliberately teased him with the liquor. “Come a drink?” Qu Fongning immediately nodded up and down, let go of the book altogether, and his eyes fixed on the bowl of liquor. Yujien held the bowl and bumped its sides on his lips in enticement. Just before Qu Fongning could drink, he pulled it far away. “Call something nice,” he chuckled.

For this sip of alcohol, Qu Fongning instantly threw away his hard shouldered dignity. “General!” he called especially sweetly.

The result was an icy rejection. “I’m tired of this one! Not good enough, a different one!”

Qu Fongning gnawed on his finger, thought long and hard, and gave him a fresh one: “Master?”

The results remained the same. “Tired! another!”

This really startled Qu Fongning. “Your house has slaves too? I heard from the little Lord Prince that military generals mustn’t keep slaves.”

“Qu Lyn only knows a little, not the whole deal. Other people can’t, but I can. Cher Baochi, Guo Wuliang, those two can as well,” he said. Thinking that he wouldn’t understand the politics anyway, he hooted, “anyway! This is old. Hurry another!”

Qu Fongning dug through his empty entrails, running through all manners of titles, “Lord Ghost Sovereign? Lord Master? … Tian-ge?” But one thing that he never deviated from, was to not call upon anything with relation to an elder. When Yujien heard the last one, he laughed so hard he almost couldn’t down his liquor. “Tian-ge? Then you are taking a huge favor, being the same generation as the King and General Guo! When Qu Lyn sees you, he needs to call you uncle!” he said, pinching his face.

Qu Fongning shivered. “He would for sure cut me into many pieces, and soak me in mare milk wine,” he said. Seeing that there was only a thin line of alcohol at the bottom of his bowl, he refused to give up and tried another one. “Da-ge¹⁵?”

Yujien laughed. “Very well, dead or alive, trying to get on with my generation. Then what should I call you in return? Little Brother Fongning? Brother Fongning… Ningning?”

For the last two characters, he suddenly changed to the southern tongue. It was deep and husky, like a secret murmur. Qu Fongning was already settled in his arms and felt his ear bones tingle at once. How could he withstand it? His face instantly scalded hot, and even the corners of his eyes flushed red. Yujien’s physique was much better than others. Even though it was in the ninth of winter, he was only clad with a single layer. At this moment he felt a sudden peculiar warmness before his chest and thought that Qu Fongning’s back must have sweated. And he said, “If the enemies call you this way on the battlefield, and you blush and flush like this, you are going to lose! This is called a weakness; you need to conquer it soon!”

Qu Fongning finally revived his senses and collapsed in his arms. He couldn’t speak and only made some hand gestures. “I’m only like this to you,” he motioned.

Yujien’s spirits exulted at once. “Then you don’t need to hurry conquer it,” he said, laughing. Took over the liquor and fed him a sip. This was the first time for Qu Fongning to drink such heavy liquor, and he almost choked into a cough. Once he recalled the aftertaste, he savored an incomparable bouquet and lingering sapor, and felt his entire body lifting afloat. Now he had the taste, he promptly asked for more from Yujien. After drinking a few sips, the intoxication caught up. He yawned a number and lazily drooped his lids. At the time, what was being taught was one of five Li Bai’s five best; “Quiet Night Thought.” He read the first two lines, and asked with hazy eyes, “General, this is kind of like the bow you gave me. There’s moon, there is… bow” As he said to the end, his articulation became sluggishly unclear.

Yujien saw he was about to fall asleep, turned around the arm that was wrapped about him, and let him rest on his shoulder.

Qu Fongning lifted his lids weakly. “General is the moon in the sky, I am… the frost on the loam,” he said.

Yujien found his words cute and smiled. “Mn, I will always shine upon you,” he said.

Qu Fongning struggled to nod his head. “Look up to regard the moon bright, bow down…¹⁶” he read, dropped crooked on his shoulder, and fell into slumber.

Oyghrmuki came in to change the charcoal and ravished the adorable sight. “Little Syr fell asleep?” He stretched out his hands to take him over.

Yujien braced Qu Fongning further into his arms and waved. “Your snoring is too loud. You are going to shake him awake.” With him sleeping soundly, he cradled him up, wrapped around the blanket, and made his way towards the rear cliff.

And left Grand Chamberlain Oyghrmuki gawking with malcontent.

“What about snoring!? Snoring makes a real man!”

~

In his slumbering stupor, Qu Fongning felt a pair of powerful arms lifting him up across through waves of heat, then into a storm of ice and snow. He didn’t want to move in his trance, and only shivered slightly. For a brief moment, he only heard leather boots trotting over thick snow, and the sound of heavy compression. Ten steps later, he came within a warm space. With the drop of the curtains, the draft and the wind were sealed to the outside. His last sense of consciousness was touching a broad surface, then sleep overtook him, and he knew nothing more.

Only until three long and two short shrill horn blares rang across the City of Ghosts, was he startled awake from this dark sweet sleep. He faintly heard Oyghrmuki’s hushed call by the threshold, “General, urgent report from Shezaar City.”

The person beside him shifted slightly, spun off, and started barefoot towards the curtain door. Light conversation passed from the threshold, and he barely perceived the words “Za’yii,” “Southern false surrender,” and “Royal Prince Badama.” Then he heard Yujien’s raspier than usual voice command: “Prepare the horses! Direct Kan Aqua and Tui Caliditas Divisions to strike camp immediately. Assemble at first quarter of Yin Time¹⁷ before Shezaar City.”

Oyghrmuki left on order. Yujien ensued in picking up clothes to dress. His superb vision allowed him to see in the dark, and just as he put on the outer layer, he saw the sable pelt blanket move. Qu Fongning was rubbing his eyes, sitting up, and groggily surveying the surroundings. “Woke you up?” he said and took down Flowing Fire from the vesture wall. The flame blade exhaled a breath, lighting together the two candlesticks by the bedsteads.

Qu Fongning had sleep all over his face, was completely unaware of his whereabouts, hummed twice in response, and subconsciously looked towards the light. When his semi-conscious vision swept across him, it suddenly expanded agape; there was only astonishment in his eyes, and null of somnolence.

Yujien finally realized, chuckled, and took down the grisly demon mask from the bronze armor. “Now I’ve lost the grand catch, you’ve seen it,” he said.

Seeing Qu Fongning still fixed dazedly on his face, he laughed. “Am I really grown this scary? Even your eyeballs are not moving anymore.”

Qu Fongning finally recovered his spirit and hastened to shake his head.

“No, I am… really surprised.”

“Disappointed?” said Yujien, chuckling.

Qu Fongning rocked his head, silently cursing profanity in his heart:

“The old boy only threw out a casual word. Who would know that he is really fucking supremely handsome without peer…”

Yujien finished in assemblage, donned his armor and equipped his lance. Finding that he was still sitting in a trance, he walked over. “Still not sleeping?” he scolded, and motioned to press him down. Qu Fongning instantly ducked from his hand. But how could he escape, was caught immediately, and started struggling at once. “You… are like somebody else,” he said, writhing.

“It’s me.” Yujien laughed in exasperation. He approached and loomed in. “You really want a proof? Hmm, Ningning?”

Qu Fongning screamed, floundered and rolled and escaped beneath the bed. Even his neck reddened. “You…you are doing this again!” he said, covering his ears.

Yujien chortled after bullying him. “Especially for you,” he said and hurried, “get up! It’s cold on the floor.” Flapping open the curtain façade, and was about to leave.

“General, where are you going?” Qu Fongning hurried to ask.

Yujien turned to look at him. “Shezaar City. Why, scared of sleeping alone? Want me to take you out for game?”

Qu Fongning’s eyes instantly brightened. “Want to go!” he replied.

A horse nickered outside the ger; Shadow Leaper had arrived by the threshold. Yujien pulled down the mask and took off a silvery-white mink coat from the vesture envelope. “Let’s go!” he said with a laugh. He held Qu Fongning, who was only in base layers, wrapped the mink furs around him, and braced him tightly in his arms. Hearing the whip cracking in mid-air, Shadow Leaper’s four hooves galloped into flight, carrying the two towards the southeast.

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