Some people’s lives are like wild grass – lowly in status, yet remarkably resilient. Even when bent by wind or burned by fire, they simply refuse to perish.
Ji Cheng was delirious with fever, believing her death was certain. Little did she know that just a bowl of cow’s milk and some softened dried flatbread would be enough to make her open her eyes.
Ji Cheng’s saviors were Aunt Saiya and her daughter Qing’er. While Saiya’s husband had marched south with Zhe Li’s army, his wife and daughter rescued Ji Cheng, a girl from the Central Plains.
In Aunt Saiya’s mind, fighting and killing were men’s affairs. They went south to plunder because there was no food to eat or clothes to wear at home. But she bore no grudge against the people of Da Qin. Regardless of where someone came from, she couldn’t ignore a person in need.
So the kind-hearted Aunt Saiya gave Ji Cheng a bowl of steaming hot cow’s milk.
Since death was not imminent, the only choice was to live on tenaciously. In just over ten days, Ji Cheng’s fever subsided, and she could move freely again. Too embarrassed to freeload off the Saiya family, she began herding sheep with Qing’er.
With all the men away at war, only women remained, forced to take on these exhausting and malodorous tasks. Ji Cheng surprised even herself with her adaptability. Once, the mere smell of sheep made her nauseous, but now she could sleep among them, even grateful for the warmth they provided against the wind.
The frontier was already bitterly cold by September.
Qing’er handed Ji Cheng a leather pouch filled with kumis. She had just taken a sip to ward off the chill. Ji Cheng, no longer the fastidious young lady of a wealthy household, took the pouch and drank. The sour and spicy liquid made her sniff repeatedly.
Qing’er burst into laughter. She knew a little of the Central Plains language and could communicate roughly with Ji Cheng. She was very curious about this girl from the Central Plains who had ended up alone in the frontier, always silent with eyes full of sorrow.
“How did you end up here?” Qing’er asked, sitting down next to Ji Cheng after her laughter subsided. She herded two sheep closer to block the wind.
Ji Cheng pointed at the sky above, indicating that Heaven had banished her here.
“What about your family?” Qing’er asked after a pause. She was somewhat afraid Ji Cheng might say her family had been killed by the Turks. Before meeting Ji Cheng, Qing’er believed they killed people from the Central Plains because those people were bad – rich while the Turks were poor. The Turks were just robbing the rich to help the poor, and besides, the people of the Central Plains looked down on them. Turks who fell into Central Plain’s hands died just as horribly. But after meeting Ji Cheng, Qing’er hoped her family hadn’t died at Turkish hands. It would make their relationship difficult.
Ji Cheng shook her head and said softly, “Gone.”
Qing’er looked at Ji Cheng sadly. “It’s alright. From now on, you can be my sister and live with us.”
Qing’er was only fifteen, but herding horses and sheep since childhood had weathered her skin, making her look older. So nineteen-year-old Ji Cheng appeared younger in comparison, hence being called “sister.”
Ji Cheng thanked her. She believed Qing’er’s heart was sincere now, but that was predicated on Saiya’s husband and son – Qing’er’s father and brothers – returning home.
The hatred between ethnic groups accumulates from such blood feuds, but the initial cause is not enmity between common people. Rather, it’s their leaders who provoke conflict for their merit, and power, and to occupy more land.
The common people are truly innocent, longing only for peace.
So although Ji Cheng, as a citizen of Da Qin, despised the Turks as a nation of mounted bandits, she felt no hatred when facing individual Turks. Unless, of course, that person had killed her family.
“A Cheng,” Qing’er called out Ji Cheng’s name with some difficulty. “Why are you always so sad?” Qing’er’s heart was as pure as the snow on the mountains, and her sunny disposition couldn’t bear to see sorrow on anyone’s face.
“You’re always looking south. Do you want to go home?” Qing’er asked again. In her heart, she thought that when her father and brothers returned, she’d ask them to escort this pretty little sister to the border and send her back to the Central Plains.
Ji Cheng shook her head. “I can’t go back.” It was precisely because she couldn’t – and didn’t have the face to – go back that she stared south day and night.
The simple Qing’er truly didn’t know how to comfort Ji Cheng. She suddenly stood up and let out a shout, then began singing a long tune of the grasslands.
Among the grassland people, everyone was a great singer. Qing’er’s voice was as beautiful as nature itself. She pulled Ji Cheng up. “Sing with me, I’ll teach you.”
Ji Cheng understood Qing’er’s good intentions and didn’t want to disappoint this kind-hearted girl. But she couldn’t force her lips to smile. Her heart was weeping and bleeding; others might see her as cold and unfeeling, but only she knew the extent of the rot within.
Try as she might, Qing’er couldn’t coax Ji Cheng to sing a single song. Ji Cheng’s forced smile looked worse than crying. As the setting sun signaled time to herd the sheep back to their pen, Qing’er produced a dust-covered flute from somewhere and handed it to Ji Cheng.
The flute was inlaid with gold trim, its tone deep and resonant, surely the work of a master craftsman. Such an instrument would be rare even in Da Qin. It was unclear how it had ended up in Saiya’s home, or perhaps it was better not to think about it.
Unable to sing, Ji Cheng could at least express her heart through the flute’s melody. She leaned against the doorway and played softly. The tune was formless, the melody unstructured, unlike anything heard before – it simply flowed from her heart.
Qing’er sat nearby, hugging her knees and listening, her face streaming with tears she couldn’t wipe away. Saiya’s rough voice suddenly rang out, startling Qing’er. She quickly pulled Ji Cheng to her feet, said something in reply to Saiya, and ran out with Ji Cheng.
“Mother said it sounds terrible and won’t let you play,” Qing’er said sadly. “But I know she was thinking of Father and my brothers while listening to your flute. Tomorrow when we go herding, will you teach me how to play?”
Ji Cheng nodded.
Days flowed by like the winding rivers of the frontier, never to return. The first snowflake floated down from the sky, but the men of the grasslands had not yet come back. Saiya’s yurt seemed like a paradise, cut off from all news.
In truth, everyone’s heart desperately hoped to hear news of the war, even the slightest bit, to avoid being scared witless by their imagination.
That night, Saiya’s yurt received a guest – Saiya’s sister Duolan, who had married into another tribe.
Duolan was a very stout woman, probably twice Ji Cheng’s weight, with ruddy cheeks and a thick chest. Her voice was even louder than Saiya’s; when she spoke, it felt like the ground beneath one’s feet might shake.
Duolan’s husband’s tribe had also gone south with Zhe Li, but because her family lived near West Town, they knew more small news than Saiya’s family.
Duolan had ridden for several days specifically to bring Saiya good news. Women’s lives weren’t easy, so naturally, when the good news came, one would spare no effort to tell a sister.
Ji Cheng leaned against Qing’er, listening tensely to Duolan’s words. She could only understand a few words of what Duolan said, and put together, they made no sense.
She only knew that Saiya and Qing’er were smiling broadly after hearing it, and Qing’er even began humming a tune.
Ji Cheng gently tugged at Qing’er’s sleeve and asked quietly, “What did Aunt Duolan say?”
Qing’er replied, “Our Turks won a great victory. It’s all over the grasslands now. Aunt Duolan came specially to tell us. We’re in for a treat tonight – Mother’s going to slaughter a sheep, and we’ll have roast whole lamb.” Qing’er licked her lips as if already smelling the aroma of roast lamb.
That night, Saiya’s family was overjoyed, but Ji Cheng rode the horse that had brought her here to a distant hilltop and played the flute all night.
One never knows how much they’ll miss home until they’ve left it.
Ji Cheng’s mood plummeted to rock bottom. The Turks had achieved a great victory – did that mean Shen Che…
Ji Cheng quickly shook her head, telling herself this was all temporary. Duolan might not have accurate information about the war; she had said it was just hearsay. Even if the Turks had won temporarily, it could be part of the Northern Expedition Army’s strategy to lure the enemy. She couldn’t let her imagination run wild.
Ji Cheng’s heart was torn like this, never resting for a moment.
Time passed similarly.
The grass withered and the leaves turned yellow. Snow fell again and again. By her calculations, it was now the Winter Solstice, the most important day in Da Qin for family reunions and ancestor worship. Ji Cheng could almost smell the incense.
“Father! It’s Father!” Qing’er’s voice rang out in the vast night sky, cutting through the darkness like a sharp knife.
Ji Cheng, who was feeding sheep in the pen, ran out upon hearing the sound. She saw three horses galloping towards the tent, faintly making out three men.
Saiya had already rushed out of the tent, running towards the horses. The riders swiftly dismounted, embracing Saiya and Qing’er, who had followed.
In the lamplight, Ji Cheng’s heart rejoiced for Saiya and Qing’er. Although Saiya’s husband had lost a leg, he had returned – Saiya’s greatest wish.
Qing’er’s two brothers, being young and agile, hadn’t lost any limbs. However, one had a long scar on his face but survived, while the other had a broken arm that would take two to three months to heal.
Regardless, Saiya and Qing’er were overjoyed, crying tears of happiness.
The Turks had been badly defeated, and many men and sons would never return. But Saiya’s family seemed blessed by heaven. That night, their tent was filled with singing and dancing, brimming with joy.
Qing’er tugged at Ji Cheng, shouting, “A Cheng, play us a tune, play us a tune! A happy one, a happy one!”
If even the defeated could rejoice, how could Ji Cheng not play a merry tune for them?
When one doesn’t constantly think only of oneself, it becomes easy to find happiness.
Qing’er’s joy was so pure and intense that Ji Cheng was infected by it. She played a Da Qin drinking song, then was pulled up by Qing’er. Holding Qing’er’s hand on her left and Qing’er’s little sister’s hand on her right, the whole family danced around the fire.
The aroma of roast lamb filled the air, and the kumis was fragrant. In her alcohol-induced haze, Ji Cheng thought she saw Shen Che’s figure.
She stared, almost entranced, circling the fire alone twice before realizing that the songs and laughter around her had vanished.
A neat row of black iron armor stood just outside the tent.
Qing’er and her little sister were so frightened their legs went weak. Their father and brothers stepped forward to shield them.
Saiya, like a mother hen, spread her arms to protect her husband and sons, glaring hatefully at the Central Plains men. It seemed that if they dared take one step forward, she would pounce and tear them apart.
Shen Che just stood there, motionless.
The wine jug in Ji Cheng’s hand fell to the ground, splashing her shoes. She walked forward a few steps, past Saiya, and heard Shen Che say in an icy, indifferent voice, “Take her away.”
Nan Gui jumped down from his horse, walked to Ji Cheng’s side, and gestured for her to move forward.
Ji Cheng looked back at Qing’er’s family. Qing’er had already run out from behind her father, shouting, “A Cheng!”
Seeing Qing’er about to chase after her, Ji Cheng quickly called out, “I’m fine, Qing’er.”
Qing’er burst into tears. Those men looked so fierce, but she couldn’t help Ji Cheng. All she could do was cry.
Ji Cheng was helped onto a horse by Nan Gui. She could only look back at Qing’er’s family tent, its orange firelight like a warm, big orange.
Saiya’s family was still in shock. They had thought the Da Qin people had come to kill them and expected to die. Who knew that the squad of black-armored soldiers had come only to capture that Central Plains woman?
Saiya had just calmed her racing heart and caught her breath when, before she could lower her hand, they heard hoofbeats again. Someone entered, lifting the tent flap.
Qing’er and her little sister screamed again. The person who entered was the same ice-cold Da Qin man from before.
Shen Che carried a cloth bag. He bent down to place it on the small table in the center of Saiya’s tent, then gave them a Turkish salute before turning to leave.
Saiya’s family looked at each other, not knowing what was happening.
It was the little sister, who had been the most frightened but also recovered the quickest, who curiously looked at the bag on the table and then ran over.
“Ah, such big gold pieces!” the little sister cried out.
There were four gold ingots, enough to buy all of Saiya’s cattle and sheep, with money left over.
That night, Saiya and her husband huddled together in bed, still discussing the matter.
Hule asked Saiya, “How did that girl end up in our home?”
“Shortly after you left, Qing’er and I found her while herding sheep near the hill. She was slumped over her horse, barely breathing,” Saiya said. “She was usually very obedient, just didn’t like to talk. I wonder who she is, to have so many people come to capture her?”
Saiya was a simple woman with limited knowledge, but Hule had been on the battlefield. “Those were the Black Armor troops of the Shen family of Da Qin.”
These elite soldiers were said to be worth ten ordinary men on the battlefield and were rumored to be the personal guards of the Great Northern Marshal. Troops like Saiya’s never had a chance to face such elite units. The Black Armor troops were just a legend to them.
This time, the Turks had been winning, and on the verge of victory, but it was precisely this Black Armor unit that turned the tide of battle, leading to their ultimate defeat.
Hearing how formidable the Black Armor troops were, Saiya exclaimed softly, “Heavens, what kind of background does A Cheng have?”
This was a question Hule also wanted to ask.
“Why did that man give us so much gold?” Saiya’s questions came one after another.
Hule thought for a while before saying, “It must be to thank us for saving that young lady.”
Meanwhile, Ji Cheng, who had been “captured” by Shen Che, never saw him again during the journey. She was “escorted” back to Da Qin by the Black Armor troops. After crossing the border, they switched to inconspicuous guards who protected her in the capital.
Ji Cheng saw Shen Che again at a pavilion on the outskirts of the capital. The two groups joined and headed towards the Shen mansion together.
She sat in the carriage, while Shen Che rode ahead on horseback, never looking back.