“Nai Ri” was a grand occasion. Before the Great Tang iron cavalry had set foot on the steppe, this day was Xie Li’s favorite, because every time this day arrived, he would receive vast amounts of treasure, cattle and sheep. Of course, beautiful women were a necessary element. But these years that was no longer the case. To be able to perform beautiful dances well, he had almost completely abstained from all pleasures, spending all day in his modest residence researching dance techniques, because the Emperor always loved watching his dances.
Those small tribes coming to pay tribute weren’t qualified to go to Chang’an, so they could only on this day of Nai Ri hand over their gifts to the Great Tang border troops, asking them to submit their respects on their behalf to the great “Heavenly Khan.”
Skimming a layer off money passing through hands—this had been a rule since ancient times. As for when exactly it appeared, there was no way to verify. The border troops generally followed a half-and-half rule—that is, however much they gave His Majesty, the border troops would intercept an equal amount. His Majesty the Emperor’s quota was already fixed long ago. No one dared arbitrarily change it—not a single strand of sheep’s wool could be missing. So the other half the border troops needed had to come from the steppe chieftains themselves. Not giving would probably not be very good.
Na Rimu had no such worries. To her, Nai Ri was just a good day for listening to the huqin, singing, holding hands and dancing circle dances, and laying out good things for everyone to eat. As for whether other families were happy or not, Na Rimu never cared.
The sun hadn’t yet risen when Na Rimu already woke. She removed the claw her little girl had on her soft bosom, then covered her daughter sleeping sprawled out with a blanket. Seeing Huan Niang still sleeping, she put on clothes and was about to leave the tent.
“Leave the cattle and sheep to the herders. You’re going to attend Nai Ri today. Do you really plan to let a little girl who understands nothing go in your place? Aren’t you ashamed?” Huan Niang’s gentle voice came from another bed.
Na Rimu wrinkled her nose and helplessly took off her clothes and lay back in bed. The time was still early—there was no need to go attend Nai Ri right now. Their household was the honored guest. The later they went, the more it showed their status was precious. Huan Niang had long since taught this.
But she couldn’t sleep. At this time on ordinary days, she would have already finished washing up, drunk a bowl of butter tea, and eaten two balls of tsampa. She would ride her horse driving the sheep herd toward the grasslands, taking advantage of the green grass not yet wilted by the sun, letting the sheep eat a few more mouthfuls of fresh grass, each one growing fat and plump. This was a shepherd’s greatest hope.
The little girl’s sleeping posture was exactly like her father’s. Na Rimu gazed at the girl burrowing into her embrace again, her little hand naturally climbing onto her breast, and thought sweetly.
How did she spend her mornings at home? Right—buns. How could the Yun family’s morning lack buns? The cooks would stuff all kinds of things into dough wrappers and steam all kinds of large buns. Thinking of those buns that sprayed fragrance with one bite, Na Rimu swallowed a big mouthful of saliva. The steppe had few things—apart from meat buns there was nothing else. Na Rimu very much wanted to eat the three-delicacy filling buns from home. She said softly to Huan Niang, “Shall we eat buns this morning? Not meat buns—I want to eat three-delicacy filling buns.”
Huan Niang laughed with a snort. Speaking softly, she said, “Alright, today we’ll eat vermicelli and sand-leek mutton filling buns. I’ll add a bit of ground-ear to the filling—the taste will definitely be good. You take your daughter and sleep a bit more. I’ll go make them for you right now. The cook has to fry oil cakes today. The dough was already leavened last night.”
Na Rimu unknowingly fell asleep again. In her dream, she saw Lord Husband again. He always looked at her with a mischievous smile, gently embracing her as they strolled along the Dongyang River bank. Sometimes he would even kiss her earlobe, making her itch all over comfortably. Warm river water surrounded her… In her sleep, Na Rimu’s willow-leaf eyebrows stood on end, because she clearly knew this was a dream. The only reason she felt warmth could only be that her daughter had wet the bed.
She opened her eyes and felt the bed platform with her hand. Indeed it was so—the bed platform was wet over a large area. Her undergarments were also damp. The waist and abdomen area suffered the worst disaster. Furious, she searched for the culprit, only to discover her daughter sleeping on Huan Niang’s bed, clutching a blanket and looking at her innocently.
Huan Niang entered the tent with a headache, lifting the curtain. She separated the mother and daughter. As for who exactly wet the bed, it couldn’t be determined in a short time. From the mother and daughter’s debate, it must have been Na Rimu who wet it, because the little girl stated facts clearly with sufficient evidence. Na Rimu still couldn’t out-argue her own daughter. As for what really happened, Huan Niang knew perfectly well. This case didn’t need to be decided clearly. She had servants heat a large bucket of hot water and chased the mother and daughter to bathe. Carrying the smell of urine, there was no way to attend the Nai Ri assembly. As for Na Rimu’s grievances, who would care about her? Such a grown person couldn’t even out-argue her daughter—shameful.
After bathing, the mother and daughter, dressed up sweet-smelling, sat at the large wooden table eating buns and drinking thin porridge. The little girl guiltily glanced at the mattress and blanket Huan Niang was airing on the rope, immediately tensed her little face, held her porridge bowl and drank in large gulps. Buns were her favorite food, but today they didn’t seem to arouse her appetite at all, because her mother kept staring at her fiercely.
Outside the Yun family pasture’s fence, many people had already arrived, all busy setting up tents. Many were set up along the small river, all brand-new hemp cloth tents. Some even hung blue triangular flags on top of their tents, fluttering in the wind, very beautiful.
Yun Jiu led people building a very large shed right in the center. It was already completed. A very large Yun family Cloud-Turning banner was being hauled up the flagpole—imposing no matter how you looked at it.
A long horn sound rang out. Some fellows riding horses ran out from the mountains. Apart from Tubo people, no one else would wear fur robes in summer. The great robes were convenient—during the day worn as clothes, at night used as blankets. When nature called, they’d squat right there and speak with you openly. Only when they stood up and left would you realize that just now while talking with you, they had simultaneously handled their internal affairs, leaving behind a large puddle of yellow and white matter to your great astonishment.
A people who could survive among high mountains and white snow were naturally fierce and tough. Add to that their difficult lives, and they didn’t take death seriously. When fighting, they were vicious, brutal. The formidable ones smeared yellow mud on their faces, indicating they were very fierce—don’t provoke me. The more cowardly ones would have a fox tail tied to the back of their heads, indicating their courage was small like a fox, easily startled.
They generally didn’t dare come to the Yin Mountains. General Hou forbade them from bringing weapons down. If caught, they would be skewered on wooden stakes—a miserable end. Only for trade would they dare come down from the highlands empty-handed, taking their things to the Yin Mountains to exchange for pots, strong liquor, grain, and hemp cloth to bring back to the highlands. Fortunately though, these people were very trustworthy. Na Rimu loved dealing with such people. Last time, the Tubo people brought fifty clouded leopard pelts, not enough to exchange for ten jars of strong liquor. Na Rimu permitted them to buy on credit. The chieftain took a red coral bead from his clothes as collateral and went back.
Who knew that when the snow and wind were at their worst, three Tubo men came to deliver compensation to the Yun family—two huge black bear pelts. Na Rimu entertained them with a bellyful of liquor and they went back. Later she heard from Yun Jiu that these three fellows had frozen into ice sculptures at the mountain pass, still clutching the coral bead in their hands without letting go. He didn’t dare touch it and came back.
General Hou was also very curious that these people could come down from the highlands when the snow and wind were at their worst. He dispatched the most elite scouts to explore the route. Result: of twenty men, only eight returned. The rest all lost their lives on the snow plains. They brought back just one statement—three to five people might be able to cross, but there was no possibility whatsoever for a great army. The palm-width narrow path was all ice and snow, with ten-thousand-zhang cliffs below. If you fell, it would be quite a while before you could hear the sound of landing.
Only then did General Hou feel at ease. This spring, Na Rimu had the Tubo people who came here relay a message to that chieftain saying: I didn’t urge you to deliver the goods. It would have been fine to give them to me at Nai Ri. Why send people in heavy snow and wind? Warriors’ lives shouldn’t be wasted like this.
Na Rimu put on her veil, wore her imperial conferment attire, and inserted a flying phoenix hairpin. The workmanship was exquisite—as long as she walked, this flying phoenix would tremble as if flying. Na Rimu loved this hairpin because Xinyue didn’t have one. This was bestowed to Na Rimu by the Empress when her daughter was born. Today she must wear it. Huan Niang said this was status!
The little girl held two buns with the big dog following behind. She ate one herself and held the other bun to Wangcai’s mouth. She saw Wangcai’s tongue curl, and without even chewing, it swallowed. The girl curiously pried open Wangcai’s big mouth to see where it hid the bun, but was slapped on the bottom by Huan Niang, who took her to wash her hands. Good heavens, which family’s noble lady would pry open a dog’s mouth? Thinking about how next spring they would go see the Marquis, Huan Niang got successive headaches.
Boom boom boom—the war drums sounded. A cavalry troop slowly emerged from behind the hills. The huge character Zhang on the banner indicated the visitor was Daizhou Governor Zhang Baoxiang.
Li Jing was nearly ruined by this fellow. Back when they finished off Xie Li, Zhang Baoxiang reported that Khan Yinan was leading fifty thousand troops in a mighty force attacking the Yin Mountains. For this, Li Jing, Li Ji, and Chai Shao specially prepared a large trap, planning to swallow this Khan Yinan in one gulp. Who knew that after surrounding them, they discovered this fellow had only brought five thousand personal guards. He had come to observe whether Great Tang had any desire to continue attacking—he hadn’t planned to fight at all. Now things became serious. What crime was falsely reporting military intelligence? Everyone knew clearly. To preserve his subordinate’s life, Li Jing concealed this matter. As a result, the Bai Qi Si fellows reported this matter in complete detail to the Emperor. This made the Emperor think the great generals wanted to rebel. He sent Yun Ye away, dispatched Zhangsun Wuji to inspect the Dingxiang Army, and sent the twelve-year-old Li Ke to deliver medicine to Chai Shao, planning to see what the actual situation was. After learning the truth, the meddlesome Li Jing was brought back to Chang’an to serve as Prefect, staying under the Emperor’s nose not daring to move. When Chai Shao returned to the capital, he became a civil official, never again touching military seals. As for Zhang Baoxiang, everyone seemed to have forgotten this person—no one mentioned him again. This filled Yun Ye with wariness toward this mysterious fellow.