Chapter 55: Reunion with an Old Friend (Please Add to Favorites)

Sangkun and Zhamuhe had pinned all their hopes on this expedition, mobilizing nearly all their main forces, who were now assembled outside the camp. Except for the outer ring of sentries and a few stragglers and women left to guard the livestock and treasures, the camp was nearly empty. Cheng Lingsu and her companions were in an out-of-the-way corner, so no one noticed what was happening there.

The clear Onon River was the source of all Mongol bloodlines. Its icy depths reflected the sky, and the boundless grasslands undulated gently. Under the iron hooves of the tall, spirited horses, green shadows flew up like scattered snow, nearly blending with the blue heavens, as if one could gallop across the plain forever and break through the layers of white clouds to reach the edge of the sky.

At the source of the Onon River, Mongol warriors, brave and unyielding, and passionate, singing, dancing maidens filled the air with joyous noise. Wang Khan had fled far, Sangkun had fallen, Zhamuhe was captured, and every cup was raised in celebration of Temujin, whose name now thundered across the steppes.

Everyone had gone to the source of the Onon. Temujin’s main camp was suddenly silent, not even a whisper to be heard.

Outside one tent, a small wooden cauldron stood in the corner, its deep yellow hue almost blending entirely with the tent’s dull yellow fabric. If one didn’t look closely, even on the busiest days, no one would notice this delicate, jade-like object, no bigger than a palm.

A thin young man appeared as if out of thin air, standing half a step from the wooden cauldron, motionless. He wore an ordinary Mongol robe that hung loosely from his bony frame, fluttering in the wind.

“You’re leaving?” he suddenly asked, lifting a face that looked far too haggard for his age. He spoke in Chinese, his voice hoarse like the creaking of old wooden window frames in a winter wind.

The tent flap moved, and Cheng Lingsu stepped out, a small bundle on her shoulder and a tiny basin of flowers in her hands. Speaking as she switched hands to hold the flowers, she walked beneath the tent’s eaves, picked up the wooden cauldron, and held it carefully.

The young man started in fright, taking a step back.

Seeing him recoil as if from a wild beast, Cheng Lingsu sighed. She put the flowerpot down, took out a cloth, and carefully wrapped the wooden cauldron.

“I’m a merchant,” the young man said, his pale face improving slightly, though his voice still trembled. “Since the item’s sold, don’t let me see it again.” He fumbled in his robe, pulled out a cloth bag, and tossed it to Cheng Lingsu. “This is what you wanted last time. Check it.”

She took it, tied the wrapped cauldron to her waist, and opened the bag. Inside was a tiny knife, no longer than a finger, its blade thin and razor-sharp, along with four gold needles of varying lengths.

“Well?” The young man watched her intently, unwilling to miss a single change in her expression.

“Perfect.” Cheng Lingsu pinched the knife between thumb and forefinger, replaced it, bundled it with the needles, and tucked it into her clothes. “Thank you.”

“What about my payment?” the young man asked, relief and hope mingling in his eyes.

Cheng Lingsu lifted the flowerpot and held it out to him. “This flower is yours. Place a bottle of wine beside it and, every three months, pluck a blue blossom and bury it in the soil. Not only snakes and scorpions, but within ten paces, not a blade of grass will grow nor an insect remain.”

His eyes lit up with delight. “So… I’ll never have poisonous insects crawling on me again?”

She nodded. “These blue and white flowers restrain and support each other. As long as the ‘Tihuxiang’ in the middle lives, you can keep growing the blue ones yourself.”

Overwhelmed, the young man hugged the flowerpot tightly, his hands trembling.

“I really must go now,” Cheng Lingsu said.

At her words, the young man turned and left at once.

Cheng Lingsu raised her voice behind him: “All these years, you’ve helped me find this and that. Though we called it business, I truly benefited. You found these flower seeds for me; I just kept them alive. So this time, I still owe you. If ever you need anything, just come to me.”

But the young man kept his head down, eyes fixed on the flowers, whether he heard her or not.

Cheng Lingsu sighed again, glancing toward the source of the Onon River, where waves of celebration echoed across the steppe. She took the reins of the dappled blue horse tied out front, mounted with practiced ease, and rode south.

“Hua Zheng! Hua Zheng!” She had ridden just ten miles when the clear cries of eagles split the sky. Behind her, the thunder of hooves and the crack of whips—like a string of firecrackers—drew ever closer.

Cheng Lingsu reined in her horse and turned. There was Tolui, who should have been at the assembly by the Onon, riding alone at full speed. Two young white eagles circled overhead, wings outstretched, swooping low across the horse’s path.

Tolui yanked his reins as he reached her, his mount coming to a sudden, rearing halt. Sweating and flustered, he untied a leather pouch from his saddle and fastened it to hers. “Father will be angry, but you’re still his daughter. If you tire of wandering and want to come home, don’t be afraid. Just come back.”

“Tolui…” Cheng Lingsu had expected resistance and was preparing her explanation, but the usually boisterous Tolui spoke with such surprising gentleness.

He leaned from his saddle and placed a reassuring arm around her shoulders. “If you ride south, you’ll reach the Jin lands. The Jurchen are full of tricks. Wang Khan attacked Father because he was manipulated by Wanyan Honglie of Jin. They’re not like us, children of the steppe. Their promises mean little. Be careful. Don’t let anyone deceive you.”

Cheng Lingsu laughed, nodded, and whistled. The two white eagles called back and landed on the riders’ shoulders.

She teased one eagle’s talons. It lowered its beak and nuzzled her palm before flapping its wings again.

“Go, quickly. If Father finds us both missing, he’ll send men after us.” Tolui shooed the eagle off Cheng Lingsu’s shoulder, but the bird, clever and fierce, pecked his hand instead.

Even not yet full grown, the eagle’s bite was sharp. Watching Tolui gape at the red welt, Cheng Lingsu burst out laughing.

Her clear laughter mingled with the wind, sending ripples of green across the grass as if the whole prairie were dancing to her joy.

She could no longer remember the last time she had laughed so freely; the pang of leaving seemed to drift away with her laughter. Whether Medicine King’s Manor or the Mongol desert, Cheng Lingsu had always been quick to go when she wished. Feeling lighthearted, she clapped Tolui’s shoulder, bade him “take care,” and wheeled her horse south without another glance.

The two white eagles spread their wings like clouds trailing behind her. They soared in graceful arcs before one veered left and the other right. From afar, the blue horse’s flying hooves seemed to sprout wings of their own, and the girl in the saddle, her hair streaming out, looked almost otherworldly.

Above, the clouds drifted in soft, overlapping layers, sometimes parting to reveal a sky of the purest blue. The endless grasslands and deserts stretched to the horizon, seeming to go on forever.

Cheng Lingsu rode on, wind roaring in her ears, the open vista before her filling her with an exhilarating sense of freedom.

In these vast lands—yellow sands and green grass—it was easy to lose one’s way. Even seasoned traders paused every few miles to check their bearings. But Cheng Lingsu had no such worries. Her white eagles soared high, their keen eyes spotting every inn and outpost along the trade routes, and her blue horse followed their shadows without missing a single stop.

After a few days, she crossed the steppe and desert, reaching the banks of the Blackwater River. The eagles cried out, circling above a roadside inn.

Cheng Lingsu drew a deep breath, knowing she had finally set foot in the Central Plains. She was about to ride to the inn when a familiar sound of camel bells reached her ears.

She frowned. The melody was utterly unlike the bells she’d heard in merchant caravans, and sure enough, as she drew nearer, she saw four snow-white camels by the roadside, tossing their heads and ringing their bells.

Author’s note: Here’s an explanation of the origins of Lingsu’s medicinal herbs and flowers—a certain young man isn’t just a passing character; he’ll play a crucial role later! Farewell to the grasslands and desert! I haven’t been to the great moonlit desert, but I have seen the prairie—it’s as endless as Windows wallpaper! Here are two photos I took years ago of the blue sky, white clouds, grasslands, and adorable horses—truly stunning!

And now, a bit of chat between me and a friend about this chapter:
Me: What do I do if the male lead keeps disappearing?
Friend: Leave his “jj” behind!
Me: The “jj” is still wandering everywhere…
Ouyang Ke: …