A naive young girl straddled the man’s waist, lifting her hips to sit, and one could hardly expect her to be an expert horsewoman in this regard. Xu Fengnian, however, was quite experienced. Just a moment ago, he had been playing the part of a chaste and righteous man, solemnly urging the girl to maintain her dignity. Yet, upon seeing her take the initiative, his demeanor instantly changed. Muttering, “Let me, let me,” he hurriedly began undressing himself without hesitation. To engage in wild passion amidst the wilderness, lying on the open earth beneath the sky, indulging in unrestrained intimacy with a Northern Liang woman—wasn’t this the dream of many weak and effeminate sons of Northern Liang aristocrats? Xu Fengnian had seen too many such bookish men, too frail to even tie up a chicken, who fancied themselves equal to battlefield generals simply because they had lain with a Northern Liang prostitute in a pleasure house.
Xu Fengnian gazed clearly at the girl, who seemed to weep and smile at once. He slowed his movements, which had mostly been for show, and noticed her eyes—lively, not in the way of sharp-wittedness that pierces directly into a person’s heart, but rather in their purity, untouched by the dust of the world, unacquainted with filth. Such a woman, with such eyes, would inevitably vanish like a clear lake upon this grassland, dissolving into the desert sands. This year they met, but next year, who knows? Even if she were a lost princess fallen among the steppes, even if she returned to palatial halls, what good would it do?
Though Xu Fengnian had abandoned the desire to strip off all his clothes and reveal himself completely, was he not still allowed to take a few small liberties? Smiling slightly and shaking his head to reassure her, he placed his hands on her slender waist, firm with elasticity, and positioned himself in a manner that defied propriety. The saying among lecherous men, “A sword below the waist that slays beauties,” was perhaps the most accurate depiction of Xu Fengnian at this moment.
Though the girl was innocent and pure, women mature early. No matter how naïve she might be, she was no fool. She understood what kind of “beast” she was suppressing beneath her soft bottom. Riding a horse or tending sheep would never feel so embarrassing. This was not the coquettish teasing of a courtesan, yet even Xu Fengnian, who had long wandered among flowers without a single petal sticking to his robe, found himself thinking that those kings who abandoned court for love were perhaps not so foolish after all.
Xu Fengnian’s hands slowly slid downward, naturally finding their mark. This was a skill honed through practice. In his three years of wandering, he had impressed Wu Hua with such techniques. Unfortunately, that fellow’s talent was miles behind the young master. He could never pull off that righteous expression of a moralist, and worse, he bore the face of a lecher begging for a beating. Every time he gathered courage to grope in the marketplace, Xu Fengnian had to step in to save him, making Wu Hua drool and pretend to be his idiot brother. Soft-hearted girls would pity him, but fiery ones would beat him mercilessly, dragging Xu Fengnian into the fray as well. Among them, Xuan Qinfeng had been particularly relentless, chasing them down several streets with her henchmen. No wonder Wu Hua bore such a grudge against that woman.
The girl said nothing, only widening her eyes. Xu Fengnian, who could hardly bear either a woman’s tears or such pure eyes, could only sheepishly withdraw his hands and curse with a smile, “Am I not even allowed to pat the horse’s butt if I can’t ride it?”
The girl, unfamiliar with double entendres, thought hard. When she finally grasped the meaning, she clumsily revealed a delayed shyness. Seeing her adorable innocence, Xu Fengnian found himself unable to continue. Sitting up, he pulled her into his arms, inhaling the fragrance of her black hair, feeling her trembling virginity, and sighed deeply before slowly letting go.
The Northern Liang people were bold in customs. There were days legally sanctioned for flirtation, customs of abduction for marriage, and traditions of younger sisters succeeding elder ones, or marrying the mother or widowed sister-in-law—perfect reasons for the refined scholars of Central Plains to denounce the Northern Liang as barbarians. He placed her beside him, laid the spring thunder across his knees, and gazed at the lake, lost in thought. “A beauty at sixteen, soft as jade, enough to send heroes to their graves.” Perhaps any other man, pent up with frustration, would seize the opportunity to take advantage of her half-hearted resistance, indulging in passion and then leaving her behind with a smirk. How romantic that would be! But the brooding young master merely turned his head and smiled, saying, “How nice it would be if you were Pei Nanwei or Yu Youwei.”
No woman likes to be compared to others in front of a man. Though the girl was innocent and inexperienced, she could still sense the weight of his words. She dared not show her hurt, only turning her head away.
Xu Fengnian stood up, having made a decision. He would try to help settle this group of fugitive herdsmen who were, by law, to be executed. If he ever had the chance to return safely, he would take her with him back to the Northern Liang mansion. Whether as a decorative flower vase or to eventually consummate their relationship, just having her around to please the eyes would be enough. Later, when compiling the list of the Ten Beauties, a little money and effort would surely get her on it, spreading joy and envy among the scholars and literati. That would be quite pleasant.
If he took her now, what then? Would he bring her north with him? If he took her and then left her behind, Xu Fengnian would hate to hear that she had become the private concubine of some chieftain. Through long suffering, he had learned a few superficial tricks of disguise from Shu Xiu, though his results were crude at best. Still, they might suffice to hide her identity. But would she agree? Would the tribe keep the secret? Especially among the young men who had left their homes with resentment, some might betray her for wealth, rewards, or favor with the new chieftain. Human hearts are fickle. Even though he had saved the entire tribe, Xu Fengnian knew he could not rest easy, nor expect their blind loyalty like marionettes on strings. He decided to stay in this ill-fated tribe for a few days and asked, “What is your name?”
She whispered, “Huyan Guanyin.”
Xu Fengnian knew that many commoners in Northern Liang revered Buddhism and often named their children after bodhisattvas, Maitreya, or Manjusri. It was not unusual. In the Central Plains of the Spring and Autumn period, such grand names were considered ominous. In Northern Liang, however, it was common to use such names as nicknames, even influencing women’s attire. In winter, they would smear their faces with yellow substances to create a golden hue, known as “Buddha makeup,” washing it off in spring. When envoys from the Lianyang Dynasty first saw the yellow-faced women of Northern Liang, they mistook it for illness caused by miasma. Upon returning, they wrote poems mocking them, which spread throughout the court and country. Later, when the two nations began trade, the truth came out, and it became a great joke.
Xu Fengnian asked her to lead him to the tribal encampment. Before heading north, he had thoroughly researched the customs and geography of Northern Liang. The Huyan clan was a prestigious family on the grasslands, similar to the Tuoba clan, second only to the royal families of Yelü and Murong. This originated from the decree of a Northern Liang emperor a century ago, who had deep knowledge of Central Plains culture. Presumably, the chieftain above this tribe was a descendant of the Huyan clan. However, a prestigious surname did not mean every Huyan was noble. Northern Liang had a strict social hierarchy, no less so than the Lianyang Dynasty. People were divided into four classes. Originally, there were only two: the native Northern Liang people and the exiles from the Spring and Autumn period, with fierce conflicts and endless disputes between them. The Taiping Order of the Chess and Sword Music Bureau proposed dividing them into two more classes, both beneath the exiles. These were mostly criminals or stubborn tribes forcibly incorporated into the Northern Liang territory through military force. Though their numbers were small, even so, the exiles from the Spring and Autumn period were universally grateful. It is human nature to resent inequality more than scarcity, and now they had become superior to others. With the Empress’s boundless grace, what more could they ask for? Of course, within each class, the small group of elites, whether in wealth or status, were far beyond the reach of ordinary people.
Xu Fengnian muttered to himself, “Toba Pusa, Huyan Guanyin—interesting names. Are there any Yelü Maitreyas or Murong Puxians?”
She replied softly, “Yes.”
Xu Fengnian rolled his eyes, half-annoyed and half-amused, flicking her forehead, “Not even able to read the mood. With that wooden head of yours, you’d never survive in the imperial palace, playing a princess with a thousand twists and turns in your heart.”
She raised her voice slightly, perhaps the greatest protest she could muster, “I never claimed to be one.”
Xu Fengnian pinched her chin, teasing, “Just because you say you’re not, does that make it so? If I say I’m the emperor of Northern Liang, does that make me the emperor?”
She blushed but seriously retorted, “The Emperor is a woman.”
Xu Fengnian sighed, finding it like arguing with a chicken about ducks, and gave up reasoning with her. Together, they arrived at the herders’ tribe, where they were treated as deities. In the canyon, Xu Fengnian had saved over twenty lives by riding like a celestial being, then blocked a stampede of cattle, and with the help of an old monk who spread the word like a Buddha, everyone, young and old, knelt in reverence. The elderly chieftain wept openly, as if the grievances of a thousand-mile migration had vanished in an instant. The people of Northern Liang were indeed simple and honest, unlike the refined scholars of the Lianyang Dynasty, who in times of peace followed Daoism and in times of chaos fled to Buddhism, always choosing the path that best protected and comforted themselves.
Only Huyan Guanyin understood the Southern language, so she acted as interpreter. Upon learning that this young bodhisattva would stay in the tribe for a few days, everyone was overjoyed. The children and teenagers cheered wildly. Besides Huyan Guanyin, several other girls had also been rescued by Xu Fengnian to the mountaintop. Their eyes sparkled with hope that this handsome bodhisattva, unlike the common herdsmen, might stay in their yurts. In Northern Liang, households were the basic unit of the census. When the dynasty was founded, even the emperor’s palace was merely a yurt. Even the previous ruler, during every hunting trip, shared a yurt with his trusted ministers. Thus, the Lianyang Dynasty secretly mocked that when the Northern Liang Empress was still a queen, she had once committed adultery with several contemporary ministers while the ruler slept, a tale that astonished the people of the Central Plains.
The chieftain was named Huyan Anbao, who personally welcomed Xu Fengnian into a spacious yurt decorated in black and white. The old man had a pair of honest-looking sons and daughters-in-law, and also a granddaughter and grandson. The granddaughter had once been carried up the mountain by Xu Fengnian and was overjoyed. The grandson was the child at the bottom of the canyon, always holding Huyan Guanyin’s hand, staring at Xu Fengnian as if he were a deity, filled with awe and admiration. When Xu Fengnian entered the yurt, the child and his sister stood outside, peering through the cracks to catch a glimpse of the young immortal’s Elegance. They thought every move he made was graceful and handsome. Probably, even if Xu Fengnian belched or farted, the two siblings would think it was a great skill.
Northern Liang valued martial prowess, especially horseback riding and archery. They revered warriors with exceptional strength and combat skills. The Tangut tribe, mainly composed of the Tuoba clan, had Tuoba Pusa rising to become the Empress’s personal guard, the Zha Rong soldier, by stepping over the bones of his own clan. Revenge was a constant theme in Northern Liang, especially among the Tangut, who placed great emphasis on avenging blood feuds. If a blood feud went unavenged, one must go unkempt, abstain from women, and refrain from eating meat until the enemy is slain, after which normalcy could resume. Once a feud was resolved, both parties needed to drink blood from a human skull mixed with the blood of three livestock animals, swearing that if revenge was taken, all livestock would die and snakes would enter the yurt. As Tuoba Pusa gradually became a military god with remarkable achievements, the sixteen Tangut tribes united in heartfelt submission. They individually proposed reconciliation with the number one man in Northern Liang, but Tuoba Pusa ignored them. The sixteen tribal chieftains committed suicide together, and later the Empress intervened, but Tuoba Pusa merely verbally agreed. The Tangut tribe did not see this as a humiliation but rather a source of pride. All the strong and brave young men joined Tuoba Pusa’s personal army, showing how deeply martial spirit was rooted in Northern Liang.
Sitting inside the yurt, through Huyan Guanyin’s explanation, Xu Fengnian learned that their tribe’s migration was not aimless. Huyan Anbao’s father, who had died on the journey, was a renowned diviner known for his belief in fate and ghosts. He was skilled in using mugwort to burn sheep shoulder bones and interpret the cracks for omens. It was this old man who had insisted on adopting the infant girl found in a cradle. That winter, the old diviner had also used sheep divination to order the entire tribe to migrate southeast. Xu Fengnian was skeptical of such mystical arts, listening but not taking them too seriously. Learning that Huyan Guanyin lived in an adjacent yurt, he glanced at her. Just this habitual little gesture made the girl blush like a peach blossom. The old chieftain noticed but said nothing, only smiling with satisfaction. The little girl, lonely and helpless, ultimately needed to marry a man with broad shoulders who could support the heavens. The old man had complete faith in this Xu young master who claimed to be from Gusei Prefecture. A single man blocking a stampede of ten thousand cattle was a miracle no one dared to imagine. The old man still remembered the ancient tale of nine swords breaking ten thousand riders, a feat of the Wujia swordsmen from the Central Plains. Yet now, he felt that the young bodhisattva sitting beside him was worthy of comparison with those nine sword immortals.
After drinking from large bowls and eating hearty portions of meat, Xu Fengnian lowered his head and walked out of the yurt, with Huyan Guanyin following behind.
Xu Fengnian slowly climbed a small hill, the girl by his side, while far behind, the old chieftain’s little grandson, apparently named Aobaoji, followed stealthily.
Xu Fengnian gazed at the setting sun, then suddenly narrowed his eyes.
A yellow hawk, previously soaring leisurely, cried out in distress, flying across the sky, wobbling as it fell.
A hundred miles to the northeast, the hawk plummeted to the ground.
A small bird, its claws like iron hooks, pierced the hawk’s back.
The magnificent bird flew to the shoulder of a young man who carried both a sword and a saber on his left waist, chirping melodiously.
Beside the young man in fox fur and wolf hat stood two attendants. One was a middle-aged man, strong as a lion, with a thunderous voice, “Young master, on this journey alone, you’ve already killed no fewer than six hundred people and four thousand wild oxen. Have you had your fill?”
The other, an elderly man in brocade robes, spoke coldly, “Of the Ten Evildoers, aside from you and me, who serve the young master, the other eight have not appeared at all. How can we be satisfied?”
The young man sneered, exuding a strong scent of blood, gently stroking the small bird on his shoulder, “Killing evildoers is actually not fun. It’s only exciting when killing a holy man of the Buddha.”
The old man, who claimed to be a dark figure from Northern Liang, nodded, “This monk Longshu of the Lingshan Temple, said to be the master of the white-robed monk Li Dangxin, is indeed worth meeting.”
At the mention of Li Dangxin’s name, the young man’s eyes turned red. He gently held the small bird, then suddenly tightened his grip, covering his hand in blood, gritting his teeth, “They all deserve to die!”
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