With this single flick of the whip, Ying Qingyang set the little donkey’s hooves flying. Not far down the road, they hit a sheet of ice hidden beneath the snow, nearly sending the old man and the youth on the cart sprawling upside down.
Grand Tutor Jiang tore into Ying Qingyang with a thorough, blistering scolding that didn’t contain a single vulgar word.
Knowing he was in the wrong, Ying Qingyang did not engage in a battle of wits with his esteemed tutor.
He merely muttered inwardly that in a remote region like Qiong Province, any news wanting to travel all the way from the capital would take at least a month or two, and even then, it had to be a major event that shook the entire nation.
As for the barren mountain area where they resided, information was even more isolated. Human activity was so sparse that there weren’t even many travelers on the official post road, save for occasional grain-transport convoys passing by toward the vital hubs of Qiong Mountains.
Yet, Jiang Yunzhi was still able to deduce the recent political dynamics in the imperial court from scattered fragments of word-of-mouth gossip. Able to see through major national affairs without stepping outside, Grand Tutor Jiang could well be described as possessing wisdom bordering on the supernatural. The other former officials frequently chanted that had he not failed to find an enlightened monarch, Jiang Yunzhi would surely have secured a permanent place in the history books.
Yet Grand Tutor Jiang, who could easily have left his name in history, had never harbored any plans of leaving the barren mountain. At times, Ying Qingyang felt that the rambling, incisive conclusions he spouted were merely laid down as groundwork for his subsequent attacks on the Grand Emperor Emeritus of Great Liang.
It seemed that rather than exercising his statecraft and administrative prowess, Jiang Yunzhi preferred to use his exceptional literary talent to tear the Grand Emperor Emeritus down to absolute worthlessness.
On occasion, Ying Qingyang harbored thoughts of urging him to surrender to Great Liang, only to abandon the idea ultimately due to Jiang Yunzhi’s constant stream of disrespectful remarks regarding the Grand Emperor Emeritus.
Of course, he seriously suspected that his tutor simply had a fiery temper and a venomous tongue, directing indiscriminate attacks at everyone.
So thought His Highness the Prince, who was currently listening to a string of reprimands like lyrical verses.
Thus listening to the tutor’s scoldings as background music, Ying Qingyang drove the cart in a leisurely manner all the way back.
On their return journey to the mountain, the two passed through a commercial market. Over the years of scraping by and living on borrowed time, most essential goods were essentially procured from this very place.
As the person holding the financial reins, Grand Tutor Jiang often shouldered the heavy responsibility of purchasing necessities when venturing out.
Ying Qingyang followed closely behind step by step, responsible for moving the supplies onto the cart.
Before returning to the mountain this time, the two had spent a significant sum to purchase several winter quilts. This snowstorm had arrived fiercely, and with the heavy snow persisting for so long, it still showed signs of intensifying.
Although the village where they lived nestled in a wind-protected spot at the foot of the mountain, layers upon layer of accumulated snow overlaid one another, bringing a bone-chilling cold. The vast expanse of white made it feel as though, with the slightest lapse in attention, one would fall into an eternal slumber amidst the wind and snow.
Every winter, these northern mountains silently buried many people. They could only struggle hard for self-preservation, praying they would not become an isolated grave in the wilderness.
In addition to winter quilts, they also bought cold-weather clothing. The further north one traveled, the more desolate it became, and ready-made garments were exorbitantly expensive. Over the years, they generally bought semi-finished fabrics to make their own clothes, and unless it was during festive holidays, they wouldn’t spend a large sum of money at a ready-to-wear clothing shop.
Foodstuffs accounted for the majority of the tuition fees Jiang Tutor received, which effectively exempted them from a portion of their expenses this time around.
When they set off again, the two of them were laden with large and small bundles, practically stuffing the donkey cart to the brim.
Wading through the snow for a long time and skillfully avoiding difficult terrain, they finally arrived at the foot of the barren mountain as evening approached.
Looking inward from the village entrance, a few dilapidated small cabins were scattered loosely at the foot of the mountain. Wisps of cooking smoke slowly rose, only to vanish swiftly halfway up in the bone-chilling cold.
From afar, Ying Qingyang spotted a figure standing rigidly at the entrance of the village. The upper half of his body was dusted with snow, revealing a patch of pristine white mixed across the surface of a dirty padded coat, making him look completely motionless like a wooden stake from a distance.
He waved his horsewhip toward the figure, prompting the person to finally move, causing snowflakes to rustle downward as he stirred.
“Young Master!” The young man ran over from afar. The closer he got, the more evident it was that he was tall and robust. His dark skin was weathered and roughened by the ravages of wind and snow, and his features carried a slightly exotic flair, instantly revealing foreign ethnic bloodlines.
Only, his expression was somewhat blank and simple-minded, carrying a touch of pure foolishness.
This youth was an abandoned infant whom Jiang Yunzhi had picked up years ago during their escape on the road, and he had recognized Grand Tutor Jiang as his adoptive father.
Because of his deep skin tone, Grand Tutor Jiang chose the character “Mo” (meaning ink) for his name, making his full name Jiang Mo. He now served as Ying Qingyang’s friend and bodyguard in royal protocol terms, he would be addressed as a study companion.
Unfortunately, this study companion was even more hopeless than Ying Qingyang the incorrigible rascal, utterly devoid of any talent for studying and scholarship. Every time he listened to the tutor’s lectures, he fell asleep even earlier than Ying Qingyang—truly a study companion matching his master.
Fortunately, this fellow’s physical build remained consistently solid, making him fine material for practicing martial arts. By this age, he could already hoist an adult into the air with a single hand.
The donkey cart arrived at the village entrance and stopped. Ying Qingyang tossed the whip into the young man’s hands with a look of relief, “Ah-Mo! Quickly! It’s freezing cold, hurry and help the teacher down, and help move these things back to the main courtyard. I’ll go back to the courtyard and wait for you.”
Ah-Mo caught the whip and nodded earnestly, “Alright, Young Master.”
Given that this fellow’s head wasn’t particularly sharp, Jiang Yunzhi had instructed him from the very beginning to address Ying Qingyang as “Young Master” to prevent any accidental slips of the tongue outside that might invite a death sentence.
No sooner had those words been spoken than Grand Tutor Jiang’s hawk-like gaze struck like lightning against Ying Qingyang’s back, still making the youth who already possessed the stature of a young man shiver.
No matter how many years older he grew, the tutor’s imposing aura had lost none of its force from back in the day.
However, had Ying Qingyang truly been afraid, he wouldn’t have cultivated his current personality.
Seated on the cart, the tutor watched his retreating figure and bellowed in a furious roar: “You brat! Return the remaining copper coins first! Let me check the accounts!”
Jiang Yunzhi knew this brat would feel restless if he didn’t stir up trouble. Although he couldn’t keep tabs on the fellow every time he went out, having no idea how those copper coins managed to slip out of Ying Qingyang’s pouch, the moment it felt a bit lighter, Grand Tutor Jiang could always tell.
That action of running away the second he got off the cart was a dead giveaway of a guilty conscience!
Hearing the tutor’s angry voice, Ying Qingyang immediately quickened his pace.
He reached out and patted a small cloth pouch nestled inside his bosom, the corners of his mouth curling upward as he tucked it away even more securely.
As if he’d ever return them! He wasn’t an idiot.
The pile of copper coins in his hand had long since been squandered; where would he find money to hand over for the tutor to audit!
Besides, aside from the tutor, none of the old ministers in the village would fuss over such trivial matters with him. Once inside the village, it was all peace and goodwill!
Ying Qingyang’s soles felt as though they had been greased as he slipped away briskly.
Leaving Grand Tutor Jiang behind to engage in a disjointed, full-blown verbal clash with Ah-Mo.
Jiang Yunzhi was so exasperated he patted Ah-Mo’s shoulder. “I told you to catch him, what are you supporting me for?! I’m not so old that I need someone to help me get off a donkey cart!”
Ah-Mo frowned, his expression clearly disapproving. “This is the Young Master’s order.”
“You little rascal! You don’t even listen to my words anymore?! Let go!”
“I listen.” Finished speaking, Ah-Mo kept his hand clamped like an iron vise by Jiang Yunzhi’s side, remaining silent for a long moment before squeezing out a perplexed sentence: “Didn’t you say so yourself, the Young Master’s commands take priority.”
Jiang Yunzhi was almost choked to the point of turning upside down by his blockhead adoptive son.
“Rebellious son!! Rebellious son!!”
While the two of them were still entangled over there, Ying Qingyang had already darted into the village in a flash.
The piercing chill of midwinter forced people to stay indoors; no matter how dilapidated a house was, it could always provide a modicum of warmth.
Aside from the occasional bark of a dog, the village was filled only with the sounds of firewood being hauled and axes chopping wood.
Inside a courtyard wreathed in cooking smoke, two middle-aged men were splitting firewood and storing it away in the wood shed to keep for the winter.
“Uncle Feng! Uncle Lei! Busy?” Ying Qingyang called out a greeting to the two across the wooden fence of the yard. “Teacher is asking you both to come help carry some things.”
“His Highness is back? How was the lecture today?” The man holding the axe put down his tool, brushed the wood shavings off his hands, and prepared to head to the village entrance to help.
Ying Qingyang scratched his head. “So-so.”
“Sigh, if you ask me, Lord Jiang is just too impatient. Our Highness is still young. While I certainly have confidence in His Highness, achieving great things cannot be rushed overnight,” said the other man, who then instructed him: “Your Highness, the stove fire has already been lit in the main house; if you feel cold, just call me to add more firewood.”
Ying Qingyang nodded vaguely. Every time he heard such coaxing words meant for children, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was currently only three and a half years old.
Yet he never uttered anything that would ruin the mood, simply saying, “Of course, Uncle Feng, you know I’m most afraid of the cold!”
Ying Qingyang’s quarters were in the main house, the largest adobe structure in the settlement. The residences of the others surrounded the main house like stars orbiting the moon, arranged for security considerations when they first settled here, and the layout had never changed since.
It was said that the initial procession fleeing from the capital was massive, numbering upwards of several hundred people. But through deaths and injuries along the journey, fewer than a hundred remained when they finally settled at the barren mountain. The gold, silver, and rare treasures brought along were meager to begin with, and they hadn’t lasted more than a few years.
Over the past twenty years, quite a few had died of old age or accidental causes. By this year, only a dozen or so former dynasty officials remained in the village.
Decades passed, and no matter how noble one once was, daily life living beyond one’s means turned people into ordinary mortals. These former dynasty officials were no exception, and neither was Ying Qingyang.
It was hard to imagine that amidst such impoverished living conditions, these people still maintained their respect and affection for Ying Qingyang the orphaned heir of the former dynasty—even spoiling him to a somewhat excessive degree.
Precisely because he felt the warmth of so much goodwill, Ying Qingyang constantly strove to respond in kind, doing whatever was within his power and even what wasn’t to the absolute best of his ability.
The two middle-aged men smiled, nodded, and acknowledged.
Ying Qingyang turned and entered the main house. Moving like a gust of wind sweeping through, he darted back and forth across the rooms, carefully stowing the items he had brought back into the wall crevices. He grabbed his bow and quiver from the side courtyard, slung them over his shoulder, fished a small handful of nuts from the stove counter, and finally stepped out fully armed.
He planned to head into the mountains to see if he could bag any game as winter food reserves.
With the current temperature and snow depth, it was still worth a shot to try his luck. Once the depth of winter truly arrived, attempting it would be pure suicide.
No matter how noble his title or how meticulously cared for he was, Ying Qingyang’s self-perception had never been that of an imperial orphan or a supreme royal aristocrat. He was simply an ordinary person raised on a barren mountain, striving hard to survive every single day.
Burning like the sun with every passing day.
Having bought what he wanted from the market, Ying Qingyang was in high spirits. Humming an unknown tune, he stepped out of the large courtyard. The auntie in the side courtyard knew at a glance that he was heading into the mountains; she pushed her door open slightly and raised her voice to instruct him: “It’s not safe in the mountains, don’t go too deep, and come back early!”
“Got it!” Ying Qingyang waved back over his shoulder.
Before leaving, he quietly sneaked into the village lean-to. A few donkeys were raised under the shed, and right at the far end stood a black horse that occupied more than half the space. Seeing Ying Qingyang’s figure approach, the black horse flicked its tail and slowly walked toward him, though its movements were somewhat halting.
“Shadow!” Ying Qingyang whispered with a smile, walking quickly up to it.
Shadow rubbed its head twice against his shoulder, and Ying Qingyang didn’t mind at all. He even raised a hand to feed Shadow a small piece of malt candy, earning a cheerful snort in response.
He stroked Shadow’s glossy, sleek mane, then vaulted over the fence beside the horse shed and bent down to inspect Shadow’s right hind leg.
There was an obvious bend in Shadow’s right hind leg, braced and secured by two wooden planks. Ying Qingyang confirmed that the splints hadn’t loosened.
This was a lame horse; no matter how robust it looked on the surface, it was destined never to carry its master into a gallop.
Yet Ying Qingyang treated it exceptionally well, even spending a portion of his own rations on Shadow—earning a lecture from Grand Tutor Jiang about doing useless work.
If the tutor knew he was feeding a disabled horse such precious items like malt candy, he would probably lecture him again.
Unwilling to listen to nagging, Ying Qingyang tiptoed out of the horse shed and whispered a farewell to Shadow. Unexpectedly, the moment he turned around, he bumped right into Grand Tutor Jiang returning the little donkey to its shed.
Darn it! He forgot that Grand Tutor Jiang also treasured that little donkey of his!
Jiang Yunzhi: “?”
Ying Qingyang: “!”
With quick eyes and fast hands, he immediately hid the bow and quiver on his back, slid a step to the side, and bolted straight out of the village.
The moment Jiang Yunzhi saw the direction of his panicked escape, he knew where the fellow was heading.
“The snow is that deep! You’re still going to mess with that broken net of yours! As if that could possibly be of any use!”
Ying Qingyang waved his hand and called out, “Hard to say what if gold falls from the sky? Wouldn’t I make a fortune?”
He could still hear Grand Tutor Jiang muttering something behind him, though he had already run a fair distance away, catching only snatches like ” pipe dreams,” “impractical,” and the like.
To avoid being caught by other old officials who would preach and urge him not to take risks, Ying Qingyang took the side trails into the mountains.
He had a secret base in the mountains with a route known only to himself, making the journey alone quite pleasant.
Entering through a pine forest and treading on the thick layer of snow, the crunching sound of pine needles and snow was his sole companion amidst the tranquil mountains.
As he walked, Ying Qingyang kept his head down, searching the ground for pinecones. Most of them had already opened up, their seeds having been picked clean before winter; an occasional missed one could be counted as an unexpected pleasant surprise.
Ying Qingyang casually picked up a few opened pinecones until his arms were full.
Crossing the pine forest and climbing onto a small elevated plateau, his field of vision widened slightly. Coming into view one after another were dozens of crude stone steles.
The steles were nameless, bearing only the dates of birth and death. The carved characters were daubed with the cheapest pigment, yet they remained neat and clean despite the endless wind, frost, and snow.
In the glow of dusk, Ying Qingyang’s expression was tender. He placed the pinecones he held one by one before the burial mounds the sole memorial and comfort amidst the winter.
He muttered as if chatting about everyday household matters: “Uncles, aunties, grandpas, grandmas, there’s only these for today.”
Vicissitudes of fortune, birth, aging, illness, and death; grave after grave accumulated on the barren mountain. As for that final word of “restoration” uttered before passing away, Ying Qingyang had heard it countless times.
Today, too, he had striven hard to live through another day.