When Dündup carried the bundle of medicinal herbs into the felt tent, Dawa’s mother, Lamu, was adding firewood to the hearth.
Seeing him, Lamu smiled kindly, dusted the ashes from her hands, and stood up.
“Isn’t this Dündup? When did you get back?”
“I came back last night.”
Dündup handed her the medicinal herbs.
“Oh, so you came to bring some herbs to your Sang Luo Nuomu?”
Aunt Lamu took the bundle and carefully placed it on a dry wooden rack.
“She’s still at the cattle sheds to the west. Ciren is helping out over there too.”
Dündup nodded and was about to go help when Dawa suddenly lifted the felt door flap.
“Mom, something’s wrong!”
The moment Dawa finished shouting, he spotted Dündup. His eyes lit up, and he grabbed Dündup and pulled him toward the south.
“Dündup A-Bu, you came back at just the right time! Several cattle sheds in the south have collapsed again!”
Dündup followed the force of the pull toward the south. He did not notice that just after he disappeared around the corner, Sang Luo entered the felt tent from the opposite direction.
Sang Luo lifted the felt curtain, fine beads of sweat still glistening on her forehead.
“Aunt Lamu, did my A-Bu bring the medicinal herbs?”
“He just delivered them.”
Lamu pointed at the wooden rack.
“Look at how exhausted you are. Have a bowl of hot tea first. I just made some butter tea.”
“Thank you, Auntie, but I’ll have to pass for now. A cow is having a difficult delivery, and the situation is urgent. I need to get back quickly.”
Sang Luo hurried to the wooden rack and quickly checked through the herbs with her slender fingers, her voice filled with urgency.
She picked out several herbs she urgently needed, stuffed them into her medicine box, and hurried away again.
At the cattle shed to the west, a cow suffering from a difficult labor was struggling in pain, letting out mournful cries.
As soon as Sang Luo returned, she knelt directly on the pile of dry hay, not caring that her Tibetan robe would get dirty, and gently inserted both hands into the birth canal.
The cow cried out in pain and thrashed violently.
The calf’s front legs had already appeared, but it still could not be delivered. Fine beads of sweat formed on Sang Luo’s forehead, yet her movements remained steady.
Suddenly, overcome by pain, the cow violently raised its hind leg and kicked toward Sang Luo.
Sang Luo was completely focused on delivering the calf and failed to notice the danger.
“Watch out!”
Ciren had just passed the cattle shed carrying a load of wood. Seeing what was happening, he rushed forward and shielded Sang Luo with his body.
The cow’s hind hoof slammed into his lower leg.
Ciren grunted in pain but did not move an inch, his arms remaining firmly positioned to protect her.
Only then did Sang Luo realize what had happened. She looked up and saw the tension in Ciren’s profile.
“Ciren A-Bu, are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
Ciren gritted his teeth and endured the pain.
“Keep going. I’ll stay here and watch over you.”
Sang Luo’s eyes lingered on Ciren for a moment before she refocused on delivering the calf.
Her fingers skillfully adjusted the calf’s position, while sweat trickled down her cheeks.
Ciren stood beside her, keeping a vigilant eye on the cow and ready to protect her again at any moment.
After considerable effort, the calf was finally delivered safely.
Sang Luo efficiently tore away the membrane covering the newborn calf and then began examining the mother cow for injuries.
The cow let out a weak moo and stretched out its tongue to gently lick its newborn calf, its eyes once again becoming calm.
“There’s nothing serious anymore.”
After finishing her examination, Sang Luo gently stroked the cow’s head before turning toward Ciren.
“Let me see your leg.”
“I really am fine.”
Ciren was still trying to argue.
Sang Luo said nothing and simply rolled up his trouser leg.
“You call this fine? Your lower leg is already bruised this badly! If I hadn’t seen it myself, you would have just endured the pain like this? Do you know how serious it could be if you injured the bone?”
As she scolded Ciren, Sang Luo took ointment from her medicine box and carefully applied it to his leg.
Hearing her concerned scolding while feeling the cool touch of her fingertips against his lower leg, Ciren’s ears instantly turned red. His muscles unconsciously tensed.
“I wasn’t forcing myself to endure it. Injuries like this are nothing around here…”
His unfinished sentence gradually died away beneath Sang Luo’s stern gaze.
Sang Luo carefully examined his injury. Only after confirming that there was no damage to the bone did she finally relax.
“The cattle here have all been taken care of. I’ll have to head back soon.”
Sang Luo washed her hands with the water from the canteen she carried with her.
“Then I’ll take you!”
Ciren immediately responded.
“Aren’t you supposed to stay here and take care of the cattle sheds?”
Sang Luo glanced at the sky.
“It’s not that late. If I walk for an hour or two, I should be able to make it back.”
“You wouldn’t even make it back tomorrow.”
Ciren limped out of the cattle shed and gave a sharp whistle. His horse immediately came running.
“It takes us an hour and a half even when we ride at full speed. If you walk all the way back, you won’t get there until tomorrow.”
“But your leg…”
Sang Luo was still worried.
“This is nothing. Just a minor injury.”
Ciren mounted the horse in one smooth motion, then pulled Sang Luo up behind him.
On the way back, Sang Luo gazed at the herds of horses running freely in the distance and suddenly spoke.
“Ciren A-Bu, I want to learn how to ride.”
Ciren was a little surprised and gently tightened the reins.
“Why do you suddenly want to learn?”
“If I know how to ride, then whenever something happens at the pasture, we can get there quickly. And I’ll be making house calls in the future too. Knowing how to ride will make things much more convenient.”
“No problem. I’ll teach you!”
Ciren immediately agreed, his voice carrying a rare excitement.
“I’m free before we head out to graze the livestock in the morning. I guarantee I’ll teach you properly.”
Sang Luo nodded lightly, her hair fluttering in the wind.
“Thank you, A-Bu.”
“No need to thank me.”
There was a smile in Ciren’s voice.
“I’d be happy to teach you.”
By the time they returned home, dusk was approaching.
Sang Luo immediately sensed that something was wrong. The courtyard was unusually quiet.
Lhazhen was sitting alone beside the hearth, a needle and thread in her hands, but she had not moved for a long time.
Uncle Zhandui was nowhere to be seen either. The entire house was silent except for the crackling flames.
“Mom, what happened?”
Sang Luo sat down beside Lhazhen and asked softly.
Lhazhen sighed and put down her sewing.
“Your eldest brother, Dündup, came back last night, and then he and your Uncle Zhandui started arguing early this morning.”
“Why?”
“It’s because…”
Lhazhen leaned closer to Sang Luo’s ear.
“There’s an old tradition among us Tibetans. To preserve the family line, brothers share one wife. But Dündup absolutely refuses. He says people should be free to choose who they love.”
“Dündup A-Gu is right.”
Sang Luo poked at the fire, her voice full of agreement.
“Everyone should be allowed to make their own choices. They shouldn’t be bound by outdated customs. If it were me, I wouldn’t agree either.”
Lhazhen had already guessed that her daughter would say something like this.
Thinking about what Zhandui had told her last night, she could not help feeling that the situation was… troubling.
By the time Ciren and Dündup returned home, it was already dark outside.
Zhandui sat alone beside the hearth, his face grim.
Lhazhen watched the three men anxiously, unconsciously twisting the corner of her clothes between her fingers.
“Mom, where’s A-Luo?”
Ciren looked around but did not see Sang Luo.
“She just went out on a house call. She’ll be back soon.”
Ciren nodded, then tugged at Dündup’s sleeve and gave him a meaningful look.
Dündup acted as though he had not noticed. He put down the tools in his hands.
“Dad, I’m going back to the military tomorrow morning.”
“Do whatever you want.”
Zhandui spat out the words coldly without even looking up.
“Dad, no matter how angry you are, I won’t change my mind.”
Dündup’s attitude was firm.
“I will never share a wife with my younger brothers. That is my bottom line.”
Zhandui suddenly stood up. His lips moved as he was about to explode—
Then the courtyard gate creaked open.
Sang Luo walked in with her medicine box on her back.
The moment Dündup saw Sang Luo, his eyes suddenly widened.