Sang Luo was awakened by a slightly hurried series of footsteps outside the tent, along with Ciren’s voice.
“Mom, why did Big Brother leave before dawn? His injury hasn’t even fully healed!”
“Maybe there was an urgent mission in his unit.” Lajin also felt that Dündup had left too hastily. She sighed as she held the knee pad she had only half-finished sewing.
Ciren frowned, looking somewhat frustrated.
“At least he could have waited for me to wake up so I could see him off…”
Sang Luo’s hands paused slightly as she got dressed inside the room.
Dündup had left?
Why so suddenly?
A faint, strange feeling brushed past Sang Luo’s heart, so subtle that even she herself failed to notice it.
But the feeling disappeared as quickly as it came, and she didn’t dwell on it.
“A-Luo, you’re awake.” Lajin saw her daughter come out and set aside the knee pad before handing her a cup of butter tea. “I was just thinking that if you didn’t wake up soon, I’d have to go call you.”
Sang Luo accepted the tea and took a small sip.
“I heard you just now. Dündup A-Bu left?”
“Yeah.” Ciren spread his hands. “He was supposed to go pick up Danzeng today. That kid is always clinging to Big Brother, but now Big Brother has already left again.”
There was a hint of amusement in Ciren’s voice.
“Looks like that kid and Big Brother just aren’t meant to meet.”
“When they come back, don’t tease Danzeng like that, all right?” Lajin already knew from Zhandui last night just how much Danzeng idolized Dündup.
“You’ll make the boy cry, and then what will you do?”
“That kid won’t cry.” Ciren knew Danzeng well. “He’ll just stare at someone without saying a word until they feel guilty enough to apologize.”
“All right. If he really does cry, don’t you dare comfort him,” Lajin said with a smile.
Ciren seemed to think of something as well. He rubbed his nose and avoided Lajin’s gaze.
When he turned around, he happened to see Sang Luo carrying a winnowing basket outside.
“A-Luo, where are you going?”
“When I came back yesterday, I noticed that the ewe had given birth to two lambs. The sheep pen needs to be cleaned.”
Ciren hurried over and “snatched” the basket from Sang Luo’s hands.
“Come on, I’ll do it with you.”
Sang Luo looked into his bright, sparkling eyes and nodded.
“Okay. Thank you, Ciren A-Bu.”
“No need to thank me! What’s a little work like this?”
Ciren immediately puffed out his chest as though he had just been given some glorious mission, then led the way toward the sheep pen.
The sheep pen in the early morning carried the distinct smell of livestock, though it wasn’t unpleasant.
Two newborn lambs, still covered in fluffy wool, timidly followed their mother and let out soft little bleats.
Ciren was genuinely skilled at physical work. Not only was he strong, but he was efficient as well. Before long, he had cleaned the sheep pen thoroughly and even laid the hay out neatly.
Sang Luo crouched beside him, carefully checking the condition of the ewe and her newborn lambs. She gently stroked the ewe’s back, soothing it.
“A-Luo, look at this little one. Don’t its legs seem a little weak?”
Ciren came over and pointed at one of the smaller, weaker-looking lambs.
Sang Luo examined it carefully, then gently touched its legs.
“They are a little weak. It might not be getting enough milk because the other lamb is stronger. Let’s give it some warm milk separately.”
“Okay. I’ll get some.”
Ciren ran off to milk the ewe. He brought back the freshest milk, carefully warmed it, and returned just in time to see Sang Luo gently stroking the little lamb.
Her slender fingers moved softly through the lamb’s fluffy wool.
Ciren felt as though something warm and full had suddenly filled his heart.
He couldn’t help grinning.
For some reason, this sheep pen, filled with the smell of hay and sheep manure, suddenly seemed more pleasant than a field covered in blooming Gesang flowers.
“Ciren A-Bu, what’s wrong?”
Sang Luo had already noticed that Ciren had returned, but when he didn’t come over for a while, she turned her head.
“Huh?”
Ciren snapped out of his daze and carried the bowl of milk into the sheep pen.
“Oh! I’m here!”
Sang Luo took the wooden bowl and slowly fed the milk to the weak little lamb.
Ciren crouched beside her, watching without moving.
His gaze was so focused that it seemed as though he were observing something extraordinarily important.
From the corner of her eye, Sang Luo occasionally caught sight of sunlight dancing across Ciren’s hair, which was speckled with bits of grass. It seemed to surround him with a soft, glowing halo.
“All right.”
After feeding the lamb, Sang Luo gently set it down.
“For the next few days, give it extra milk separately. At night, put it in the small room beside the cattle manure shed. That way, it’ll have enough food and won’t get cold. Give it ten days or half a month, and it should recover.”
Ciren immediately handed her a clean, damp cloth to wipe her hands.
His eyes sparkled as he looked at her.
“A-Luo, you know so much. You’re amazing!”
His praise was straightforward and sincere, making no attempt to hide his admiration or affection.
Sang Luo felt a little embarrassed under his gaze.
But when she turned her face away, the corners of her lips couldn’t help curving upward.
Being completely trusted and sincerely praised by someone was a feeling she had never experienced in her previous life.
Because it was still some time before they would move to the pasture, this period was one of the rare leisurely times for the people of the Tibetan region.
Sang Luo and Ciren sat side by side on a wooden stump outside the sheep pen, resting.
Ciren pulled two small balls of tsampa wrapped in oil paper from inside his clothes. They had been made from butter and barley flour.
He handed one to Sang Luo.
“Mom gave them to me this morning. Have something to eat.”
Sang Luo accepted it and immediately put it into her mouth.
The rich aroma of butter blended with the coarse texture of barley flour. It was the simplest, most honest flavor of the grasslands.
At first, Sang Luo hadn’t been used to the taste.
Now, it had become her favorite Tibetan food.
Ciren finished his in just a few bites.
Then, without saying anything, he tilted his head and watched Sang Luo slowly chew hers, his eyes gentle and his smile a little foolish.
There weren’t many words between them, yet a natural and harmonious atmosphere flowed quietly between them.
Sang Luo could clearly feel the warm, vibrant energy radiating from Ciren.
Little by little, it dispelled the coldness that had settled in her heart because of what she had experienced in her previous life, giving her a sense of security she hadn’t felt in a long time.
That afternoon, as the setting sun stretched their shadows long across the ground, the clear sound of horse bells and rhythmic hoofbeats finally came from the entrance of the village.
“Dad and Dawa are back!”
Ciren, who had been listening for the sound, was the first to jump up, his face filled with undisguised excitement.
He instinctively reached for Sang Luo’s hand, but halfway there, he became embarrassed and withdrew it.
His eyes still shone brightly as he looked at her.
“A-Luo, come on. I’ll introduce you to my youngest brother, Danzeng!”
Sang Luo was infected by his excitement and became curious about the younger brother she had never met.
She put down the medicinal herbs she had been sorting and followed Ciren outside the tent.
Looking past Ciren’s broad shoulders, she gazed toward the direction of the approaching hoofbeats with a hint of curiosity.