The sound of approaching hooves grew louder. Sang Luo stood beside Ciren, waiting with him.
“Ever since Dad found Danzeng at the train station in town, that kid has always been in poor health. The lama gave him a divination and said that if Danzeng wanted to grow up safely, he would have to stay with him and practice cultivation. He wouldn’t be able to come home until he was twelve.”
As Ciren spoke, he stretched his neck to look outside.
“Even the three of us brothers hardly ever get to see him. But now that he’s back, he probably won’t be leaving again.”
“You make him sound like Lin Daiyu.”
Ciren’s description immediately reminded Sang Luo of Lin Daiyu from Dream of the Red Chamber, the reincarnated fairy who had almost been taken away by the Bald-Headed Monk.
Ciren had never heard of Lin Daiyu. He blinked at Sang Luo in confusion.
Fortunately, his confusion didn’t last long.
Zhandui had already ridden up and stopped at the entrance of the courtyard.
Zhandui swiftly dismounted and carefully lifted a half-grown boy down from the horse.
The boy wore an oversized, faded old Tibetan robe. He was even thinner and smaller than Sang Luo had imagined.
Perhaps because he had spent so much time in the monastery away from the harsh sunlight, his skin was remarkably fair. His small face was barely the size of a palm, yet his features were delicate and refined.
Most striking were his eyes, dark and clear like black jade washed by snowmelt.
His temperament was completely different from Ciren’s, which was as bright and uninhibited as the grassland sun.
He was more like a quiet little plant growing peacefully beside a mountain stream, naturally calm and still.
“Danzeng, you finally decided to come home!”
Ciren laughed as he strode forward, reaching out to ruffle his hair.
Danzeng suddenly recoiled and avoided Ciren’s hand.
His dark, bright eyes held an unmistakable distance.
Ciren’s hand froze in midair. A trace of awkwardness flashed across his face before turning into helplessness.
He withdrew his hand and scratched the back of his head before lowering his voice to explain to Sang Luo.
“That kid has always been like this. Especially when it comes to people touching his head. He really hates it. Except…”
Ciren paused and didn’t continue.
But Sang Luo could guess who the exception was.
It was probably Dündup.
Zhandui patted his youngest son on the shoulder and gently nudged him forward.
“Danzeng, this is Sang Luo, your Lajin Mom’s daughter. She’s your A-Ji, your older sister. From now on, you’ll be living with all of us, so you need to get along well with A-Ji, understand?”
Danzeng nodded, then quietly looked at Sang Luo.
There was none of the innocent cheerfulness normally found in children his age. Instead, there was an unusual calmness beyond his years.
“Hello, A-Ji.”
Sang Luo softened her voice and gave him the gentlest smile she could manage, following Tibetan etiquette.
“Danzeng, welcome home. My name is Sang Luo.”
She didn’t try to approach him or touch him like Ciren had.
She simply remained where she was, maintaining a comfortable distance while conveying her goodwill.
Perhaps her smile was warm enough, or perhaps her voice was gentle enough.
Danzeng’s tense little body relaxed slightly.
He still said nothing, but the guarded look in his dark eyes faded somewhat, replaced by quiet curiosity.
He looked at Sang Luo for several seconds.
Then, with astonishing speed, he slipped something small into her palm before quickly withdrawing his hand and following Zhandui inside.
Sang Luo lowered her head.
In her palm was a piece of rock sugar carefully wrapped in rough yellow paper.
The sugar cube wasn’t large, and its edges were slightly worn, clearly something that had been treasured for a long time.
“He likes you.”
Ciren poked his head over.
“As expected of you. You even managed to win over this difficult little guy.”
Sang Luo closed her fingers around the rock sugar, still carrying the child’s warmth and sincerity.
Her heart felt as though it had been soaked in warm spring water.
She looked toward the direction where only a tiny corner of Danzeng’s dark red robe was visible.
Carefully putting the rock sugar away, she spoke even more gently.
“I like it very much.”
At dinner, Danzeng silently kept his head lowered, eating only the small portion of tsampa in front of him.
Whether it was the dried meat Lajin placed in his bowl or the mutton Ciren gave him, he didn’t touch any of it.
“Danzeng, you need to eat meat to grow strong.”
Ciren tried putting another piece of meat into his bowl.
Danzeng suddenly pulled his hand away, nearly knocking over his bowl.
His little face tightened as he hugged his bowl and shook his head firmly.
“He’s used to eating vegetarian food at the monastery. He can’t change his habits overnight.”
There was helplessness in Zhandui’s voice.
Sang Luo watched the scene thoughtfully.
After dinner, instead of immediately sorting her medicinal herbs as usual, she took some millet and dried wild mushrooms she had bought from the supply cooperative in Rong City.
Adding just a little salt for flavor, she slowly cooked a thick, fragrant pot of mushroom porridge.
When she brought the porridge to Danzeng, the little boy, who had shown almost no expression all evening, lightly twitched his nose.
A faint glimmer appeared in his dark eyes.
“Try it. A-Ji made the porridge.”
Sang Luo gently pushed the bowl toward him.
Without trying to persuade him any further, she turned around and went back to what she was doing.
After quite some time, Sang Luo caught sight of a small figure from the corner of her eye.
Danzeng had picked up the wooden spoon and was taking small sips of the porridge.
He remained silent, but the slight relaxation in his shoulders showed that he didn’t dislike it.
Lajin and Zhandui exchanged relieved smiles.
Ciren leaned closer to Sang Luo and lowered his voice, full of admiration.
“A-Luo, you really know how to handle him!”
Sang Luo gave Ciren a slightly smug little look.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, at a construction corps in the northwest, the situation was completely different.
Sang Yun was wearing an old padded jacket covered in patches and several sizes too large for her.
She struggled to drag a bundle of dead branches taller than herself toward the clay stove.
Her hands were covered in chilblains and scars, both old and new. The wind and sand of the northwest had left her cheeks rough and cracked.
The delicate young woman she had once been in Rong City was long gone.
“You good-for-nothing girl! Why are you moving so slowly? Can’t you see the fire in the stove is almost out? Are you trying to starve your brothers to death?”
Sang Chang lay on the bed, shouting angrily.
Sang Yun bit her lip and silently sped up.
Sweat mixed with dust clung to the hair on her forehead, leaving her itchy and uncomfortable.
Suddenly, an intense wave of resentment surged through her heart.
Ever since she had followed her father to the northwest, the life of a “future heiress to a billionaire” she had imagined had never appeared.
Her father was desperate to erase his former “black history,” so he worked himself to the bone and took on the hardest, most exhausting jobs, leaving him no time to care about her.
And her two younger brothers treated her as nothing more than a free maid and laborer.
Every dirty and exhausting chore fell to her.
The food and clothes she received were things nobody else wanted.
Whenever something displeased Sang Chang, she would be beaten or cursed at.
“Hey! I’m thirsty!”
Seven- or eight-year-old Sang Ning ran outside, planted his hands on his hips, and ordered Sang Yun around.
Sang Yun put down the firewood and silently scooped a ladle of icy water, complete with chunks of ice, from the water jar.
She handed it to him.
Sang Ning took one sip before spitting it all over her feet.
“It’s freezing! Are you trying to freeze me to death? Go heat up some water!”
Sang Yun clenched her fists, her fingernails digging deeply into her palms.
She remembered her previous life.
At this time, she had followed her mother to the Tibetan region.
Although she had heard that life there would be difficult, at least…
At least she wouldn’t have been treated like this.
Why, after getting another chance at life, was she still unable to live a good life?
She had clearly gotten a head start!
“What are you standing there for? Hurry up!”
Hearing the commotion, Sang Chang shouted again from inside the room.
Sang Yun lowered her head, concealing the poisonous hatred churning in her eyes, and silently turned around to start the fire and heat the water.
She kept reassuring herself.
It’s fine. Just endure it.
Just endure a little longer.
Once her father earned enough merits, once the policies changed, she would be able to live a good life.
She would definitely leave this wretched place in glory, just like Sang Luo.
And she still had to find that man who would become a battalion commander in the future…
Yes.
As long as she found him, none of the suffering she was enduring now would matter.