Early the next morning, when Gu Chengyan woke up, Iron Pillar was no longer in the room.
On the two wooden chests temporarily set up as a bed, the bedding was folded neatly, and red-hot coals had clearly been added to the hearth.
Slowly sitting up and hugging the thick cotton quilt, he sat in a daze for a while before Gu Chengyan finally moved off the bed to wash up, changing into a tight-fitting garment with a round collar and bound cuffs.
After pushing the door open to exit the hut, he found Iron Pillar standing under the courtyard wall feeding the horses, a whole basket of purple alfalfa he didn’t know where he had gone to cut it—in his hands.
Holding a handful of greenery, he attracted the two tall, high-headed horses they had brought back, which couldn’t stop nuzzling toward him.
“You’re up?” Hearing the door, Iron Pillar glanced back. “I kept your breakfast warm on the hearth; didn’t you see?”
He stood up straight, shaking the grass clippings from his hands. “I’ll go get it for you!”
Accompanied by the sound of his footsteps, Gu Chengyan watched him go to the hearth and deftly fish out a round, flat iron box from the embers.
Iron Pillar tested the temperature with his hand and, nodding, smiled at him. “It was too hot when it was just fried, but it’s just right now. Would you like to try it?”
Gu Chengyan took it. In the iron box sat a row of three Rongdi pastries.
This item was the same as the youtiao (fried dough sticks) of the Central Plains; both were made of eggs and flour, fried to a golden, crispy state, and served as breakfast.
Only, Iron Pillar had mixed brown sugar into the flour, making it taste sweet.
“I also boiled some milk tea for you,” Iron Pillar took out a flat pot and poured a bowl. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to stand the gamey smell of raw sheep’s milk.”
Gu Chengyan thanked him, lifted the bowl, and took a sip. The mellow, rich milk flavor burst in his mouth, while the refreshing tea leaves perfectly absorbed the fishy smell of the raw milk.
It was just right for washing down the greasiness of the fried pastries.
The milk tea was still hot, the flat pot having been kept warm in the hearth.
These cooking utensils on the grasslands were quite convenient, keeping things warm and heating up food quickly—unlike the Central Plains, where one had to use thermos bottles for hot water and wrap food boxes in cotton quilts.
Seeing him eating with such relish, Iron Pillar breathed a sigh of relief:
Most Han people couldn’t stand the sheep or mare’s milk of the grasslands. It was only after learning to boil tea from his Han master that he thought of this trick.
“Wolves howled all night long; I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to get up today.”
Gu Chengyan recalled that, in his half-asleep state yesterday, he had indeed seemed to hear some sounds.
…So those were wolves?
Iron Pillar had bought two horses from the Akinit tribe in total:
One was a white horse, tall and large, with small braids woven into its long mane; the other was a short-haired, yellow-dapple horse, robust and imposing, with three-colored mottled spots on its belly.
By now, he had finished feeding the white horse and was carrying the grass basket toward the yellow-dapple horse.
As it happened, the big white horse still felt it wasn’t enough, leaning forward to lick his face in a fawning manner.
Iron Pillar patted the horse’s neck and stepped aside. Seeing Gu Chengyan did not respond, he continued to press, “With so many wolves howling in unison, you didn’t hear them?”
Gu Chengyan shook his head. He was single-mindedly concerned about today’s trip to the Holy Mountain, and last night, he had taken a whole pill. The medicine was fast-acting and potent, so he naturally slept heavily and heard nothing.
“Then you must have been exhausted from the long journey.”
Iron Pillar stuffed the last bundle of horse grass into the yellow-dapple horse’s mouth and leaped nimbly to dodge the white horse’s dissatisfied snort.
Today was a clear day. There wasn’t a single cloud in the azure sky, only a line of wild geese flying toward the southwest. A cool breeze blew gently, and the winter sun felt warm.
The clouds and mist on the Holy Mountain had dispersed. The Snow Mountain Villa was well-positioned; one only had to look up to take in the entire view of the snow-capped mountain.
Different from the isolated, snowy peaks of the Central Plains, this majestic Holy Mountain consisted of ranges of connecting peaks, like a single entity; looked at horizontally, it resembled a crouching dragon, and from the side, a fierce tiger.
“Well then, Mr. Gu, shall we go for a walk on the mountain today?”
Iron Pillar stood with his hands on his hips, looking at the two horses beneath the blue sky and snowy mountains. These were both good horses; he had felt stifled riding the carriage horses these past few days.
It was rare to have such a beautiful day, and his hands were itching—he wanted to go riding.
Gu Chengyan blinked slowly. “Didn’t we agree on that yesterday?”
“Hey!” Iron Pillar was delighted. “Then I’ll go harness the carriage!”
“Hmm? Aren’t there two horses here?”
“Eh? But can your body take riding a horse?” Iron Pillar’s eyes were full of worry; along the way, he had seen Gu Chengyan vomit blood too many times.
“Don’t worry, it’s fine, and—” Gu Chengyan got up and smiled. “And my riding attire is already changed.”
Iron Pillar looked carefully and realized it was true:
Usually, Gu Chengyan wore wide robes with big sleeves, even wrapping himself in cloaks and hechang (cranes’ down coats), but today he was dressed very neatly, with his long hair tied up high.
He looked completely poised, heroic, and spirited.
Realizing he had been staring straight at the E-qi, Iron Pillar’s cheeks turned crimson, and he hurriedly turned and rushed into the hut, his voice stumbling:
“I, I’ll pack the things!”
By the time he came out with the simple water and dry rations.
Gu Chengyan was already sitting steadily on the back of the white horse, holding the reins and looking around casually.
Iron Pillar had never seen such a beautiful posture while riding:
Gu Chengyan’s riding movements were extremely standard; his back was straight, and his waist and abdomen moved with the horse’s gait without being rigid, looking like a moving painting.
Moreover, his expression was lazy and composed, as if he were born to be on horseback.
Iron Pillar felt his heart surging with emotion, hurriedly hanging the supplies on the yellow-dapple horse, and then galloping out of the courtyard wall.
Grassland sons were all good riders; seeing others who rode well would naturally give rise to a bit of a competitive spirit.
He, too, forgot himself for a moment. As they passed each other, he couldn’t help but issue a challenge: “Mr. Gu, shall we have a race?”
Gu Chengyan glanced at him, a cluster of light flashing in his eyes as he raised his brows. “Alright—”
Iron Pillar turned, just about to find a landmark at the foot of the Holy Mountain to serve as a finish line, when a whip cracked beside him. The white horse had already bolted, opening a distance of four or five zhang in an instant.
“Hey, you—!” He was anxious, hurriedly spurring his horse to follow.
These two horses were both first-class grassland racehorses and came from the same stable. Having run many times in mountain marches and races, they were evenly matched.
The grasslands in the extreme north were not like the royal court; they were covered with wild grass, dead trees, and scattered stones, with no fixed roads to follow.
How to go and where to go depended entirely on the rider’s experience and judgment.
Gu Chengyan was indeed a skilled rider, but he hesitated when facing so many complex circumstances. Although he snatched the lead, he arrived late.
Faced with a narrow fissure left by a dried-up ravine, Iron Pillar spurred his horse to leap across, while he hesitated, missing the timing, and had to take a detour.
Gu Chengyan approached slowly holding the reins. Even though he had lost, he didn’t dampen his enthusiasm; on the contrary, because he had enjoyed such a brisk race, he was in high spirits with flushed cheeks.
Iron Pillar caught his breath, untied his water bag, threw it to Gu Chengyan, and came to his senses to apologize. “Mr. Gu, I forgot myself for a moment, I couldn’t help it—”
Gu Chengyan shook his head with a smile:
There was no need for an apology for that.
It had been a long time since he had raced a horse so purely, and Iron Pillar was right—horses were truly different from each other.
Gu Chengyan had noticed it the moment he chose his horse—this big white horse was gluttonous and had many small quirks; it was fast and could deliver messages, but it didn’t qualify as a warhorse.
The best stallions on the grasslands could go to the battlefield, lead the horse herd against fierce predators, and even guard the home in peacetime or rescue the monarch in wartime.
Seeing Gu Chengyan naturally pour some water into his palm to feed the horse after drinking, Iron Pillar resisted for a moment, but couldn’t help himself and sighed sincerely:
“You are truly suited for riding a horse. I mean—”
He switched back to the Rongdi language, very piously and solemnly:
“You should belong to the grasslands.”
Gu Chengyan: “…”
Everything about this person, Iron Pillar, was good, except that he was too persistent in acting as a lobbyist for his master, the grassland Wolf Lord.
“I…” he smiled good-naturedly. “Aren’t I on the grasslands right now?”
Iron Pillar, however, stated it more bluntly, “You should return to the royal court! You shouldn’t be exiled here!”
Gu Chengyan coughed and blinked his eyes innocently. “Am I not… here to recuperate?”
This time, Iron Pillar finally realized that Gu Chengyan was trying to change the subject. He curled his lips and thought to himself:
Since when could a sick person ride like you?
But,
Thinking back along the way, Gu Chengyan coughing up blood was true, and the Great Shaman taking his pulse and saying he was seriously ill and incurable was also true.
Iron Pillar tilted his head in confusion: Is it possible that Han people have a way to change their pulse?
He thought and thought, but couldn’t figure it out. Iron Pillar could only say indignantly, as he took back the water bag, “…I think you are just faking your illness to slack off!”
“How could that be,” Gu Chengyan curled his eyes. “I am truly sick.”
Iron Pillar looked at his pale lips and, in the end, didn’t think about it anymore, leading the way and taking Gu Chengyan up the mountain.
In early winter, the mountain grass was withered and yellow.
The Holy Mountain was different from what Gu Chengyan had imagined; it wasn’t completely barren. Between the wild grass and rubble on the sunny slopes, nameless little yellow flowers were still blooming.
In the pine forest, squirrels were chasing and leaping; in the distance, behind the grey rock bushes, grey rabbits were secretly watching them.
The path Iron Pillar led him along was a mountain trail buried for the most part by wild grass, with a dried-up ravine beside it.
“This was the road we used to take to worship at Mount Ebo. When I was small, I often came here with my clansmen,” Iron Pillar pointed with his whip. “Look at those two crooked trees over there—”
“That used to be the starting point for the horse race during the Mount Ebo sacrifice. At that time, this little stream hadn’t dried up yet, and everyone would bring their horses to the side of the road to drink.”
He looked at the ravine beside the trail that had been filled with gravel and wild grass:
“Back then, all the children would stand by the stream, giving wreaths and ribbons to the warriors of the tribe, hoping they would have good luck.”
Gu Chengyan looked far off at the two trees, then looked at the winding old waterway on the hillside, vaguely able to guess the hustle and bustle there must have been.
“When the old Shaman was around, the Mount Ebo sacrifice was held firmly once every three years. Besides horse racing, there were many other interesting competitions.”
“When I was seven, I won a very large colored ball.”
As Iron Pillar spoke, the smile on his face gradually faded. “It’s a pity that after the old Shaman passed away, the sacrifice gradually… disappeared.”
The Rongdi sacrifice to the mountains was similar to the Han people’s ancestor worship; it was an important festival.
To be unable to even hold such an important festival…
Gu Chengyan shook his head secretly.
“No wonder you were able to win just now,” not wanting to let Iron Pillar’s mood sink, Gu Chengyan thought for a moment and teased him intentionally, “Your victory was ungentlemanly.”
Iron Pillar fell for it, as expected, flushing red as he argued, “Th-that was because you snatched the lead first!”
Gu Chengyan burst into laughter. “Therefore, we are tied.”
Iron Pillar curled his lips, just about to say that there was no prize and the win or loss didn’t matter, when he looked up and saw a white mist rising on the mountainside ahead.
His eyes brightened at once, and he pointed with his whip:
“Hurry, follow me!”
Gu Chengyan spurred his horse as instructed, following him along the mountain trail to run toward the white mist. After rounding the second bend, the mountain trail began to wind around the mountain.
As they ascended, the temperature in the mountains gradually lowered. Gu Chengyan looked up inadvertently and found that the sky above his head had been covered by grey shadows at some point.
Before he could reflect on the change in weather on the snowy mountain, Iron Pillar shouted excitedly, “Look, this is the ‘Blessing of the Holy Mountain’!”
What Iron Pillar was pointing at was an open platform halfway up the mountain. The rocks here were different from other places on the mountain; they looked very much like basalt.
Near the mountain wall behind the platform, there was a cave the size of a man, from which white mist curled, with white smoke even rising from the ground.
“I’ve only seen the ‘Blessing of the Holy Mountain’ twice! The elders all say that immortals live in this cave! Making a wish here is very efficacious!”
After saying this, Iron Pillar pressed his hands together in front of his chest, closed his eyes, and recited his prayers earnestly, asking for the blessings of the gods—
Seeing Iron Pillar like this, Gu Chengyan smiled and turned to look at the cave. Just then, a mountain wind blew, and he unexpectedly caught a whiff of sulfur.
He couldn’t help but urge his horse forward a bit. Sure enough, he saw a large patch of water seeping out on the black mountain wall.
Gu Chengyan’s heart pounded wildly. Water vapor, white mist, black stone blocks that looked very much like basalt, plus this whiff of sulfur…
He was almost sixty or seventy percent certain this cave was not a dwelling for immortals, and the white mist was not a divine manifestation; rather, it was that a hot spring was hidden inside the cave.
After his injury, Gu Chengyan had been afraid of the cold all year round, and his only trouble coming to these extreme northern grasslands was staying warm.
If there was a pool of warm spring water in this Holy Mountain…
Then this place truly was a utopia; it couldn’t be better.
Subconsciously, he pulled the reins, wanting to move closer to the cave. If there was still time, he even wanted to go inside and explore.
But he had only taken one step when he was stopped by Iron Pillar behind him. “Mr. Gu, that is a forbidden area; you can’t go there. If you enter, you will be punished by the gods!”
Gu Chengyan couldn’t help but want to laugh.
But the next instant, the expression on Iron Pillar’s face changed from a “kind reminder” to “panic.” His eyes widened, and his face was also hideous:
“Mr. Gu! Run! Watch out!!”
Gu Chengyan only felt a very large shadow fall in front of him. He paused and looked up, only to be horrified to discover that a large patch of snow had slid down from above at some point.
The enormous block of snow hung over him like Mount Tai. The white horse was startled; it didn’t even need Gu Chengyan to control it, carrying him and bolting forward a distance.
However, a snow avalanche often meant that one hair’s move could affect the whole body; once one block of snow fell, more snow would rustle down to form a massive flood.
Gu Chengyan bent his waist, trying his best to keep close to the horse’s back, and the white horse also used all its strength, opening its four hooves to escape.
But the falling white snow was also wrapped with dead wood and mountain rocks. Panic-stricken, the white horse finally lost its footing, stepping into empty air and rolling into the snow with Gu Chengyan.
Buried by the white snow, Gu Chengyan’s first reaction wasn’t the cold, but rather the thought—
Next time I face a perilous situation, I must make sure Iron Pillar talks less.
This kid is truly a harbinger of bad luck.
The heavy snow blanket was pressed onto his body, making it difficult for Gu Chengyan to breathe. Squeezed by dead wood, the white horse lost its balance and rolled again, throwing him out.
Gu Chengyan subconsciously wanted to stand firm, but he forgot that his inner strength was dissipated and he couldn’t exert any force at all.
This throw caused him to sprain his ankle as he landed, and he was rolled away by an even larger wave of snow.
Iron Pillar’s voice gradually disappeared; there was only a buzzing in his ears. Gu Chengyan felt a fishy sweetness surge in his throat, and he began to feel pain all over.
He didn’t know how far or how long the snow had pushed him, or where it had finally stopped. Gu Chengyan only knew that when he managed to crawl out from the snow, the white horse was already gone.
The wet, cold snow had soaked all the clothes on his body. The tight-fitting garment he had chosen for riding had now truly become the death of him.
His left foot seemed to have lost all sensation. He tried to move himself under a tree, but as soon as he moved a little, he couldn’t help but cough up a mouthful of blood.
Staring blankly at the bright red, he hissed and wiped his lips, leaning his head back weakly and lying on the snow:
In my past life, I died in the palace. In this life, am I to be buried in the snow?
How… why am I destined to be a short-lived ghost in both?
Gu Chengyan curled his lips, feeling a bit wronged: God, you are so unfair.
His consciousness was fading. After a long while, he vaguely heard the swish-swish sound of someone walking on snow. Forcing his eyes half-open, he truly caught a vague glimpse of a human figure.
“Iron Pillar…?”
The person didn’t answer, only walking to his front and pausing. After a sigh so quiet it was barely audible, he suddenly swept him up horizontally.
It wasn’t Iron Pillar.
Iron Pillar didn’t have such sturdy arms, such a tall, imposing stature, or curly, fluffy hair…
Thump, thump, thump.
The heartbeat in his ear was steady and powerful. Gu Chengyan relaxed, unconsciously rubbing against the heat source, only feeling the chest he was pillowing his head on:
Hmm, very soft.