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墨書 Inktalez
I stretched my face into a bitter melon expression as I walked out of the felt tent, taking the opportunity to stretch and loosen my muscles.
Outside lay an endless grassland, where the slightly yellow grass shimmered under the sunlight, and sheep leisurely grazed, wandering about.
From somewhere came the melodious singing of a shepherdess, bright and captivating—a rare sight that echoed the lines of a poem: "The sky is vast, the wilderness is boundless; the wind blows the grass low, revealing cattle and sheep."
"The Empress must be in a good mood; it’s been a long time since I’ve seen her step outside," said the yellow-robed servant, skipping along behind me, her smile as bright as a blooming trumpet flower.
"Is that so?" It seemed that this Qing Shui was just a humorless homebody who never stepped beyond her front door!
"Hey, what’s this?" I curiously looked at the little foal in front of me. Its pristine white coat was spotless, and its round eyes were fixed on me, nuzzling closer as if seeking affection.
The yellow-robed servant's expression changed, and she asked me with some surprise, "Empress, this is your favorite Pan Xue! You used to love riding it across the grasslands."
What? My steed is such a malnourished little foal? No, no, what I liked was—my gaze shifted to a nearby sight: a sleek black stallion, muscular and glossy, clearly a fine horse!
"I want to ride that one!" I grinned widely and dashed forward without hesitation.
The feeling of galloping on horseback was exhilarating; I could finally release all the pent-up frustration within me.
A sharp whistle pierced the air, causing the horse to suddenly stop and stare blankly behind us.
I quickly turned back, my heart racing in fear.
Mao Dun Chanyu stood there expressionless, his eyes as dark as night narrowed slightly, exuding an aura of danger.
The yellow-robed slave rushed over, breathless and tearful, saying, “Lord Chanyu, the Empress insisted on riding that horse, and I couldn’t stop her…”
What’s the matter? Is riding a horse against the law? After all the trouble of crossing over, unable to eat meat, ride horses, or even enjoy the sight of handsome men—this is truly unbearable.
Mao Dun lifted me off the horse in a moment of frustration and sighed, “Qing Shui, if you want to leave me, I will let you go. Just don’t put yourself in danger. This horse has a wild temperament; it might hurt you.”
I looked up at his face, and in his striking features, I recalled a saying: love knows no origin and runs deep; the living can die, and the dead can live…
If there were such a man in this world who treated me this way, I would die without regrets. Unfortunately, I am not Qing Shui; I can only remain in this body and sigh, “I will never leave. I swear.”
Mao Dun was taken aback for a moment. I hooked my pinky around his and smiled lightly, saying, “Let’s make a pinky promise.”
“A pinky promise?”
I traced his scarred fingers gently and patiently explained, “A pinky promise means an everlasting commitment that cannot be revoked. I promise you that I will never leave until death.”
Mao Dun was as joyful as a child. He spun me around while his weathered cheek brushed softly against mine.
“Qing Shui, do you know? Your words make me happier than when I seized the throne from my father and became Lord of the Prairie, with thousands coming to pay their respects.”
I understood his pain—sent as a hostage to Greater Yuezhi by his unscrupulous father and stepmother, nearly killed.
After escaping with his life and returning home, he could only watch helplessly as his father sought to dethrone him in favor of a younger sibling.
Thus he resolved to sever all ties, committing patricide and matricide to become the fierce and untamed wolf of the prairie.
He lifted me onto the horse, and as we galloped away, his soft, flowing black hair brushed against my face, carrying with it the scent of wild vines.
I had encountered this flower during my mountain adventures at the cliff's edge; it was a resilient and brave bloom that could stand tall and proud even in the fiercest winds.
“Qing Shui, look at this field of flowers,” he said, his voice deep and enchanting, as if infused with a captivating magic.
I carefully followed the direction of his finger, and before me lay a vast expanse of pale white blossoms.
However, many of the flowers had already wilted, their remnants scattered forlornly among the grass.
“Egret?” My body trembled slightly, and my voice unconsciously quivered.
He slowly crouched down, picking up a withered flower, his gaze filled with tenderness and pity. “It’s Egret, your favorite flower. You once told me that your hometown, Chang'an, is home to many of these blooms. I wanted to transplant them here so you could smell the scent of home on the prairie, but…”
His voice trailed off, tinged with a sense of helplessness and regret.
I closed my eyes, forcing myself not to look at those flowers because I knew the meaning of Egret.
A passionate longing, a deep affection.
It was just unfortunate that this love never belonged to that foolish man, Mao Dun.
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