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The winds over the yellow earth seemed so dry, inevitably breeding restlessness in one's heart.
The wind stirred the cloth covering the tents, stirred the trees and grass, stirred the robes of the black-robed elder, stirred the strands of white hair peeking from his hood.
The black-robed elder lowered his head, looked at his own hands.
Palms broad, fingers slender, knuckles prominent, calluses large and small.
These were hands that once held writing brushes, hands that should have been elegant, fair, with knuckles concealed. Because of his clan's needs, they later became like this—though not ugly, certainly not delicate.
Regretful?
Perhaps.
Remorseful?
No.
Because these hands had also held the strongest, purest wine bowls; had pulled the most fragrant, tenderest beef and mutton; had pinched the most beautiful, softest women; had gripped the hardest, sharpest blades.
But these seemingly glorious things seemed to lose all meaning before Time.
The black-robed elder suddenly remembered a hawk he had tamed as a child—taught by Hu people back then. He recalled his young self taming an equally young hawk, one hawk and one boy, both teetering, both gritting their teeth enduring...
Did he ultimately win?
Couldn't remember. Seemed he won...
But now he suddenly felt as if he were that hawk, while that hateful Time had been taming him all along, taming him from a naive child into a spirited youth, then ruthlessly taming him into this aged visage.
He once thought he would become a renowned general, never imagining he'd turn white-haired before achieving renown.
The black-robed elder took a deep breath, straightened his back, lifted his head high, strode purposefully along the path between tents to the central great tent...
Two Hu guards at the entrance reached out to stop him. The black-robed elder glared, roared: "Out of the way!" His personal guards stepped forward to pull the two guards aside. The Hu guards naturally refused, stubbornly blocking the tent entrance. Both sides struggled.
Suddenly, several phrases in the Hu language came from inside the tent. The guards outside then yielded somewhat...
The black-robed elder flung open the tent flap, saw Yu Fuluo and Huchuquan both inside, couldn't help but snort coldly. Without waiting for Yu Fuluo's greeting, he directly walked to a nearby mat and sat.
Yu Fuluo glanced at Huchuquan.
Huchuquan understood, chuckled, called for guards to bring the black-robed elder a plate of mutton, then poured a bowl of mare's milk wine, saying: "Ah, what matter has our honored guest so angry?"
The black-robed elder's eyes were like hawks in the sky—sharp and fierce, fixed on Yu Fuluo and Huchuquan, making Huchuquan's hand pouring wine pause slightly, a few drops splashing outside the bowl.
"Why release them?"
The black-robed elder spoke word by word.
Yu Fuluo blinked, shook his neck, turned to Huchuquan, smiled: "What seeds? Right Worthy King, did you take our guest's seeds?"
"No? What seeds? What kind?" Huchuquan played along, feigning ignorance.
The black-robed elder grunted, voice like rocks clashing on a mountaintop: "I never joke."
"Very good. By Tengri," Yu Fuluo said, light as mountain mist, "we, children of the wolf, also never like jokers."
The black-robed elder stared fixedly at Yu Fuluo, tone cold as lingering ice in mountaintop crevices: "In White Wave Valley, if you hadn't released them, how could they escape?"
Yu Fuluo's mutton-cutting hand paused, then continued. He put a piece of mutton in his mouth, clearly finding the taste good, gestured for the black-robed elder to try.
The black-robed elder stared at Yu Fuluo, refusing to eat.
Yu Fuluo didn't mind, cheeks bulging with mutton, extended the invitation again, clearly stating: if you don't eat, I won't speak.
The black-robed elder held out a long while, finally picked up the small knife on the table, grabbed a lamb chop, cut a piece, put it in his mouth.
Previous lamb chops were roasted from tender young lamb. But this chop was from an old sheep, overcooked. The meat was dry and tough. Though the mutton flavor was strong, the meat fibers were like wooden strands, wedging between teeth.
The black-robed elder didn't stop, didn't pause because the old meat stuck in his teeth. He chewed a few times, swallowed, then cut another piece, put it in his mouth, until the entire roasted lamb chop was eaten clean...
Clatter.
The black-robed elder threw the lamb bone and small knife into the plate, then silently stared, awaiting Yu Fuluo's answer.
"Our guest has a good appetite," Yu Fuluo said smiling. "But we, children of the wolf, have never had large appetites. Moreover... what our guest requested, we've all done..."
"You intentionally released them! A hundred cavalry escaped unscathed!"
"Ah, our guest means that..." Yu Fuluo chuckled. "Our guest sees, we won this battle, right? We helped our guest drive them away, right? They escaped, so they escaped. Is that so important?"
"You did not honor the agreement!" The black-robed elder pointed at Yu Fuluo, angrily shouted.
"Heh, agreement. Hah, agreement!"
Yu Fuluo gently placed the knife on the table, tender as caressing a beauty's skin. "Back then, the Han Emperor's decree: we brought seven thousand tribesmen to campaign, agreed we'd help suppress rebellion, Han people would supply provisions. And then? Two thousand of our tribesmen died in battle. Then provisions were no longer supplied... Last spring, someone said we'd agreed: we'd suppress the White Wave, then they'd help convey our wish to return home to the Han Emperor. And then? Eight hundred of our tribesmen died in battle. Then the so-called conveying never materialized... This spring, someone said we'd agreed: we'd pretend to be White Wave, then they'd help us return to the royal court. And then? Five hundred of our tribesmen died in battle. And now we... where are we? I'd like to ask our guest, which agreement you speak of?"
Yu Fuluo didn't shout or yell, but the steady tone beneath conveyed wrath like magma churning beneath the earth's crust.
The black-robed elder fell silent. A long time later, he changed his tone: "Chanyu, it's not that we don't honor agreements. But the court suddenly sent a new commandery administrator. Many things couldn't be done immediately... But now it's different. The court has its own affairs now, can't manage Shang Commandery and Hedong for the time being. Once the commandery administrator here dies, this entire region will be like before—pastureland belonging to the Chanyu and us... Then would the Chanyu still worry we don't keep our word? Would the Chanyu still worry such a vast land lacks strength and provisions to support the Chanyu's northward return to the royal court? Does the Chanyu no longer trust us?"
Yu Fuluo smiled: "Naturally we trust. Otherwise, the wolf's descendants wouldn't be here, right? Does our guest want another piece?"
The black-robed elder politely declined, then took his leave.
Huchuquan remained silent a long time, then said in the Hu language: "I still don't trust him..."
"Oh? Why?" Yu Fuluo also used the Hu language.
"...Because when he ate the lamb chop, he was like Xu Bu Guduhou. Clearly very old meat, meat that sticks in teeth, yet still pretending to be young, as if having good teeth, able to devour it in big mouthfuls..."