That night, the caravan halted in a narrow valley sheltered from the wind.
The grassland stretched endlessly beyond the ridges, silvered by moonlight, while the night air carried a faint chill.
Herdsmen moved quietly among the horses, tying reins and setting simple pickets. Soon, several bonfires were lit, their flames flickering in the darkness like scattered stars.
In the wilderness, fire meant safety.
Wild beasts roamed freely across the grasslands—wolves, jackals, and sometimes even tigers from distant forests. But animals feared fire and human presence.
When the caravan gathered together around the flames, the night felt less threatening.
Before stepping down from the vehicle, Liu Zhonglu turned toward Chen Rong.
"Mr. Chen, will you sleep in your carriage tonight, or stay with us?" he asked.
After the fright of the previous night, Liu Zhonglu had been wary of Chen Rong.
Yet after spending the day together, he found the young man calm, polite, and easy to converse with.
More importantly, Chen Rong possessed strange knowledge and mysterious objects. Whether divine or not, such a man was worth befriending.
Besides, the grasslands were dangerous at night. It would be safer if Chen Rong stayed nearby.
Chen Rong considered the offer briefly, then shook his head.
"I'll park beside the general's carriage and sleep in my own vehicle," he replied. "I'm more accustomed to resting there."
Liu Zhonglu nodded thoughtfully.
"That is acceptable. Master Changchun also sleeps in his carriage.
I will arrange for a few Mongol soldiers to sleep nearby. If jackals, tigers, or leopards approach, they will protect you."
Chen Rong smiled faintly.
Protection? More like supervision.
Still, he showed no objection.
"Thank you, General Liu. With soldiers nearby, I will indeed feel more at ease."
Liu Zhonglu nodded again, seemingly satisfied, and went off to arrange the night's lodging.
Soon, two goats were brought forward. The herdsmen slaughtered them skillfully, and the scent of fresh meat soon mingled with smoke from the fires.
Meanwhile, Chen Rong returned to his vehicle.
He took out several empty mineral water bottles and carefully cut them open with scissors, turning them into makeshift containers.
He filled each halfway with soil, then added dried animal manure collected earlier. Finally, he planted the pepper seeds he had prepared.
He had already soaked the seeds using damp wipes earlier in the day. Now, they were ready for planting.
As for the tomato and cucumber seeds, they still needed time to dry. He would plant those later.
After finishing his small experiment, Chen Rong reached into the back of the vehicle and lifted out the large green watermelon. Its smooth rind gleamed faintly in the firelight.
He carried it toward the bonfire.
"Everyone, come and try this," Chen Rong said. "It's a fruit I brought from the Divine Cave."
Several Daoist disciples looked over curiously.
"Cold melon?" one of them said, eyeing the fruit. "It's quite large."
Cold melon—what later generations would call watermelon—did exist in the Central Plains, but it was rare and poorly cultivated.
The flesh was pale, sour, and sometimes bitter. The seeds were large and unpleasant. Most people considered it inferior food, suitable mainly for livestock.
Liu Zhonglu waved his hand politely.
"Ahem… we appreciate your kindness, Mr. Chen, but cold melon does not taste very good. We shall simply eat roasted mutton."
In truth, he did not wish to offend Chen Rong, but cold melon truly had a poor reputation.
Chen Rong laughed.
"This is called watermelon, not cold melon.
Once I cut it open, you will understand.
Everyone should get a slice. Just remember—spit out the black seeds carefully and give them to me. They will be very useful."
The group exchanged glances.
Watermelon?
It looked like cold melon.
How different could it be?
Chen Rong drew out his multifunction knife and sliced the fruit cleanly in half.
At once, the bright red flesh glowed under the firelight.
A faint fragrance drifted into the air.
"This… this does not look like cold melon," one Daoist priest murmured. "Cold melon flesh is pale. And the seeds… these are black."
"Indeed. The appearance is similar, but the inside is completely different."
Liu Zhonglu laughed.
"Haha! We have truly mistaken Mount Tai for a mere hill. Anything from the Divine Cave cannot be ordinary. We are fortunate tonight."
Chen Rong quickly cut the watermelon into pieces.
There were not enough slices for everyone to have a full portion.
Each Daoist priest received one piece, Liu Zhonglu and Chen Rong each took one, and the Mongol soldiers had to divide the remaining slices among themselves.
Even so, curiosity filled the air.
Everyone lifted their slice cautiously.
Then they took their first bite.
The result was immediate.
Sweetness burst across their tongues. Cool juice flowed over their lips and down their throats. The refreshing flavor felt unlike anything they had tasted before.
"This… this taste…"
"So sweet!"
"It's like eating heavenly fruit!"
Master Changchun, Qiu Chuji himself, took another bite slowly. Even his usually calm expression softened.
"This fruit… is truly extraordinary."
Liu Zhonglu stared at the slice in his hand, astonished.
"My heavens… this is indeed not cold melon. It is so sweet—and filled with water. I have only tasted melons like this from the Western Regions… but even those are inferior."
The watermelon conquered everyone instantly.
Even the Mongol soldiers, who usually ate coarse food without complaint, devoured their portions eagerly, careful not to waste a drop.
Chen Rong nodded with satisfaction.
"This fruit was cultivated by divine methods," he said. "Please spit out the seeds carefully and return them to me. We can plant them later, so the Great Khan may also taste them."
Everyone nodded immediately.
They ate carefully, spitting out each black seed into their palms. Some rinsed them with water before handing them to Chen Rong.
During this process, one of Qiu Chuji's younger disciples quietly slipped two seeds into his sleeve.
But Master Changchun noticed.
"Return them."
The disciple flushed red and hurriedly handed the seeds over.
Among the Mongol soldiers, none dared attempt such a thing under Liu Zhonglu's watchful gaze.
Soon, Chen Rong collected all the seeds.
"Sir," Liu Zhonglu said, "this fruit is so delicious. Why not present it directly to the Great Khan?"
Chen Rong shook his head.
"It can only be stored for about a month. After that, the taste deteriorates. It is better to plant the seeds and grow new fruit. When we reach the western camp, the Great Khan can taste them fresh."
Liu Zhonglu nodded, impressed by the foresight.
After the watermelon, the roasted mutton was ready. The meat sizzled over open flames, releasing a rich aroma. Each person received a portion, accompanied by dry cheese—sour and hard, but filling.
The group ate quietly under the night sky.
Afterward, one by one, they returned to their tents or carriages. Tomorrow, they would rise early and continue westward.
Chen Rong returned to his vehicle.
He wrapped the watermelon seeds carefully in soft tissue, then spread them along the dashboard to dry. Once dried, he would store them safely and plant them when conditions allowed.
Modern watermelon varieties were hardy and adaptable. If properly cultivated, they could grow across vast regions.
Chen Rong leaned back in his seat, watching the flickering firelight outside.
A small fruit, perhaps—but it might become another key to gaining influence.
On the silent grassland, the night deepened.
Tomorrow, the journey west would continue.