Fish Meat – Chapter 129
by Little PandaThe First Year of Zhao Wu
The Path of Ten Thousand Directions (8)
Zhen Wenjun and others grew up in the Central Plains, where they were accustomed to seeing layered mountain peaks and peaceful green waters. Although they had heard about the terrors of the desert from the Guxi people and the Tiger tribe before departure, such terror remained merely an abstract concept.
Pain that hasn’t truly been felt firsthand always leaves room for wishful thinking, especially for this group who had just escaped death.
After drifting at sea for so many days and surviving between life and death, it seemed their fate wasn’t meant to end there. This was an auspicious sign, the best omen that they would surely find the Country of Flowing Fire and reopen the Path of Ten Thousand Directions.
The Central Plains people, filled with grand ambitions, were initially captivated by the magnificent endless yellow sands upon entering the desert, curious about this unprecedented sight. Soon, strong winds hurled sand at their bodies, and even with their mouths and noses covered, their eyes couldn’t stay open against the flying sand.
Before a day had passed, Zhen Wenjun’s eyes were bloodshot, everything appeared blurry with double vision. Under the scorching sun, no amount of water could quench their thirst. The guide had warned them to conserve water, saying if they got lost, they might be stranded in the desert for a very long time, and countless people had died of thirst here.
This guide was from Beixi, and could speak the Central Plains language, albeit with an extremely heavy accent – every sentence required half-guessing to understand.
He always wore a leather hat with a wide, long brim that covered most of his dark, thin, wrinkled face.
The guide called himself “Aye” (“阿耶,” which also means “father” in Central Plains language). Zhen Wenjun couldn’t bring herself to call him that, feeling he was taking advantage of them. Aye loved to laugh; after finishing each sentence, regardless of others’ reactions, he would laugh first, his eyes always squinting so one couldn’t tell where he was looking. He also liked physical contact, hugging and embracing Zhen Wenjun, and when she became unfriendly, he would explain that Beixi people were different from Central Plains people – they were warm and generous, not as reserved. “We’re all friends, brothers and sisters,” he would say.
Zhen Wenjun suppressed her murderous thoughts and didn’t actually harm him, after all, Beixi was the only small town near the desert’s edge, and everyone in town recommended Aye.
Zhen Wenjun didn’t quite believe this unremarkable and somewhat sleazy old man had truly been to the Country of Flowing Fire. With Qi’en dead and no clear path forward, she had no choice but to find another way. While she deeply doubted Aye’s character, that wasn’t the most important thing – if he truly had the ability to lead them to the Country of Flowing Fire, his sleaziness wouldn’t matter. What she feared was that he might be a complete fraud, only after her carload of valuables. While Aye didn’t seem dangerous now, if he decided to play any tricks once they were in the desert, there would be nothing they could do.
“One test will reveal the truth,” Wei Tingxu suggested to Zhen Wenjun, telling her to try it.
Zhen Wenjun took out the Ten Thousand Ways Compass and asked Aye where would be suitable to sell such a seemingly valuable item. Aye, seeing through Zhen Wenjun’s intention, chuckled with his eyes darting around.
“Young lady wants to test me?” Aye pointed at the compass face and said mysteriously in a lowered voice, “This compass is from the Country of Flowing Fire, it was popular decades ago but was gradually lost. Those who know its worth understand it’s priceless, though few can afford it; those who don’t wouldn’t take it even if given free. No wonder you young ladies dare to come to Beixi asking about the Country of Flowing Fire – you have the Ten Thousand Ways Compass. Ah, this is truly a treasure. After the Country of Flowing Fire closed its borders, fearing people would use this to find them, they destroyed large numbers of these compasses. I haven’t seen one of these in many years.”
“Does the elder recognize the text on the compass?”
“The outermost ring shows the directions.”
“What about further inward?”
Aye chuckled but wouldn’t tell her.
Seeing that Aye truly knew the item, Zhen Wenjun said, “This item has no real value to us, and once we reach the Country of Flowing Fire, it will be nothing but waste. If elder can lead us to our destination, this item will be yours.”
“Do you speak the truth?” Though Aye tried his best to suppress his fascination with the Ten Thousand Ways Compass, his eyes couldn’t leave it, as if wanting to devour it with his gaze.
“Of course it’s true. If elder doesn’t believe me, the compass can stay by your side throughout the journey.” Zhen Wenjun, seeing through his temptation, further enticed him.
Aye reached out to grab the compass but, noticing Zhen Wenjun’s strange smile, suddenly thought of something and withdrew his hand.
“What’s wrong?” Zhen Wenjun raised her eyebrow.
“They say you Central Plains people know dark magic and use poison. Who knows if there’s poison on this?”
“Why would I poison you? If you die, how would we reach the Country of Flowing Fire? And what about your wife and children?”
Aye was suddenly startled: “How did you know about my…”
Zhen Wenjun smiled silently, a perfect example of “skin smile meat not smile” (“皮笑肉不笑,” meaning a fake smile that doesn’t reach the eyes).
Aye had no choice; he cursed her for being despicable while helping them prepare.
Not all attendants were taken along; some were left in Beixi. This was both for potential rescue and to intimidate Aye. Wei Tingxu’s method indeed worked well, revealing Aye’s true nature while ensuring his compliance, preventing him from attempting any tricks along the way.
While threatening Aye, Zhen Wenjun could achieve the best effect without showing any flaws, but when actually using his wife and children’s lives as leverage to make him submit, she felt uneasy.
She shouldn’t have done this.
She knew Wei Tingxu had investigated Aye to find his weakness, merely using it as a threat without actually intending to harm innocent women and children. Yet Zhen Wenjun still felt subtly uncomfortable.
Zhen Wenjun felt that her current self was becoming increasingly distant from the person her mother had taught her to be.
Though somewhat sleazy, Aye did possess some real skills. He could not only predict sandstorms but also find the better paths to travel.
Beixi had only six camels in total, which Zhen Wenjun bought for Wei Tingxu, Ah Xi, and others who were physically weaker to ride, while most others had to drive carts or walk. Aye helped them modify the wagon wheels, doubling their width to better traverse the desert.
Aye explained that while these dunes looked similar, they had two sides – solid and loose. If they walked on the loose side where the sand was soft and deep, progress would be very difficult and consume more energy. He led them to walk on the windward slope. The windward slope had solid sand, firm under foot and stable to walk on, saving energy.
After four days, everything Aye said and did was genuine, though it was unclear whether this was his true nature or because he was acting under duress.
On the fifth day, Aye said they were about to enter the heart of the desert, where weather changes would become increasingly unpredictable, and falling ill could likely mean death.
He wasn’t exaggerating.
When Zhen Wenjun climbed a hill to look around, even with her strong sense of direction, she could no longer remember the path they had taken. In the rolling yellow sands, a single gust of wind could erase all traces of their passage. East, south, west, north, even up and down all looked exactly the same. If trapped here, they would truly become more lost with each step.
Aye’s mood was very low; he ate only dry biscuits with water each day, slept against the camels, and barely spoke to Zhen Wenjun and the others.
Zhen Wenjun tried to reconcile with him, but after several attempts at reaching out were ignored, she gave up.
During dinner, while Xiaohua was stirring the vegetable porridge in the iron pot, she suddenly saw a lizard quickly crawl past. She immediately stood up to chase it.
Xiaohua was responsible for everyone’s rations, needing to calculate how much they should eat and drink daily to last through the forty-nine days Aye had mentioned. With the harsh desert environment, Xiaohua was worried about the dwindling food supplies, so this lizard appeared at just the right time.
One more piece of meat was still meat.
Though tall in stature, Xiaohua moved extremely quickly, catching the lizard just as it was about to slip into a crack between rocks.
“Danger!”
When Zhong Ji shouted “danger,” Xiaohua hadn’t even noticed where the danger was. When a horned viper hiding in the shadows bit her hand, she didn’t pull back, but instead happily pulled out both the viper and the lizard together.
Zhong Ji: “…That snake is poisonous.”
Xiaohua: “I am more poisonous than the snake.”
Sure enough, after a moment the horned viper became rigid and motionless. Zhong Ji certainly understood that the Ghost Dove Poison had long since permeated Xiaohua’s blood; now she was essentially a walking vessel of poison, and she couldn’t even taste-test food for Wei Tingxu anymore, as no poison could kill her.
This horned viper had truly met with “eight generations of bad luck” (“倒了八輩子的黴,” an idiom meaning extremely unfortunate).
Returning to the pot with her spoils, she cut off the snake’s head, skillfully gutted both the snake and lizard, removing the internal organs, leaving only the edible meat. She ladled the cooked vegetable porridge into bowls and called everyone to eat. The attendants lined up one by one, listless and weak, to get their porridge. After setting aside Wei Tingxu’s portion with extra vegetables, covered with a wooden lid on the cloth behind her, Xiaohua began to cook snake soup.
“Where were you when you were sixteen?” Zhong Ji asked, sitting nearby.
Xiaohua: “…”
Ever since their safe escape from the sea, Zhong Ji, having revealed his biggest secret, completely stopped hiding and followed “murderer” Xiaohua around like a vengeful ghost. She rarely spoke most of the time, but whenever Xiaohua had a moment of rest, she would question her about what happened when she was sixteen.
Xiaohua, annoyed, casually responded: “I was with the Lady.”
“Yuning? Pingcang? Or somewhere else?”
“Traveling throughout all of Da Yu.”
“There must be a specific location.”
“There is.”
“Where?”
“Forgot.”
Zhong Ji fell silent, her large eyes concealing disappointment as she stared at the flames swaying in the wind beneath the iron pot.
When the snake soup was ready, Xiaohua took it to Wei Tingxu. Upon returning, Zhong Ji was still there, curled up into a small ball with her back to her.
“I really forgot,” Xiaohua said.
Zhong Ji didn’t respond, instead setting up the tent by herself. When she prepared to sleep, Xiaohua lifted the tent flap and entered.
Zhong Ji raised her upper body and looked at her for a while, finally pulling the blanket up to cover her chest with her face showing the expression of someone prematurely aged (“少年老成,” meaning young in age but mature in demeanor).
“Don’t get any ideas,” Xiaohua said helplessly, “We lost one tent today, not enough for everyone to sleep, so I’ll have to make do here for the night.”
They slept back to back, but the next morning both were awakened by the trembling earth. When they awoke, Zhong Ji’s leg was draped over Xiaohua’s thigh, and Xiaohua was holding onto Zhong Ji’s arm. The startled pair looked at each other, quickly pushed apart, and rushed out of the tent to see what was happening.
Zhen Wenjun, Wei Tingxu, and others had all emerged from their tents, everyone noticing the strange earthquake phenomenon.
The yellow sand flowed in all directions from the tremors, and flat, round, green-bodied insects emerged in swarms from the sand, seemingly unable to bear the massive shaking. Before they could make sense of it, a great dust cloud rose in the distance, merging with the sky, appearing like a stampeding herd of horses. Above the dust, a flock of black birds circled endlessly.
Who could this be?
Suddenly, Aye let out a cry and tried to jump onto a camel to flee, but Zhen Wenjun grabbed him:
“Why are you running?”
“Those are the demons of Ku’erjianshi!” Aye’s black face turned a sickly green (“慘綠,” describing extreme fear or illness).
“What? Demons?”
“The heart-carving demons! The desert bandits Kelai! No one survives an encounter with them! The white-beaked birds are their guardian beasts – look at those birds flying overhead! There’s no mistake, it’s them! And these green insects! They’re messengers from the Nine Hells of Ku’erjianshi! Whenever they appear, someone is bound to die!” Aye had no time to explain further, thinking only of escape.
“Why didn’t you tell us this before?”
Every time Aye tried to climb onto a camel, Zhen Wenjun pulled him down.
Aye angrily said, “How would I know you’d attract the Kelai? They’ve been gone from Ku’erjianshi for many years! Three years ago, I led people into the desert for half a year, and even after everyone died, the Kelai never appeared! I thought they were truly dead as the legends said!”
“How can you call something from three years ago ‘just recently’?!”
“You think there are many people like you willing to go die in Ku’erjianshi? It takes effort waiting for you all to die! If it weren’t for how valuable your goods are, I wouldn’t have come! There is no the Country of Flowing Fire! Let me go!” Aye kicked at Zhen Wenjun, trying to push her away.
Finally hearing the truth, Zhen Wenjun was furious – this bastard indeed only wanted to rob and murder them! She grabbed his legs and slammed him onto the sand like a frog, working in perfect coordination with Zuo Kunda to tie him up completely.
“Heart-carving demons, you say? Let them carve out your heart first!” Zhen Wenjun tied him to a horse, slapped the horse’s rump, and the pain-stricken horse galloped toward the rising dust cloud with Aye. His mouth stuffed with cloth and hands tied behind his back, Aye swayed on the horse, nearly falling off several times.
As they got closer to the Kelai’s horse formation, Aye saw their bird-head masks and began trembling violently, nearly crying from fear.
It really was them! Really!
Before the horse even reached the Kelai, Aye had fainted from fear, his eyes rolled back as he lay stiff on the horse’s back, face toward the sky, white foam seeping through the gaps in the cloth gag, forming a continuous line in the air.
Zhen Wenjun leaped onto Xiaoxue, planning to investigate with Zuo Kunda.
“Wenjun,” Wei Tingxu called out.
Zhen Wenjun turned back to look at her, smiling: “Don’t worry, everything will be fine. Xiaohua, all of you hide behind the rocks and don’t come out until we return.”
Xiaohua nodded, immediately directing people to hide the camels and wagons.
Zhen Wenjun and Zuo Kunda controlled their speed, using Aye as cover while stretching their necks to look ahead.
There were over twenty Kelai.
They all wore fierce bird-head masks, and the white-beaked birds’ sharp cries carried far. They charged forward fiercely, seemingly chasing something. When Zhen Wenjun looked carefully, she saw an ox cart right in front of the Kelai’s group of horses.
An ox cart…
Yes, an ox cart – Zhen Wenjun blinked her stinging eyes; she wasn’t mistaken.
A luxuriously decorated black ox cart moved leisurely across the yellow sand, leaving footprints with each step, appearing even more unhurried against the backdrop of galloping horses. Its thick eyelashes were groomed to be curly and delicate, with a golden nose ring between its nostrils. The ox’s head was covered with a cherry-pink cloth, with dazzling gemstones the size of fingernails hanging from each corner. Every time the wind blew, the jewels would sway, while the ox’s nostrils kept exhaling, seemingly sensing the overwhelming killing intent behind it. Despite this, the ox wouldn’t move faster, its hooves decorated with delicate red ribbons rising and falling in slow motion through the scorching yellow sand.
The carriage behind the ox was spacious, with three flame patterns painted on the canopy. The alligator skin seats could accommodate four or five people, but only one person sat there – a woman. She wore a lake-blue gauze dress, her long hair tucked into a gold-trimmed soft hat, with thick gauze covering her nose and mouth, revealing only a pair of azure eyes and a small section of her high nose bridge. The ox, cart, and passenger all exuded extraordinary wealth – one glance was enough to tell she was either wealthy or noble.
Zhen Wenjun wondered how such a woman appeared suddenly in the heart of the desert.
In contrast to the ox’s composure, the woman was anxious, frequently looking back, aware the bandits were getting closer but reluctant to whip the ox to make it move faster.
The mounted Kelai laughed grotesquely, drooling at the woman. Zhen Wenjun and Zuo Kunda exchanged glances, drawing sword and blade respectively, charging toward the Kelai.
What other tribe could compare to the Chongjin people? After that bone-deep memorable battle with the Chongjin people, Zhen Wenjun and Zuo Kunda feared nothing.
The Kelai pulled their “fat sheep” (“肥羊,” meaning easy target) from the slow-moving ox cart, tossing her from the front of the horse group to the back, then forward again. The woman, being thrown about, screamed in terror with a “face losing color” (“花容失色,” meaning extremely frightened), but they continued their amusement. Until two black shadows pierced into the horse group.
These two arrived so swiftly that before their forms could be clearly seen, several horses had fallen to their knees, causing several more behind them to tumble together.
As the woman was about to hit the ground, Zhen Wenjun turned her horse sharply, grabbed the back of the woman’s clothes, and pulled her onto the horse behind her.
“Lower your head! Hold tight!” Zhen Wenjun commanded, and the woman immediately obeyed, hiding her face and clutching Zhen Wenjun’s waist tightly.
Two horses charged toward her, their riders wielding large cleavers and shouting, while the white-beaked birds folded their wings into attack position, their sharp beaks pointing at Zhen Wenjun like rows of arrows.
Zhen Wenjun rode Yunzhong Feixue forward without any fear, and just as they clashed, she deftly dodged the two incoming cleavers. In the instant the horses crossed paths, two large gashes appeared on the enemies’ horses’ necks. As their injured horses ran wild, the white-beaked birds tried to peck out Zhen Wenjun’s eyes while she was distracted. She raised her right arm to block, easily deflecting the birds’ beaks with her iron bracers, then swung her arm to throw the birds into the yellow sand.
More white-beaked birds pursued Zhen Wenjun, frantically pecking at her back shoulders. Though tears sprang from her eyes in pain, she couldn’t swing her sword easily at this angle without risking injury to the woman behind her. Fortunately, Zuo Kunda arrived in time, slaying all the white-beaked birds with several strikes.
The Kelai pursued relentlessly, but Zhen Wenjun and Zuo Kunda led them into a stone forest, forcing their horse group into a single file. Zhen Wenjun and Zuo Kunda ambushed them from both sides of the stone forest, specifically targeting the horses’ hooves. The Kelai had pursued too eagerly, and by the time they realized they’d fallen into a trap, it was too late to stop. In the end, they all perished in the stone forest.
The stone forest was narrow at the top and wide at the bottom, making it difficult for the white-beaked birds to air-strike, leaving them to circle anxiously overhead.
Both Zhen Wenjun and Zuo Kunda were wounded and bleeding, planning to bandage their wounds before charging out to fight the white-beaked birds.
“Are you alright?” Zhen Wenjun was nearly suffocated by the woman behind her, straightening up to take a deep breath, “You can let go now.”
The woman let out a soft cry, immediately releasing her grip, almost falling off the horse.
Zhen Wenjun helplessly steadied her again, removing her sand-blocking face cover and tying it around her neck to stop the bleeding from her wound there.
Seeing Zhen Wenjun’s beautiful and handsome profile, the woman exclaimed “Ah!” and uttered something in a foreign language that Zhen Wenjun didn’t understand. She tried again in another language, which Zhen Wenjun still couldn’t comprehend, until finally speaking in Da Yu language:
“You… you’re a woman?”
How peculiar… Zhen Wenjun wondered: “Which part of me doesn’t look like a woman?”
Zuo Kunda struggled to hold back his laughter as the woman’s face veil loosely fell down, causing her to become “face losing color” (“失色,” showing alarm) and quickly pull it back up to protect her face.
Seeing her face “red as a monkey’s bottom” (“臉紅得像猴屁股,” extremely embarrassed), Zhen Wenjun asked: “Who are you? Why are you alone here?”
The woman said shyly in a small voice: “I’m called Mengda Khan, my home… home is in the desert.”
“Mengda Khan? Whoever named you must have been quite mindless.” Zhen Wenjun looked at this young lady with her willowy waist, amazed at such an irresponsible name, similar in irony to the name “Xiaohua.”
“Your home is in the desert?” Zuo Kunda was skeptical, “Who would live in such a place?”
“It’s true, just two days’ journey in that direction!” Mengda Khan raised her voice to prove she wasn’t lying. However, her voice was so delicate that no matter how forcefully she spoke, it remained extremely soft without any authority.
“You speak Da Yu?” Zhen Wenjun caught the key point, “Are you from Da Yu?”
“Da Yu? What’s that? I’ve learned many languages since childhood, and what I’m speaking now is called ‘Northern Di language.'”
“Northern Di? So our Da Yu has become Northern Di!”
Though Zhen Wenjun didn’t speak very loudly, she thoroughly startled the woman into silence. Interested in her origins, Zhen Wenjun quickly softened her tone and asked:
“You say you live in the desert, how strange, who would live in such an unlucky place.” Zhen Wenjun suddenly thought of something, “Could it be?”
Zhen Wenjun and Zuo Kunda exchanged glances, their expressions changing simultaneously as they both realized.
“Country of Flowing Fire,” Mengda Khan said, “I am the king of the Country of Flowing Fire.”
Zhen Wenjun and Zuo Kunda could hardly believe it: “The king of the Country of Flowing Fire? You?!”
They hadn’t expected that while Da Yu had a female emperor, the Country of Flowing Fire was also governed by a woman.
Wei Tingxu, worried about Zhen Wenjun’s safety, led Xiaohua and others to follow the white-beaked birds in the sky to the stone forest. Xiaohua’s group shot down all the white-beaked birds before entering the forest.
“Women ruling? It’s always been that way,” Mengda Khan explained, “But by my time, all my sisters died for various reasons, leaving only me… The ministers forced me to ascend the throne, but governing has always been women’s work! How could I possibly manage?” At this point, tears welled up in Mengda Khan’s eyes.
“Wait,” Zhen Wenjun felt dizzy from the explanation, “The Country of Flowing Fire has always been ruled by women? Then there shouldn’t be a problem with your ascension. Unless…”
Mengda Khan’s collar became increasingly loose. Zuo Kunda wanted to warn them but didn’t have time. When the collar completely opened, Zuo Kunda quickly turned away – fortunately avoiding any impropriety.
Mengda Khan hurriedly pulled the clothes back together, face blood red: “What is happening today? First the veil falls, then the clothes open, could it be…” Mengda Khan shyly looked up at Zhen Wenjun, “This is heaven’s will?”
Though it was just for a moment, Zhen Wenjun saw everything clearly.
Mengda Khan wasn’t wearing a chest binding, and the flat chest appeared less like underdevelopment and more like a man’s chest.
A man…
A man?
Zhen Wenjun nearly fell off her horse in shock.
“In our Country of Flowing Fire, if a man’s face is seen by a woman, he must marry her,” Mengda Khan bashfully embraced Zhen Wenjun, “Today you not only saw my face but also… I have no choice but to marry you. A man being king was improper to begin with, so it’s perfect – you can be the ruler and unite the Country of Flowing Fire.”
While a hundred “shooting to the sky” (“沖天,” overwhelming) questions were stuck in Zhen Wenjun’s throat, unsure which to ask first, Wei Tingxu decided for her:
“What a heavenly fate and perfect match. Wenjun, quickly accept his proposal.”
WHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA