The yellow sand had finally buried the rows of footprints left behind, along with the two deep ruts made by the wheels, leaving Huang Bei Shuang’s convoy in the wind as if foretelling the boundless desolation and despair awaiting at the end of this road.
So be it. Let there be no more evidence that she had ever traveled such a path.
Her eyes sparkled for a moment, the light at last retreating beneath the cover of the pearly canopy. The corners of her mouth twitched slightly, as if she were about to laugh wildly—her name was Huang Bei Shuang, a girl who lived in the wind.
Born in this vast desert where yellow soil touches the heavens, people had long grown weary of fighting for survival, though fate, indifferent and unrelenting, often went on without shedding a tear. No one cared to investigate when the shame had first begun. Long ago, even before her grandmother or great-grandmother had been born, the borders of the five nations were already established here. These five warlike peoples controlled the lush oases and water sources, building armies and governments, and proudly referred to themselves as “nations.” Meanwhile, the remaining 300 or so ethnic groups, including the Ernaqi people, had all been reduced to slaves. These “slaves,” most of whom were scattered across the endless yellow sands, lived in desperate poverty but clung to life with trembling hope for survival.
As the years passed, some tribes disappeared entirely from this boundless desert. This was not only due to the harsh environment, but what frightened them even more was the cruelty of the ruling nations. They had to offer their winter food stores, their warm clothes, their weapons to fend off wild beasts, their camels and horses for traversing the desert, and even their children, ripping their hearts apart in sorrow. For what? For a fleeting moment of peace, for a brief respite in this vast world of swirling sand.
Among the enslaved peoples, the Ernaqi, Zhiken, Zhenqu, and Nakuer tribes were the most numerous and influential. Although they belonged to the lowest social class, they were constantly at odds, battling over land and livestock. However, the outcomes of these struggles were never decided by them but by the ruling nations they depended on. These dominant nations were the five major peoples—the Yunpei, Guhe, Mizan, Tiandu, and Masui—who were oppressive and expansionist. Of these, Yunpei was the strongest and most tyrannical.
Yunpei controlled nearly a quarter of the desert’s oases and water sources. For over 300 years, their reign had remained unshaken. They had seen thirty-five kings and two queens, a lineage unbroken. Their governance was stable, their people prosperous. Despite their occasional acts of tyranny, Yunpei was still a land that scholars and merchants from all nations flocked to, seeking fortune or knowledge.
But how tragic it is that the wealth of one nation often rests on the poverty of hundreds of others.
“Ah!”
Sitting in the small palanquin on a camel, Huang Bei Shuang was jolted back to reality by a sudden bump. She smiled wryly, seemingly lost in thought again, and lifted the curtain. She called out to the old woman walking alongside the convoy, “Duo Zai, sing me a song, won’t you?”
The old woman turned to look at Huang Bei Shuang, her gaze dimming for a moment. Helplessly, she said, “Nashou’er, stop listening to those songs. They are not for you. Nanny knows you are still hurting, but you are a Nashou [title for a noblewoman], and you must not let yourself fall into sorrow.”
The old woman’s teeth had mostly fallen out, so her speech was somewhat unclear, but it was still rhythmic and powerful. This was no surprise—after all, she had once been the priestess of the Ernaqi tribe, responsible for rituals, and her voice had long been accustomed to the high and uplifting tones of ceremony. Her priestess name was Duo Zai. She had borne five sons and three daughters, but her life had been marked by tragedy: four of her sons had been beaten to death in the slave camps, and two of her daughters had been gifted to nobles as entertainment at banquets. Now, she had only one son and one daughter left, along with her frail body. She had no teeth, and her deep-set eyes always seemed to glisten with tears, a sorrowful yet crystalline gaze.
Huang Bei Shuang leaned against the window, raising a lock of her hair with a soft motion, and gently asked, “Duo Zai, tell me, why were you willing to come as my wedding nanny? Didn’t you know this is a one-way journey with no return?”
Duo Zai didn’t answer her. She continued walking with her hunched back, taking slow, labored steps. The wind and sand had blackened and cracked her lips, and fine dust was embedded deep within the wrinkles of her face. Having long become accustomed to such hardships, she simply gazed into the distance, step by step, walking on.
Amid the flying sand and lingering wind, a song filled with age and sorrow rang out, carried by the wind alongside the Ernaqi wedding convoy. The mournful tune echoed over the rolling yellow hills, resonating with heartache…
“Who knows if my husband will return tonight?
Tonight, the stars shimmer like water, tonight, the sand drifts like ash.
His wife sits beneath the warm tent, tears streaming down her face.
Who knows if my son will return tonight?
Tonight, the moon is shaped like a bow, tonight, the wind rings like a bell.
His mother weeps beneath the warm tent, her cries echo in the emptiness.
0 Comments