Chapter 374 On Foot

Chapter 374: Walking

He quickly lowered his eyes, adjusting his expression in a flash, and when he looked up again, he had barely managed to squeeze out a facade of forced calm.

He stiffly patted his sleeve, which was actually free of dust, and cast a sidelong glance at the tall, sturdy horse nearby, dryly adding:

"Ahem... the horses of the Northern Di are indeed... stout and sturdy, living up to their reputation."

Wuliji looked at Cheng Ge and said seriously, "You... have poison... very weak."

Cheng Ge: "..." You bastard! You're the weak one! Your whole family's weak!

Though cursing inwardly, Cheng Ge considered himself a rational adult, so he decided to endure it.

He took a deep breath of cold air, swallowing the surging anger and the taste of blood back down into his stomach, and forced a smile so twisted it was almost grotesque in its peacefulness.

He raised his head, glanced at the sky, and spoke in a tone as if he'd suddenly grasped life's ultimate truth:

"Brother Wu is right... it's I who lack the strength. Forgive my embarrassment."

His gaze drifted far across the boundless grassland, his tone growing more and more composed and confident, as if none of the earlier awkwardness had ever happened.

"But look, the sky is just right, and the northern landscape is vast and desolate.

If you were to gallop at full speed, with wind and dust flying past, it would betray the great beauty of heaven and earth, reducing it to something superficial.

Wouldn't it be better to travel at a leisurely pace, savoring the scenery step by step, quietly watching the clouds roll by? Hmm... walking, walking's far better."

With that, he gave Wuliji no chance to react and took the lead, striding forward, trying to make his unsteady steps look like a casual stroll.

The grassy meadow beneath his feet stretched, uneven and deep, all the way to the horizon. The earlier embarrassment seemed to have been diluted a little by this vast expanse.

A vigorous vitality crashed into Cheng Ge's senses, rudely and head-on.

The wind no longer carried the stagnant medicinal smell and dust of the tent, but carried the scent of dry grass and distant livestock, plus a dry, free fragrance.

In the distance came bursts of crisp laughter and the rhythmic clatter of hooves, the sounds stretched long by the wind, carrying a wild, unrestrained fervor.

He instinctively looked up and saw, on a grassy slope not far away, several fine horses chasing and frolicking.

Leading the pack was a woman in a riding outfit trimmed with madder-red borders—strikingly conspicuous.

Her horsemanship was superb; her body rose and fell fluidly with the horse's gallop, as if she were one with the steed beneath her.

The wind blew her hair, braided into countless thin plaits, the colored beads and small silver bells at the tips jingling merrily.

Her cheeks bore two healthy rosy patches, kissed by sun and strong wind.

Close behind her were several Northern Di youths, all agile and lean, their shouts filled with eager excitement.

They weren't blocking her, just chasing.

The woman suddenly turned her head atop the galloping horse, raised her brows in a smile, and said something—too far away to hear.

Then, amid the rising whistles and cheers of the surrounding youths, she pressed both hands on the saddle, twisted her waist, and with a light push of her toes against the stirrups, stood steadily on the back of the running horse!

She spread her arms wide, red garments fluttering, the steed beneath her keeping its speed.

Yet her standing figure was steady as a rock, only her braids and sleeves dancing wildly behind her.

It was a primal, untamed vitality, with none of a boudoir maiden's demure restraint—only the boldness and joy of this land and sky.

Cheng Ge was momentarily stunned, his gaze locked on the scene.

This was no ordinary play; the wildness bursting from that image struck at his ingrained perceptions.

He instinctively turned to Wuliji beside him, his tone openly curious: "What are they...?"

Wuliji's gaze rested on the group still chasing, watching the woman in red flip back into the saddle with a clean, graceful motion, leading the still-excited youths toward a farther slope.

Only after the noise faded with the wind did he turn back to Cheng Ge. "That's Tana, the pearl of our grassland.

They're playing 'Chasing the Wind'—it's how us Northern Di young people... express our feelings."

Cheng Ge's head whipped around, staring at Wuliji in disbelief. "Feelings?"

Wuliji added, "It means... you've taken a liking to someone, you fancy her."

He pointed into the distance. "You have to do it like that... chase her on horseback, let her see your horse is fast... that you're steady... and bold."

Cheng Ge's eyelids twitched. "That... counts as expressing yourself?"

"Mm," Wuliji nodded. "If you catch up, keep pace with her, and talk to her.

Get her to let you pick up her arrow... share a sip of warm wine." A simple smile spread across his face. "That means it's a good sign."

"And... what if you can't catch up?" Cheng Ge's mind flashed again to that woman standing proudly on horseback.

"Can't catch up," Wuliji said matter-of-factly, "means you're not fast enough, not strong enough, or... she doesn't want to stop yet."

He looked at Cheng Ge, his gaze frank and direct. "Either go back, train harder, and come again, or go look at other girls. The grassland's vast."

Cheng Ge was momentarily speechless. Such straightforward rules: if you can, you can; if you can't, try next time, or move on.

No subtle probing, no parents weighing in, not even much need for words.

Simple as a hunter giving chase, a shepherd seeking sheep—success and failure clear-cut, win or lose, blazing hot enough to burn.

He couldn't help looking again toward that figure, now just a small red dot in the distance.

Just then, a youth at the very front, nearly neck-and-neck with Tana's horse, suddenly let out a clear, long whistle.

He didn't try to reach out and stop her, but at the moment the two horses ran side by side, at peak speed, he abruptly released one hand from the reins and leaned his whole body forward and sideways.

Instead of reaching for Tana, he precisely scooped up a small leather wineskin—whether Tana had deliberately dropped it or not—that was drifting toward the ground on the wind!

The move was breathtakingly risky, requiring precise judgment of both horses' speeds, as well as immense courage, core strength, and body control.

After securing the wineskin, the youth didn't slow down. Instead, still leaning forward, he bit off the stopper with his teeth and, against the rushing wind, tilted his head back and took a hearty swig!

Amber liquor arced through the sunlight in a glistening trail, some splashing onto his jaw and the front of his clothes.

He let out a satisfied breath, raised the wineskin high, and shook it toward Tana.

His young face radiated unguarded joy and pride, blazing like the noonday sun.

Tana seemed to have been watching from the corner of her eye all along. The instant the young man raised the wineskin to drink, she suddenly yanked hard on her reins!

The galloping horse let out a long neigh, its front hooves rising, carving two deep furrows into the grass as it went from full gallop to dead stop.

The young man riding alongside her showed off equally impressive riding skills at almost the same instant, reining his horse to a stop beside her, no more than an arm's length away.

The wind kicked up grass blades, sweeping across the small patch of ground that had suddenly gone still.

The shouts and hoofbeats of the other young men in the distance faded as they held their breath to watch.

Tana sat on her horse, turning slightly to look at the young man holding the wineskin, his chest still heaving slightly.

Cheng Ge was too far away to hear what they were saying. He only saw the young man hold out the wineskin, his arm steady, his eyes blazing, the earlier wild joy settling into a solemn, expectant look.

Tana didn't take it right away. She seemed to be saying something, chin lifted, that untamed look in her eyes undimmed, now sharpened with a hint of appraisal.

Then she extended her hand—not to take the wineskin, but to grasp the horn bow slung across her saddle.

Her fingers moved deftly, unhooking the bow, while her other hand drew from the quiver a ceremonial arrow—one without a tip, its fletching dyed a vivid crimson.

She didn't look at him. Her gaze fixed on a lone, stunted tree on the grassy slope nearby, its trunk bearing faint old arrow scars and faded cloth strips.

Then, under the young man's unblinking gaze, Tana dug her heels into the horse's flanks. Her mount broke into a canter again—not away, but curving in a small arc around the stunted tree.

Just as the horse picked up speed and the angle between rider and tree lined up, she twisted her body, drew the bow, and loosed the arrow—all in one fluid motion!

A soft *whish* cut through the air as the crimson-fletched ceremonial arrow flew—not at the trunk, but precisely through a low-hanging, bare branch.

The shaft lodged in the fork of the branch, its crimson fletching trembling gently in the breeze, like a vermilion birthmark suddenly pinned between sky and earth.

The young man's eyes blazed even brighter at the sight. Without hesitation, he spurred his horse straight at the stunted tree.

Reaching it, he didn't even fully stop—in that lightning-fast moment of passing, he leaned out, reached, and snatched the crimson-fletched arrow from the branch in one smooth motion!

The instant his fingers closed around the shaft, a low, powerful cry of triumph rose from his throat.

He wheeled his horse around, one hand raising the arrow high, the other still clutching the wineskin, charging back toward Tana, who was still standing there.

This time, she watched him race toward her, the sharp, appraising look on her face gradually softening.

She pressed her hands lightly on the saddle and, before the young man had even fully stopped, vaulted off the horse, landing steadily on the grass.

The young man leaned low in the saddle, extending his arm with precision, seizing Tana around the waist. With the horse's forward momentum and the strength of his own back and arm, he swung her up in one powerful motion!

A heartbeat later, Tana was sitting sideways on the saddle before him.

The dying rays of the setting sun gilded their overlapping silhouettes with a warm golden edge.

Cheng Ge watched them ride off, a faint sourness stirring in his chest. The stench of love. Disgusting.

After walking this far, every limb ached with a hollow soreness, his chest tight and heavy.

On top of that, he'd just been force-fed a mouthful of public affection. Probably carbon monoxide poisoning from all that secondhand sweetness.

At this point, he didn't give a damn about maintaining appearances. He walked straight over to a relatively gentle earthen slope nearby and plopped himself down.

Leaning back, propping himself up on his elbows, he let out a long breath, as if to say: "I'm not moving another step."

Wuliji, seeing this, stopped in his tracks. Without a word, he walked over and stood a few paces away.

Cheng Ge couldn't be bothered with him. He let his gaze drift, the grasslands stretching to the horizon.

A silvery ribbon wound through it, shimmering with scattered gold in the sunset, adding a rare touch of softness to the rugged steppe.

He instinctively lifted his chin, pointing toward the river. His voice came out lazy with fatigue and relaxation: "That river... looks rather interesting. What's it called? Where does it flow?"

Wuliji followed his gaze, his own lingering on the glimmering water for a moment.

"That... is the Onon River. It flows southeast, past those low hills ahead," he paused, adding in his usual flat tone, "beyond those hills lies the territory of Great Zhou—Guiyun Prefecture."

Cheng Ge's brow twitched almost imperceptibly. His gaze lingered a few moments longer between the river and the distant mountains.

That... was the direction of home.

Though Cheng Ge had always scoffed at patriotism and duty, hearing a familiar place name in this foreign land, seeing the thread leading back to his homeland, something tiny stirred deep in his chest.

He gave a vague "mm," then muttered: "The scenery... isn't bad."

Wuliji's gaze remained fixed on where the river met the mountains. He was silent for a moment.

Just as Cheng Ge thought the conversation was over, he spoke again—his voice not loud, but with a blunt, unshakeable finality: "I want to take it back."

Cheng Ge didn't register it at first, forgetting to chew the grass stem clamped between his teeth.

Wuliji turned to look at Cheng Ge, his eyes frank and guileless.

"That land... I want to take it back."

This time Cheng Ge heard him clearly. He stared blankly at Wuliji for two full seconds, then gave a barely perceptible eye-roll.

Turning his head away, he muttered under his breath: "...Imperialist."

This Northern Di brute looked simple-minded, but his ambitions were anything but small.

Wuliji didn't seem to catch the mutter—or maybe he did but didn't understand it.

He simply continued in that same matter-of-fact tone: "That place was originally our Northern Di summer pasture. The finest pastureland there was."

Cheng Ge snapped the grass stem in his teeth with a sharp *click*, asking casually: "And then?"

Wuliji's gaze drifted back to the horizon, as if it could pierce through those mountains.

"A long time ago... your Old Prince Zhenbei."

He paused, then spat out the last three words:

"He took it."

Cheng Ge: "..."

His mouth, still holding the broken grass stem, dropped open slightly. He blinked. Then blinked again.

Damn! We were the imperialists all along.

He quickly composed his expression, striving to make his tone sound breezy and detached, with the weary wisdom of someone who'd seen it all, and said dryly:

"Ahem... well, water under the bridge. The Old Prince Zhenbei... that's ancient history now."

What's done is done. What matters is the present... and the future, right?"

He tried to steer the conversation toward harmonious coexistence and looking ahead, though even he thought it sounded fake.

Wuliji didn't take the bait. He walked up silently, took a few steps, and sat down right beside Cheng Ge.

The distance was neither too close nor too far—just the distance of two people walking together. The grass blades bent, letting out a faint rustle.

He tilted his head, his gaze naturally settling on Cheng Ge's face.

Just then, an evening breeze swept over the hilltop, lifting a few stray strands of hair from Cheng Ge's forehead.