Chapter 164: I Forgot Someone

The Marquis of Xian’an House has again welcomed the provincial New Year’s visit of Wei Guifei.

Now even Mrs. Qin was a bit unable to sit still and asked her eldest son, “What’s going on, didn’t you just come here on the day of the stove festival, how come you’re back in the palace and haven’t stayed for a few days yet, and then you’re here again?”

Wei noble consort in front of her mother is very true, in the palace of those delicate style are not, grunted and replied: “I do not know which bitch in the three consorts, said the second day of the first month back to her mother’s home is the ritual of the country, should not be left out of the concubines. The emperor sympathizes with them, he gave the consort to go back to her mother’s home for a few days, said that can be the first month of the fifteenth before the release of the lanterns and then return to the palace.”

Mrs. Qin frowned and said, “Occasionally concubines save their relatives to visit the sick there, so demobilizing the harem for a whole half month, can be unprecedented! What does the emperor mean by this?”

“What does it mean, what else can it mean. The harem has been dry for a few months, without a drop of rain, I’m afraid that this dew is all poured on the male vixen’s head! No, when I return to the palace, I have to find my aunt to have a good talk. The king of a country, not tightly reproduce the holy heir, so close to the Dragon Yang can still be okay?”

“There’s no rush to go in front of the Empress Dowager to split the difference.” Mrs. Qin advised, “This sister of mine is a first-class short-sighted person under the heavens. Which is closer, which is farther away, which is closer, which is farther away, son or daughter-in-law, niece or nephew? If you tell your husband to your mother-in-law, you’ll really be finished!”

Noble Consort Wei was not stupid and reacted instantly: ”Yes, I shouldn’t be the one to file this complaint. A qualified emperor should guard against anyone. In your opinion, is Imamu a qualified emperor?”

Wei Noble Consort froze, nodded silently, and said with some sadness, “In the past, when I sent soup points to the Imperial Study Room, if His Imperial Highness was approving the folders, his first reaction was to close the folders first, and he never allowed me to take a look at them.”

“It seems that Mr. Crane was right. He also said that an unfavored Crown Prince is always worried about being deposed, doubly suffering; a favored Crown Prince always has to find a balance between unchecked ambition and prudence, another kind of suffering. Zhu Hailin grew up with smooth sailing, so as long as he is given a sufficiently embarrassing setback, he is likely to disorganize himself and make more and more mistakes, and ultimately father and son will be centrifuged.”

“Frustrated ……” Wei Guifei pondered for a long time, but still have no thoughts, “his early childhood is naughty and unruly, the civil officials used to not less slammed him good and easy to learn and not abide by the rules, and then he had a thick skin and did not take it seriously. This half a year is a lot of stability, in addition to running outside the palace from time to time, and did not make any major mistakes. Mother, where do you think we should start? It can’t be as petty as stuffing Long Yangchun paintings into the Eastern Palace.”

“That’s why it’s about kettling.”

“How do I smoke it?”

“Then we must first find out what the ‘salary’ of the Crown Prince’s pot is.” Lady Qin lovingly patted the back of Noble Consort Wei’s hand, “Let him lose what he cares about most.”

Mother and daughter talked for nearly an hour, see Mrs. Qin energy show fatigue, Wei Guifei will leave, back to their own room to rest.

As he passed through the court, he suddenly heard a woman scream.

Only to see a young servant girl, from the garden path rushed out, while jumping and patting the clothes on the body, while crying and screaming: “Out! Quickly go out! Ah ah ah ah ……”

Wei Guifei covered her nose with her sleeve and retreated two steps, and the palace maids at the back rushed forward to protect her. A palace maid shouted, ”Bold bitchy servant girl! Dare to raise your voice in front of the Empress and frighten the Phoenix Driver, come on, pull her down and serve her with the family law!”

The maidservant who jumped to her feet cried out, crouching on the ground and begging for forgiveness, “The rat drilled into the collar of the slave girl, it didn’t mean to make a racket …… Your Highness forgive me ……”

Noble Consort Wei frowned and didn’t look at her, commanding, “It’s dirty. Quickly take it away and dispose of it together with the rat.”

Immediately there are marquis servants obeyed the order to go forward, to drag the maidservant on the ground. The maidservant struggled and begged for mercy, wriggling so hard that a small mouse with slimy fur fell out of her pants, rolled on the ground, and leapt up the steps in a panic.

The mouse was very small, like it hadn’t been born for a long time, but the maids screamed in fear, shielding Guifei Wei as she backed away.

The little mouse turned around and changed directions to escape, dizzily crashing into a green and black monk’s shoe with a green rim on the bottom.

A white, thin hand peeked down from above and gently caught it, gathering it in its palm.

Wei Guifei, from between the gaps in the surroundings of her maids, got a good look at the man on the opposite side–

That is a young man with dusty eyebrows, long body and elegant posture like a white crane shining in the water.

He wore a long shirt of ancient style, plain white fabric without pattern decoration, only painted two lines of wild grass ink characters, carefully recognized, vaguely two lines of poetry: “sometimes in dreams the body into a crane, on earth countless grass for firefly.”

The long black hair was not crowned or pinned, but cascaded down his back like a waterfall, and was bound by a white rope near the end.

Cloaked hair, by the people of the time as barbarians dressed up, or the attitude of the madman, but put on his body, but not half a point against and crazy, but instead of floating with the immortal.

On both sides of the porch columns, the bright corner lamps emit a soft halo of light, enveloping a small side of the world of bliss.

The Myriad Celestials among the clouds gathered their palms and folded their arms at her, “Your Highness.”

…… He is Mr. Crane. Wei Guifei thought with certainty, nearly dazzled, as if her soul was ripped out of her body, only unable to speak.

“The Queen is well.”

Wei Guifei finally came back to her senses and said in some panic, “In your hand, there is a dirty mouse ……”

Before she could finish, she hated biting her tongue – what kind of talk was this, half out of character for her, it was uncalled for!

The man smiled faintly, such as the forest breeze mountain stream moon, “Buddha said that all beings are equal, people are living beings, rats are also. Also said that the skin only stinks, since they are all dirty, there is no difference between rats are dirtier, or people are dirtier.”

Wei Guifei never love to listen to monks and Taoist priests to play wit, think that these monks do not speak human language, but listen to this man said every sentence, are like the heavenly spandex sound, word by word moving.

She calmed her mind and asked, “May I ask what your name is?”

The other party replied, “In my dream, my body was transformed into a crane, and in the world I sent my body, and in the end I don’t know whether I am a human being or a crane. Let’s call him Mr. Crane.”

Noble Consort Wei felt that this name really suited him very well, both pure and wise.

Mr. Crane, still gathering his palms together, said, “May I have this little mouse from the Husband’s house as a gift?”

Noble Consort Wei immediately nodded her head, guessing that he was compassionate and wanted to take the rats to be released. If he himself chastises the maidservant too much, a comparison would seem mean, so he turns his head and orders the servant, “Take this maidservant down, let her take a bath and change her clothes, clean up.”

The maidservant choked on her desperate need to kowtow and thank her for her life.

Mr. Crane smiled, “Your Majesty’s status is honored, it is not appropriate for Yu to disturb, I will leave.” After saying this, he turned around and left with his big sleeves as the wind.

Wei Guifei, in the cold wind of the winter night, watched his back disappear at the end of the corridor, and sighed long and grudgingly.

“What is the order of the Empress?” The maid asked carefully and respectfully.

“Go back to your room.” Noble Consort Wei said, “Tomorrow, go and invite Ruan Hongjiao here again.”

Mr. Crane went back to the compartment he was staying in, walked over to the closet in the corner, and opened the door.

At the bottom of the cabinet, there was a thick box made of rattan.

The old cane brushed with tung oil, tough, compiled a fine, small gap can only breathe, from the outside can not see what is loaded inside. Mr. Crane explained to organize the room of the subordinate, inside is his own collection of scriptures, written by the blood of monks as ink, not wet or smash, so as not to blaspheme the Buddha.

The underlings thought deeply of this, and when they passed the closet, they would fold their hands and pay a few reverent obeisances.

Mr. Crane opened the lock of the mechanism on the thick box, opened a slit, and sent the little mouse in his palm inside, then closed the lid of the box and re-locked it.

“All beings suffer, and hell abides.” He sighed softly.

Inside the box responded with a very slight “squeak”, after which there was no more sound.

–

Wulan Mountain in the hinterland of the Northern Desert is blanketed in wind and snow.

The massive body of the divine tree was also covered in snow, like a silent hill.

The old shaman wrapped the long fluttering ribbon around the trunk of the tree, then struck the scratching drum, one at a time, with a drumstick made of camel bone.

In the intervals between the low, solemn drums, he suddenly heard something stirring, and stopping the drums to listen …… more closely was a slight moaning sound, as if a man – or a beast – had just awakened from the sleep of ambulatory death had just awakened.

The old shaman’s cloudy eyes lit up as he propelled himself off the skateboard and into the gnarled roots of the trees, inside the stone house where he lived.

On the board lay a lanky figure, covered in a dark brown ointment. Every three days, when the ointment had completely dried, the old shaman would knock it off with a drumstick and apply a thick layer of freshly pounded ointment. So far he had applied it thirty times.

It was from this clay figure that the moans came.

Still using his drumstick, the old shaman tapped the dry, hard outer shell with familiarity, and as the crumbled pieces of the ointment fell away, the skin inside peeled away a little.

It was a very peculiar complexion, darker than teal brown, lighter than charcoal black, oily and shiny.

The tree-shaped tattoo that was originally perched on the abdomen turned from black to blood red, with branches climbing and spreading towards the chest and back, occupying almost the entire half of the body except for the shoulders. The roots of the tree also extended from the small of the abdomen towards the two thighs, making the gesture even more majestic.

The old shaman touched the new tattoos on Altan’s body, quite pleased with his handiwork.

The only thing that spoiled the overall sense of coherence was the ribbon wrapped around his left arm.

The ribbons were already so dirty that you couldn’t tell the color, and when they were untied, the skin underneath took on an otherwise lighter complexion because not enough ointment had seeped in, looking as if the snake had shed a few coils of skin.

“I told you it would be ugly.” The old shaman muttered.

Alertan slowly opened his eyes. His pupil color was also very different from before, changing from a peridot color that was slightly yellowish in grey-green to a clear and rich pure gold.

It was clearly still the original body and features, but it was as if he had become another person.

“…… How long have I been asleep?” He asked in a voice as dry and raspy as the gravelly ground, in a low voice.

The old shaman squeezed some green juice into his mouth and replied, “Three months, sooner than I expected.”

Alertan swallowed the juice and his voice smoothed out considerably, “Is the poison out of me?”

“Solved.” The old shaman said, a cunning light flashing under his eyes, “But don’t forget that there is another poison on your body, the blood poison, which is not something that can be solved by the ointment.”

Altan sat up, his eyes a little blank, “What blood poison?”

“Oh, you forgot this.” Not surprised, the old shaman explained again, “Your tattoo seeped into the blood of another. So that person must become your mate. Within three years of your revival, if you don’t obtain that person’s body and mind, and if you don’t both kneel in front of the divine tree and make a wish to unite, that person’s blood will turn into a deadly, insoluble poison, and you will die.”

Allertan snorted, “Liar.”

“You can try. Don’t come back to me after three years of poison, there’s nothing I can do.” The old shaman said.

Alertan rose after a moment of silence and stood naked, surveying his body.

“I’ve lost a lot of weight.”

“Of course, three months of immobility, living only on tree fruits & broth. It’s amazing to me that you’re still on your feet after this.”

Altan stepped out of the narrow stone door onto the snowy ground. He scooped up the snow from the ground and vigorously scrubbed his entire body until his skin was thoroughly clean and slightly warm before putting on the clothes he had removed himself three months ago.

His pants and robe were frozen stiff, and he shook them with care and wrapped them around him.

As he put on the sleeve, he pointed to a shallow mark on his left arm that looked like a snake’s molt, and said, “I think there’s something else here, I think it’s a ribbon.”

The old shaman handed over the dirty ribbon.

Altan tried to wash the ribbon in the glacier and found that it had turned a dark green from the ointment soaking it. He vaguely remembered that it was supposed to be light green with leaf-shaped pieces of jade falling from the end, but now that the pieces had fallen off, the color could not be restored to its original state.

Where did this ribbon come from? Looking at the shape and length, it looks like the hair ribbons that people in the Middle Kingdom wear.

Whose hair tie? Why is it wrapped around his arm ……

With a dull ache deep in his head, Alertan shook out his wet, white hair, shaking off the unpleasant feeling of chaos and emptiness along with it.

He said to the old shaman, “I am going back to the Warat tribe. But I can’t cross the snowy plains with this weak body; I have to work back my strength first.”

The old shaman, only half his height, looked up at the youth, who was as tall as a stone heap, and mentally chortled at the weakness.

But he did not feel offended. The accumulated years of disability and the rickets of old age did not curb his soul’s yearning for immortality. Every soul will eventually be detached from the physical body and be immortalized there.

The old shaman said, “Then you will need at least another month. During that time you’ll have to hunt on your own to get meat.”

Altan drew the scimitar he wore, looked at the still shiny blade, and asked absently, “The yellow goat and the stag are too tame; should I eat the wolf and the bear to regain my strength sooner?”

The old shaman felt that the awakened Alertan seemed to be somewhat different from his previous disposition, but it was not possible to say specifically what the difference was in one or two sentences.

He said, “You may eat any beast you can hunt; this is the gift of the Everlasting Heaven to the people of Werat.”

There was no food stocked in the stone hut, and Alertan finished the last bowl of hare broth and set out with his bow and arrows and scimitar.

As darkness fell, the old shaman started a campfire in front of the stone house and waited while he whittled teacup-thick branches with his pocketknife.

The carvings had not yet taken shape when Altan returned, dragging a gorgon bear that had been awakened from hibernation with a dozen bloody scratches all over its body.

He dropped the bear carcass, slammed his scimitar into the ground, and gasped, “I’ve really been lying down too long.”

The old shaman lifted his eyelids and gave him a look, “The hemostatic ointment is ready, where you sleep. You skin the bear, you cut the meat, I’ll cook it.”

Without objecting, Altan dragged the bear carcass to a nearby glacier, picked it up, and returned with a bear pelt with large chunks of meat, giving himself a snow bath on the way.

He goes to medicate himself. The old shaman cooks bear meat.

The wind and snow have stopped.

Above the ice field, the night sky was high and empty. Alertan lay by the campfire, a river of stars falling down to him, and he tried to take it with his body.

He subconsciously stroked the hair band wrapped around his arm, “Old Witch, I always feel like I’m forgetting something.”

“Forgot what?”

“A …… person.”

“Who is it?”

“…… forgot.”

“It will be forgotten, and that means it’s not important enough.” Without lifting his head, the old shaman flipped and spiced the sizzling roast, “If it’s important enough, one day you’ll remember.”

“Makes sense.”

After a few moments of silence, Altan asked again, “Old Witch, can I become a shaman?”

The old shaman finally raised his face, full of folds and drooping eyelids, and gave him a look, “What, don’t want to be a warrior?”

“A warrior can be a shaman, and a shaman can be a warrior. Why can’t I have more?”

“Well said, Golden Prince.” The old shaman looked at him with a serious face, “You may call me Master.”

“Master. How should I become a shaman, is there some kind of sutra I have to read?”

The old shaman laughed and used his knife to shave off pieces of the roasted meat. He hummed in a hoarse voice:

“Scripture without words.

It was passed down from my master.

Scripture without a book.

It was passed down from my master.

Scripture without paper.

It was passed down from my master.”

“Shamans don’t have scriptures, only masters and disciples.” The old shaman’s voice was old and calm, “I once had a disciple. Later, he cut off my legs.”

Alertan paused in adding wood to the fire and said in a deep voice, “Teach me everything you know and I will avenge you.”