Chapter 6#
The Map#
Helan Feng rode closer. Jin Yang’s horse sensed the unfamiliar mount and grew restless. As it shifted, Jin Yang immediately looked around in alarm: “What’s wrong?”
Hundaer: “People from Dayu can’t ride Beirong horses. Get off.”
Helan Feng stayed silent beside them, looking Jin Yang and his horse up and down, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. Jin Yang gripped the reins, and the horse finally took two steps forward.
“Have I learned?” he asked.
Hundaer: “Not even close.”
Jin Yang asked again: “Could you teach me a little more?”
His sincerity made Hundaer happily agree: “Of course. I’ll keep teaching until you learn to hunt rabbits.”
The smirk vanished from Helan Feng’s face. He gritted his teeth and said coolly, “The best rider in Yetai isn’t you, is it, Hundaer?”
This time, Hundaer neither refuted nor denied, but simply glared at Helan Feng.
“If you want to learn to ride, you might as well ask the best rider in Yetai to teach you,” Helan Feng said, looking at Jin Yang. “A novice can’t teach a good student.”
Jin Yang had finally waited for him to initiate conversation. It seemed Helan Feng was not dwelling on yesterday’s unpleasantness. Jin Yang feigned ignorance: “Who is the best rider in Yetai?”
Helan Feng didn’t answer. He tilted his head slightly and flicked the riding crop lightly against his horse’s neck. His features possessed a handsome blend of the ruggedness of the Gaoxin people and the delicacy of the Dayu people. His hair was dark brown, almost black, with strands picked out gold by the sunlight, tangling in his gaze.
Jin Yang looked into his eyes, and he looked into Jin Yang’s. A hint of hidden green, revealed transparently by the snow and the sky-light, made him look like a child awaiting an answer.
“I’ll continue learning from Hundaer,” Jin Yang said earnestly. “Hundaer teaches very well.”
Helan Feng cracked his whip. The horse snorted and surged forward, breaking the snowy silence as it galloped away.
He circled the Chiwang Plains once and returned with a string of rabbits, which he tossed to Ruan Buqi. She untied the knots one by one, releasing the rabbits. Helan Feng sat beside her, watching Hundaer teach Jin Yang to mount, dismount, and ride with alternating irritation and confusion.
From Hundaer, Jin Yang learned quite a few things about Helan Feng.
Since his family had no horses, Helan Feng had borrowed General Hu’s mount when learning to ride.
He was naturally gifted and, with General Hu’s recommendation, competed. For three consecutive years, he became the outstanding rider of the Langsai tournament, even receiving a Golden Grain Arrow from the Beirong Heavenly Lord for it.
However, that Golden Grain Arrow remained in Helan Feng’s hands for less time than it took to drink a bowl of oil tea before being sold off for silver.
Ignoring Hundaer’s emphasis of “But I’m better than him,” Jin Yang couldn’t help but glance back at Helan Feng.
Helan Feng was staring at him from afar.
“A novice riding for the first time cannot possibly place their foot perfectly in the stirrup,” he explained to Ruan Buqi. “First-time riders, due to nervousness, tend to grip the horse’s belly too tightly with their legs. The horse easily feels pain and gets startled. If it were a true novice, the horse would react.”
Ruan Buqi wasn’t listening at all, focused on untying the last rabbit’s knot.
Helan Feng: “The Mangyun Cavalry is Dayu’s elite cavalry. How could the son of General Zhongzhao not understand riding? …Alright, don’t release this one. Don’t you want to eat roasted rabbit?”
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Ruan Buqi was finally defeated by her appetite and let go.
When Jin Yang said goodbye to Hundaer and returned to him, Helan Feng had nearly petted the little rabbit into a daze.
Ruan Buqi placed the snow rabbit in her hat and held it up to Jin Yang.
Helan Feng stood up and said: “I want to eat roasted rabbit.”
Jin Yang: “A steamboat hotpot?”
Helan Feng recalled for a moment: “…Mm.”
Hundaer heard this from afar and stamped his feet in anger: “That was supposed to be for me!”
Jin Yang: “Alright.”
Helan Feng plucked the little rabbit from the hat, the gloom in his heart already dissipating. Remembering Helan Jinying’s suggestion, he asked Jin Yang again: “Could you teach me Han characters?”
Jin Yang answered immediately: “Yes.”
Both saw a hint of reconciling joy in the other’s eyes. Their precarious friendship finally felt stable again.
Helan Feng carried the rabbit, Jin Yang led Ruan Buqi, and the three walked toward the camp. Jin Yang asked him: “Does the best rider in Yetai know how to kill a rabbit?”
Helan Feng: “Of course.”
Jin Yang smiled quickly. His usually cold expression became vivid and bright with this smile, the naturally beautiful and elegant features suddenly gaining radiance.
Many years later, when Helan Feng recalled their life together, he would always think of this smile under the vast azure sky. It was from this smile that he gradually learned to distinguish which of the many expressions on Jin Yang’s face were real and which were false.
It was Jin Yang’s permission to him, the first moment on their long, long road.
Helan Jinying was packing in the tent. When Zhuozhuo saw Helan Feng bring back a rabbit, she immediately raised her hand to ask for it.
“I’m going to Pingzhou with General Hu in a few days.” Helan Jinying looked him over: “In a good mood? Something good happened?”
Helan Feng gave the rabbit to Zhuozhuo: “Nothing.”
Zhuozhuo: “Has Brother Jin Yang learned to ride?”
Helan Feng couldn’t help but smile and shook his head.
Helan Jinying asked again: “Why are you always clinging to that slave?”
“He lent me the fox…”
“I know, the fox fur coat, fox fur coat!” Helan Jinying bounced over and ruffled his hair. “I’ll give you a hundred fox fur coats. Would you be willing to come watch me ride every day?”
Helan Feng was struck speechless. Zhuozhuo had already hugged the rabbit and run out to play.
“You’re just seeing a Dayu child your age for the first time, right? Just like that rabbit, it’s only fun to tease. You just find him novel.” Helan Jinying smiled.
Zhuozhuo let the rabbit go; they never did eat the steamboat hotpot.
Helan Jinying and General Hu held daily discussions in their tent, and all the Yetai chieftains crowded into that warm space. Snow occasionally drifted over the camp, and the dull, tense atmosphere was like the north wind, penetrating everywhere.
Helan Feng’s tent had a fire made of dried cow dung. Ruan Buqi was combing Zhuozhuo’s hair, and Jin Yang was teaching Helan Feng to write.
He started with the basic strokes, very patiently: “When finishing a stroke, pause slightly back, make a hook…”
Thinking he wasn’t being clear enough, Jin Yang reached from behind Helan Feng and held his right hand. Together they wrote a passably neat regular script character.
“Wonderful!” Jin Yang praised highly. “Written perfectly!”
Helan Feng was skeptical, glanced at him, gently freed his hand, and continued copying on his own. Jin Yang retracted his hand into his sleeve and smiled secretly: He recalled Bai Ni’s comment about Helan Feng.
When no one was looking, Jin Yang’s gaze fell on a sword resting on a pillar.
It was Helan Jinying’s spare sword, not too heavy. Jin Yang had secretly tested its weight; it was very suitable.
His right hand slowly opened, then slowly clenched inside his clothes.
The son of General Zhongzhao certainly wouldn’t be ignorant of riding.
Precisely because his constitution had been frail since childhood, his parents and sister had done everything they could to teach him riding, archery, and martial arts—not for fighting or warfare, but to strengthen his body. He knew how to ride and how to wield a sword against enemies.
He had been in Beirong for nearly two months. All preparations for escape were made; he only awaited the right moment.
Jin Yang lowered his gaze and saw Helan Feng look up at him.
“Is this ‘Liang’ as in Liangjing?” Helan Feng pointed to a line on the paper: “Whispering swallows speak among the beams; why come to disturb leisurely dreams?”
These words stirred up Jin Yang’s long-suppressed homesickness. He carefully traced the character “Liang” that Helan Feng had written and said softly, “Yes, the Liang of Liangjing.”
A moment of emotion made his fingers tremble slightly. Water welled in his ink-black eyes. That thin layer of tears lay over his pupils, trembling with Jin Yang’s lashes. But in the next instant, Jin Yang closed his eyes and swallowed all emotion haphazardly into his soul.
“I’ve never been to Liangjing,” Helan Feng said. “What is it like?”
On this vast land stretching thousands of miles, the longest and grandest river was the Liexing River.
The Liexing River was over ten thousand miles long, flowing from west to east through countless mountain ranges. At its midpoint near Yanghe City, it branched into a tributary called the Shen River.
The Shen River flowed from northwest to southeast through Liangjing, Dayu’s most prosperous city.
Built alongside the Shen River, the entire city of Liangjing resembled a giant spindle: narrow at both ends, wide in the center, with streets and alleys laid out in districts.
Its climate was mild with distinct seasons. Flowers filled the city, and the sound of water entered homes. Near the QinSu Lane where the Jin residence stood was a small branch stream of the Shen River: the Swallow Stream.
The Swallow Stream was lined with countless crabapple trees. In spring, the breeze was gentle and soft, the air thick with floral scent. Under the eaves of every house along the stream were swallow nests. Birds returned in spring and migrated in autumn, making it lively. During New Year and Buddhist festivals, colorful boats often appeared on the stream, featuring dazzling performances like “water puppets” and “water swings.” People strolled along the bank, watching and praising, tossing coins and jewels like rain into the boats.
The Swallow Stream flowed straight into the Imperial City.
The Imperial City was hidden within Liangjing’s inner city, and the inner and outer cities were connected by eight great gates. Jin Yang was most familiar with the Vermilion Bird Gate and the Subduing Tiger Gate.
Near the Subduing Tiger Gate was Liangjing’s famous Pan Tower, the best place for chatting and listening to music. The alleys around Pan Tower crisscrossed, and market stalls stood in great numbers. Noble ladies often strolled and drank tea at night. The night market, selling all kinds of food, didn’t close until the third watch and reopened at the fifth watch, making it extremely lively. Jin Yang’s elder sister and brother-in-law often secretly took him to the night market on Ma’er Street to play. In summer, they ate cold noodles, chilled lychee paste, and snow-brewed mung bean water; in winter, the first choice was lamb wontons with sesame flatbread, and the brother-in-law would invariably add a pot of Silver Bottle Plum Wine.
Jin Yang spoke with absorbed interest. Ruan Buqi, holding Zhuozhuo, moved closer to listen.
Helan Feng stared blankly at Jin Yang. Since this Dayu hostage had come to Beirong, he had never seen such innocent, happy, and rich expressions on Jin Yang’s face.
The youth before him was no longer the crimson-faced, sickly hostage who had struggled to stand on the snowy plain. Helan Feng couldn’t help but smile along with his words. The things Jin Yang described were things he had never seen or even imagined. In that moment, he suddenly developed a strong longing for distant Liangjing.
Glancing at Helan Feng’s expression, Jin Yang suddenly felt a touch of shyness and hurriedly resumed his upright posture: “Have you learned these two lines of poetry?”
Helan Feng asked instead: “Where is the Subduing Tiger Gate?”
Jin Yang: “Southeast of the inner city.”
Helan Feng: “Could you draw it for me? How does the Swallow Stream pass through QinSu Lane? Where exactly is Pan Tower located?”
Jin Yang: “Wouldn’t I have to draw you a map of Liangjing?”
Remembering Helan Jinying’s words, Helan Feng replied without hesitation: “Yes.”
The smile gradually faded from Jin Yang’s face, his eyes filled with many complex emotions. After a long hesitation, he smiled and said: “You practice your characters well, and I’ll draw it.”
That night, Ruan Buqi woke late to find Jin Yang lighting a small oil lamp, drawing on a sheet of paper. Thick ink filled the small bowl Zhuozhuo usually used for oil tea. He knelt on the ground, occasionally placing the bowl and his frozen brush tip over the lamp to melt.
The paper was quite long. A spindle-shaped city had already taken shape, and Jin Yang was outlining the wall between the inner and outer cities. In the center of the spindle, slightly above, was a square blank space he hadn’t started on.
“This is the inner city… this is the Imperial Palace…” Jin Yang pointed to the blank space and murmured, then gave a very faint smile. “Keeping me alive… it was for this.”
At this point, his emotions suddenly surged, and he had to clench his right hand tightly to calm himself. The brush tip had already dragged a small, trembling streak across the snow-white rice paper.
The next day, Jin Yang handed the street map of Liangjing to Helan Feng.
Helan Feng hadn’t expected him to finish so quickly. Jin Yang explained it was an apology for not letting Helan Feng have the steamboat hotpot.
“I’ll go catch another rabbit,” Helan Feng said.
A few days ago, hunters venturing deep into the Chiwang Plains forest had disturbed a slumbering black bear. The group suffered deaths and injuries. Yetai formed a bear-hunting party, intending to deal with the black bear today. Helan Feng and Hundaer were also in the team.
“It might snow,” Helan Feng said to Jin Yang and Ruan Buqi. “If the blizzard is too heavy, come keep Zhuozhuo company.”
Jin Yang knew he was worried they might get sick staying in the slave tent and nodded in agreement.
Helan Feng placed the map on the table and turned to change clothes and shoes. When Helan Jinying walked into the living tent, he immediately noticed the map. He glanced over it, and his gaze suddenly darkened: “You work fast. It’s already done?”
Jin Yang had not only carefully marked the positions of all Liangjing’s gates and streets on the map but also included several palace gates and halls within the Imperial Palace without omission.
Just as he was pondering, Helan Feng suddenly snatched the paper away.
“Asking me to learn Han characters and understand Liangjing’s situation,” he asked in a low voice, “this map is what you truly wanted, isn’t it?”
Helan Jinying extended his hand to him, watching him silently.
“He is from Dayu. He wants to go back,” Helan Feng said. “If the Dayu Emperor learns he gave us a map of Liangjing, he will die.”
“What does his life or death have to do with us?” Helan Jinying, unable to snatch the map back, frowned. “Since he drew it, he’s as stupid as a pig, completely lacking awareness. Someone like him, how could he be anything like Jin Mingzhao? If it weren’t for being Jin Mingzhao’s son, who would give a second glance to a frail scholar like him?”
“I know you admire Jin Mingzhao,” Helan Feng said. “But why don’t you like Jin Yang?”
“I have no fox fur coat, nor dried pears.”
Helan Feng: “…”
“Since he is Jin Mingzhao’s son, he should have Jin Mingzhao’s backbone, holding his own life and death in his own hands.” Helan Jinying stepped in front of Helan Feng, looking down at his stubborn eyes. “If you don’t give me the map, he will truly die.”
Author’s Note:
The term “night market” is not a modern word. Night markets indeed appeared during the Song Dynasty, selling food, antiques, daily necessities—everything imaginable.
And it was not uncommon for noble ladies to drink tea and stroll at night at all.
Researching is so much fun~
Today, I invite everyone to try Jin Yang’s “Summer Three Treasures”: Cold Noodles (Liangfen), Lychee Paste, and Snow-Brewed Mung Bean Water (Iced Mung Bean Soup)!