Chapter 791 The Setting Sun Over the Long River

Song Chunxue never expected that her senior brother and Daoist Han were really out sightseeing.

That evening, they arrived in Tatar territory, found an ordinary inn to stay in for the night, listened to the mixed accents, and ate food that did not suit their tastes.

On the afternoon of the second day, they arrived in the desert. Lord Zhao took out his wine jug and composed a poem, and he and Lord Han stood on a distant mountaintop and sang a song.

To Song Chunxue's delight, the three of them had the privilege of listening to Master Han play a few pieces on the zither from afar, and listening to the howling sandstorm all night in the drafty inn.

On the third day, they came to the grasslands of Longnan again, where they sat on a low hill for half a day to meditate and practice swordsmanship for the other half day.

The Wu sisters, Wu Bing and Wu Shuang, were initially quite reserved, but later they received guidance from Lord Zhao, who taught them to meditate and learn breathing techniques.

Song Chunxue felt like she was dreaming. She hadn’t expected the desert in late autumn to be so hot, and it felt so comfortable to be buried in it. She also hadn’t expected the air on the grassland to be so clear, as if it could cleanse her lungs inside and out several times.

She also saw marmots secretly observing them on the grassland, which would come over and eat the crumbs of steamed buns that people dropped.

She thought to herself that the people on this grassland must not have gone hungry much, otherwise the marmots would have been made into jerky long ago, and they would run away without a trace at the sight of people.

Looking up, the vast grassland stretched as far as the eye could see. Apart from them, there wasn't even a bird in sight. It was difficult to bump into anyone; the grassland was dominated by groundhogs and wildflowers.

Having seen a wider world, Song Chunxue increasingly felt that her past suffering was a joke. She realized that there were so many people in the world who did not have to suffer, while in such a rich and vast place, there were also people who were hungry, cold, and unable to afford food.

Some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouth, while others are born and never take a bath in their entire lives.

She had heard the saying, "We come into this world naked and leave naked; we bring nothing with us and take nothing with us when we die." But many people in Zhuanglang County took with them a lifetime of accumulated grievances.

On the seventh day, they arrived at a Taoist temple near the Devil City.

As soon as I entered the Taoist temple, someone rushed out and shouted happily, "Master!"

He was a young man wearing a Taoist robe, which was slightly faded and dressed simply, but his appearance suggested he came from a wealthy family.

Her hair was jet black and smooth, her skin was fair with a rosy glow, and her eyes were bright and piercing. When she smiled, she looked like a teenager. She wore a jet black jade hairpin on her head, and the sachet at her waist was made of precious brocade.

"Master, what brings you to visit me?"

The man with eyes like stars jumped into Lord Zhao's arms and hugged his neck tightly.

"Oh dear, you little rascal, get down here! How old are you now!"

Fortunately, Lord Zhao was prepared and caught him steadily, keeping his heels still; otherwise, he would have been knocked to the ground long ago.

He really was that same little kid back then.

"Master, I'm still your disciple, no matter how old I am. You're a cultivator, you can't possibly be unable to catch me, can you?" The young man jumped down and patted Lord Zhao's lower back. "Your back isn't hurt, is it?"

"Go away!" Lord Zhao slapped his forehead. "Why didn't you go to seize the treasure? I came all the way from Kunlun Mountain."

As he spoke, he pointed to Song Chunxue and said to the man, "Wuji, this is your martial uncle, Song Chunxue. You will formally pay your respects to your grandmaster in five years."

Wuji quickly stood up properly and bowed to Song Chunxue in a generous manner.

"Disciple Wuji greets Martial Uncle Song."

Overwhelmed with emotion, Song Chunxue smiled and helped him up by the elbow. "You wouldn't choose your senior brother's disciples based on looks, would you? They're all so pretty, with red lips and white teeth."

As she spoke, she took out a dagger from the cave from her storage ring. "This is a gift from your martial uncle. Don't be offended."

Lord Zhao's lips twitched. "What a joke, would he dare to look down on a dagger with a spirit?"

"Huh?" Wuji had just taken the dagger with both hands, and upon hearing this, he felt that the dagger in front of him was a bit too hot to handle.

"This is too precious, Uncle-Master. How could you give me something you use yourself? Your personal disciple would be so jealous if he knew. This is unacceptable."

"It's not that bad. Just keep it. Your uncle left some for them." He had some too, but not nearly as many as Song Chunxue. Why not take it?

Wuji was overjoyed. "Thank you, Uncle-Master."

"I'm glad you like it. A good horse deserves a good saddle. Giving it to you is the best way to avoid a waste." She couldn't possibly use all those nice things in the box by herself, so she had to give them to the right person.

Lord Han, who was standing to the side, spoke up, "Wuji has already forgotten me so quickly?"

"Uncle Han!" Wuji jumped in front of him, his bright eyes narrowed into slits with laughter. "I could forget anyone but you! You've finally decided to leave the capital."

"At least you have a conscience." Master Han smiled and tapped his head.

The group walked into the Taoist temple, chatting and laughing.

There used to be an elderly Taoist priest in this temple who went down the mountain to raise money for incense and repair the main hall, and he has not yet returned.

After entering the Taoist temple and burning incense, everyone sat down to exchange pleasantries.

Wu Bing and Wu Shuang took the initiative to go to the kitchen to boil water and make tea.

Song Chunxue liked this Taoist temple very much. It stood high on a steep cliff, and from its height, one could see an endless desolate landscape. In the distance were barren loess slopes with little life, and riverbeds that had been eroded by the river countless years ago, now covered only by sparse drought-resistant weeds.

She had seen places even more barren than Lijiazhuangzi.

But the setting sun cast its golden rays upon this land, bathing this arid and barren soil in a radiant golden hue, just like the scene that had appeared in my dreams.

Even their state of mind was not much different.

How amazing! No wonder she dreamed many years ago that she would come to this place someday.

But why can't she dream of lush green forests and fields?

When I was a child, adults always said that dreaming of clear water and lush green crops and forests meant that wealth would come your way.

But having lived two lifetimes, she occasionally dreamt of such scenes, but they were never accurate.

Now she wonders if she grew up in a place with little greenery, where, except for the lush summer, it was almost all yellow earth.

So her dreams were filled with yellow earth, and even if she wasn't in the ground, she saw rammed earth walls, compacted yellow earth ground, and roads made of yellow mud.

If you ever have the chance to meet someone from the South, ask her what kind of dream she had, and you'll find out.

Maybe I can ask Ye Hanying next time.

"I heard you've always wanted to visit Jiangnan, but you haven't been able to. Actually, the water towns, terraced fields, and basins of Jiangnan, or the vast primeval forests of the south, are not as authentic as the Northwest."

“If you want to go, I’ll take you next time. I lived by the little bridge for half a year and I don’t miss it at all. On the contrary, this vast and desolate scene, with its infinite tragedy and desolation, is deeply imprinted in my mind, even though I only saw it once.”

Lord Zhao stood beside her, gazing into the distance from the railing, and couldn't help but sigh softly, "A lone plume of smoke rises straight from the desert, the setting sun hangs round over the long river—this must be the scene described. Although the river is dry, the afterglow of the setting sun shines on the ancient riverbed; it would be illogical for there to be water."