Chapter Twenty-Nine: Empathy
As dusk settled, it bathed the entire grassland in ink. The distant mountain outlines blurred into varying shades of dark blue in the fading light. The campfire crackled in the center of the camp, its flickering flames elongating the shadows of Yunji and Yuanya, casting them onto the dappled grass behind them.
Yuan Ya sat by the fire, her knees drawn up to her chest, her gaze drifting into the distance. She had just witnessed Yunji standing alone on the hillside, gazing south—the direction where the girl from Huairou was. Even separated by thousands of miles, that name could still stir ripples in his deep eyes. This discovery felt like a sharp needle pricking Yuan Ya's heart. Her characteristic straightforwardness as a northern girl almost made her blurt it out, but she pressed her lips tightly together at the last moment.
"Father said the marriage proposal has been formally brought up." She finally spoke, her voice slightly ethereal in the night breeze, "Seventh Brother, will you...will you marry me?"
The firelight illuminated Yunji's sharply defined profile. He paused for a moment, then picked up a dry twig and poked at the fire: "Yuanya, you are like the brightest star on the grassland, my cherished little sister."
"Sister?" Yuan Ya smiled wryly; this answer wasn't unexpected. She had noticed that these days, Yun Ji would always make an excuse to leave whenever Hawkeye came to see her, deliberately creating opportunities for them to be alone.
“Hawkeye cares a lot about you,” Yunji said tactfully.
“Is that so?” Yuan Ya looked at the flickering flames. “But he already has three women in his tent who have borne him children.”
Yunji paused, poking at the fire. He had only heard the news from the caravan the day before yesterday and was hesitating about how to tell Yuanya, not expecting that she already knew.
Yuan Ya turned to look at him, the firelight flickering in her clear eyes: "Yunji, do you know, sometimes I feel that those Han classics you brought only make me more confused. The women in the books can read, can be good wives and mothers, can compose poems and paint, but they don't have to think about how to lead a tribe like I do."
Her voice lowered: "I have no brothers. Although my father can still lead the tribe, one day he will have to shoulder the great responsibility of leading the entire tribe... If I am not up to the task, someone in the grasslands will train their own son to take over the tribe, which will cause the grasslands to split. Why is Hawkeye so persistent in pursuing me? It is because he knows that marrying me is equivalent to gaining our tribe's grasslands and people."
Just then, Hawkeye strode over with a few young men, the smell of alcohol wafting through the air: "Yuan Ya, so you've been hiding here for some peace and quiet! Come on, let's go for a horse race!"
He reached out to pull Yuan Ya, his movements rough and forceful. Yuan Ya instinctively took a half step back, her brows furrowed.
“She’s tired.” Yunji stood up and subtly stepped in front of Yuanya. “Let her rest tonight.”
Hawkeye narrowed his eyes and looked Yunji up and down: "Brother Yunji, you always protect her like this. Anyone who didn't know better would think you two were already married!" The young men behind him burst into laughter.
Yunji's expression was calm, but his voice was firm: "Women should be treated with respect, not coercion. This is the most basic etiquette."
Hawkeye scoffed and led his men away dejectedly.
After they had gone far away, Yuan Ya let out a soft sigh: "Thank you. Actually, I'm used to all of this. They've always been like this since I was a child. My peers in the tribe call me 'Young Master' on the surface, but behind my back they laugh at me because I'll eventually get married and say that our tribe will have to change its surname sooner or later."
Looking at her stubborn profile, Yunji suddenly thought of himself in the deep palace—those seemingly respectful but actually contemptuous gazes, those undercurrents of scheming. Yuan Ya's situation was so similar to his, yet it tested her wisdom even more.
“Yuan Ya,” his expression softened, “look at this grassland. It may seem rugged and fierce, but it has its own laws. Those who turn their backs on the people and cling to the old ways will eventually be abandoned by the times.” He paused, “But you are different. You have a vision in your heart and your people in your eyes. As long as you stay true to yourself and keep improving yourself, one day, everyone will see your abilities.”
Yuan Ya looked up at him, her eyes flashing with a complex light.
“Until then,” Yunji said solemnly, “as long as I am here, I will protect you.”
A night breeze carried the melodious strains of a morin khuur (horsehead fiddle) from afar. Yuan Ya gazed at the man from the Central Plains beside her. He didn't understand the cruel reality of the survival of the fittest on the grasslands, but he knew how to protect her and her dreams, and bridge the gap between the Central Plains and the grasslands. That was enough.
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