She ran away. It was so cold last night that she slept in her clothes, and her robe was more than enough to cover her feet.
It is really like covering one's ears and stealing the bell.
As soon as I got outside, I almost jumped up from the ground.
When she lifted the door curtain, she saw a row of people standing at her door, blocking her way.
When you stand on tiptoe, you can only see the shoulders and the back of the head of the person in front of you.
Many people are bald. Is this their custom or genetic?
If Stu becomes like this.
She shook her head and said, "I can't think about it. If I don't think about it, it will disappear."
Plan A didn't work, so she decisively adopted Plan B.
With her petite body, she slid into the crowd like a loach, squeezed into any gap she saw, and finally successfully occupied the first row.
It was still dark, and traces of ink remained in the sky.
The tent from last night was left there, unpacked. More than thirty torches formed a circle with Nastu's wooden box as the center, and golden leaves were scattered around it, as if it were a grand sacrifice.
Almost all the people and horses came outside. The leaders of each team and those with blood ties to the grassland royal family stood in the middle, and the rest stood on the periphery.
It seems that he was not discovered.
She patted the shoulder of the person next to her and asked in a low voice:
"What's this for?"
"You don't know?" The man turned around and found that it was not his own person.
"Oh, you really didn't know that the ceremony for the new Khan's succession to the throne will be held today."
☆
The conditions for fighting were poor, and even the Khan, who came from a noble family, did not receive any preferential treatment.
In a tent that could accommodate up to ten people, there was a table with this morning's food on it, including half-eaten bread, a full bowl of mare's milk, two cushions, and a bed.
Although it is simple, it is neatly arranged by the owner. Unlike most men on the grassland, he only cares about living comfortably and doesn't care whether it is clean or not.
King Yundan Khan stood beside the bed, adjusting his brand new robe. He had taken out this robe countless times since he became an adult, and each time he just watched from afar.
But when it was actually worn on him this time, he felt a little dazed.
Everything around him changed instantly, and he couldn't tell where he was or what time it was.
The cold wind blew, and a few strands of silver hair gently stroked the wrinkles at the corners of the eyes. Everything in the past swirled up from the ends of the hair like a phantom, like a vast thunder, hitting the top of the head.
So much time has passed that his hair has turned white.
"Bamur, am I old?"
Bamur's father was a capable general of King Yundan Khan and was often away on military campaigns. When he was a child, he had no idea about his father and only remembered that he was a tall man with a shaggy beard.
In her free time, Eji would teach him how to make garlands. He learned quickly and made a garland with all kinds of flowers on the grassland. Before he could put it on his father's head, he was left in a foreign land forever.
Bamur has been with King Yundan Khan since he could remember. Both of King Yundan Khan's sons died of congenital diseases, and he had no more children.
He taught him how to fight and how to ride a horse. King Yundan Khan attached great importance to these things. In order to repay King Yundan Khan, he never slacked off even when his body could not bear it.
With his own strength and the promotion of King Yundan Khan, he quickly gained prestige among his peers.
The relationship between the two has always been close and distant, and they are not that close.
Bamur could never guess what he was thinking.
This was the first time he heard a question other than the mission, and it was even harder to answer than reporting the mission.
"The Khan is forty-three this year, in the prime of his life, not old at all."
"Yeah?"
"Of course, many people your age can no longer beat you."
Nastu is only 24 years old this year, and he has already carved out a kingdom for himself. What he was doing when he was 24 was also on the battlefield.
A chaotic sound of bells disrupted his thoughts. He snorted softly, thinking that he was really old and was actually starting to feel sad about the passing of time.
He lowered his head to adjust the length of his belt, then suddenly remembered something and asked, "Is Oter done yet?"
Bamur breathed a sigh of relief and finally stopped asking strange questions.
"We have put his head and body together, blessed them with the Hesa, and buried them in the ground. We did it very carefully, and no one found it."
"Where's Baru?"
"It's buried too."
Speaking of Baru, Bamur naturally thought of Su Yumo.
"What should we do with that woman? As long as she's alive, the Khan will be in greater danger."
"Isn't it easy to kill a woman?" He tightened his belt and put on his robe.
"clear."
King Yundan Khan picked up the hat on the table, put it on his head, and put a long sword on his waist.
"Let's go."
☆☆
"Nastu, hero of the grasslands, led our Kirzi tribe to wash away a century of shame and embark on the road to glory. Fate is unpredictable, and now we have met with misfortune. The evildoer is dead. May the gods bless the Khan's soul to return to Sengri after his death and protect the grasslands."
A curved wooden staff with a silver bell on the top was pointed toward the sky by the person holding it.
This man was dressed differently from the warriors. He wore a shawl over his robe. The shawl had intricate patterns on it, and the tassels rose and fell with his movements.
Her rough gray hair was draped over her shoulders without any decoration, and her forehead was painted with a red pattern, like a bird spreading its wings and soaring.
After reciting the poem, he started to dance. His movements were uncoordinated, rhythmic, and strange.
He doesn't look like a dancer, but more like a madman who believes in God. The burning flames change back and forth as he runs, grand and solemn.
The firelight was reflected in the warriors' pupils, and each of them stared at the dancer with a solemn expression.
Su Yumo's eyes froze slightly, as if he was shocked by the dance before him. He forgot the coldness on the soles of his feet for a moment and couldn't help but utter one word, "Beautiful."
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