Chapter 22 Two Horses Dorji was also thinking, and the Fourth Princess heard...
Dorji was also thinking about the fourth princess's expression when she heard this.
She would probably frown slightly, like an angry ferret.
This person was also very sullen when angry, and she didn't show it much. It was as if he was afraid that something would happen because of her anger. So sometimes he would take the initiative to tease her, and her slightly angry look was much more vivid than her smile at the banquet in the palace.
Thinking of this scene, Dorji couldn't help but smile.
The weather was fine, so he climbed onto the roof to bask in the sun. Everywhere he looked, the sun's golden rays were shining. Actually, sitting on the roof was definitely against the rules, but the princess's servants had no other reaction except surprise.
Perhaps the princess had instructed them not to interfere in the affairs of the prince consort's palace unless it was too excessive.
Thinking of the princess, he turned his head to the east and looked towards the courtyard where the princess lived.
It's also strange. She is the emperor's daughter of noble status, but she has such a contradictory personality.
It was not until later when chatting with the ministers of the Lifanyuan that he heard that the fourth princess's mother had passed away. The fourth princess had been unknown in the palace before and was probably not very liked by her father, the emperor.
Dorji finally understood why she had such a personality. At the same time, he felt a little pity for her, thinking that she also had lost her mother.
He likes her and should like her. It would be best if she could love him deeply because of his liking for her.
Dorji never forgot their respective identities.
She was a princess of the Qing court and an extension of imperial power.
Therefore, Dorji would show his loyalty at the right time, just as his grandfather Tushetu Khan did when he decided to surrender, lowering his head which had been proud for most of his life, sincerely offering all his cattle, sheep, camels and slaves to the emperor, and begging for his help.
Of course, the emperor would not really accept all the cattle, sheep, camels and slaves. On the contrary, he also gave the Tushetu Khanate a lot of things, such as the Qing court title, salary and this beautiful princess.
The most important thing is to return to the Mobei grassland that they embrace.
When he closed his eyes, the grassland would float before his eyes.
After being away from it for more than half a year, he can finally go back now, he should be happy. After all, there, he, Dunduobuduoerji, is the future Khan of the Tushetu Khanate and the heir of the Khalkha grassland. But here, he is more of a consort of the fourth princess.
But this happiness was not so pure, especially when he saw Monk and the others were reluctant to leave. Even he himself felt at one moment that the cushioned couch was more comfortable than the big tent, and he felt an inexplicable fear.
In terms of material conditions alone, everything in the capital is much more comfortable than on the grassland.
Dorji thought that the Qing court did not have to worry about the Mongolian princes and taijis being unwilling to come to the court. As long as they experienced the fun here, they would understand and might even want to stay in the capital for a longer period of time.
He opened his eyes and looked into the distance.
There were large and large areas of ordinary residential courtyards. Under the green tiles, people in winter clothes were busy with their work. It was already dinner time, and smoke was rising from the chimneys of many houses. They probably ate rice, steamed buns, vegetables, tofu, or meat.
Ordinary scene, ordinary people.
This is just ordinary, but on the grassland, it might be a very good condition. Dorji once rode to the outskirts of the royal court, far away from the residences of the taijis, which were the homes of some poor herdsmen.
The grass and trees were sparse, and the skinny sheep were gnawing on the ground, hoping to find food. There were many patched felt tents nearby. Many families didn't even have a decent piece of white cloth, so they just wrapped themselves in sheepskin as clothes. They had cheap brick tea and a piece of black jerky for dinner.
This was life before the war. After years of killing, I wonder what the scene would be like.
Dorji thought of his subjects and pursed his lips.
It would be great if one day the most ordinary herdsmen on the grassland could have clothes to wear and food to eat like the people in the capital.
As he was about to leave the capital, Dorji had no relatives or friends he had to visit, so he thought for a moment, picked up two jugs of wine, and rode to Celeng Mansion.
Celeng's residence was a blue brick courtyard deep in an alley, with a red couplet on the door. From the outside, it looked no different from any other home in the capital. Only when I entered the inner room and saw the portrait of Genghis Khan hanging on the north wall did I realize that the owner of the house was originally a Mongolian.
The Celeng brothers were still studying in the palace study and had not yet returned. Dorji held a cup of milk tea and chatted with their grandmother.
It was a rare occasion to see someone from Khalkha, and the old grandmother was particularly happy. Her eyes narrowed into slits, but her hearing was not very good.
Dorji asked, "Are you getting used to living here?"
The grandmother shouted back, "What? They won't be back for a while."
After repeating this twice, Dorji stopped talking and just listened to his grandmother talking about the past with a smile.
When people get old, they love to recall the past. Perhaps the days ahead are too thin, and all they can turn over is the thick past. Because there are few people to talk to them, once they catch a young person, they want to pour out all the past, looking for some proof that he has been here.
My grandmother would mention that the Tibetan lama had bestowed the title of Sayin Noyan on Celeng’s great-grandfather, and would talk about how powerful their tribe was in Khalkha at that time. She would also angrily curse the Junggar beasts for stealing their pastures, cattle and sheep.
"There was a little flower in front of my tent! It was red and very pretty. But it was trampled by the horse's hooves when I hurried away..."
As they chattered, the sun went down and the Celeng brothers came back. The younger brother came to rescue Dorji and pulled the grandmother forward, saying, "I'm thirsty and want some milk tea."
The elder brother quickly pulled him into the house.
The prince didn't even say hello in advance, so you must be annoyed by hearing this, right?" Celeng asked.
"It's good," Dorji said with a smile, "I haven't heard someone speak so much Mongolian for a long time."
"Are you going back?"
"It's almost time, March is leaving."
Celeng originally brought out a wine glass, but Dorji thought it was too small and asked him to change it to a large bowl. This way they could drink more happily.
"I think you are almost the same as the people here." said Dorji.
Celeng drank half a bowl of wine and said, "Why, are you here to scold me for being so happy that I don't want to return to my homeland?"
"What rat?"
There is no such word in Mongolian. Celeng just pronounced it in its entirety.
Celeng smiled and said, "We are just brothers chatting. If you say this in front of the princess, she will laugh at you."
"It's a good thing to make her laugh." Dorji said nonchalantly, "After she finishes laughing, she will teach me."
Celeng lowered his eyes, stared at the wine in the bowl, and hummed.
"I've really gotten used to it here. Besides, I can't go back."
“Isn’t the grassland there?”
"But is my grassland still there?"
Their tribe was the first to be plundered by Moxi. Five years later, who knows who occupied the grasslands. Even if Moxi gave up those lands, would there be fertile grasslands waiting for them to return?
Of the three tribes in Mobei, even if the Tushetu Khanate did not take action, the other two would have already divided up the territory. Unless the master gave the order, who would be willing to spit out the fat meat in their mouths?
Celeng saw clearly that the master was currently in a period of friendly relations with the three Mobei tribes, especially the Tushetu Khanate, and would never stand up for their small tribe which had lost its land.
Dorji obviously figured out the key point. He patted Celeng on the shoulder and said sincerely:
"Your luck will eventually come. Then we can drink together."
"That would be good."
"Of course it will."
Dorji was as sure as if the sun would come out tomorrow. This made Celeng laugh: "How did you know?"
"I just know it," Dorji said, "My great uncle is the Living Buddha Jebtsundamba. As my nephew, isn't it reasonable for me to know a little bit about prophecy?"
He picked up the wine jar and filled two wine bowls: "It's just that the amount is small, and one out of ten will come true. You are lucky, this prophecy is for you today."
Dorji raised his wine bowl high and said with a smile: "Within ten years, you will have your own opportunity."
Although he knew that he was just trying to comfort himself, Celeng still had hope in his heart. One day, one day he would win back what he had lost.
Celeng picked up the wine, clinked bowls with Dorji, and drank it down with his head tilted back.
It is a great pleasure to meet you and drink with you!
After drinking happily, Dorji stood up, clapped his hands and sang:
The two horses of the Holy Lord
I wonder if the divine horse of heaven is safe.
The familiar melody is the Mongolian long song that the two grew up listening to.
Celeng couldn't help but clap his hands on the table to keep the rhythm, and sang along with Dorji:
The two horses of the Holy Lord
I wish you weren't bound by the cold chew
I hope you can gallop on the lush pastures
May you drink from the holy spring
…
It rained at night, and the raindrops hit the tiles, making a pattering sound.
Mu Xue had already let her hair down and was about to go to bed when she suddenly heard Nanny Kang come to report that her husband had not returned yet.
"No one is following?"
"The prince consort rode out on his own. He told Monk before he left that he was going to the home of his fellow Khalkha man." Aunt Kang said, "Perhaps the rain delayed him. The evening drum is about to be struck. Should I ask someone to go and check with an umbrella?"
Muxue glanced at the western clock in the room. It was almost eight o'clock, and if it was a little later it would be curfew.
She nodded and agreed: "Go ahead. If it's too late, you can rest over there."
Nanny Kang took the order and left. Ronger brought a box of pearl powder over and applied it on her face. "I think she wanted to say goodbye to her fellow townsmen and said a lot of words."
"It's human nature." Mu Xue said, and thought of something on her mind.
Before leaving, I always have to go to the palace to say goodbye, so that I can meet Concubine Yi, the Fifth Prince and other relatives and say goodbye properly. However, there is one person who, if I don't go to see him, I'm afraid it will be difficult to meet him in the future.
She said to Rong'er, "Come here, I have something to tell you."
Rong Er was slightly surprised when she heard this, but she didn't show it on her face and agreed, "I will do it tomorrow."
After applying pearl powder and drinking a cup of hot milk, she heard news from outside that the prince consort had returned, but was drunk.
Dorji can get drunk? Muxue was a little surprised. She had seen his drinking capacity at the banquet before. It was said that two people were drunk in the drinking contest, but he still looked OK.
This was something new. She didn't want to sleep at this moment, so she simply put on a jacket and went to watch the fun.
Some people seem to act crazy when they are drunk, and some people even vomit. I wonder which one Dorji is?
Neither.
When Muxue arrived at the west courtyard, the servants had already changed Dorji's wet clothes and were getting hot water for him to wipe his face.
Dorji lay on his side on the bed, legs slightly curled up, unusually quiet, like a sleeping child, except for a flush on his cheeks.
If you get closer, you can see his long and thick eyelashes. When the hot towel was wiping his face, Mu Xue heard him call out "Eji".
Do you miss your mother?
Seeing the servants preparing Dorji's meal and covering him with a blanket, Muxue tiptoed out to the outer room and asked Mengke, "Your husband and his mother had a good relationship before, right?"
Monk sighed, "Master's Abu and Eji both loved him very much. He was their only son and their greatest pride. It's a pity... the former prince was seriously injured on the battlefield and died. Fu Jin was already in poor health due to the war, and her old illness recurred after she heard the news, and she died soon. At that time, Master was training with the prince on the front line, and didn't even have time to see Fu Jin for the last time."
He glanced at Muxue and seemed to be hesitant to speak.
"If you have anything to say, just say it." Mu Xue said.
Monk stammered, "Princess, our master is really a very good person. Don't think that he has no worries just because he smiles all day long... He just doesn't like to talk."
Dorji would not tell his subordinates about his worries, for fear of affecting morale. He could not bother his grandfather, who was working so hard for Khalkha, with these trivial matters. His parents were both dead, so there was no one to talk to. If he was really upset, he would just find a high place, sit down and watch the clouds and the moon, and wake up the next day with a high-spirited look and everything would be fine.
Monk really hoped that his master's wife would listen to his concerns. However, Dorji's wife was a princess of noble status, and there was also the righteousness of the Manchu-Mongolian marriage, so it seemed that this hope was just wishful thinking.
Mu Xue was silent for a moment, then said, "I understand."
She couldn't utter any other words or promises for a moment.
She returned to the bedroom and sat down on the palace stool in front of the bed, holding her chin with her hands, quietly looking at the sleeping Dorji.
She knew only too well the feeling of having no one to confide your worries to.
Did this person grow up like this?
In such a warm and chilly night, the orange-yellow light shone on his handsome face, like the light at dusk.
She reached out her hand, wanting to poke his cheek, but stopped when she got too close.
After hesitating for a few seconds, she finally withdrew her hand, stood up and left.
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