Chang'an Youth Tour

On the grassland in autumn, when the water and grass are fertile, people from all the nearby tribes are harvesting hay, and they want to drive the cattle and sheep to the valley for the winter before the heavy snowfall. Competition for grassland happens from time to time, and they are all small-scale Conflict, this piece of grassland is not the most fertile, fifty miles along the Huyan River to the east, that piece of valley plain is the "grassland where the sun never sets" sung in the Baijie people's song.

There are only a few small tribes around here, and the tribe of Chijie is the largest. This tribe of Chijie belongs to Mohan, the youngest son of the previous leader. After the death of the old leader, Mohan was expelled here by his brother. The surrounding small tribes were very tyrannical, so after he came, many able tribes moved away, leaving only some weak tribes and a wandering tribe of Hiero.

The Hiro people are despised on the grasslands. They neither have the skills to herd cattle and sheep, nor are they good at fighting like other tribes. The only outstanding thing is their blond hair, slender stature, and good singing Talented at dancing, it is said that the Hiro people would be ashamed of the black warblers on the prairie when they sang.In the good year when the cattle and sheep were fat, the tribes held banquets, and Hiro people often came to participate, bringing some strange things in exchange, such as carpets with intricate patterns, exquisite toys and so on.At the end of each banquet, many girls would leave with the handsome Hero singer, and the tribe would ride horses to catch them back. As time passed, the Hero people became unpopular on the grassland.

Some big tribes even plundered the Hiro people and took them as slaves. The beauty of the Hiro female slaves has always been famous, and the girls are as slender and beautiful as the goddesses in the songs, but this reputation has brought them shame—— —A tribe that can't even protect its own women is despised by everyone on the grassland.

This Xiluo tribe has just wandered here recently, but there are only a few hundred people. They are dressed in rags like the legends. They have no horses, cattle or sheep. In spring, someone saw them on the river beach, as if they were picking something. Grass, which they boiled in a dull pot until autumn.

"When the heavy snow falls, these Xiluo people will freeze to death." People in the surrounding tribes thought so.

However, the Hieros didn't seem to be worried about winter. They still wandered on the river beach. They were heard singing on the river beach, their voices were very low, and they clung to each other in pairs, their blond hair shining in the sun.They gathered the reeds, split the grass fibers, and wove them into coarse cloth, their slender fingers white as snow, and the woven cloth had patterns, which was a little funny.

People in many tribes secretly doubt whether the patterned cloth and reeds can help them survive the winter when the mountains are blocked by heavy snow on the grassland.

No one knows the answer.

It was just an ordinary afternoon. The tribes by the river were harvesting hay as usual. If there was anything different, it would be crows.

The crows have been flying over one after another since the morning. No one knew that there would be so many crows on the grassland. This seemed to be an omen, but no one took it to heart.

The Xirong people came from the east.

What was seen first was dust, then gathered into smoke, billowing from the horizon.Then they saw their horses like dark clouds, and the scimitars studded with jewels gleamed coldly in the sun, like a pack of wolves overwhelming the sky, galloping like thunder, and they were already in front of them in an instant.

Without the tribe having time to react, the Xirong people were like wolves entering a flock of sheep. Wherever the scimitar passed, blood gushed out, and the withered yellow grassland was stained with blood, only the sound of wailing and screaming was heard.The warriors of the Mohan tribe had just got on their horses, and before they had time to pull out their lines, after being sprinted by the Xirong people, there were only a bunch of empty saddles left.Mohan wanted to escape, but was chopped into two pieces by Xirong warriors. The elders of the tribe knelt on the ground and begged for forgiveness, hoping to know the reason.

"Mohan angered our great king and killed all the men in his tribe who were taller than a horse's belly." The Xirong people's language was blunt and cold: "Not one will be left."

Thousands of Chijie tribes were killed in the blink of an eye until their blood flowed like rivers. They ran and shouted, women and children cried and wailed, and the surrounding small tribes fled for their lives. However, Xirong's scimitar did not recognize anyone. Cutting vegetables is average, the Hiro tribe is at the end, and the Huyan River is behind them. Hundreds of people were forced to the river.

"Heiro people?" The little leader of Xirong recognized it at a glance, with a cruel look on his face: "Kill all the men and children, and take away the women."

The docile Hiro people are like sheep under the scimitar. The cloth made of grass is not as good as sheepskin, let alone resist the blade. Soon all the men are killed, and even the children are cut down. Some children are cut off from their mothers. He snatched it out of his arms and fell to his death, crying all over the place.In the chaos, the leader of Xirong dragged out a woman from Xiluo who was curled up there from behind the boulder. She was holding a six or seven-year-old child in her arms. Her blond hair was very brilliant, and it fell down to her ankles during the struggle. The leader pulled snatch her hair, snatch the child in her arms.

There was an old scar on her neck, which seemed to be left by the iron collar of the slave, and her eyes were green, like the water of a lake after autumn.

The mother's instinct made her struggle hard, and she finally yelled out when she was about to take the child away.It turned out that her voice was already hoarse, and even though she tried her best to shout, she could only make a sound of "ahhhh". The leader grabbed the child and was about to fall to his death, but she rushed forward, grabbed the child, and let out an anxious and miserable hiss. cry.

She tore off the child's clothes. The child had the same blond hair as hers, and the same skin as snow. On his neck, there was a tooth worn by a thin gold chain. It was a wolf's canine, ferocious. And sharp, more than two inches long.

Children of the Xirong people have the habit of wearing spikes.But no one had ever hunted a wolf that big.

But in the legend, there was such a giant wolf that was hunted and killed by the ancestors of the Xirong people. The wolf teeth have been passed down until the leader of this generation, Cha Yunshuo, lost one of them.

Seeing the expressions of the Xirong people, the woman knew that they had recognized the wolf tooth, and a smile appeared on her face.At that moment, the little leader of Xirong realized it, but before he could reach out his hand, he saw the Xiluo woman take a deep look at her child, and then jumped off the Huyan River.

Her blond hair flickered for a moment in the rushing water before being swept to the bottom.And the frighteningly quiet child with the spikes finally burst into tears as his mother disappeared into the river.

This winter, Meng Cang turned five years old.

He is stronger than his brothers since he was a child. He has a tiger head and a tiger brain. He loves to eat meat. He will fall when he can walk. He is very strong and smart. Although he has many brothers, his mother is a concubine and one of the leaders of the tribe on Tianshan Mountain. Female, with the highest status, so Cha Yunshuo likes him the most.His older brothers were all afraid of his father, but he was not, as soon as he heard that Cha Yunshuo had returned, he ran into the main tent.

"Father."

"It's grown taller again." Cha Yunshuo stretched out his hand to hug him, but he hugged his arms with both hands, and used the posture of wrestling to teach him strength, his face flushed from holding back, and he couldn't hold back, Cha Yunshuo put a little force, and he fell down. On the carpet, wearing thick fur, trying to get up awkwardly.

Cha Yunshuo laughed loudly. He was tall and tall, but in his thirties, with a majestic and handsome face, very domineering.He took out the bow and arrow brought back by Meng Cang and watched him fiddle with it.

"I gave you what I promised you last time." He asked Meng Cang, "What do you want this time?"

Meng Cang raised his head to look at him, knowing that he was going to go out again soon, so he tilted his head and remembered.

"I want a slave."

"Slaves?" Cha Yunshuo was surprised: "Slaves are everywhere, how many do you want?"

"I want the one outside Father's tent."

Meng Cang looked at him confidently, he knew that his father would never refuse his request.

But this time he miscalculated.

"The one outside the tent won't work. I'll bring you back hundreds of slaves this time, and let you choose whatever you want."

Meng Cang ran out of the tent angrily. Although he was not tall, he was very strong, and without waiting for his followers, he lifted the heavy felt curtain and rushed out.As soon as he came out of the tent, he saw the slave.It was a boy no more than two years older than him. He was wearing thin clothes and tied to a pillar. His whole body was buried in the heavy snow, with only a little body exposed. His hair was very brilliant golden, standing in the snow. Especially conspicuous.

Meng Cang walked to his side and found that he was more drowsy than when he came, his body was hot, his lips were chapped, and he seemed to be reading something in his mouth. He put his ear close to him curiously, and heard him murmur: "I'm Shiro People, I am not from Xirong."

What a fool, Meng Cang thought, what is so good about the Xiluo people, they are all slaves, and we Xirong are heroes.

It's another autumn day.

Most of the massacres on the grasslands occurred in autumn. The cattle and sheep were plump and carried a lot of weight, so they were easy to kill.The Xirong people are strong with swords and fast horses, and they can plunder tribes within hundreds of miles in one day, deterring the entire grassland.Otherwise, the massacre of the Mohan tribe would not still be spread on the grasslands.

This time, it was a Baijia man who suffered the disaster. He handed in the saddle late, which caused Cha Yunshuo to be furious. Since he was injured by an arrow in Qianye City the year before last, his health was not as good as before, so he became more urgent and his methods became more iron-blooded. , almost like a tyrant.The white scorpion just hit the knife's edge, so he gave the same order as ten years ago to kill all the adult males.

The Baijie people were not weak either, and when they were about to die, they rebelled, set up an ambush in the Huyan River Valley, blocked the road, and forced the Xirong people to dismount, unexpectedly, they almost won.The Xirong people's team this time was led by Cha Yunshuo's favorite prince Mengcang. Mengcang was in a dangerous situation and was almost seriously injured. In his rage, the massacre spread to nearby tribes, blaming them for not reporting earlier.

There are some small tribes nearby, grazing all year round, and they are scared to run around.Among them was a very small Hiero tribe, all of them were blond Hiro people, as docile as sheep, and all of them were beautiful, even the Xirong warriors who killed without batting an eye were a little soft when they killed them.A Xirong warrior found a haystack and found a mother and son hiding in it. The child was only six or seven years old, a boy, curled up in his mother's arms, shivering, with a pair of green eyes, very pitiful.

The Xirong warrior was only eighteen or nineteen years old. Seeing the mother bursting into tears and pleading eyes, he couldn't help but put down the knife in his hand.Just as I wanted them to hide, I heard someone laughing behind me: "So there are still here."

The one who was joking was Geyan, the son of Hulishe, the great king of Xirong Nan. He was surrounded by aristocratic teenagers from Xirong, who were used to killing. Seeing that the mother and son were inseparable, and they were beautiful, they all laughed and danced. It doesn't take much effort to get off the horse and pull, just like a group of cats playing with mice.However, the Xiluo woman couldn't struggle, and in desperation, she bit Ge Yan's wrist fiercely.

Ge Yan was furious at once, kicked the woman over, pulled her son out of her arms, just about to torture him, only heard the sound of sharp knives in his ears, his face felt warm immediately, warm blood sprayed all over his face.

An extremely sharp machete passed through his side, piercing through the chests of the mother and child.The expression on the face of the Xiluo woman was still terrified, but her wide-eyed eyes were full of shock.Maybe it was because of this sudden death, or maybe it was because the person who killed her had the same blonde hair as her, shining like the sun.

The blond-haired owner drew out his knife with an indifferent expression, and rode away, chasing the other Hiro people fleeing on the grassland, raising the knife in his hand and dropping it, and the place he passed was blood red.

The desperate Hero shouted and cried, and the Hero language he whispered before his death was exactly the same as the song his mother hummed in his childhood memory.

Helen woke up with a start.

For many years, he always had the same dream. He dreamed of the Huyan River. In the dream, the sky on the grassland was as clear as water, and the blood was sprinkled on the withered grass leaves, giving off a warm and fishy smell.

The banquet in the house was still lively, he heard Meng Cang talking and laughing loudly, the whole jug of wine was poured into the bowl, and there was a clear sound of water flowing, the word clear was also something he had read from Han books.Xirong people don't like to read books, especially look down on Han people's books. Cha Yunshuo often said that Han people just read too many books, so they can't beat Xirong people.

He left the banquet and walked outside to the flower hall. Many flowers and trees were planted in the garden of the embassy. He was about to see what flowers were blooming so fragrantly, when he heard footsteps behind him, and someone followed him out.

He leaned lazily on the porch pillar, watching Rong Hao walking towards him.Among all the Han Chinese, this is the one who reads the most and is also the most interesting.It can be seen that he has suffered a lot these days, he has lost a lot of weight, and even his eyes are slightly sunken, because he has been thinking hard day and night.Helian suddenly wanted to laugh.

He is not a person who likes to laugh. For some reason, when he saw this "Master Rong", he became unexpectedly frivolous and tricky. It is not a good habit to laugh at failed prey. Many strong people lose in this. He has seen wolves dying The struggling Hu Yang was injured, but he just couldn't help it.

"Master Rong." He said with a smile.

Rong Hao obviously knew the meaning of his smile, he just stood still and looked at him warily.He was originally handsome and beautiful, Ao Ji was suitable for brocade clothes and strong horses, but he was very suitable for this kind of literati and Confucian shirt, he looked thinner and more romantic, only a thin waist remained, and even the unicorn jade pendant was too heavy.

"Master Rong," he called Rong Hao again: "Have you ever been to Huyan River?"

Naturally, he had never been there before. Looking at the thin young man in front of him, he could easily copy his whole life. He could not understand anything about the rich and noble son among the brocade, full of poems and books, romance, benevolence and morality.

But Helian suddenly wanted to talk to him about the Huyan River, about the heavy snow on the grassland, the snowy day where he almost froze to death, about the blond hair and slender body of the Xiluo girl, and Xi Rong's scimitar pierced such a body. It's as easy as piercing a thin piece of silk.Cha Yunshuo killed them right in front of him, like killing a flock of sheep.He remembered the warm blood melting the snow into a hollow.Struggling desperately, he almost broke the rope, those familiar faces still fell in front of him, the light in his green eyes gradually dimmed, he finally shouted, he begged for mercy: "I am no longer a Hero, I would like to be from Xirong..."

The rope gnawed into his flesh, and he struggled so hard.Until Cha Yunshuo cut the rope and handed the knife to him.

He said, "To be a Xirong native, one must know how to use a knife."

But Helian didn't have time to say anything.

Because Rong Hao reached out and handed him a sword.

"Back then in Tianxiang Tower, Prince Helian showed me your sword." Rong Hao looked at him calmly: "Let Prince Helian take a look at my sword today too."

The sword he holds in his hand has an extremely ancient name, and it is a family heirloom of Prince Rong's Mansion.His hands were slender and clean, with nails like jade. They were hands holding a pen, but now they were holding a sword.His always smiling eyes are no longer like a fox at this moment, but calm like a wolf.

Helian laughed.

When I was in Tianxianglou, I heard him teach human rights, I thought it was funny, and on a whim, I provoked him in advance, showed his signs, and then started to close the net, which was an early warning.Now he's retaliating with fire, telling himself in advance that he's going to break the game.

On such a good night, Helian wanted to chat with him about Huyanhe, but he asked Helian to look at his sword.

Destiny is really mysterious.