Yunyue past events

The hunting team went all the way, under the scorching sun, the princes and nobles sitting in the car could not be exposed to the sun, and the accompanying personnel had no shelter on the roof, and the road was long and obstructed, and they were sweating profusely and their mouths were dry.

Yue Qian had a wooden shackle on his wrist, and was tied to the back of the bullock cart by a rope. The bullock cart traveled slowly, and his pace was not fast, but every step was steady.

The two cooks following the bullock cart were relieved to see Yue Qian's extraordinary perseverance. They were worried that the Yue slave would be injured and would fall to the ground halfway.

No matter how hot the weather is, the more you dive, you have to go down to the river to fish, no matter how heavy the work is, no matter how tired you are, you have to do it. The life of Yuan Yu Nu is hard, and those who can survive have willpower different from ordinary people.

Sweat dripped from his forehead, and his loose hair was as wet as falling into the water. It's not that the injured Yueqian couldn't feel physical discomfort, but in his opinion, it was nothing.

A cook came to Yue Qian with a leather jug ​​filled with water. He pulled off the cork cover and signaled for water. Yue Qian opened his mouth, tilted the leather jug, and slowly poured cold water into his throat.

Before departure, Mr. Ling said: "Take good care of people along the way", not only does it mean not to let him run away, but it also means not to let him die of exhaustion and thirst.

As a slave, he is best at observing words and expressions.

The team was still heading in the direction of Yindu, and there was no order to take a break, and the monarch didn't show any consideration for the entourage following the car.

The driver driving the ox cart raises his whip, and the big ox pulling the cart lows. It bears a heavy load, and even though it is whipped, its speed remains the same.

The endless cries of wild beasts stopped at some point, the road has changed from a slope to a flat land, the forest is gradually thinning ahead, and the subconscious intuition has already gone out of the range of the garden.

He turned his head and looked back, and saw a forest road, which disappeared into the dense forest. His eyes moved from low to high, and he saw a misty mountain with its peak reaching into the sky. That was Nanshan.

I never thought that I would leave the garden in this way.

The road is ahead, extending towards the village at the foot of the mountain. There is a continuous wheat field at the head of the village. When the people working in the fields see the king's car, they kneel down beside the ridge tremblingly.

Leaving the village of chickens and dogs, the road gradually ascended and became steeper, and the team passed a high ground. At this time, the city wall in the distance could already be seen - that was Yindu, the capital of Rongguo.

In the afternoon, the team arrived at Yindu, passed through the south gate, and the people in the city watched along the way.

It was the first time for Yueqian to enter the city of Yindu. The houses in the city were row upon row, and the residents crowded shoulder to shoulder. It was an extremely lively and prosperous capital.

Walking along the straight avenue leading to the palace, you can see the majestic buildings of the Rong Palace when you look up, and a tall tower stands in front of it.

After entering the city, Yueqian was untied from the bullock cart by the guards, and the wooden shackles in his hands were also removed, and then he was taken by the guards to a large courtyard near the palace. A house with densely packed rooms.

Yueqian has seen such a building, this is the residence of the servants who provide services for the royal palace.

The guard handed Yueqian to a small official in the servant's room, and told him that he was the servant of Mr. Ling, so he had to look after him.

The little official was apprehensive, called the two of them, escorted Yueqian to a small single room in the low house.

With a "click", the door was locked, and after a while, there was silence outside the door.

Yue Qian looked at his small room. There was a wooden bed and quilt in the room, which was simple and tidy.

The room is small, and the indoor lighting is not very good. The only source of light is a small window facing the courtyard.

During the day, the people who lived here went to the palace for orders, and they would come back at dusk. At this time, the surrounding area was very quiet.

Yue Qian lay on his back on the wooden bed, through the window, he could see an old tree in the yard and a small patch of sky.

It's really like a small prison cell.

Yueqian lived in the capital city of Yunyue Kingdom when he was young, and he was aware of his current situation. The capital city has tall and thick walls, and the gates are guarded by heavy soldiers and heavily guarded.

There is no escape.

Yue Qian lived in the next room for two days, during these two days, no one asked him to do anything, and no one paid attention to him.There are two meals a day, and the food is beans, rice, vegetables and melons.

When diving, you should eat and sleep.

The next day, a man from Juan came to the servant, he was a servant in the palace, and the servant was respectful to him.Juan Ren delivered the monarch's order, took Yue Qian out of the small room, and put him in shackles.

Dragging his feet in shackles, Yueqian was led on the road, and after a long walk, he arrived at a workshop in the city.

Bamboo and wood were piled up outside the workshop, and a carriage was parked at the door, which contained a large bundle of bamboo slips and dozens of wooden tablets strung together with ropes.

Here is a workshop for making bamboo slips and wooden tablets.

Juanren delivered Yueqian to the officials in charge of the workshop, with a serious expression on his face, he asked: "It is Yueren, take good care of it."

Yue Qian was a little surprised. During these three days, he thought that what awaited him would be death.

He is the son of King Yunyue, and he survived in Rongguo Garden for seven years because he was forgotten.Now that he came to the political center of Rongguo, he still survived. It's a fluke, but it's better to say that he poses no threat to the enemy, and he doesn't even bother to kill him.

Forgiveness comes from absolute confidence, not from kindness.

Entering the workshop, he was assigned to work on the same day. Yue Qian and two old slaves were responsible for splitting the bamboo wood with stone chips for rough processing. into different specifications, then planed, drilled, and threaded.

In the afternoon, the workshop was still sweltering, the slaves worked with their heads down, and the overseers walked around the workshop to inspect.

The supervisor went around and stood at the back door where the breeze was blowing to enjoy the shade.

When Zhao Ling came over, he saw such a scene, the workshop was dirty and hot, the slaves were working in silence, the overseer was leaning against the back door to rest with a whip attached to his waist, his obese body tilted.

Among the slaves working in the workshop, Zhao Ling found the person he was looking for. The person was sitting in a corner, his figure gave people a sense of serenity. He was cutting a piece of bamboo with a stone in his hand.

After returning to Yindu, Zhao Ling knew his name, and his name was Yueqian.

Yueqian's identity and name, as well as where he went after being captured, were recorded in a register by Rongguo historians, and there are well-documented records.

Yue Qian's arms and the cloth strips tied to his forehead have been untied, and Zhao Ling can see a long scar on his arm, because his hair is disheveled, the wound on his forehead cannot be seen.

I don't know if the wound is scarred like the arm, or if it's still bleeding.

Zhaoling was silent and watched from a distance until the supervisor found him, seeing that he was the son of the monarch, he hurried over to salute.

Hearing the sound, Yue Qian cast a glance at the door, he caught a glimpse of Zhao Ling, his eyes were indifferent, and at the same time, Zhao Ling was also looking at him.

The four eyes met, and Zhao Ling subconsciously looked away.

Coming out of the workshop, Zhao Ling boarded the carriage and asked the imperial husband to drive to the storage room.

The imperial husband rode the horse, and the carriage slowly left the bamboo slip workshop.

Sitting in the gorgeous carriage, Zhaoling looked back at the gradually shrinking bamboo slip workshop behind her, and a thousand thoughts came to her mind.

After a while, the carriage stopped outside the gate of the storage room, Zhao Ling got off the carriage and entered the storage room.

Jing Zhongyan was sorting out the collection of books in the library, and when he looked up and saw Zhao Ling coming in, he was used to it.Zhao Ling took down a volume of silk books from the bookshelf, sat down in front of a wooden desk by the window, and looked down at the book.

"Where did Mr. Ling bring the Yue slaves back from Yuan Yu?" Not many people knew about this, but Jing Zhongyan had heard of it.

Zhaoling murmured, "Slip and bamboo workshop."

Sending them to workshops as slave labor is the meaning of the ruler of the state of Rong.

"It was sent here." Jing Zhongyan took out a stack of dusty bamboo slips from the bookshelf, and patted the dust off with his hands, thinking deeply.

The bamboo slip workshop is near the storage room, and the distance between the two places is very close.

Prince Yunyue, who used to only hear his name but not see him, didn't want to be around now.

Untied the rope binding the bamboo slips, took out a volume to check the preservation condition, and rolled up the bamboo slips, Jing Zhongyan said: "I remember that this person's name is Yue Qian, and he is the ninth son of King Yue Ling. When he was captured, he was still a child." Doll."

Jing Zhongyan is not only a keeper of Tibetan history, but also a historian. One of his daily tasks is to sort out the historical materials recorded by previous historians.

As a librarian, he really knows everything.

Zhao Ling turned his back to Jing Zhongyan and looked out of the window, the sun shining brightly on his hair.

Jing Zhongyan climbed up the wooden ladder, put the arranged bamboo slips back to the original place, and asked, "How could the young master have such a coincidence to pick him as a servant and take him out of the garden?"

People generally call Zhaoling Young Master Ling, but Jing Zhongyan sometimes calls him Little Young Master, with a kind of intimacy that others don't have.

Zhao Ling's figure looked a little lost, he didn't speak, and after a long time, he said in a barely audible voice: "I never expected..."

Dr. Jing was sitting in front of the desk, studying ink and writing. Hearing the murmur behind him, his hand holding the pen paused for a while.

The window faces the courtyard, and there is a magnolia tree with lush branches outside the window, and the wind blows through the leaves, rustling.

**

The slave laborers who worked in the bamboo slip workshop also lived in the workshop at night, and there was a dilapidated earthen house behind the workshop, which was the place where the slave laborers slept.

After working all day, he went back to the house after dark, and he hid in a room full of people, and found an empty seat to lie down. He looked at the full moon outside the window, without feeling sleepy.

Whether in the workshop or in the garden, the life of a slave is essentially the same.

In the dead of night, people in the house fell asleep, snoring one after another, Yue Qian couldn't help but think of the night in the garden, he was lying on the soil bed, and Chang's father was lying on the straw mat in the corner of the house.

The ear-filling cicadas, frogs, birds, and the wind in the forest.

Unknowingly, Yue sneaked into the workshop for three days.

On the morning of the third day, a carriage drove up from the Tibetan room, and a well-dressed official alighted from the carriage. It was Jing Zhongyan, the history guard of the Tibetan room.

The little official in charge of the workshop greeted him immediately, bowed and saluted, and said courteously: "You don't have to come in person to keep the history of Tibet. If there is a lack of bamboo slips in the Tibetan room, just send someone to call the little minister to send them."

Jing Zhongyan said: "I have nothing to do today, so I stopped by to have a look."

He walked into the workshop, looked around, and looked at every slave. He really came to have a look, not a perfunctory word.

Seeing a young slave laborer, about seventeen or eighteen years old, tall and thin, in shackles, he couldn't hide the heroic look in his eyes, Jing Zhongyan thought to himself: This is him.

Jing Zhongyan withdrew his gaze, landed on a pile of already made bamboo slips in front of him, and said to the old slave driving: "Put those two bundles of bamboo slips into the cart."

The old slave's legs were as thin as bamboo poles, his back was hunchbacked, and he didn't seem to be able to walk easily, let alone carrying such a heavy thing.The old slave slowly picked up a large bundle of bamboo slips, and moved tremblingly towards the door at a speed comparable to that of a snail.

"It's really too old to use. You need to call someone with good legs and feet." Jing Zhongyan pointed at Yue Qian.

So Yueqian was summoned by the little official, and was responsible for carrying the bamboo slips to the carriage for keeping the history of Tibet.

The bamboo slips were heavy, and Yue Qian had shackles on his feet, making it difficult to walk. Jing Zhongyan found that even so, his movements were calm and his figure was still tall and straight.

Thinking that he was the son of King Yunyue, he was captured when he was young, and he was a slave for seven years.

Looking at the young slave laborer in front of him, Jing Zhongyan appreciated it in his heart.

After the bamboo slips were loaded into the cart, Jing Zhongyan said to the workshop clerk, "Lend him to me for a while, and I have to unload the things later."

Small officials dare not say no to the request of keeping Tibetan history.

The little official thought that Jing Zhongyan was just borrowing people for use, and would send them back later.

The old slave drove the carriage, and the carriage moved forward slowly. Doctor Jing, who was sitting in the carriage, was satisfied, stroking the bamboo slips on the carriage, and followed Yue Qian on the side of the carriage.

After only three days in the workshop, the muslin clothes on Yueqian's body were beyond recognition. The original color of the dirt was gone, and the cuffs were worn out.

Cutting bamboo and wood with a sharp stone slice only needs to be done continuously for a day, and anyone's fingers will be scarred.