Chapter 53

Holy Monk 19 (The Great Master Who Assists in Delivering Calves)

Sang Ya patted the horse, and there were still several pheasants on her horseback.

On the grassland, pheasants aren't as popular as rabbits because they're bony; roasting them is like gnawing on bones. Smart Batu knows how to make a delicious chicken soup, fragrant and tasty.

She used to dislike it, but recently she has grown to love pheasant soup.

Sang Ya swallowed her saliva secretly, feeling that the best thing she had ever done in her life was persuading her parents to adopt Batu as a foster son.

Before Sang Ya could dismount, a clear voice rang out.

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A fair-skinned child about ten years old jumped up and waved at the girl on horseback.

The children playing around him had keen eyes; seeing the game on Sang Ya's horseback, they also instinctively swallowed their saliva, secretly hoping for the chance that Sang Ya's older sister would invite them to eat.

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"Is Batu behaving well today?" she said affectionately to her younger brother, smiling brightly. "Look, I hunted a pheasant today; later you'll cook pheasant soup, and Father will surely like it."

Sang Ya's father fell off his horse at the beginning of last year; although it wasn't life‑threatening, his leg became lame and walking was awkward.

At that time Batu said, "Like cures like," and cooked him a soup of sheep hooves, ox bones, and chicken, which he drank almost every day, restoring his health until his face glowed and he gained weight. Sang Ya and her mother wept with joy, for Sang Ya's father had once thought he'd rather die, feeling useless—unable to ride, fight, or protect his wife and children; he believed it would be better if he died early, and his wife could remarry.

Thinking of this, Sang Ya gazed at her younger brother with eyes so gentle they seemed to drip water.

At that time, the youngest child displayed astonishing focus and determination, firmly believing his father would recover. He personally cared for his father attentively and promised that he would soon grow up, then support his father and mother so his father would no longer need to ride to war, and he would be able to provide for his parents.

In fact, Sang Ya felt very fortunate that her father had survived the disaster, and her younger brother quoted a Central Plains proverb: "A loss may be a blessing in disguise."

Her younger brother said, "If Father's leg weren't injured, he wouldn't have escaped last year's conscription and might have died on the battlefield."

Sang Ya's mother shivered at the thought, wondering how many had died in last year's battle—not mentioning the vanished tribes, their small tribe alone had lost family members in thirty percent of its households.

Batu took the pheasant and said, "Older sister, I'll stew the chicken soup; tonight we'll have chicken soup and flatbread."

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Batu's closest friends, who often shared meals with him, trailed behind him, shouting and stumbling along.

Batu wasn't stingy; he didn't refuse, laughing, "Sure, help me pluck the feathers and clean the entrails."

Batu wore a Hu people's sheepskin coat; aside from his overly handsome face and short stature, he was really no different from other Hu children.

However, he is still young; this year he is only ten, and his height may still grow a bit more.

Once his height increases, he may not be shorter than those grassland companions.

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When tending the fire, he tossed a lump of cow dung into the flames without changing his expression.

When he first arrived on the grassland, he wasn't used to the lifestyle and even despised cow dung as dirty; now, like many herders, he treasures it, and just like the other grassland kids, his first thought upon seeing cow dung is to hurry home, pick it up, and dry it.

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Batu tossed in two red dates and a few goji berries, feeling that his former self must have been a cook's child; otherwise, how could he instinctively know how to cook?

When he tried to recall the past, his mind was a blank; each attempt gave him a headache and heartache, so he eventually stopped trying.

Surely his past must have been terrible, otherwise he wouldn't feel so sorrowful.

"Batu, I want to eat stir‑fried chicken giblets," a friend returned holding cleaned chicken giblets.

Before, they would simply throw away the chicken giblets because of their strong taste, which they couldn't bring themselves to prepare, finding them hard to swallow.

But after eating Batu's stir‑fried chicken giblets, no one threw them away anymore.

Batu—a slave from the Central Plains—used his superb cooking skills to turn waste into treasure, becoming the most beloved child on the grassland.

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Unlike many Central Plains children who had been kidnapped to the grassland, Batu couldn't recall who his birth parents were and felt his life had begun on this vast grassland.

When Sang Ya brought him home, the emaciated Batu initially faced bullying from the grassland children.

But at that time Sang Ya would always step in front of him, whip in hand and a stern face, driving away the children who beat and scolded him. Later his health improved, he could hold his own against the grassland youngsters, and after revealing his excellent cooking, flatterers gathered around him, and now the grassland children all vie to befriend him.

After dinner was ready, everyone sat around the fire.

Sang Ya's father came to eat, dragging his lame leg; when he fell from his horse he thought he would die, but though he survived, he was gravely injured. The tribe's shaman had said that even if he recovered, he could never ride again, and now his leg is lame, making walking awkward.

He felt the best thing he had done in his life was tacitly allowing his daughter Sang Ya and her mother to buy Batu; back then everyone scorned the skinny boy and didn't want him, but who could have imagined he would become so clever and capable that in a few years he would surely be the family's pillar, and no one would dare bully them.

Especially the fact that this boy lost his memory is just perfect!

Their family repaid sincerity with sincerity; soon the boy's heart settled, and the genuine devotion of Sang Ya and her mother was not wasted—he is grateful and repays kindness.

Everyone held their chicken soup, faces showing enjoyment.

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"Batu is truly amazing," Sang Ya praised. "The grassland folk only know how to roast meat; who would have thought there are so many ways to cook? No wonder their khan, old and venturing to the Central Plains in autumn, envies the vast, resource‑rich lands like the Central Plains."

Sang Ya regretted that she wasn't a man, otherwise she could have joined her tribesmen in fighting the Central Plains people.

I've heard that wheat grown in the Central Plains makes delicious flour, and the rice from Jiangnan in the Central Plains is even better—cooked rice is as white and pure as pearls.

Sang Ya has never seen a pearl, but that doesn't stop her from fantasizing about rice.

After eating, Sang Ya suddenly said to her father, "Father, have you heard? A holy monk with superb medical skills has come to the Ji Ri tribe; I want to take you to see him."

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"A holy monk with superb medical skills?" That's high praise.

Supervisor Zhang and Wang Dahang's caravan had just arrived on the grassland when they parted ways with Master Xuanji.

Thus the named entities are Supervisor Zhang (title translated), Wang Dahang (a personal name), Master Xuanji (title translated), and 'grassland' is a generic term.

In fact, they were reluctant to part and were about to say something, like urging the master to continue traveling with them—after all, the master had come to the grassland to preach, and it didn't matter where he preached—when a parrot flew over, squawking loudly, "Master, save the ox! An ox is about to die!"

Before the master could even say goodbye, a tall, sturdy Hu person who had followed the parrot hurriedly pulled him to look at the ox.

The crowd murmured, "So the master can also treat livestock?"

Supervisor Zhang stared speechless, wanting to follow and see the excitement, but their goods‑laden wagon was already surrounded by Hu people buying things.

Got any rice?

Got any tea?

I want sugar!

And there's silk!

…………

Over there, Wang Daxing also got busy.

They often went back and forth to the Hu lands; basic conversation posed no problem, and even the helpers down there could speak a few sentences of Hu language.

On the other side, the outside of the cattle shed was surrounded by Hu people.

Hearing that the cow was having a difficult birth, the neighbors came over to see, chattering away with ideas, their faces full of worry.

The cow's owner, the Hu woman, tears streaming down, spoke in the Hu language: "Xina has already given birth a second time; clearly the first time she gave birth, there was nothing wrong."

Xina is the cow's name; the Hu people cherish their cattle and sheep, and many give them names.

The middle-aged shaman sighed and said: "Xina is carrying twins; carrying twins is dangerous for humans, and the same goes for animals."

The old woman couldn't help but plead desperately: "Honored shaman, please hurry and think of a way; Xina looks like she's in great pain."

Those present also urged likewise; seeing Xina's painful state, they thought of their own livestock and worried what they'd do if their cattle or sheep ever had a difficult birth.

The middle-aged shaman's face showed difficulty; the shamans of the grasslands treat not only people but also animals, though he treats people more and lacks sufficient experience with animals; if he were to treat haphazardly, it could make Xina's condition worse.

He suggested: "Why don't you go consult the elders?"

"Elders" refers to older, experienced shamans.

The Hu woman burst into tears right then; the cow's difficult birth meant there was no time left, and even if there were, hiring an experienced shaman was beyond her family's means.

The onlooking neighbor said: "Hey, haven't many monks and daoists who know medicine come to the grasslands lately? Surely among them there's someone who can deliver babies; I recall a daoist named Qingjingzi who lives in the Tule tribe—I'll ride over right away to ask him."

It's too late; Xina can't hold on.

I originally thought there were too many monks and daoists on the grasslands, but now when we need them we find there are actually too few.

The Hu people present began to discuss, and they were still welcoming of monks and daoists, after all these people know a bit of medicine, can treat people and animals, and some are skilled at assisting livestock births.

Of course, those Buddhist and Daoist scriptures don't count—they can't understand them and don't want to; if they're going to believe in something, it has to be the Eternal Heaven.

Just then, a clear, clean voice rang out.

"Infinite Light Buddha, why not let this poor monk give it a try?"

Everyone turned to look; when they saw who had come, they all involuntarily opened their mouths wide and stared at him blankly.

Long afterward, when the Hu woman spoke of this incident, she remained excited: "Back then, my family's cow Xina had a difficult birth; I cried and cried, almost despairing, and then Master Xuanji appeared before me like a heavenly deity…"

Those around echoed enthusiastically, imagining the master's appearance, wondering if he truly resembled the immortals described by Central Plains folks.

The parrot answered the children's questions one by one, then proudly said: "Hai Dong Qing is my friend; it once carried me flying to a faraway place."

The parrot squawked: "Don't get too close, you'll affect Xina's mood; you're squeezing all the air out!"

"Master, my daughter will have the meal ready soon." The Hu woman finally came to her senses and immediately invited the master to eat, grateful for his rescue that saved their family's cow and even added two calves.

Her eldest and second sons died on the battlefield last year; her grandson is still young, so the household lost two laborers, yet the number of mouths to feed keeps growing and they can eat more.

"Impossible!" The child's exclamation drew the adults' attention; they happened to be listening to the parrot boast, "If you don't believe me, go ask the caravan people—they saw it with their own eyes."

It seemed the master merely touched it—could his hand have some miraculous power?

The cow endured the pain, gazing at him with gentle eyes, without struggling.

The one speaking was a young Hu; as soon as he spoke, the people around laughed at him, talking over each other.

These are low-status Hu people; they actually harbor little hatred toward the Central Plains folk, and in every war against the Central Plains, they are not the instigators but rather the victims.

Rules are meant to guarantee survival, then to regulate people's moral standards.

Jiang He advised: "Xina ultimately has a difficult birth; for these two months feed her better, and preferably wait a while longer before breeding again."

In the face of survival, morality can be lowered without limit.

Jiang He rolled up his sleeves and pushed the calf whose half leg was trapped back out.

The people of the steppe are basically wind‑blown and sun‑baked, living rough beyond compare; even young girls are hardly fair‑skinned.

The Hu woman was so moved she burst into tears.

Thus they foolishly made way, letting the master pass.

Jiang He said: "For the next three months, it's best to reduce your food intake, eat smaller meals more often; if possible, eat more vegetables and less meat, and when you do eat meat, avoid the fatty cuts." Meeting the frightened gaze of the Hu young woman, he gave a reassuring smile: "Don't worry, you're not old, but you have a sturdy frame—having a child won't be a problem. This humble monk is merely offering some advice to make delivery easier for you."

"Don't be afraid." The master soothed the helpless cow in a soft voice, and a drop of spiritual spring fell into the cow's mouth when no one was noticing.

Over these past months, many monks and Daoists have come to the steppe to preach; it's not strange that the master would want to come preach as well.

Yet now he has stepped into the mortal world, and in this crude cowshed he has been stained with filthy blood; this scene creates a striking contrast, making the shock even greater.

"Master, hurry and wash your hands; your clothes are dirty."

As they approached Hu territory, Jiang He deliberately groomed himself, and with his talent for acting, he appeared utterly unworldly, like a divine buddha descending from heaven to save all beings.

"Oh my, you can speak Hu—are you the bird of our steppe?"

"This is the first time I've seen a talking bird—are you the divine bird before the Eternal Heaven?"

"Nonsense, the divine bird is clearly the sea‑eastern green."

"Yibu, Zhuoma still has three months before she gives birth."

They all wanted to see how the master rescued Xina.

It's rare to encounter someone with such superb medical skills; the middle‑aged shaman‑doctor was eager to discuss postpartum cow care with him, but someone outside called for him, so he had to leave regretfully.

The master's smile was truly warm and healing; the young woman's heart finally settled, and she was no longer afraid.

Setting aside how fierce the steppe peoples can be toward enemies, their hospitality toward guests is indeed hard to refuse.

Several children gathered around curiously, and their questions were no fewer than those of the adults surrounding the master.

Because of this miraculous bird, the surrounding Hu people had full confidence in this master, whose beauty was like that of an immortal, and they drew even closer.

"Her belly is just too big—no one has ever told her that if the child is too large, giving birth might be difficult?"

The Master wore pure white, flawless monk robes, so clean they did not gather dust, not tainted by the mortal world.

Jiang He said nothing; his hand moved over the cow's belly, gently comforting the mother cow, and after an unknown amount of time a calf finally slipped out smoothly.

The Master finished stating the precautions and glanced at the people around him.

Someone also said sarcastically, "Yi Bu, well done; even your own wife wouldn't mind being seen by another man."

The Hu people's mouths widened even more.

Hai Dongqing is the grassland's divine messenger, and everyone was curious, but the Master was unsociable, yielding no answers.

The Master's words finally put the young couple at ease.

…………

The Hu aunt strained to note the Master's advice: the mother cow should drink warm water rather than icy stream water during this period, and the fodder should be sun‑dried, not damp with dew…

"Oh dear, it's the first calf, of course we have to worry."

The Master first performed a clasped‑hands salute, nodded and said, "Indeed, this is the Buddha's will; the Buddha wishes this humble monk to aid the grassland's people." The handsome Master showed a faint sorrowful expression, adding, "Moreover, this humble monk has other private matters."

…

Facing the enthusiastic Hu aunt, Jiang He could not refuse and was pulled into her home.

A crowd squeezed into the Hu aunt's yurt, chattering all at once to the Master.

The middle‑aged shaman‑doctor beside them sweated on his forehead and hurriedly said, "The foot has been pushed back, but the fetal position remains incorrect."

The remark provoked an immediate onslaught; they shouted insults, "What's wrong with your brain? Have you started copying the Central Plains' so‑called… three obediences and four virtues?"

"Ask the Master whether he can tell if it's male or female?"

Their family's mother cow continuously bears calves and is one of the household's most valuable assets. If this cow died, buying a replacement would cost an unknown amount of silver, and purchasing calf calves would be another large expense. Now, fortunately, the cow lives, can continue bearing offspring, and the two calves in her womb have survived.

The appearance of such a fair‑skinned, handsome monk made a huge impact on these low‑born Hu who had never seen city life.

The parrot leapt onto the cow's head and, in Hu language, squawked, "The Master is here, you're saved, keep going, never give up!"

"Master, besides delivering, can you treat illnesses?"

The Hu people, seeing such a talkative bird for the first time, instinctively nodded "oh, oh," then quickly stepped aside, showing no intention of leaving.

The Master smiled gently at the crowd, showing no hint of oddity.

"Of course, no problem."

The mother cow shed large drops of tears, leaning and rubbing its nose against the Master's hand.

Fortunately the parrot loved to talk; they asked many questions until the parrot finally ignored them, ran off to play with the children, and only then did they refocus on the Master.

"This isn't the three obediences and four virtues; what's this women's vow? Something like being allowed to marry only one man."

After a while, a fifteen‑ or sixteen‑year‑old Hu young woman with a big belly entered.

As for the Master himself, after all he helped deliver the cow, delivering humans seemed no big deal… so human boundaries kept being lowered.

Jiang He immediately frowned.

The middle‑aged shaman‑doctor agreed, saying both people and livestock need prolonged recuperation for the body to recover.

The half‑veiled remark, while the Master smiled at them without revealing any of his private matters, forced the crowd to change the subject.

Yi Bu, a sturdy young man, shyly asked if he could have the Master examine his wife; he was uneasy about her after the cow's difficult birth, and few on the grassland know medicine—difficult births and maternal deaths occur yearly in large numbers. The Master naturally agreed.

The elders looked at the Master, who could only nod helplessly.

Xi Na gave birth to twins, two calves at once, so she must eat well, otherwise her milk won't be enough.

Yet that makes sense; Central Plains medical skill is a notch higher, but many well‑off women still overeat during pregnancy, believing a plumper child is healthier.

The male head of the household also returned, having just seen his own cow's delivery in the barn, and hurriedly fetched clean fresh water.

The male head asked, "Master, are you also here to preach?"

The crowd gasped; earlier the cow had cried mournfully, looking near death, yet now she seemed revived.

The remark sparked uproarious laughter throughout the hall.

On the steppe, as long as it's not a biological mother, if a father dies the son may marry his father's concubine, if a brother dies the surviving brother may marry the sister‑in‑law, and the children inherit together; the notion of staying with one spouse forever is a joke.

Jiang He felt satisfied; more than eating, what he now most wanted was to wash the blood scent from his hands.

The parrot politely thanked them in Hu language.

"Master, can you also deliver humans?"

Someone with a bit of insight thought for a long while, then clapped and said, "Oh dear, I heard a Taoist say that this kind of bird is called a parrot, raised by Central Plains people, a talking bird."

This… what kind of bird is this? It can actually talk!!

The Hu aunt searched the house for a long time and brought the parrot dried wild fruit, which she had previously dried last year as snacks for her many children.

In the eyes of Central Plains people, the rule of gross immorality is rare on the steppe; in harsh environments, figuring out how to survive is what matters most.

She shyly asked the Master whether, if he were still on the steppe then, she could invite him when she gave birth.

She had not experienced the novel's "disbelief—slap—worship" arc; mainly the Master's outward appearance was simply too appealing.

This damned bird's ailment is unknown; now it babbles and boasts, its vanity should not be too great.

Every Hu family present kept mother cows and ewes, and they listened with great seriousness.

"Can human illnesses also be cured?"

"Nonsense, Central Plains people also have widows remarrying; this seems called chastity, right?"

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