Chapter 61: Holy Monk 27 (Winter Grassland Migration)

Holy Monk 27 (Winter Grassland Migration)

The people of Sang Ya's tribe learned that Master Xuanji would stay with them during winter, and they were overjoyed, each running over to help him move.

Jiang Si Yin's friends also came over to help him take apart the bed.

Jiang Si Yin stood aside directing, reminding them, "Be careful, this bed is still going to be used."

This bed was made by his father using mortise-and-tenon joinery; after his father became a monk, he became incredibly capable, even doing carpentry exceptionally well.

"Um, Batu, can I share the bed with you later?"

One of the friends, Ake Shan, asked hesitantly, "This is a bed, right? Even nobles don't necessarily get to sleep on one like this."

Batu glanced at the friend's gray wool coat and gave a reluctant look, "You can after you wash up."

Now it's good, the other friends gathered around, "Batu, can I also after I wash up?"

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You can't just agree to one and refuse another, right? Fortunately, the bed his father made for him is big enough for two or three children to lie on with plenty of space.

After seeing the bed, the friends now had something else they longed for.

"Batu, your sister's green hat looks really great; can I dye one too?" This green is so vivid! Unlike other people's hats, which are just white or gray or black, it's really monotonous!

Especially in winter when everything is withered, seeing that gray or black makes people feel oppressed.

One friend clapped and said, "Wow, what a great color! Come spring, when we play hide-and-seek, Batu can hide in the bushes and no one will find him."

Jiang Si Yin couldn't help but laugh, "Haha, I dyed it green on purpose so I wouldn't be found in hide-and-seek; unfortunately, my father doesn't have much dye." He affectionately touched his own hat, "Wait until spring—when the plants that can make dye grow, we'll go find them, dye together, and even color our clothes!"

The friends instantly became happy, wishing spring would come right away.

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Sang Ya came over to ask, her hands and feet quick; seeing that her family's belongings were mostly packed, she went over to help Batu tidy up.

Sang Ya's father also came over; he knew well that the master was only following their small tribe because he was worried about Sang Ya's pregnant mother, and for this reason many people in the Jiri tribe have strong opinions about his family.

On the grassland, winter sees the most sickness; the master can treat both people and livestock, so which tribe wouldn't vie to have him?

While everyone was busy moving the master's residence, someone also noticed the busy young woman.

"After the New Year, your Sang Ya will be almost fifteen, right?" a middle-aged Hu person couldn't help but say, "Sang Ya's father, look at my three sons—which one do you like?"

Sang Ya's father's face darkened: "I haven't taken a liking to any of them! My daughter is still young."

The middle-aged Hu person disagreed, "The saying from the Central Plains that a man should marry when grown and a woman when grown makes sense; girls the same age as Sang Ya have already gone to look at potential matches."

Sang Ya's father said, "I've agreed with her mother—Sang Ya can wait another two years and still be fine."

On the grassland, raising a daughter is no easy task; without a substantial bride price, a man who wants to take her home must work several years at her parents' home before she will go with him.

Therefore, not counting the time spent working at her natal home, it's not strange at all for a woman to only leave her home at twenty.

Of course, this still seems strange to Central Plains people, because while a son-in-law works at his in-laws' house, he might even have a grandson by the time the daughter marries; when she finally moves to her husband's home with her whole family, Central Plains folks see it as an odd custom.

The surrounding Hu people, upon hearing Sang Ya's father's words, all said they could understand.

Now Sang Ya's mother is pregnant; if Sang Ya were to marry out, how could the household manage?

But it's better if they're overwhelmed—then they need help, and the more the better.

Many Hu people calculated in their minds, sending their sons to help at Sang Ya's home; the more help they gave, the deeper the feelings became, and after working two or three years, they'd have sufficiently tested the young man's character, at which point Sang Ya's parents would be happy to let their daughter marry into their family.

"What is this? A toy?" Sang Ya picked up a wooden little bird, astonished, "Is this Tongtong?"

Tongtong is the name of the master's parrot—a particularly clever bird that can also speak Hu language; everyone on the grassland knows of this bird's existence and calls it a divine bird.

Not only this wooden little bird, but there are many other things they've never seen before.

Upon learning that these were all toys the master made for Batu, a group of friends were utterly envious.

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When have the grassland children ever seen so many toys piled up like a small hill, making people dazzled at the sight?

Jiang Si Yin felt a bit proud, "This is called a Rubik's Cube; my father made it for me!"

"This is a Lu Ban lock; my father made it for me!"

"This is called the Landlord game; my father made it!"

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The most straightforward way for children to show off is how many toys their parents give them; the friends instantly burst into tears, wishing they too had such an amazing father.

Jiang Si Yin wore a proud look, "I originally wanted to bring the toys to play with you all, but my father said we're moving, so nobody has time. Once we get to our new home, we'll play together."

"Batu, we want to play now," the friends pleaded, "You see, we've pretty much finished packing; let's play for a bit."

Seeing that they all wanted to play, Jiang Si Yin had no choice but to teach them to play with the toys together.

Not long after, even Sang Ya became engrossed in the Rubik's Cube.

"Batu, this is so hard," Sang Ya said, twisting the Rubik's Cube this way and that, unable to solve it; she refused to admit she was stupid, insisting the cube was just too complex.

Jiang Si Yin gestured for the friends to play with the Lu Ban lock themselves, then walked over to teach her, "This is really simple…"

After everything was packed up, Jiang He invited those who had helped to come eat.

Everyone had thought the vegetarian meal wouldn't be tasty, since monks eat bland clear soup and watery dishes, but instead they all ate so heartily they didn't even lift their heads.

Damn, if this is what a vegetarian meal is like, they could eat vegetarian every day!

After the meal, during snack time, Jiang He served the group of children milk tea and glutinous rice balls, plus fried-to-perfection vegetables and tofu balls.

"If I were to become a monk, could I eat these every day?" ten-year-old Ake Shan couldn't help but ask Jiang Si Yin, "Batu, does your father want an apprentice? I think I could become a monk."

"Don't even think about it!" Jiang Si Yin instantly became alert, "Nobody try to steal my father," he said, "You used to say you wanted to snatch ten or eight Central Plains women as wives—but monks can't marry."

Ake Shan couldn't help but smack his lips, the sweet taste of the milk tea still lingering in his mouth.

He honestly said, "I think wives aren't as good as milk tea."

On the grassland, milk is never lacking; they also drink butter tea daily, but that tea with salt, ginger, and oil just can't compare to the sweet, silky milk tea.

The other children also obediently drank their milk tea; they decided that although they couldn't become monks, they could still often come visit Batu.

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Sang Ya pulled up her scarf to cover her face; the wind on the prairie was like a knife, and even the two eyes exposed outside could feel the chill.

It had always been Ba Tu who went back to see them; Sang Ya for the first time realized what kind of days Ba Tu spent beside the master, feeling both relieved and sad—now Ba Tu is different from when he was at her house, seeming to have become more childlike.

She couldn't say any great principle; she only felt that when he was at her house, Ba Tu was like a little adult, someone she could entrust, but beside his birth father he was just a child.

Master Xuanji looked at Ba Tu with eyes full of indulgence, as if he would hold up the sky even if it fell, giving his son a peaceful sky.

"Sang Ya, what's wrong?" Sang Ya's father rode up to catch up, asking, "Why have you suddenly stopped speaking?"

Sang Ya whispered, "Father, Ba Tu has changed a lot."

Sang Ya's father nodded in agreement: "Indeed, he's gotten much fatter, his face is round all around, and much whiter! He was already fair before; I never expected he could become even whiter, like the glutinous rice balls the master makes."

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"Ah, seeing Ba Tu now, I feel somewhat guilty, as if we hadn't cared for him properly." Sang Ya's father couldn't help but self‑mock, thinking he had raised Ba Tu well enough—after all, when they first met, Ba Tu was merely a skin‑and‑bones little slave.

Now seeing Ba Tu return to his birth father's side, one realizes that a child being with his relatives is best.

"Father, I'm thinking…"

Sang Ya sadly spoke her thoughts: when she picked the smallest Ba Tu from the slave group, she felt she had saved him—so thin and tiny, a child nobody wanted to buy; even if bought, he wouldn't last many days of work, possibly dying soon.

Sang Ya had no intention of demanding repayment; she simply took it for granted that Ba Tu, as her brother, should cook, raise cattle and horses, haul water, and support her parents in their old age…

There's nothing wrong with that thinking; she hoped Ba Tu would repay kindness, so the more sensible and capable he became, the happier she was.

"Ba Tu, beside the master, is just a child." Sang Ya's voice low, "When we bought him, he was only seven."

Even though children on the prairie generally mature earlier than those in the Central Plains, they still don't go to battle until they are fourteen or fifteen.

Sang Ya's father couldn't help but pat his daughter's head; his lass is truly kind, to be upset over this.

The prairie peoples believe in survival of the strong; not killing Central Plains slaves is already considered merciful.

Sang Ya's father sighed; sure enough, he still needed his own son, otherwise Sang Ya, so kind, would be bullied someday—what then?

When the two returned home, it was already dinnertime.

Sang Ya's mother waited smiling: "You're back just in time for dinner; eat, then pack up! There are still some little things not packed away—this year there's so much stuff, it feels like no matter how you pack, you never finish; moving year after year, packing year after year, it's truly exhausting."

Whenever this happens, Sang Ya's mother envies the Central Plains people—how nice it would be not to have to move year after year!

For herders, moving once a year is already infrequent; sometimes they move two, three, or even four times a year—in such circumstances, not only the elderly and children, but even strong young people can't bear it.

Occasionally, when it gets especially excessive, the monk's father coughs once, and the parrot immediately falls silent like a chicken.

The parrot squawked along: "Study hard; mastery of both civil and military arts makes a true man!"

Jiang He quickly stabilized Sang Ya's mother's condition, then went to get medicine, letting Sang Ya decoct it.

Before dawn, Jiang Si Yin hadn't opened his eyes yet, but his nose habitually caught the scent in the air.

The monk's father is a standard Great Qing person, accustomed to breakfast of soy milk, fried dough sticks, buns, and millet porridge.

Jiang He also stepped out of the tent; his face still needed to break out, waiting until morning practice ended to be just right.

After taking the medicine, Sang Ya's mother's complexion at last wasn't so awful.

Then Jiang Si Yin stared wide‑eyed as the parrot flapped its wings left and right, while the magic cube twisted and turned, and in no time it was completely restored.

During the days stranded on the prairie, Jiang Si Yin had long gone without snacks, because sugar is truly expensive there.

The prairie peoples undergo countless major and minor migrations; moving is a tiresome affair—if they could avoid moving, or move fewer times, that would be better.

Next, Jiang He practiced staff techniques while Jiang Si Yin stood in a horse stance, his eyes following his father's staff as it turned; in the stories his father told, the Beggars' Sect has a staff method for beating dogs—unknown whether it's better than his father's.

So he actually can't even match a parrot?

Jiang Si Yin's little face was drooping; he hadn't imagined moving a household could be so exhausting.

There are actually two kids in this belly; the master said we need to pay special attention.

Jiang He paid no attention to the battle between that person and the parrot, and went out to see patients.

A group of Hu people with sick family members waited outside the tents, extremely grateful that the master had settled in their tribe.

Jiang Si Yin was especially unconvinced; then the dead bird would hop back and forth before him, reciting the correct passage, and proudly say, "Ah, memorizing this is so hard for me—quickly bring me a cup of water, don't forget to shell my melon seeds…"

"Dad, I also want to learn to make pastries." Jiang Si Yin gazed longingly; his father's pastries are truly superb—this lotus‑flower crisp looks like a real lotus blossom and smells fragrant.

When the monk's father received guests—oh, received incense‑offering visitors—he began writing articles.

The parrot struck with one wing, completely dispelling the last trace of Jiang Si Yin's sleepiness.

It's just that his father's physique looks rather frail; one doesn't know whether this martial art is useful or can protect oneself.

Not like milk… well, it should be the scent of beans, with a faint sound of stone mills turning.

"Dad, I'm taking pastries to my adoptive parents' home, and incidentally teaching Sang Ya's older sister to read."

Jiang He busied himself for several days straight, finally finishing seeing the sick in the surrounding tribes—including the diseased livestock.

The monk, without a shred of guilt, ordered an eleven‑year‑old to cook; child labor shouldn't be too skilled.

The parrot, touted as "learned as five carts of books," would accompany him in reading; if he misread, the parrot would flap a wing and squawk, "Wrong, wrong—truly humans are inferior to birds!"

"Add more sugar!" Jiang Si Yin shouted; his father feared he'd ruin his teeth, so he gave only a little, making the drink tasteless.

The child's cheeks were slightly red, with no hint of resistance as he made food, including the vegetarian dish his father would eat.

Finally, after finishing the pastries, Jiang Si Yin wiped his sweat.

"Master Xuanji planted wheat that can grow on the prairie; we also harvested seventy catties, and many people came to me wanting to buy it as seed. I heard that when ground into flour the wheat tastes great, and the stalks can be used as fodder. I originally wanted to grind some to eat, but then I thought, if I keep it as seed, next year it will yield even more—so I sold forty catties of the seventy catties of seed, and the rest I won't sell no matter what anyone says."

Forget it, just consider it his early filial piety toward his father.

"Dad, I want to eat what you make." Jiang Si Yin tried hard to act cute; his father's cooking is so good, the meat must be even more delicious.

It must be innate wisdom; otherwise how could a bird be this smart?

Sang Ya's mother divided the meat in the pot between husband and daughter, muttering, "When will the Central Plains merchants come? Let's see if we have a medicine pot—boiling medicine in a clay jar is such a hassle… Fortunately, this relocation isn't far; I heard the Auspicious Day Tribe set up camp beside our tribe to be closer to the master…"

Sang Ya instantly wasn't feeling sentimental anymore; she also imagined a scenario where they didn't have to move.

In the Wolf Howl Basin, several small tribes settled down.

When the grassland is covered in flowers and crops, the nomadic people become semi-agricultural, when their culture is no different from that of the Central Plains, even becoming one family, at that time there will be no distinction between Hu and Han, and Jiang Si Yin's experiences will no longer hinder his life.

Inside the tent, Sang Ya's mother lay there, her face ashen.

Delicate pastries like flowers were stuffed into his mouth, the sweet flavor spreading across his tongue, and Jiang Si Yin happily narrowed his eyes.

Once the livestock have something to eat, who would still keep moving all the time?

The monk father mercilessly refused, "I, your father, am a monk; I cannot bear to kill living beings."

He, however, spent an entire night before he managed to restore the Rubik's Cube.

Sang Ya helped her mother sit at the dining table, "Mom, don't trouble yourself; I'll tidy up with Dad."

Therefore, what he wants to do is turn the gravelly soil into paradise.

Every year during migration, pregnant women with poor health miscarry; the steppe is truly vast, and the journey so long that many frail elders and children cannot endure it.

After breakfast, father chants sutras, son studies.

Their family had never been this prosperous before; no wonder Sang Ya's mother finds tidying up so exhausting.

The sun finally rose, and the temple finally opened its doors.

Jiang He handed the other fetal protection medicines to Sang Ya, gave her careful instructions, and then went to another household.

How long has his father been a monk? Not only can he cook, he can also talk to animals, and he's even learned martial arts!

Jiang Si Yin couldn't help but complain in his heart, so how could he bear to watch him kill living beings?

Sang Ya's father couldn't help but speed up his eating, for this year's move will be harder to pack than usual, because their family had saved the Master's son, and the Master sent many gifts over. The Old Chanyu also praised him, ordering people to send many things over; seeing that, the nobles could not be stingy and followed suit in sending gifts.

Jiang Si Yin ate buns with soy milk, the pan-fried tofu buns carrying a hint of spiciness; he ate with his head down, feeling puzzled in his heart—after his father became a monk, he not only learned to train demonic birds, could he have also gone to study with the imperial chef? Or perhaps an imperial chef became a monk, and his father learned excellent cooking skills from him.

The wind howled from above, but down in the basin one could not feel the winter's harsh chill; it was far warmer than the endless grassland where the eye could not see the edge.

At this moment Jiang Si Yin would feel especially relieved—his father truly suited being a monk, and in such a short time he had already learned to awaken the "innate wisdom" of animals.

Jiang He nodded, "Alright, Dad will teach you—open your mouth."

After Jiang He finished his morning practice, he said to his son practicing horse stance, "Stand on the plum blossom posts for a quarter hour, then rest; Dad will make you soy milk."

The sky wasn't even bright yet, the ground covered with a thin layer of snow looked cold; as soon as he stepped outside, Jiang Si Yin sneezed repeatedly.

Clearly he had moved with the family in previous years, so why doesn't it feel this unbearable now? Could it be because there's too much stuff in his father's tent?

The parrot and Jiang Si Yin waited in the kitchen, the parrot off to the side while Jiang Si Yin frantically made pastries. The monk sitting by the kitchen door held his prayer beads, lowered his brows, and chanted Buddha.

The parrot raised its head, speaking arrogantly, "I am a parrot of profound erudition! Learned as the Five Carriages!" Seeing Jiang Si Yin still doubtful, the parrot instantly flared up, "Hand over the Rubik's Cube—let's battle!"

The monk father looked at him with especially kind eyes, saying, "In the eyes of those who have left home, all beings are equal, but in my eyes, my son comes before all beings."

He simply couldn't dare to think—if the Master weren't there, would his wife end up with one corpse and three lives?

Jiang He, however, somewhat dissatisfied, pinched the child's small arm, "Too insubstantial—starting tomorrow you'll begin martial arts training with me."

Under the lamp light, Sang Ya's mother gazed at her husband and daughter, especially eager to talk, chattering nonstop, "I just think that next year, if we plant all thirty catties of seed, we'll need to buy two tents to store the grain." Saying this, she smiled with narrowed eyes, "With that much grain, if people can't finish it, we can feed the livestock; if so, perhaps we won't need to migrate year-round."

Although Sang Ya's father had padded the carriage with all the animal hides, the excessively bumpy road still made her agitated, but fortunately the Master was present, and they ultimately arrived at their destination safe and sound.

Jiang He maintained a holy smile, "That depends on whether you work hard enough."

What Jiang He wants to do is not completely erase this imprint, negating that period of his life, but to let the grassland experience become his fondest childhood memory.

Who knows where his biological father got the Four Books and Five Classics; Jiang Si Yin discovered he had to memorize an enormous amount of text.

Jiang Si Yin directly lifted several layers of steam baskets; the baskets were small and delicate, and the pastries inside were still hot when they reached Sang Ya's home.

"Hurry up and get up for morning practice!"

Nearly four years of life on the grassland left an imprint on him; compared to the vague life of aristocratic youths, his memory of the grassland is deeper.

Sang Ya's father was also frightened; this was the first time he had the thought of not wanting to migrate.

If one day the Great Qing and the Hu peoples go to war, Jiang Si Yin's experience will only be repeatedly brought up, turned into a blade that will grind him down, leaving him covered in scars.

Jiang Si Yin suddenly looked up to the monk profession with reverence.

Boys cannot resist martial arts, especially on the grassland that venerates bravery; Jiang Si Yin immediately felt inspired, "Dad, after I learn martial arts, will I be able to become the greatest warrior of the grassland?"

After training for nearly half an hour, it was already time for breakfast.

Jiang Si Yin gave the parrot a doubtful look, "Should I learn from it?"

Finally settled down, he ought to visit the frail and sick women and elders in the tribe, especially the pregnant women.

So he refrains from killing living beings, but could he change his principle for his son's sake?

Even if his body was fine, he was exhausted to the point of inability, and he rested heavily for two days.

Jiang He immediately decided, "Starting tomorrow, I'll teach you everything—reading."

Sang Ya saw Jiang He approaching, her face full of surprise, "Master, please come quickly and see my mother."

As noon approached, his father would have him go buy meat from the Hu people, then teach him how to make delicious meat dishes.

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