The entire Yong Capital lay shrouded in densely woven strands of rain. Wanyan Chixiong had just finished practicing his spear techniques and stood bare-chested in the spacious courtyard of the Red Mountain Trading Company, spear held upright. Rain washed and battered the sculpted contours of his muscles, raising a hazy mist around him that lent him an air of mystery. Rain like this was seldom seen in the great desert. Like a tree receiving sweet rain after a long drought, Wanyan Chixiong stood proudly amid the wind and rain, savoring the cleansing, nourishing spring shower. The rain seemed to seep into every cell and joint, filling him with a deep, exhilarating sense of release in body and spirit.
Zha Wan hurried toward Wanyan Chixiong, his short, stout body twisting as he shielded his enormous head with both hands. "Your Highness, Fourth Prince, why aren't you taking shelter under the veranda?"
Wanyan Chixiong burst into laughter, then picked up his great spear and strode into the Wind and Rain Pavilion. As soon as he entered, Lahan came forward and draped a cotton blanket over him.
Wanyan Chixiong wiped the rain from his face and body, seized a large bowl of fermented mare's milk from the stone table, and threw back his head to drain it in one gulp. "Refreshing! Truly refreshing!" he roared. "We rarely see rain this heavy in Black Hu, do we?"
"Your Highness must be joking," Zha Wan said. "It's still the depths of winter in our country. Heavy snowfall might be possible."
Wanyan Chixiong sighed. "Our Black Hu spends nearly eight months of every year in bitter cold. We live beneath the same sky, so why is the treatment of us Hu people and the Han people as different as heaven and earth?"
A muffled clap of