Black Bone

In Mìdì, temples held a transcendent status. Only by entering a temple did nangsheng have a chance to wash away their status.

Before he had finished descending the mountain, he spotted two horses tethered beneath a tree at its foot, and wild joy surged through him.

"Horses!"

The two horses had actually been lucky enough to survive. Both were old and weak, but each was still worth at least thirty taels of secret silver.

No matter the world, money was the foundation of a secure life.

Although he had never ridden a horse, the ability [Extensive Learning] granted Qu Zan allowed him to recall how others had ridden.

After several attempts based on those memories, he soon learned to control the horses.

Meiduo shared his horse. Holding the other horse's reins, he urged his mount into a gallop, traveling far faster than they ever had on foot.

The two horses stepped into the shallows and walked slowly onward, stream water murmuring around their hooves.

Meiduo asked curiously, "Brother, why aren't we traveling overland? Why do we keep riding upstream instead?"

Qu Zan said, "Traveling across the grassland might be faster, but hoofprints, marks in the grass, and disturbed earth won't escape an experienced hunter, especially Rebudian Chieftain."

"The stream can mask the horses' scent. Besides, when the horses drop dung into the water, it won't leave a trace."

At the mention of Rebudian Chieftain's name, Meiduo shuddered in fright.

For runaway serfs who fell into the hands of those cruel executioners and suffered every kind of torture, death might be the best outcome.

Meiduo blinked her large eyes. "Brother, how did you think of traveling along the waterways?"

Qu Zan smiled faintly. Naturally, he would not say he had learned it from films in his previous life.

He crossed two rivers in succession, reckoned they had left Bado Manor's sphere of influence, then continued east.

When they passed a herder's felt tent, he spent ten silver coins on two sets of old but clean robes for himself and Meiduo, along with two large bags of black tsampa, all loaded onto the other horse.

The siblings were disheveled and grimy, riding two horses. One look was enough to mark them as runaway serfs.

Having bought the two sets of robes, Qu Zan dared not linger and urged the horses onward.

He had wanted to ask where the nearby monasteries were, but with pursuers behind him, he feared his questions would expose their whereabouts and could only gallop east.

He chose a hollow beside the water and lit a fire with dried yak dung and firewood collected along the way, then set the dog meat over it to roast. The siblings quickly washed themselves and combed their hair.

Qu Zan threw their filthy clothes, full of fleas and grime, into the fire.

The flames burned fiercely, signifying that they would cast off their status as Bado Manor's nangsheng. As for what the future held...

Qu Zan recalled what he remembered. He knew this was not Blue Star. Mìdì was vast, more than ten times the size of the Tibetan lands with the same natural landscape in his previous life.

Here, sinister spirits ran rampant, material goods were scarce, and the serf owners were all the more savage and tyrannical.

His current plan was to seek refuge in a temple.

This was no quest to learn martial arts as in the martial arts novels of his previous life. When it came to ruthlessly exploiting those at the bottom, temples were no better than manor lords.

"Since supernatural powers like sinister spirits exist here, there must naturally be powers capable of opposing them. Generally speaking, religious institutions would possess such powers."

The dog meat roasting over the fire sent its fragrance wafting everywhere.

Meiduo gnawed on her little finger, drool spilling from the corner of her mouth as she stared pitifully at the dog meat, desperately craving it. Her eyelashes trembled lightly above her round cheeks.

The sight of the little girl warmed Qu Zan's heart. Whether through the original owner's lingering memories or their days together, this little sister filled him with tender concern.

From birth, she had done odd jobs on the manor: collecting dung, herding cattle, milking, and twisting wool into yarn. Enslaved since she was little, she had neither a childhood nor rest.

Once the dog meat was roasted, Qu Zan handed it to Meiduo.

Meiduo shook her head. "Brother, you eat first. I'll eat whatever you leave." The little girl was so obedient and considerate that it hurt.

"You eat first. I need to clear away the fire here," Qu Zan said.

"I'll help you!" Meiduo immediately stood and scooped up sand and earth from the ground to bury the fire.

Only after both had mounted their horses did they have time to eat in peace.

They could not spend the night in the wilderness. They had to keep traveling and find somewhere to stay.

After the horses had run for more than two hours, Qu Zan asked Meiduo to watch the road for him. He had to take a nap.

He was destined to get no peaceful sleep that night. This land of Mìdì was full of unfathomable dangers, and he could trust no one but Meiduo. Even if he found lodging, he would have to stay alert at all times.

"Brother, look, there's smoke." Meiduo's quiet call woke Qu Zan from his brief rest with his eyes closed.

A thin wisp of smoke rose from below a distant slope.

He urged the horse over and saw a crude felt tent of coarse woolen cloth, patch upon patch. The tent was tiny, about a person's height and covering three square meters.

Hearing the hoofbeats outside, someone peered out of the tent.

She was an old woman in her fifties or sixties, her dark skin tinged red and her face covered in deep wrinkles. Qu Zan noticed her hands, rough and covered in frostbite-clearly the hands of a poor person accustomed to hard work.

Qu Zan swung down from the saddle, took a bag of black tsampa off the horse, and held it before the old woman with both hands.

"May you have good fortune, Aji. My sister and I would like to stay in your tent for one night. Would that be all right...?"

Aji was a respectful form of address for an older woman.

The old woman shook her head. "I'm Black Bone. My home is dirty and small. Go another ten li ahead and you'll reach a village."

"It's almost dark, and my sister and I truly haven't the strength to go farther. Please let us stay for one night," Qu Zan said, holding the bag of black tsampa a little farther forward.

The old woman looked Qu Zan over, then glanced at Meiduo. "Om mani padme hum. Staying one night is no trouble, but I can't take your food."

"Thank you, Aji," Qu Zan said sincerely. He made up his mind to leave a bag of black tsampa as thanks when they departed tomorrow.

Though cramped and tiny, this felt tent was far better than the corner of the latrine where he had previously sheltered.

A firepit stood in the center of the tent, dried yak dung burning quietly within it. Pale smoke drifted slowly out through the vent at the top.

People and livestock slept together inside. A few lambs had been driven into a corner, where they huddled together for warmth.

A small clay Buddha stood enshrined on a low platform behind the firepit. Fired from clay and blackened by smoke over the long years, its outlines had grown indistinct.

The old woman's expression remained cold, but she still motioned for Qu Zan to sit on the cleanest thin woolen mat.

Qu Zan naturally dared not take the place of honor. He was a serf by birth, and while there was still daylight, he took the initiative to help the old woman with her chores.

He learned that her name was Duimu.

Duimu repeatedly urged them into the tent, as though afraid someone else might see them.

Inside the tent, Qu Zan took some of his own black tsampa and cooked it into a thin gruel, sending out wafts of fragrance.

Qu Zan noticed that whether the old woman was working or walking, her lips barely stopped moving. She was always reciting scriptures.

Duimu was much like the mother in the original owner's memories. Waking in the morning, going to sleep at night, walking, grazing livestock, driving cattle, milking, making a Sang Offering, turning prayer wheels, making full-length prostrations-she was forever chanting scriptures and praying for blessings.

Yet good fortune had never deigned to lower itself and favor the poor.

Duimu lifted the flap and entered the tent. Seeing the gruel bubbling on the stove, her expression changed drastically, and she shouted, "Who told you to use my cookware!"

Qu Zan hurriedly apologized. "I'm sorry, Aji. We wanted to repay you by cooking you dinner, so we took it upon ourselves..."

"Didn't I tell you I'm Black Bone? You must never touch my belongings." Duimu urged them sternly, "Get out, both of you!"

Utterly bewildered, Meiduo asked softly, "Aji, what does Black Bone mean?"