A Conversation Between Father and Daughter, and the Boys' Antics

In the council hall of the Valley Tribe, Daiyue sat in the main seat, holding a bowl of cold tea, but he didn't drink it. The tea was cold, with a layer of fine tea leaves floating on the surface. His gaze was fixed on the doorway, as if he was waiting for someone. His fingers tapped lightly on the table, making a rhythmic sound. The seven elders had already left, and he was the only one left in the council hall. It was so quiet that you could hear the crackling of the firewood in the hearth and his own breathing.

"Chief, the young lady is back." A guard strode in, clasped his hands in a salute, and his boots made a crisp sound on the Qingshi ground.

Daiyue put down his teacup, the bottom of which tapped softly on the table. His eyes lit up, as if a lamp had suddenly been lit in the darkness, and he said, "Let her come over."

The guard turned and left, his footsteps fading into the distance. A moment later, Qingsui entered. Her steps were light and quick, like a swallow returning to its nest. Her face still had a blush from returning from outside, her cheeks as if painted with rouge. Her hair was slightly disheveled by the wind, with a few strands clinging to her forehead and others hanging down beside her ears. As soon as she entered, she looked around, her gaze sweeping over the empty seats. Seeing that only her father was there, she walked directly to him, her steps light as if she were dancing.

"Father, why did you call me?" Qingsui's clear voice, tinged with a hint of doubt, echoed in the empty council hall, like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, creating ripples.

Daiyue pointed to the seat next to him, gesturing for her to sit down. Qingsui sat down, placing her hands on her knees, her back ramrod straight, like a tall, straight poplar tree. Her gaze was fixed on her father, her eyes filled with inquiry and a hint of curiosity.

"The Fire Tribe has brought a deposit for next year's grain," Daiyue said, his voice Chenwen, like the roots of an old tree. "I just had a meeting with the seven elders. Half of it will be awarded to the tribespeople, and the other half will be used to purchase supplies needed by the tribe from nearby tribes."

Qingsui nodded, her expression relaxing slightly, her tense shoulders loosening a little. She said, "That's good. Pottery doesn't sell as well in the lower reaches of the Fish River as it used to. Those large tribes, intimidated by the Tiger Tribe, don't dare to buy it openly anymore." She paused, her voice tinged with a mix of emotion and sympathy. "Besides, the tribespeople have worked hard these past two years, getting up early and working late to farm, repair irrigation ditches, and build houses. They deserve a good reward. Giving them some pottery will motivate them even more. With good stuff, they'll have more energy to work."

Daiyue nodded, his eyes filled with approval, as if admiring a satisfactory work of art. He said, "Now our Valley Tribe is threatened by the Tiger Tribe. We need to unite. We can't be like before, each looking out for ourselves. Especially in times like these, we must stick together as one. Only when the rope is tightly twisted can it be broken."

Qingsui nodded without speaking, waiting for her father to continue. She gently drew circles on her knee with her fingers, her eyes fixed on her father.

Daiyue picked up his teacup and took a sip. The tea had gone cold and was somewhat astringent. He frowned, put down the teacup, and tapped his fingers lightly on the table twice, making a "tap-tap" sound. He said, "This time, our Valley Tribe plans to recruit five thousand people from nearby small tribes to strengthen ourselves. You'll go and assist them, observe, and learn as much as you can." He paused, his gaze becoming distant. "You'll have to handle these things sooner or later, so the sooner you learn, the better."

Qingsui nodded and said, "Yes, Father, I will do it carefully."

Daiyue was silent for a while, his fingers tapping on the table more slowly, rhythmically like a pendulum. His brows were slightly furrowed, as if he was considering something, and his lips were pursed into a line. Qingsui looked at her father, not urging him, and waited patiently. She knew that her father was thinking about something, something very important.

"By the way," Daiyue finally spoke, his voice lowered as if afraid of being overheard, "the Fire Tribe brought a ship with a carrying capacity of 50,000 jin this time, and their shipbuilding speed has been very fast in the past two years. I suspect the Fire Tribe can already manufacture bronze ware." He raised his head, looking into Qingsui's eyes, his gaze sharp, as if trying to see through her, "You're close to the young leader of the Fire Tribe, Yan Shao. Has he heard anything about you?"

Qingsui paused, her brows furrowing slightly as if recalling something. Her eyes looked at the ceiling, then the floor, finally returning to her father's face. She thought for a moment, then shook her head, a few strands of hair swaying with the movement. She continued, "Chief Yan didn't mention any of this to me. Every time he comes, he talks about the tribe's affairs—food, boats, people—but never about bronze." She paused, her eyes suddenly brightening as if she'd thought of something. "But... their Fire Tribe doesn't seem afraid of the Tiger Tribe. It's like they have some kind of backing. Every time the Tiger Tribe is mentioned, they're calm, unlike us who are so tense. Our hearts leap into our throats whenever the Tiger Tribe is mentioned, but the Fire Tribe? They're not worried at all."

She paused, then continued, "Moreover, their ships have smooth planks and tight seams, clearly made with high-quality tools. Without a large number of bronze tools, it would be impossible to build so many fine, large ships. Our Valley Tribe uses stone and wooden tools in some places to build ships, which is time-consuming, laborious, and inefficient; the Fire Tribe's ships are fast and excellent, like magic." Her voice grew increasingly firm, "Father, your guess is probably true."

Daiyue nodded, his gaze becoming distant, as if looking into the far reaches of the world. He said, "I think so too. If the Fire Tribe does indeed possess bronze artifacts, our Valley Tribe would like to exchange some." He looked at Qingsui, his tone becoming serious, and said, word by word, "After Chief Yan finishes his work these next two days, please go and invite him over for me. I need to have a serious talk with him. This matter is very important to our Valley Tribe; it concerns the future of our Valley Tribe."

Qingsui nodded, stood up, and the chair creaked as it scraped against the floor. She said, "Okay, Father, I'll go and invite him then." Her voice was clear and crisp, with a hint of solemnity.

Daiyue waved his hand, as if shooing away a flying insect, and said, "You can go and get back to work now."

Qingsui turned and walked out of the council hall, her steps light and quick, like a swallow returning to its nest. Her figure disappeared at the door, and her footsteps gradually faded away. Just as Qingsui returned to the council hall, Yan also returned to the Fire Tribe's temporary camp near the dock.

In the camp, the campfire blazed brightly, the tents stood in neat rows, their ropes stretched taut like soldiers in formation. The cooks were still busy, simmering meat broth in pots, its aroma wafting in the wind, making mouths water. Several soldiers sat around the fire; some were sharpening knives, the whetstone making a "shh-shh" sound; others were mending clothes, the needle and thread gleaming in the firelight; still others were chatting quietly, their voices like the rustling of leaves in the wind.

As soon as Yan entered the camp, the two boys, Yingmu and Shibang, surrounded him, standing on either side like two walls blocking his way, both with mischievous grins on their faces.

"Boss!" Shibang came over, his eyes sparkling as if he had discovered some treasure, his eyeballs almost popping out. "How did your chat with your sister-in-law go?" He rubbed his hands together, his face full of anticipation, his mouth stretching to his ears, revealing a set of white teeth.

Before Yan could answer, Yingmu interrupted, his voice tinged with smugness, "Is that even a question? Boss must have had a really great time! Didn't you see his face beaming when he came back?" He mimicked Yan's walk, chest out, head held high, lips curled up like a proud rooster. After taking a few steps, he deliberately wiggled his hips, making the soldiers around him laugh. Some were doubled over with laughter, while others were slapping their thighs in amusement.

Shibang slapped his forehead, suddenly realizing what was happening. He slapped his forehead with a "smack" and said, "Yeah! I didn't even notice!" He stared at Yan's face, examining it like a rare object, tilting his head back and forth like a chicken pecking at rice. "Look at the boss, his mouth is almost crooked from smiling!" He pointed a finger at the corner of Yan's mouth, but Yan slapped it away, and he pulled his finger back as if he had been burned.

Yan glared at the two of them, but the corners of his mouth couldn't help but turn up, he just couldn't suppress it. These two kids are getting more and more talkative, I wonder where they learned it from.

"Boss, why don't you guys chat a little longer?" Shibang asked again, scratching his head, looking puzzled, his hair all messed up from scratching. "It's rare for you to come all this way, when are you going to bring your sister-in-law back to the Fire Tribe for a visit? Let the brothers meet her too."

Yingmu immediately interrupted him, reaching out to slap Shibang on the back of the head with a crisp "smack," and said, "Does the boss need to report his private affairs to you? Who do you think you are?" He put his hands on his hips, imitating an adult scolding Shibang, his eyebrows raised, his eyes wide open, and slapped Shibang so hard that he staggered forward and almost fell.

Shibang rubbed the back of his head, glared at Yingmu with eyes as wide as copper bells, and said, "What's wrong with me asking? Can't I care about the boss?" He rubbed the back of his head, grimacing.

Yingmu ignored him, turned to Yan, and said in a suddenly serious tone, "Boss, take a rest these next few days. Leave the work to us. Get some free time so you can spend more time with your sister-in-law. We'll keep an eye on things at the tribe; nothing will go wrong." He patted his chest, making a loud "thump-thump" sound.

Shibang nodded repeatedly, like a chicken pecking at rice, and said, "Yes, yes, you rest, we'll do the work. Look how sensible we are." He puffed out his chest, looking proud.

Yan was actually quite happy, but the two boys' antics made him both annoyed and amused. He understood their good intentions as he watched them sing and dance together, but he wouldn't hold back with his words. He put on a stern face, but his eyes were full of laughter that he couldn't hide.

"You two aren't getting any younger," he deliberately drawled, like an elder lecturing a junior, "When the time comes, I'll go back and have the chief find you good husbands and children so you won't be so irresponsible and always talking nonsense. Let's see if you'll still have the mind to chatter like that then."

Shibang and Yingmu exchanged a glance, and both of them shivered simultaneously, as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water on them.

"Boss, we were wrong!" Shibang clasped his hands together, begging for mercy, his waist bent like a shrimp.

"Yes, yes, we were wrong! Let's get to work!" Yingmu grabbed Shibang and ran out of the camp, running as fast as if chased by a dog, his feet barely touching the ground.

The two ran incredibly fast, disappearing in the blink of an eye, leaving only a few deep footprints on the ground and a distant laugh. Yan watched their retreating figures, shook his head, and could no longer hide the smile on his lips.

He walked around the camp, checking the tent ropes; he tugged on them and they were taut. He checked the supplies; they were neatly stacked. He checked the sentries; everyone was there, everything was in order, and there were no problems.

Feiyu stood guard at the dock, his back ramrod straight; Bailin was counting supplies, his hands meticulously marking the planks; Jia Li was coordinating with the people of the Valley Tribe, his voice carried far; Binmao was arranging tomorrow's transport, his gestures powerful. Everyone was busy, and everyone knew what they were supposed to do.

Yan went to the kitchen, ladled out a bowl of meat soup, milky white in color and sprinkled with scallions; he took two flatbreads, toasted to a golden brown, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. He sat by the fire and ate slowly, the firelight warming his face. The meat soup was delicious, the flatbreads fragrant. He ate very slowly, chewing each bite as if savoring something, or perhaps lost in thought.

After dinner, Yan took another walk around the camp. The sentries stood at their posts, backs straight, eyes alert, like tall pine trees. Several patrolling soldiers walked past him, nodded, and continued on their way, their footsteps neat and powerful.

Everything was normal. Yan returned to his tent, spread out a soft animal hide rug, which smelled of sunshine. He lay down, put his hands behind his head, and looked at the tent ceiling. Outside, the light from the campfire shone through, casting swaying shadows on the tent fabric like a shadow play. In the distance, he heard the sound of a flowing river, its rushing sound like a lullaby. Occasionally, one or two insects chirped, intermittently, as if testing something.

He had been running on the Fish River for more than ten days and was indeed quite tired. His eyelids were getting heavier and heavier, as if they were weighed down with lead. His consciousness was becoming increasingly blurred, as if he were sinking into deep water. He closed his eyes and soon drifted into a dream. His breathing became even and a smile remained on his lips.

The next morning, before dawn, the Fire Tribe's temporary camp was already bustling with activity. The sky was overcast, the stars had not yet completely disappeared, and a thin layer of mist floated on the river.

The second elder of the Valley Tribe Hefeng, and the chieftain Fengren arrived early. Hefeng wore a linen robe, which was washed until it was faded but very clean; his hair was neatly combed, not a single strand out of place; he had a smile on his face, and his eyes were narrowed into slits; he held a wooden plaque in his hand with numbers written on it in neat handwriting. Fengren followed behind, with a bronze sword at his waist, the scabbard of which was engraved with patterns; his steps were steady, and his boots made a dull sound as they stepped on the ground; his eyes were sharp, like those of an eagle.

Yan had also gotten up early and was greeting everyone at the camp gate with Jia Li, Binmao, Feiyu, Bailin, Shibang, and Yingmu. Everyone was dressed neatly and looked very energetic.

"Elder Hefeng, Leader Fengren, good morning!" Yan clasped his hands in greeting, his voice clear and melodious.

Hefeng returned the greeting with a smile, his wrinkles smoothing out as he said, "Good morning, Young Master Yan. The weather is perfect for the handover today; even the heavens are on our side."

The two groups met, exchanged a few brief pleasantries, and then began working. Grain was carried out of the Valley Tribe's warehouse and loaded onto the boats, while pottery was unloaded from the Fire Tribe's boats and stacked gently on the dock, as if afraid of damaging it. The two tribes had cooperated many times before, and the personnel handling the handover were all old acquaintances, working together seamlessly like the left and right hands. The Fire Tribe had more and larger boats, allowing for faster loading and unloading, while the Valley Tribe had plenty of manpower and worked efficiently. At a command, they all sprang into action.

On the first day, nearly three million catties of grain were loaded. The sun rose from the east to the zenith and then slid back to the west, the light and shadow moving inch by inch.

By the afternoon of the next day, the delivery of grain and pottery was completed. The grain was neatly stacked in the ship's hold, piled high like small Little Mountain. The pottery was carried back to their warehouse by the Valley Tribe, and the boxes were stacked neatly like soldiers in formation. The dock returned to calm, with only a few warriors from the Fire Tribe still making final checks, touching and looking at things.

Jia Li walked over and said to Yan, "Young Chief, there's nothing else to do. You can go back and rest." He had a smile on his face and spoke with ease, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

Shibang also came over, winking and darting his eyes around, and said, "Yeah, why don't you go and talk to your sister-in-law first, and see if you can learn more about the situation downstream of the Fish River." He deliberately emphasized the words "learn more about the situation," and a mischievous smile was hidden in his eyes.

Yingmu nodded, speaking in a serious tone, his face tense, but the corners of his mouth couldn't help but turn up. He said, "Yes, boss, this is something the chief ordered us to do. Understanding the situation downstream of the Fish River is very important for our Fire Tribe. You have to complete it carefully."

Yan glanced at the two of them, amused, but didn't expose them. These two kids were two-faced; how could he not know?

"Okay." He nodded. "I'll go back to the temporary camp to pack up first. I'll leave this place to you."

"Don't worry!" Jia Li patted his chest, making a loud thumping sound.

"We're here!" Shibang and Yingmu said in unison, standing ramrod straight like two guards.

Yan turned and walked towards the temporary camp. Behind him, he heard the low laughter of Shibang and Yingmu, and Jia Li's low scolding voice. "What are you laughing at? Get to work!"

He shook his head, a slight smile playing on his lips, and walked with a light step.