Chapter 13 Chapter Three (1)

Every morning the sky is filled with the sound of birds flapping their wings. Flocks of birds arrive here from the south, circling round and round on the lake before landing in the swamp.In the intervals of the wind, what can be heard is their discordant clamor of wah-wah, croak, blare, and cheep. This noise disturbs the place directly, like a confrontational city-state appearing on the water: gray mallards, brown mallards, and needles. grouse, mallard, mallard, bar-headed merganser. The first waterfowl confirmed the signs of early spring: there was a hint of warmth in the wind, and the ice on the lake became like translucent glass.Spring is on its way, and it's time for planting.

It is also hunting season.Before dawn, groups of people set off to set up nets by the lake.At noon, they will return with a large number of prey: birds with broken necks are tied to their feet and strung on long poles one by one; Occasionally a silent whooper swan is caught among these birds.It's nature's bounty: there's plenty for everyone to enjoy in the next few weeks. Before I go, there are two documents to complete.One is a report to the governor. "In order to repair some of the damage done by the raid of the third game," I wrote, "and to restore some of the peace that has existed in the region, I shall make a short visit to the tribes of the barbarians." I sign Glue the envelope.

What to write another, in fact, I haven't figured it out yet.A will?a biography?a confession?Or something like a memoir of 30 years of garrison on the border?I sat at my desk all day staring at the blank page in front of me, waiting for words to come to the tip of my pen.It was the same for the next day.On the third day, I gave up, stuffed the papers in the drawer, and threw myself into preparations for departure.The two things seem to go hand in hand when you think about it: a man who doesn't know how to deal with a woman in his bed also doesn't know how to express himself in words.

I found three people to go with me.Two young recruits were called by me to perform this temporary task.The third, older, was born in the district, was a hunter and a horse trader, and was to be paid out of my private savings.One afternoon before departure, I called them together. "I know it's not a good time to travel," I told them. "The season is unpredictable. Winter is about to pass and spring hasn't come yet. But if we wait any longer, the nomadic tribes will start migrating, and we won't be able to find them." Here they are." They didn't ask any questions.

To the girl I put it succinctly: "We're going to take you to your own people, or as close to your people as we can, because they're all scattered around now." Can't help expressing joy.I put beside her the heavy fur dress I had bought for her travels, the rabbit fur hat embroidered after the local pattern, and new boots and gloves. After the matter settled down, I could sleep peacefully, and I even felt a little happy in my heart. We set off on the 3rd of March, and went through the gates into the high road, and a great company of children and dogs followed us as far as the lake.We followed the directions of the hunters and poultry hunters, passed the irrigation canal, left the lake and turned into a fork in the road, which was the right road.The trailing tail gradually dissipated, leaving only two naive half-grown children chasing us all the way, competing with each other to see who could last.

The sun came up, but it didn't feel warm at all.The wind blowing from the lake blew all our tears out.We lined up in single file: four men and a woman, four laden horses.The headwind horses were whirled back and forth as we weaved past walled towns, bare fields, and finally the two panting children. My plan was to follow this road as far south as the lake, then turn northwest by the less traveled path through the desert and into the valley where the northern nomadic tribes had their winter camps.Few people have traveled this road except nomadic tribes. From east to west, this is a vast area. Nomadic tribes migrated along this ancient dry riverbed with large herds of livestock.Going this route can reduce a six-week journey to a week or two.I've never walked this path myself.

For the first three days we pushed hard and slowly towards the south, then turned east again.To our right was a large flat fault of weathered earth, whose edges gradually merged into the red clouds of dust and dust, and then merged with the hazy yellow sky.On the left is a flat swamp, with patches of reeds dotted among them, and the ice in the center of the lake has not yet melted.The cold wind blew over and instantly turned the hot air we exhaled into frost. The few of us walked under the cover of the horses, and we spent more time walking than riding.The girl was still curled up in the saddle, with the shawl wrapped around her face, and she followed the person ahead with her eyes closed.

There are two horses laden with firewood, which are prepared for use in the desert.Once we came across a Tamarix tree, which was half buried in quicksand, and the exposed crown was like a mound. We split it up and used it as firewood.And most of the time, we had to make do with bales of dry reeds for firewood.The girl and I slept side by side in a tent, huddled in furs against the cold. We ate well during the first few days of this journey.We prepared in advance bacon, flour, beans, dried fruit, and some game.Just save some water.The shallow surface water of the southern lake is too salty to drink.One of us had to wade out twenty or thirty paces to fetch water, where the water was only up to his calf, barely enough to fill the leather bag, and, if we were lucky, smash the ice to bring it back.But the melted ice water is still salty and astringent, so it can only be boiled into strong black tea.Every year the water eats up a little of the shore, sweeps the salt and alum into the lake, and the water in this lake becomes a little saltier.Since the lake no longer flows outward, its mineral content has increased, especially in the south, where large areas of water are seasonally blocked by sandbars at the mouth of the lake.After the summer floods, fishermen found carp hanging white-bellied on the sand, and they said the bass were now gone.What will happen to the settlements in our area if the lake turns into a dead sea?

After drinking the salted tea, we all vomited and diarrhoea, except the girl.I have the worst symptoms.The most embarrassing thing for me was having to stop again and again, cover my body with the horse, and take my clothes in and out with my frozen fingers, while everyone else waited.I could only drink as little water as possible to reduce excretion, and when I swayed to the extreme, I was riding a horse unsteadily, and a series of tempting images appeared in my mind: a bucket of water was left on the side, and it was full of dripping water. Water, scooped up and splashed with a ladle; and crystal white snow.Occasional hunting, carrying falcons; my occasional dealings with women, manly behavior.These images masked a feeling of growing weakness.My bones ached from the long walk, and by nightfall I was so tired that I lost my appetite.Stumbling along, with one leg barely able to drag the other, I climbed into the saddle, tucked into my coat, and ordered one of us to explore the obscure path ahead.The wind didn't stop for a moment, howling and screaming at us through the clouds, hitting us from all directions, and the sky was covered with a red dust cloud.There was no hiding place in the dust: the wind pierced through our clothes so that exposed skin seemed to freeze into blocks of ice, and the wind gushed into our luggage.When we eat, our tongues seem to be covered with something, and we spit out sand non-stop, and our teeth rattle.We are not so much in the air as in the dust.We swim through the dust like fish in water.

The girl didn't complain.She ate well, didn't get sick, and slept soundly all night, curled up in there like a ball, while I wanted to cuddle a dog to keep warm because it was so cold.She rode all day with no signs of restlessness.Once, I glanced at her and saw that she had fallen asleep on a horse, with a peaceful face like a child. Walking along the edge of the swamp, we turned back to the north again on the third day. Only then did we know that we had been circling the lake for the first two days.We pitched our tents early, burned nearly all our firewood in the final hours, and let the horses out to graze in the desolate swamp for the last time.By daybreak, the fourth day of our journey, we began to cross an ancient lakebed forty miles beyond the swamp.

It was the most inhospitable area we had ever seen.The bottom of the lake with saline-alkali soil is bare and barren, and when you step on it, there are hexagonal lattice-shaped pits.The place is full of dangers: when passing through the unbelievably flat and empty place, the leading horse suddenly broke through the surface and sank in a foul green mud. Just as the man on the horse was stunned, he also sank in with a plop.We hurriedly tried our best to rescue them, pulling them out with our horses.The surface of a layer of salt crystals was trampled by the horseshoes coming one after another, cracking holes, and a slightly salty stench permeated everywhere.We realize now that we haven't left the lake until now: it's right here stretched out beneath our feet, sometimes buried a few feet deep in the ground; layer below.How long had the sun not shone on this stagnant water?We found a place with a solid layer of soil and built a fire to warm the shivering man and his clothes.He shook his head wonderingly. "I'm always hearing things, and I've been keeping an eye out for patches of green patches, but I've never thought of anything like this before," he said.He was our guide, the only one among us who had ever been to the east of the lake.After this happened, we pulled our horses harder to leave this dead lake quickly, fearing that the fear of being swallowed in the mud full of ice slag even surpassed the fear of ice and snow, minerals, underground unknowns and no air .We lowered our heads and headed against the wind, and the wind poured into our clothes and swelled up big balls on our backs. We only chose those salt crusts with pits to walk on, avoiding those smooth areas.The sun shines through the dust belt that covers the sky, and the sun rises in the sky, shining red like an orange, but it still doesn't bring any warmth.As night approached we laboriously staked our tents on rock-solid blocks of salt.It is almost a luxury for us to burn firewood with wood, and everyone is like sailors hoping to see land sooner. On the fifth day, we left the bottom of the lake and crossed a smooth and crystal clear saline land, which soon followed by sand and stones.Everyone cheered up at once, and so did the horses. There was nothing in the saline land but a handful of linseeds and a bucket of salty water, and the living conditions were getting thinner. People are okay, they don't complain about anything.The fresh meat was slowly eaten up, but fortunately there were still bacon and dried beans, as well as a lot of flour and tea, so the supplies they had brought along the way were still sufficient.Every time we rest, we make tea, fry some oil cakes, and make some delicious snacks to satisfy our hunger.The men did the cooking: the girl made them feel awkward, they were uncomfortable with her standing aside; they didn't seem to think much of me taking her all the way to send her back to the savages , there is no definite attitude; they hardly speak to her, their eyes always avoid her, and of course it is impossible to ask her to help with cooking.I didn't mean to force her to be with them, but I just hoped that the tension and restraint would be gradually resolved on the way.I picked these guys for their tenacity, their loyalty, and their willingness to work for it.They followed me under these conditions with as much ease as possible—even though the two young soldiers left the city with their mighty cloaks strapped to their horses and their scabbards filled with sand. Flat sand began to turn into islands of dunes.Our progress slowed down because it was very difficult to climb up and down.This is perhaps the hardest distance for a horse, often with a lot of effort to get out a few inches, and the hooves sink deep in the sand and cannot be pulled out.I looked at the guide, and he shrugged: "Go a few more miles, we have to go through here, there is no other way." I stood on the top of the dune, the sand blocked my eyes, and looked ahead, only the sky Swirling sand. That night, a burdened horse refused to eat.In the morning, the hardest blows could not get him to his feet.We had to unload him on some other horses, and throw away some firewood.I stayed behind while the others got up and started.I swear animals are absolutely spiritual and sentient.At the sight of the knife its eyes rolled in terror.Blood gushed out from its neck, drifted away with the wind, and spilled a large area on the sand.I have heard that savages blindfold horses in certain emergencies.Will we regret letting this gurgling blood be spilled on the sand in our lifetime? On the seventh day we finally left the dunes behind and were now faced with a vast, monotonous landscape of brown-gray, a long, dark gray field.As we approached we saw that the country stretched for several miles from east to west, and here we could see some badly grown, dark trees.The guide said: We are so lucky, this indicates that there must be water nearby. We staggered to the edge of an ancient lagoon bed.The withered reeds are gray and white like ghosts, and they shatter when touched by hands. The long strip is the former lakeshore; the trees are poplars, and they have been dead for a long time. Dropped so much that the roots couldn't absorb the water. We unloaded the horses and started digging.Digging to a depth of two feet came upon very sticky blue soil.Below that, sand again; then, digging down, another layer of dirt, but very sticky and wet.At seven feet deep, with my heart beating and my ears buzzing, I could no longer take turns with them, and the other three continued digging, heaping the loose earth from the hole in a tarp in the corner. It was ten feet deep before the water began to seep beneath their feet.It was sweet water with no salt in it, and everyone was smiling, but the water was too slow to collect, so they dug the hole bigger so that the bodies could get in.It was late in the afternoon when we emptied our leather pockets of salty water and refilled them with sweet water.When it was getting dark we lowered the vats and filled them with water for the horses to drink. Since there is enough poplar wood here for firewood, at the same time, everyone dug a small kiln with two eyes back to back in the ground, and then set up a big fire to dry the soil.When the fire died down they raked the charcoal back into the kiln and began to bake bread.The girl stood watching all this with her two canes, and I nailed small logs of wood to the bottom of her canes so that they would not sink when walking on the sand.It was a beautiful day full of camaraderie, and the rest of the trip would probably be smoother, and people talked more, thinking about joking with her, they offered a friendly attitude for the first time: "Come on Come and sit with us and taste the bread made by men!" She smiled at them and raised her chin at them, this gesture may only be understood by me, it was trying to see what they meant.Cautiously, she went and sat beside them, basking in the warmth of the furnace. I sat in the windshield of the tent a little far away from them, with a broken oil lamp flickering at my feet. I wrote down my experience of the day in my diary while listening to the movement.They were joking in the language of the five quarters of the border region, and she was not at a loss for words.I was amazed by her fluency, responsiveness, and tactful delivery.I even felt a sudden burst of pride: she wasn't the kind of woman around an old man, she was a smart, attractive young girl!If I'd known how to tease her with such free-spirited banter from the start, there might have been more warmth between us.But like a fool, I didn't give her joy but just depression.Seriously, the world should belong to the singers and dancers!Pain is insignificant; what's the use of being depressed, remorse is all vanity!I blew out the oil lamp and stared into the flames with my fists on my chin, listening to the rumbling of my stomach.