Finest Servant

Chapter 567 White Hair and Silver Sand

Gao Qiu and Hu Bugui were deep in conversation and laughter when Lin Wanrong suddenly jumped down from Li Wuling's horse-drawn carriage. His eyes were wide open, and his face was as dark as coal. He headed straight toward them.

"What's going on?" Both Gao Qiu and Hu Bugui glanced at each other, filled with curiosity.

Hu Bugui reached for the water skin hanging from his waist and offered it to Lin Wanrong. "It's scorching hot! General Lin, have some water quickly!"

Lin Wanrong wiped away his sweat and waved the offer away. "You go ahead, Brother Hu. I've already had some."

Looking at Lin Wanrong's parched and pale lips, Hu Bugui frowned and said in a deep voice, "What do you mean, you've had some? Don't lie to me! You poured all the fresh water from your own flask into Little Li's yesterday. When have you had any water? You care for your brothers, but you should also take care of yourself."

Hu Bugui was considerate. Lin Wanrong laughed, "Don't worry, Brother Hu. When I really get thirsty, I'll come to you. You know how cunning I am; I won't stand on ceremony with you. Haha!"

Seeing Lin Wanrong's cheerful demeanor, Hu Bugui knew that further persuasion was pointless, so he reluctantly took back his water skin.

"Brother Lin, is this the so-called Silk Road?" Gao Qiu looked around and asked. The winds howled, yellow sand swirled, and although night was gradually falling, the heat emanating from the sand still burned their feet as if they were on fire. Their drenched clothes clung tightly to their backs, making it extremely uncomfortable.

Desert marches were unlike those on flatlands. To avoid the scorching sun and unnecessary loss of energy and water, they would camp and rest during the day and march at dusk and through the night. Even so, the formidable power of the desert had far exceeded their expectations. They had barely traveled for more than two hours before they had to stop for a rest.

"There is neither silk nor a road to be seen. The name is quite misleading, isn't it?" Gao Qiu, his face flushed from the heat, asked in utter bewilderment.

"The name 'Silk Road' is not misleading, but it's not a path laid with silk as you might imagine," Lin Wanrong chuckled and shook his head. "To put it simply, the Silk Road is a major trade route from our great nation to another continent. Our silk is smooth and beautiful, loved by all. Merchants traveling between Europe and Asia enjoy loading it onto their camels and horses, trading it at the other end of the world. Hence, this route has earned itself a beautiful name—the Silk Road."

Both Gao Qiu and Hu Bugui looked bewildered. They had no idea what the other end of the world or the Europe-Asia continent was. But listening to Lin Wanrong tell the story of the Silk Road was indeed a joy during their journey. They nodded and laughed.

‘Perhaps, the less you know, the happier you are.’ Observing Hu Bugui and Gao Qiu's simple and hearty smiles, Lin Wanrong suddenly found himself envious—maybe simplicity was indeed a blessing!

Just as he was about to make a light-hearted comment, a puzzled voice sounded beside him, "The other end of the world, Europe and Asia—what are those places? And where are you going now?"

Lin Wanrong turned his head and was met with a face of pure beauty, silently gazing at him. It was Yueya'er, the Turkic girl. Unbeknownst to him, she had silently come to stand beside him, her steps as light as those of a civet.

In this vast desert, a sea of death where the fierce sun and yellow sands allowed not a single blade of grass to grow, fleeing into the wilderness alone was akin to digging one's own grave. Lin Wanrong knew that Yueya'er, being the clever girl she was, would never do something so foolish. He had not even bothered to tie her up, giving her full freedom to roam. If she dared to run, let her try!

Yueya'er looked at him with wide-open eyes, lightly biting her red lips. Her face was full of questions and longing, as she awaited his answer.

Lin Wanrong let out a casual "heh," ignoring her, and gestured to Hu Bugui and the other man. "Brothers, let's change the spot for our storytelling. This place is too clean for my liking."

Although Hu Bugui and Gao Qiu did not understand the subtleties in his words, they sensed he was showing displeasure toward Yueya'er.

Yueya'er clearly got his meaning and couldn't help but cast him an amused yet slightly annoyed glance. She turned her head away, huffing softly, "A petty man, an utterly foolish man!"

Both of them acted quite peculiar, causing Old Gao to blink in disbelief. Rather than leaving, he decided to sit on the ground, chuckling, "Since we're resting, let's have a thorough break. Everyone, sit down and let Brother Lin tell us some stories."

No sooner had Old Gao's behind touched the ground than he leapt up, grimacing in pain. Hu Bugui laughed, "Brave man, you dare to sit on such scalding sands."

"It's not about the sand; there's something underneath!" Old Gao cursed, kicking the spot where he had just sat. A soft thud echoed, and everyone's eyes widened in astonishment. True to his word, something was hidden beneath the sands.

Lin Wanrong squatted down, not caring that the sand was scorching, and eagerly brushed it aside. All eyes were fixed on his actions.

As he cleared away the fine sand, what appeared was a shriveled stump. Originally as thick as a sturdy man's waist, the stump had shriveled to the size of a few palms, looking like a withered radish!

"What kind of tree could survive in this sea of death?" Yueya'er was the first to speak, not sure whom she was asking. She slowly squatted down beside Lin Wanrong, reaching out to gently stroke the ancient tree stump.

Lin Wanrong let out a long sigh, "This is called a Euphrates poplar or desert poplar, one of the most resilient trees in the world. Our ancestors in Great Hua praised it as 'alive but not dead for a thousand years, dead but not fallen for a thousand years, fallen but not decayed for a thousand years.' Its vitality is unparalleled."

"The most resilient tree?" Yueya'er gently caressed the decaying trunk, shaking her head in a soft sigh. "Alive but not dead, dead but not fallen, fallen but not decayed. Three thousand years of life, yet it still couldn't withstand the sea of death that is this Rob Nur. How pitiful, how lamentable."

"She mentioned Rob Nur—where is that?" Old Gao quietly asked the Lin brothers.

"Rob Nur? Oh, it's probably a small Turkic village. Not very famous," Lin Wanrong nonchalantly explained, scratching his nose.

"Ignorant people," Yujia glared at him and snorted. "What you call Lop Nur is known as Rob Nur in our Turkic language. It means a beautiful lake where a thousand waters converge. Ah, so in your eyes, Rob Nur is nothing but a small village—hardly noteworthy. I've truly witnessed your profound knowledge today."

Lin Wanrong's face flushed. He chuckled and said, "Well, the Turkic language isn't easy to remember or pleasant to hear. It's understandable that I forgot."

Hu Bugui laughed, "A beautiful lake where a thousand waters converge? That's laughable. With all this yellow sand around, not even a rabbit would defecate here. Where is this supposed lake?"

Gao Qiu also laughed heartily in agreement. Yujia shook her head disdainfully, "You people of the Great Hua don't even understand your own history. How can you not be taken advantage of? Lop Nur was a vast lake thousands of years ago. In your classic geographical text, 'The Classic of Mountains and Seas,' Lop Nur was referred to as 'Young Lake.' It once had the reputation of being 'vast over three hundred li, its water neither increasing nor decreasing regardless of seasons.' It was also known by various other names like Peacock Sea and Lop Pool, all of which indicate a lake. It's a shame you know nothing of this; even I, a Turkic, feel embarrassed for you."

Old Hu and Old Gao had grown up playing with swords and arrows; they hardly ever read books, let alone 'The Classic of Mountains and Seas.' They hung their heads in shame after being scolded by the young Turkic woman.

Lin Wanrong chuckled, "We all have our areas of expertise. Knowing history doesn't mean we should remember every little detail. If that were the case, we'd all be historians. To be blunt, even if you, Miss Yujia, pride yourself on your extensive knowledge of history, you may not be familiar with every aspect of your Turkic heritage—"

Yujia proudly smiled, "I am well aware of any factual event in Turkic history."

"Really?" Lin Wanrong's eyes twinkled. He grinned, "Then let me ask you a random question. How many wives did the first Khan of the Turks have?"

"In total, our Heavenly Khan had eighty-nine women bestowed upon him," Yujia disdainfully said. "Why do you ask? Even if I tell you, you might not understand."

"He had that many women? That's even more than my number of horses," Lin Wanrong laughed. "Do you know which part of these women the first Khan looked at when he saw them for the first time?"

‘Such a lowbrow question! But I love it!’ Both Hu Bugui and Gao Qiu exchanged glances; their eyes gleamed with a lascivious light, and they burst into raucous laughter.

Yujia's face turned beet red with anger. "You... you're indecent!"

"Indecent? You're the one who misunderstood," Lin Wanrong said playfully. "Let me give you a history lesson. The first thing your Heavenly Khan looked at when he saw a woman was, of course, her face. What else did you think it would be? If he looked at her legs or her backside, that would be indecent!"

Yujia paused, suddenly realizing that Lin Wanrong was playing with words, and even the Heavenly Khan was not spared from his mockery.

Gao Qiu slapped his thigh and chuckled, "Well said! Judge a person first by their face—this truly captures the essence of being a man. Brilliant, simply brilliant!"

Gazing at Lin Wanrong's smug expression, the Turkic girl felt a mixture of frustration and anger. She wanted nothing more than to give him a few punches. After a long moment, she gritted her teeth and exclaimed, "You deliberately misled me! You're nothing but a troublemaker!"

Lin Wanrong shook his head and sighed, "Ah, when someone wants to find fault, they always find a reason. Little sister, you're just too formidable. No matter what you say, you're always right. What chance do others even have?"

The term 'when someone wants to find fault, they always find a reason' is a play on words the Turkic girl was intelligent enough to catch the nuanced mockery. She was puzzled. She had the upper hand in their argument, yet somehow, he'd managed to turn it around. What was his secret?

[The pinyin of ‘when someone wants to find fault, they always find a reason’ is yù jiāzhī zuì, hé huàn wú cí; There are characters homonym of Yujia in there, so the sentence doubles as a dig on her.]

"Alright, if you want to hear the origin story of the Lop Nur, let me tell you a beautiful tale," Lin Wanrong grinned and began slowly. "A long, long time ago, there was a royal-born young man named Lop Nor. He was as dashing and handsome as I am. Lop Nor had no interest in inheriting the throne; he wished to cross the desert and go to Kucha to learn music and dance. When he reached the Tarim Basin, he lost his way. Hunger and exhaustion overwhelmed him until he fainted. In the nick of time, he was saved by Mila, the daughter of the Wind God. Mila was innocent, beautiful, and kind-hearted. The moment they met, they fell deeply in love, a love so intense they couldn't bear to part. When the Wind God discovered his daughter's love for a mortal, he was furious. He blinded Lop Nor and crippled Mila's legs, then blew them to opposite sides of the barren desert, sentencing them to a life apart."

He paused for a moment at this point. Intrigued, the girl hastily asked, "What happened next?"

Girls invariably ask about the outcome when they hear love stories—it's an unshakeable law. Lin Wanrong chuckled inwardly, sighed, and continued, "Separated by insurmountable distances, their yearning aged them prematurely. Mila's luscious hair turned white overnight, and her tears formed rivers, eventually gathering into a crystal-clear lake. That lake was the legendary Lop Nur. Centuries ago, the Lop was filled with scenic beauty—a paradise of rivers and lakes, interconnected like a string of pearls. Legend has it, those pearls were Mila's tears."

"Eventually, consumed by her longing, Mila's soul ascended to the heavens. That night, the sky changed colors, and the lake dried up. The beautiful Lop Nur disappeared, leaving only silver sand spread across the land. Legend has it that this silver sand is the transformation of Mila's white hair. This tale is known as 'Tears like Mila, Hair like Silver Sand.'"

In the art of storytelling, if Lin Wanrong claimed second place, no one would dare claim the first. His eloquence made even the densest of tales accessible and resonant, appealing to young and old alike. Even the burly men like Old Gao and Hu Bugui were utterly captivated.

"Tears like Mila, Hair like Silver Sand!" The Turkic girl, touched, lowered her head and murmured, her eyes flickering with hope and longing. Lin Wanrong was like a professional storyteller; one moment he was tricking her with a word puzzle that infuriated her, the next he was telling a story that etched itself into her soul. The contrast was striking. Especially the lines "Tears like Mila, Hair like Silver Sand," even though she knew he had made them up on the spot, the words remained unforgettable.

Lin Wanrong laughed, "So, what do you think? Wasn't that story entertaining? How does it compare to your recitations from the 'Classic of Mountains and Seas'?"

"They're all fabricated tales. I don't believe them," Yujia replied, lowering her head and gently caressing the poplar tree beside her, her voice tinged with resignation.

Gao Qiu gave Lin Wanrong a thumbs-up, full of admiration. "Brother Lin, I find myself increasingly enjoying your storytelling. No wonder so many princesses and young ladies are fond of you! This march is dull and lonely; could you perhaps regale us with stories every hour?"

‘This scoundrel, does he take me for a storytelling king?’ Lin Wanrong snorted internally, wishing he could kick the old man flying.

After exchanging a few more words, Hu Bugui moved the stump of the poplar tree aside. Suddenly, a flash of white light appeared. Yujia let out a startled scream and tightly grasped Lin Wanrong's arm.

Looking down, they saw a section of eerie white bones revealed beneath the stump. Yujia's face paled, and she clung to Lin Wanrong's arm, unwilling to let go even for a moment.

Women are truly strange creatures. They can kill without batting an eye, yet can be terrified by mere insects. Lin Wanrong sighed as he and Old Gao fully excavated the stump. Beneath it, a jumble of bones lay entangled—both horse bones and human bones. A quick count suggested the remains of at least twenty to thirty individuals, their deaths occurring who knows how many years ago.

"Brother Lin, why... why would people die here?" Old Gao, who had killed plenty in his time, seemed genuinely frightened upon encountering this pile of ominous white bones in the vast desert.

Lin Wanrong sighed deeply. "The Silk Road is not just about beautiful silk, but also full of strewn bones. These are our pioneers."

It appeared that this was a merchant caravan on the Silk Road, as evidenced by the almost decayed rolls of silkwood. Likely, they had perished due to lack of food and water in the desert.

Beside the bones were some remaining scraps and shards, perhaps dried sheepskin. Yujia sorted them silently, saying nothing.

Hu Bugui looked closely, astonished. "It seems there are words here! Written in both Great Hua language and Turkic! Strange, how did our Great Hua people and the Turkic people get mixed together here in the Lop Nur?"

Lin Wanrong nodded, "There's nothing strange about it. The Silk Road belongs not only to us but also to other ethnic groups. It is a channel of integration for all. On this road, merchants from both Great Hua and the Turkic tribes are brave pioneers, our forebears. Even if they belong to two different ethnicities, they can still mutually support and prosper together."

Yujia looked up at him, pondering the meaning behind his words. She seemed lost in thought, her eyes increasingly hazy, remaining silent...

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