White Horse Neighing in the West Wind – Chapter 13

Li Wenxiu’s eyesight had grown far keener in the past two years. From a great distance she could make out the girl’s willowy figure and pretty face. It was Aman. Li Wenxiu did not want to meet her face to face, so she turned her horse and rode to the south side of a small hill, reining in behind a tree. But there she saw Aman also riding her horse towards the hill. When she reached its base, she gave a whistling call, and from the trees atop the hill a whistle answered. Aman flipped down from her saddle, and a man came running to her. The two embraced, their laughter ringing out.

The man said, “A great snowstorm is coming any moment. Why have you still come out?” It was Supu’s voice.

Aman laughed. “You silly boy. You knew there was a storm coming, so why did you have the nerve to wait for me here?”

Supu laughed. “The two of us meet here every day. It’s more important than eating. Even if dao and jian were falling from the sky, I’d still wait for you here.”

They sat side by side on the hill, murmuring sweet nothings. Li Wenxiu, separated from them by several large trees, could not help but stare in a daze. Sometimes their voices were loud enough to hear clearly, sometimes they dropped to whispers and she could not make out a word. Suddenly, whatever funny thing they had said made them both burst out laughing together.

But even when they spoke loudly, Li Wenxiu heard them without listening. She was not eavesdropping on their love talk. Before her eyes she seemed to see a little boy and a little girl sitting side by side on the grass. The boy was Supu, and the girl was herself. They had been telling stories. What stories, she had long forgotten. But the scenes from ten years ago appeared before her as clear as day…

Snowflakes as big as goose feathers drifted down, falling on the three horses, falling on the three of them. Supu and Aman were deep in conversation and paid no heed. Li Wenxiu did not even notice. The snow piled up on their hair, and all three of them had white hair.

Decades later, when the hair of all three had truly turned white, would Supu and Aman still be laughing and talking like this, while Li Wenxiu remained as lonely and alone as ever? Would she still be remembering someone, while in their hearts there was not the slightest trace of her?

Suddenly there came a rapid rustling from the tree branches. Supu and Aman both leaped up, crying, “Hail! Quick, let’s go home!” They vaulted onto their horses.

Li Wenxiu heard their cries and started from her reverie. Hailstones the size of fingers were already pelting her head, face, and hands, stinging with pain. She quickly untied the felt blanket from under her saddle and draped it over her head, then rode home.

As she neared the house, she saw two horses tied to the porch pillars. One of them was Aman’s mount. Li Wenxiu was taken aback. “What are they doing at my house?” The hail was growing heavier. She led the white horse around to the back door and went inside. She heard Supu’s hearty voice saying, “Old sir, the hail is so fierce we’ll have to stay a while longer.”

Old Man Ji said, “Normally I can’t even get you to visit. Let me brew some tea.”

Ever since that pack of bravoes from the Jinwei Armed Escort had rampaged across these grasslands, the Kazakhs had grown deeply hostile towards Han people. Although Old Man Ji had lived here for many years, and the Kazakhs were hospitable by nature and had not driven him away, everyone kept their distance. No one came to buy wine from him except on great celebratory occasions. No one asked him to treat their sick livestock except in the direst emergencies. Supu and Aman’s tents had moved even farther away. If not for sheltering from the storm, another ten years might pass before they set foot in his house.

Old Man Ji went to the stove and saw Li Wenxiu with a flushed face, lost in thought. He said, “Ah… you’re back…”

Li Wenxiu sprang up and clapped her hand over his mouth. She whispered in his ear, “Don’t let them know I’m here.”

Old Man Ji was puzzled but nodded.

After a while, Old Man Ji took out sheep’s-milk wine, curds and salty milk tea to serve his guests. Li Wenxiu sat by the fire. Faintly, she could hear Supu and Aman’s laughter and voices from the hall. A thought rose in her heart, unstoppable: I want to see him. Just to say a few words to him. But then she thought of Supu’s father’s cursing and his whip. For twelve years, the sound of that whip had echoed in her heart without ceasing.

Old Man Ji returned to the stove and handed her a bowl of hot tea mixed with cream and salt. His eyes held a tender, grandfatherly warmth. They had lived together for twelve years, like a real grandfather and granddaughter, caring for each other. But what lay hidden in the deepest part of each other’s hearts, neither of them truly knew.

After all, they were not flesh and blood. They lacked that innate, bone-deep connection.

Li Wenxiu suddenly said in a low voice, “I won’t change clothes. I’ll pretend to be a Kazakh man taking shelter from the storm here. You mustn’t give me away.” Not waiting for Old Man Ji’s reply, she went out the back door, led the white horse around, and walked off into the blizzard that filled the sky and covered the land, slipping away quietly.

Only after walking a li or so did she mount the horse, circle around, and gallop back to the front door. In the great storm, the black clouds overhead seemed about to crash down on her. In her twelve years in the Western Regions, she had never seen such strange weather. Fear gripped her heart despite herself. She urged the horse to the front door and knocked. “Excuse me, excuse me!” she called in Kazakh.

Old Man Ji opened the door and called out loudly in Kazakh, “Brother, what is it?”

Li Wenxiu said, “This storm is terrible, old sir. I need to take shelter here.”

Old Man Ji said, “Excellent, excellent! A traveller on the road doesn’t carry his house with him. There are already two friends here sheltering from the storm. Come in, brother!” He stepped aside to let her in and asked, “Where is brother headed?”

Li Wenxiu said, “I’m going to Heishi Fort. How much farther is it from here?” In her heart she thought: Grandpa Ji is acting so convincingly. Not a single slip.

Old Man Ji feigned surprise. “Aiya, Heishi Fort? In this weather? You’ll never make it today. Better stay the night and go tomorrow. If you lose your way in this, it’s no laughing matter.”

Li Wenxiu said, “I’m sorry to trouble you.”

She walked into the hall and shook the snow from her body. Supu and Aman sat side by side by a pile of fire, warming themselves. Supu smiled. “Brother, we’re also hiding from the storm. Come warm yourself with us.”

Li Wenxiu said, “Thank you!” She went and sat beside him.

Aman greeted her with a smile. Supu had not seen her for eight or nine years. Li Wenxiu had grown from a little girl into a young woman, and now dressed as a man. How could Supu possibly recognise her?

Old Man Ji brought food and drink. Li Wenxiu ate and asked the three their names. She said her own name was Asituo, a herdsman from a Kazakh tribe more than two hundred li away.

Supu kept going to the window to check the weather. In truth, just listening to the wind shaking the walls, one knew without looking that going out was impossible.

Aman said worriedly, “Do you think the wind will tear the thatched roof off?”

Supu said, “I’m more worried about the snow being too heavy. The roof might not hold. I’ll climb up and shovel it off in a bit.”

Aman said, “Don’t let the wind blow you down.”

Supu laughed. “The snow on the ground is already this thick. Even if I fall, I won’t die.”

Aman asked again, “Will the walls blow down?”

Supu said, “If the walls fall, I’ll stand in front of you and block the wind!”

In truth, the cottage walls were built of mud bricks fired from the black clay of the Gobi, quite sturdy and not easily toppled.

Li Wenxiu’s hand trembled as she held her tea bowl. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess. Her childhood friend sat right beside her. Did he truly not recognise her, or did he recognise her and was pretending not to? Had he forgotten her entirely, or did he remember but didn’t want Aman to know?

The sky gradually darkened. Li Wenxiu moved a little farther away. Supu and Aman held hands, whispering words that to anyone else would sound meaningless, but to lovers’ ears and hearts were incomparably sweet. The firelight flickered, now bright, now dim, illuminating their faces.

Li Wenxiu sat outside the circle of firelight.

Suddenly, Li Wenxiu heard the sound of hooves tramping through snow. A single horse was approaching the house. The snow on the grassland was already deep. The horse strained to lift its legs with each step and could no longer run fast.

The horse drew closer. Old Man Ji heard it too and murmured, “Another person sheltering from the storm.” Supu and Aman either hadn’t heard or didn’t care. Their four hands clasped together, they leaned close and whispered.

After a long while, the horse reached the door. Then came a loud banging. The knocking was rough, not like a polite guest asking for shelter. Old Man Ji frowned and went to open the door. Standing in the doorway was a tall man in a sheepskin coat, his face covered in bristling whiskers. A long jian hung at his waist. He said loudly, “The wind and snow outside are too much. My horse can’t go on!” His Kazakh was heavily accented. His eyes blazed as he scanned everyone in the room.

Old Man Ji said, “Come in. Have some wine first!” He handed the man a bowl of wine.

The man drained it in one gulp and sat down by the fire. He loosened his outer coat, revealing a belt with a short jian sheathed on either side, both gleaming bright. One jian’s hilt was gold, the other silver.