Chapter 121 — Strong Liquor
劍問蒼天 · Page 1 of 8
A group of Miao came down from the mountain. Ming Li and Xiaobai looked up and saw seven or eight sturdy Miao warriors escorting an old man who appeared to be a little past fifty.
That earlier shout had come from this old man.
The Miao warriors around him bowed one after another, and the excited crowd fell silent at once. Everyone lowered their heads in respect for the old man.
When the group drew near, the old man stepped out from among them and came to stand before Ming Li and Xiaobai, looking them over. The two of them were studying him in the same moment.
The old man was quite tall. Age had brought white hairs to his temples and the corners of his hairline, but his spirit was vigorous in the extreme, and his eyes were bright and piercing. Now he knitted his brows and examined the two of them closely.
Then the old man said, "Jili jili hululu, guala guala luluhu?"
Ming Li was taken aback. It sounded much like what the soldier had asked a moment ago, and was probably much the same question—asking who he was and what he was doing here.
But guess as he might, he still could not understand a word. He had no choice but to say, "We have urgent business, and we wish to—" As he spoke he was about to raise his hand, then caught himself and quickly put it down. "We wish to pay our respects to the great shaman of the altar."
Even as he said this, he was vexed at heart. These Miao could not understand a word he said—what use was speaking? Yet to say nothing would be even more discourteous, and he feared it would provoke them on the spot. For a moment he was desperately anxious.
But heaven seemed to grant his wish. Hearing Ming Li speak, the old man suddenly frowned, looked the two of them up and down once more, and then said abruptly in broken Central Plains speech, "You—you are men of the Central Plains?"
Ming Li and Xiaobai were both startled, then overjoyed. At that moment the sweetest sound in the world was surely this old man's heavily accented speech. Ming Li nodded hurriedly. "Yes, yes, we come from the Central Plains. We have urgent business and wish to pay our respects to the great shaman of your people."
The old man glanced at them. They were dressed in the garb of the southern border tribes, coarse in weave, yet the two of them carried themselves with uncommon bearing, plainly no ordinary merchants—especially the woman, whose natural beauty lent a distinctive charm even to clothes that a common Miao girl would turn her nose up at.
"Who are you? What business have you with the great shaman?" the old man said slowly.
Ming Li and Xiaobai exchanged a look. Ming Li cupped his hands and said, "Honored elder, a friend of mine was gravely wounded. Nine parts of her three souls and seven spirits were scattered, leaving only a single soul. For ten years she has lain like one dead, and truly—"
Here his voice caught. Into his mind rose the image of Bi Li as she lay now in the cold-jade stone chamber on Mount Huqi, and his feelings overcame him; his voice trembled despite himself. Most of the Miao around them could not understand his words, but from his expression and tone they gathered that he was pleading for something, and in that moment they began to feel a certain sympathy for him.
As for Xiaobai, standing at Ming Li's side, her bright eyes rested on him. At this moment she too let fall the faint, knowing smile that so often lingered at the corners of her mouth, as though she had seen through all the ways of the world, and her face grew solemn.