Xi Yu’s days returned to their previous rhythm.
Every morning, Que Zhi would wake him up, comb his hair, have breakfast, and then he’d go to the horse grounds to take Little Snowball for a walk.
After a winter, Little Snowball had grown taller, his mane much thicker. When he ran, his hooves pushed firmly against the frozen earth, and the white puffs of his breath drifted far in the cold stable air.
Hulü Tao said that by spring, he’d be ready for a saddle, and Xi Yu could ride him to the north slope to watch the irrigation canal construction.
The irrigation canal was the first major project after spring.
Xi Yu had mentioned it to Que Zhi over the winter—the creek gully east of the north slope had dried up by half during the autumn grazing, making it inconvenient for the newly relocated herder families at the winter pasture. If they cleared and widened the old canal before the spring snowmelt, they could irrigate an additional stretch of grassland.
The old Khan had approved it, Hulü Xiong had taken on the supervision, and these past few days, they had already started hauling stone to the north slope.
Que Zhi went to the study every morning to review the stone supply lists with Hulü Xiong.
Xi Yu sometimes went along, sitting beside them and listening to them discuss the canal’s route.
Though he didn’t understand much of the technical terms, he could always point out which sections of Hulü Xiong’s sketch didn’t match the actual creek’s course—because he’d walked along that creek with Que Zhi during their winter pasture inspection and remembered every bend.
Hulü Xiong clapped him on the shoulder: “With Ayu’s memory, once this canal is finished, even the driest summer will keep all the tribes’ livestock well fed.”
One evening, Batu made a trip from the winter pasture to the royal city, bringing freshly made cheese curds from his mother.
Hulü Tao came along too.
The group sat in the courtyard, chatting about all sorts of things.
“The frozen river started thawing a few days ago. Cracks have spread all over the ice. During the day, you can hear a crackling sound—crisper than Harbala chewing dry grass.
There’s already water flowing beneath the ice. The herders say in a few more days, you’ll hear the muffled crash of ice floes colliding.”
Then he lowered his voice mysteriously.
“When are you two free to come take a look? They say this is the most spectacular time of year for the ice river—the whole river is nothing but crushed ice, glinting like a river of silver under the sun.”
Hulü Tao said he was busy with the foals these days and would have to ask his father.
Batu asked Xi Yu if he was going.
“Yes. Tomorrow morning.” The moment he said it, Batu let out a cheer, nearly stepping on Harbala’s hoof.
Xi Yu added that they could bring Que Zhi along too—it was rare to see the ice break in spring, and the more people, the merrier.
The next morning, Xi Yu and Que Zhi rode to the ice river.
Batu’s family was already there on the riverbank. Hulü Xiong and Hulü Tao arrived a little later, and Hulü Xiong had brought his greyhound.
Batu’s mother brought saddle pads sewn from castrated sheep leather. Batu’s father carried a tea stove and milk bowls.
Harbala ran ahead, his hooves tapping a few times on the ice before he darted back, tilting his head at the cracked surface.
The greyhound barked at him, as if mocking his timidity.
The ice river was indeed already beginning to thaw.
The ice shell at the river’s center had fractured into chunks of all sizes, slowly drifting with the current beneath.
The ice chunks collided with one another, making a low crackling sound—the river’s first breath after being stifled all winter.
The broken ice ranged from tabletop-sized slabs to fragments as small as broken porcelain, all gleaming with a translucent blue-grey sheen in the sunlight.
The edges of the ice were worn thinner and more brittle by the flowing water. Occasionally, a chunk would flip over, revealing the fine pinhole patterns carved by the river underneath, before being slowly carried downstream.
Hulü Xiong stood on the riverbank, watching the broken ice drift downstream, and said with feeling: “The thawing of the ice river marks the beginning of spring. I’ve seen it for years and never tire of it.”
Batu’s father, Helian Lüshan, added: “Once the north slope canal is finished and the water flows into the new pasture, it’ll be even more beautiful than this broken ice.”
Xi Yu led Little Snowball to the bank to let him drink the thawed river water. Little Snowball lowered his head, sniffed, then flicked his tail and stepped back two paces, unimpressed.
Hulü Tao laughed heartily: “He was still a foal last year—never seen broken ice before. Probably finds it too cold.”
Que Zhi picked up a small piece of broken ice washed up by the current from the riverbank and placed it in Xi Yu’s palm.
The ice was very thin, its edges already melting into water, while the center still retained the dark blue-green veins from the depths of the river.
The chill spread swiftly through his palm. Xi Yu’s lashes trembled slightly, his brows furrowing almost imperceptibly, his nose scrunching just a little—a delicate, childlike expression of shrinking from the cold.
He didn’t let go immediately. He only lowered his gaze, eyes fixed on the fragment of ice with its blue-green veins resting in his palm,
the corners of his eyes drooping slightly—partly curious, partly soft with a hint of timid chill. His fingertips hovered lightly around it, not daring to press.
Xi Yu looked down for a while, then suddenly remembered that last winter, standing on this very river, he’d said something to the dark blue-green ice—that he’d come every winter from then on and carve a mark on the ice.
Now the ice had shattered, and the marks had melted into water, flowing downstream to water the spring grass.
“It doesn’t matter,” Xi Yu said, watching the broken ice drift away on the river, his tone as if speaking to himself.
“If the marks are gone, they’re gone. I’ll carve new ones this year. Next year’s water will still flow here.”
There was no trace of disappointment in his brows—instead, a gentle certainty rippled through them. His clear eyes reflected the shimmering river, quiet and tender.
Que Zhi stood quietly beside him, his gaze never leaving Xi Yu, his expression serene and gentle.
He caught every word Xi Yu murmured to himself, watching his profile as he gazed absently at the river, watching the faint wistfulness in his eyes slowly dissolve into tender certainty.
Que Zhi moved closer, his gaze resting on Xi Yu’s clear, tranquil brows, his voice low and deeply comforting:
“Alright.”
“Every winter from now on, I’ll come with you. However many marks you want to carve, I’ll carve them with you.”
As he spoke, Que Zhi raised his hand and gently wrapped it around Xi Yu’s still-chilled palm, warming away the lingering cold in his own grasp. He pressed a light kiss to it, his eyes serious and solemn, as if making a promise for a lifetime.
Batu poked his head out from among the sheep and asked what they were going to carve.
Hulü Tao pulled him aside and said it was nothing—don’t disturb the married couple’s affection!
The group of young people chased a few nearly broken ice floes along the riverbank, the greyhound barking at the water’s edge but not daring to step onto it.
Batu ran a short distance holding the tea stove, then skidded to a halt. Harbala, unafraid, found an ice shelf that hadn’t fully cracked and lowered his head to lap at the icy water.
Xi Yu looked up at the opposite bank. Last winter, when ice still sealed the river, he and Que Zhi had stood at the river’s center, pointing out the frozen patterns on the surface.
Now they stood beside the same river, watching the ice floes drift away—spring had already sewn the broken ice into its first thin garment.
“Last year, right here, someone told me the ice was thick enough—no need to be afraid.” His voice mingled with the crackling of the broken ice, neither loud nor soft, just loud enough for the person beside him to hear.
“No need to be afraid. I’ll always be here.” Que Zhi gave a soft “mm.”
By evening, they walked back along the thawing ice river.
Little Snowball led the way, his hooves tapping on the gravel.
Xi Yu paused for a moment, turned back to look at the broken ice still drifting downstream, then turned and continued forward.
Winter had passed. Spring was coming. The north slope irrigation canal was about to break ground. Little Snowball would soon be ready for a saddle. Harbala would need a new bell.
There were still so many things he wanted to do…
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