Chapter Thirty-Eight: Old Man Ma Brings a Horse

Early the next morning, as the sun rose high in the sky, Qin Yi woke from his slumber, still groggy and disoriented. Lying flat on his back, he felt a haze clouding his mind and called out weakly, “Jiang Yao.”

Instead of Jiang Yao’s voice, he heard the creak of a door opening. Yet, it was indeed Jiang Yao who entered, approaching the bedside with a bowl of sobering soup in her hands. “Drink this,” she said.

“Drink,” Qin Yi mumbled, barely able to muster the word, making no move to take the bowl. Jiang Yao, resigned, fed him spoonfuls of the soup, and shortly after he finished, he drifted back to sleep. When he awoke again, it was already suppertime.

This second awakening found him much clearer-headed. He rose alone, washed quickly, and headed to the main house, where he encountered Jiang Yao, who was on her way to call him for dinner.

“Not bad! Qin Yi, you’ve been knocked out for a whole day by Qin Buyi,” Zhang Chen’s familiar voice greeted him as soon as he entered the main house. Zhang Chen himself had just woken not long ago and had come straight to Qin Yi’s home.

Qin Yi sat at the table, his tone leisurely. “You didn’t drink as much as I did.”

Zhang Chen rolled his eyes, dismissing the claim. “Please, stop bragging.”

Qin Yi merely smiled.

“Finally up,” He Wan Ting said, emerging from the kitchen with a dish and smiling.

“Mm!” Qin Yi replied.

He Wan Ting continued, “By the way, you should visit your grandfather’s house tomorrow.”

“Alone?” Qin Yi asked. In previous years, He Wan Ting would either accompany him or send him alone, but he hadn’t expected to be sent off by himself this year.

He Wan Ting seemed not to catch the implication in his words. Glancing mischievously at Jiang Yao beside him, she asked, “Is it really alone?”

Jiang Yao smiled gently; after several days here, she had grown accustomed to such banter.

He Wan Ting went on, “You haven’t seen your grandfather and his family for years. It’s time you visited them.”

“Mm!” Qin Yi replied. It was only a trip, after all.

Upon hearing that Qin Yi was going to the South Sea, Zhang Chen immediately said, “I want to go too.”

Qin Yi asked, “Why?”

“I’ve never seen the ocean, and I want to,” Zhang Chen grinned, then added, “Besides, with a spell master in the group, we’ll have someone to watch out for us if trouble arises on the road.”

Before Qin Yi could respond, He Wan Ting interjected, “He’s got a point.”

Qin Yi relented. “Fine! Let’s go together.”

After supper, Qin Yi retired early, preparing for the journey ahead.

Before dawn the next morning, Qin Yi and Jiang Yao rose and, on Sunrise Street, met someone expected yet surprising. Old Ma was curled up on a stone bench, having arrived some time ago despite the winter chill, holding the reins of two horses—a white one and a red one.

Qin Yi and Zhang Chen, astonished, called out together, “Old Ma, what brings you here?”

Old Ma rose from the bench, handing the reins to Qin Yi and Zhang Chen—the white horse to Qin Yi, the red to Zhang Chen. His voice trembled, “These two horses are for you.”

Whether from emotional strain or the cold, it was unclear.

The two stood frozen, not taking the reins.

Old Ma, quick to temper, suddenly shouted, “If you don’t want them, forget it!” He tried to take the reins back.

Startled, Qin Yi and Zhang Chen grabbed the reins, laughing, “Come now, Old Ma, we wouldn’t be so disrespectful!”

With this, Old Ma seemed somewhat comforted, though still unable to speak, staring blankly at the white horse now held by Qin Yi.

Qin Yi looked at the white horse and smiled, “Isn’t this ‘Big White’ your treasure? You’re really willing to part with it?”

He remembered that Old Ma, a lifelong horse breeder, favored this white horse above all. He had named it ‘Big White’ after Bai Yunfei, who thought the name was catchy. Though others later told Old Ma it wasn’t a particularly scholarly name, he never changed it, insisting it sounded right to him.

Zhang Chen, eyeing the white horse, protested, “Old Ma, you’re playing favorites. Why give him ‘Big White’?”

Old Ma replied earnestly, “I’m giving the horse because Qin Buyi brought home a lovely bride.” His words cut to the truth, leaving Zhang Chen feeling dejected.

Zhang Chen gave Old Ma a thumbs up, then muttered, “Old Ma, you’ve got nerve. Just wait until I bring home a bride myself—let’s see what you’ll give me then.”

Old Ma chuckled, unconcerned, “We’ll see when the time comes!”

Qin Yi spoke with heartfelt gratitude, “Old Ma, I’ll remember this kindness.”

Old Ma waved it off, “No need for thanks. We’re all neighbors here.”

Jiang Yao smiled sincerely at Old Ma, “Thank you, Grandpa Ma. I’ll remember your kindness too.”

Old Ma, captivated by her sweet smile, was lost for words, stammering, “It’s nothing, it’s nothing,” twice.

In his heart, Old Ma felt his effort—braving the winter wind, complex emotions, and waiting with the horses—had been rewarded at last.

“The wind’s picking up; I’d better head home!” Old Ma, unwilling to linger, left with those words, walking alone down Sunrise Street, occasionally kicking at the snow, finding joy in the act.

Qin Yi watched Old Ma, who had come with mixed feelings and left in high spirits, smiling without comment. He put his foot in the stirrup and mounted his horse. “Let’s be off!”

Zhang Chen mounted the red horse.

Jiang Yao climbed onto ‘Big White,’ sharing the saddle with Qin Yi—she in front, he behind.

“Hyah!” Zhang Chen, seeing this, felt a pang of jealousy, slapped his horse’s rump, and rode ahead toward the southern gate.

“Hyah!” Qin Yi laughed, slapped his horse, and followed.

Though riding horses was slower than sword-flying, it required less effort, and they weren’t in a hurry. There were still three days until New Year’s Eve; they could take their time. Perhaps because none of them wished to rush, or maybe because it was their first time visiting the South Sea, they didn’t arrive until noon on the third day.

“Beihai City truly deserves its reputation as the largest city in Lingzhou!” Riding along the mountain path, Zhang Chen gazed in awe at the boundless South Sea and the port city named Beihai, which lay beside the South Sea. It was their first glimpse of the ocean—so vast and majestic. Among the coastal cities, two seas were renowned: the West Sea, famed for its turbulent waves, and the South Sea, its tranquil waters a stark contrast, ideal for overseas trade.

“I heard that the South Sea docks trade even with the demon clans,” Qin Yi marveled. In a world like Shenzhou, where racial divisions ran deep, such trade was no small feat—it required acceptance from both sides.

“Let’s wander down to the docks—it’s still early,” Zhang Chen suggested.

Qin Yi turned to Jiang Yao, “A stroll by the sea sounds nice. What do you think, Jiang Yao?”

Jiang Yao nodded, “I’d like that.”

The three rode to the shore, where, in the heart of winter, few people ventured. Though the South Sea never froze, its winter winds were harsh.

Suddenly, they saw a line of black dots rise on the horizon, like a tide sweeping in.

At that moment, Xiao Bai—the little creature Jiang Yao had been raising, rarely seen—leapt from her arms and bounded toward the South Sea.