It was the 185th day since Luo Yuan sold her here.
Yang Ruoning placed the stone tablet, etched with lines marking the passage of time, back into the corner.
This place was a rare, expansive oasis in the desert. It was inhabited by a powerful nomadic tribe from the north, who lived in tents, herded large flocks of horses, cattle, and sheep, and spoke a language she couldn't understand.
The girls who had arrived in the same cart as her had all been sent to serve as military prostitutes. Yang Ruoning considered herself fortunate. Because she was deemed too old, she was assigned to the stables for manual labor. Her hair was unkempt, her body reeked of animal dung, and she remained silent, often being mistaken for a madwoman, which kept most people at a distance. Yet, Yang Ruoning found a strange peace in this. The people here still retained certain characteristics of uncivilized tribes. The men in the tribe, especially the cavalry, would, upon spotting a young woman they desired, unceremoniously hoist her up and quickly disappear into the nearby woods. Some bolder individuals would even strip the woman’s clothes right there and engage in intercourse publicly, while onlookers would either whistle and cheer them on or simply walk by, unperturbed.
These beasts were practically savages, Yang Ruoning mused as she smeared horse dung all over herself.
She hadn't given up on the idea of escape. She had tried to flee twice. Both times she was caught and subjected to a brutal beating. Her ribs were broken, and every breath was accompanied by excruciating pain; her ankles were severely sprained, and each step felt like walking on nails. However, these physical torments were nothing compared to the soul-crushing despair of her inability to escape. Her two escape attempts had taught her that without a guide, she stood no chance of traversing that vast, desolate desert alone.
Night deepened, and a quiet descended outside. Yang Ruoning rose from the haystack. The black horse beside her, munching on grass, shook its head and snorted twice.
She had never had the chance to interact with horses before. After months of constant companionship, she realized why so many people were fond of them. It wasn't just because they were swift runners and gentle in nature; they were also remarkably intelligent animals.
She didn't know what constituted a good horse, but she felt this black horse was exceptional. It was tall and proud, with a coat as black and glossy as polished obsidian. When it ran, it was like a streak of black lightning. Most importantly, it was incredibly understanding. On cold nights, it would lie beside Yang Ruoning, shielding her from the biting wind.
But the horse trainer, a man with a fierce expression, didn't see it that way. To break the black horse, he would often lash it with a whip until its hide was torn and bleeding.
Yet, the proud and stubborn black horse never yielded. It remained the most ill-tempered horse in the stable, refusing to let anyone ride it.
She patted its flank. "Hi, bud, let’s get out."
Leading the horse, she quietly slipped out of the stables under the cloak of night and headed towards the woods to the east.
After walking for about twenty minutes in the forest, Yang Ruoning arrived at a small spring. Moonlight shimmered on the water's surface, reflecting silver light. About thirty meters from the spring stood a large tree, its trunk so thick that three people couldn't encircle it. Its canopy spread out like a massive hand reaching to one side. Around the base of the tree, offerings were laid out.
This ancient tree was the tribe's sacred tree. They believed it protected their people.
Yang Ruoning, an atheist, didn't believe in gods or spirits. It made no sense to let these offerings rot while people in need went without. She felt that if there truly was a god, that god wouldn't stand by and watch her starve to death.
She walked over, picked up a piece of dried meat, and popped it into her mouth. She circled the tree and noticed a new offering: a plate of fruit. They looked like apples, but were much smaller, likely picked from the nearby forest. Yang Ruoning took a few and went to feed them to the black horse.
The black horse sniffed the fruit repeatedly, seeming hesitant to eat.
"Hey, it's not poisoned, it's edible. See?" Yang Ruoning took a bite, chewed, and swallowed.
Only then did the black horse begin to eat with relief.
Yang Ruoning patted it. "Hi, Bud, I often wonder if you like me or what I feed you more?"
The black horse rolled its eyes at her, as if mocking her foolish question. Of course, it liked what she fed it, you silly human.
"Ah, so that's it. But it's okay, I like you very much. Want another one?" Yang Ruoning put another fruit into its mouth. "I was thinking about giving you a name? That way, I can tell you apart from other black horses."
The black horse snorted. "You think so too? What name do you like? I can't name people. Since you're black, let's call you Black. In Chinese, that translates to Bu Lai Ke. What do you think of that name?"
Upon hearing this, the black horse took small, delicate steps towards the large tree, as if expressing disdain for such a casual name.
"I'll assume you agree, then, Black?" Yang Ruoning called out to its retreating back. Seeing Black disappear behind the tree, she knew it was heading for the fruit.
She paid Black no more mind and walked directly to the spring, washed her face with its water, and sat down on the grass. A breeze swept through the trees, carrying the fresh scent of spring earth and causing the leaves to rustle.
Yang Ruoning pondered escape plans in her mind, having devised and discarded countless schemes. Surviving and escaping remained an impossible task for her.
Suddenly, Black let out a cry. Its neigh echoed through the quiet forest late at night. Black, despite being bred as a warhorse, was surprisingly timid, easily startled by a falling leaf.
What was wrong with this horse now? Yang Ruoning stood up and slowly walked over.
Following the sound, she found Black standing before a tree, its head lowered as if sniffing something. "Black!" she called out. As she approached, she too was startled. Good heavens, Black had found a person this time.
The person sat on the ground, concealed in the darkness, their form and face indistinguishable. Hearing footsteps, they looked up, their eyes remarkably bright in the night.
It was a man's voice.
The person spoke something, but she couldn't understand it.
There was a hint of weakness in his voice. He sat there motionless, seemingly injured.
Yang Ruoning didn't answer or step closer. She pulled Black to her side and turned away.
After walking a few dozen meters, Yang Ruoning stopped. She sighed, unable to simply ignore the situation.
"Hey, Black, do you think it's right if we just leave him? If he doesn't get help and dies here, will we become bad people? Will we not go to heaven after we die? I can't afford not to go to heaven, I have to reunite with my family. Don't you agree? You want to go to heaven too, right, Black?"
Black lowered its head to eat grass, ignoring her.
"Besides, we don't know how long that person has been sitting there, or if he saw us stealing the offerings, right? We should go back and find out, shouldn't we, Black?"
Perhaps Black understood, for it slowly turned around and walked back.
"Okay, this is your decision. If there are any consequences, you're fully responsible. I'm just following you."
The person, hearing footsteps, looked up. They stared intently at Yang Ruoning as she approached.
When Yang Ruoning got closer, she discovered that the person's right foot was caught in a trap, the wound deep.
He spoke again, seemingly pleading for her help. His voice was weak from blood loss.
Yang Ruoning squatted down, glanced at him, then looked at the trap, pondering how to open it. The mechanism was simple; a sturdy stick should be enough to pry it open. She stood up and looked around. It would be difficult to find such an iron rod in this forest. She would likely need to go back.
"I need to go back and find a stick," she said to the person.
He paused, then said, "Over there," pointing to a spot not far away, "my spear is there."
It was Mandarin. This person seemed to be a Han Chinese slave as well.
Following his direction, Yang Ruoning found the spear, covered by fallen leaves. She used the spear to pry open the trap. The person let out a muffled groan as she removed it. He said to Yang Ruoning, "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Yang Ruoning replied.
She decided to see it through. Yang Ruoning helped the person up and supported him as they slowly walked back.
They exchanged no words along the way. It was only as they neared the tent area that Yang Ruoning hesitated and asked, "Tonight..."
"Tonight..."
Unexpectedly, the person also began to speak at the same moment, their words overlapping.
"You first," Yang Ruoning told him.
"Thank you, miss, for tonight. But I must trouble you to keep this a secret and not mention it to anyone else."
"Okay, that's actually what I was thinking too. So, we've agreed."
She extended her hand towards him.
The person looked at her hand, startled, then looked at her strangely, unsure of her meaning.
Yang Ruoning took his hand, shook it, and then clasped it.
"This gesture means we have a deal. Anyone who breaks it will be struck by lightning."
"Oh, okay. We have a deal," the person said, releasing her hand. "I can make it the rest of the way myself. No need to trouble you further."
They parted ways then.
Yang Ruoning watched him limp away, leaning on his spear. She thought he was remarkably tolerant of pain. The wound was deep, revealing bone, yet he acted as if it were a minor injury. However, it was clear he didn't want anyone to know what he was doing in the woods so late at night. Was he stealing offerings like her? That was quite possible, given how meager and unappetizing the food given to Han slaves was.
"Let's go," Yang Ruoning patted Black and headed back towards the stables.