Desert Rhapsody - Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The preparations for hunting lions hardly needed elaboration, if only because every part of it was dull, exhausting, tedious, and painfully basic. They reached their destination at midnight on the third day and began searching the area for the lions’ patrol route. Every beast of prey had its own territory, of course, and understanding its patterns was the first priority. They found droppings first, then followed them until they discovered paw prints the wind had not yet erased. Those broken trails led them to water.

It was a tiny oasis-though calling it an oasis was generous. It was more like a small watering hole. A patch of yellow-gray green pushed up from the half-sand, half-stone Gobi, sea buckthorn and saxaul grass growing together, with dry, hard, skeletal trees beside their leaves. When the moonlight shone down, it cast the plants in strange colors. In the sea of sand, foxes and goitered gazelles gathered together with their heads lowered to drink, neither disturbing the other.

It seemed this was the fixed place where the Exiled Twin Lions came. In the wasteland, only by the water could such a strange sight exist: predators and herbivores not violating one another’s peace. The camel was tired and, ignoring the person on its back, walked over and lowered its head to drink. The animals were startled. Smelling iron and blood, they scattered in fear. Abal stopped Jiang Yuan from getting off the camel and told her, “Don’t leave your scent behind.”

They waited for the camel and Night to finish drinking, then drove them aside. Keeping downwind, they walked a long distance, circled up a dune, and from the height they could see the oasis. The trees made the best markers. Abal had Jiang Yuan help him dig a pit in the sand and half-bury themselves in it. The camel knelt obediently on all fours beside them and began to chew its cud. Its mouth, bound with a rein, opened and closed as its teeth ground with a rustling scrape. In that indescribable smell she had somehow grown used to, Jiang Yuan stared below, imitating Abal as he watched.

It was truly boring, but she did her best not to doze off. A hot, dry wind blew through the clear night. She sipped water from the leather waterskin; it still carried the taste of charcoal. Abal was beside her, occasionally taking a drink as well, silent and infinitely patient as he waited. Near dawn, there was movement. Two pale yellow figures came running from the distance, slipping into the gray-green leaves and the gleam of reflected water.

They had found them.

They lay on that dune for the entire day, eating jerky so tough it made their teeth ache and paste that stuck in their throats, calling it rest. Night was when the real work began. Jiang Yuan had to smear most of her exposed skin with wet sand, climb a tree, and stay there. Around the tree, Abal buried poisoned spikes. Fully armed and with a scarf over his face, he stood below while Moonlight wheeled above his head. Jiang Yuan looked down at him.

“This height is enough. Tie yourself in tight. Don’t fall.” His vivid blue eyes narrowed slightly, almost like a smile. Jiang Yuan said nothing, because her heart was beating a little too fast and her hands were trembling. The bandit chief looked at her teasingly. “No need to be scared. They can’t climb very high.” Jiang Yuan still kept her face wooden, though the fingers clutching the branch had stiffened and gone faintly white. So Abal swaggered over to the water with a leather bag in hand and, in front of the animals that had come to drink, poured the chopped cactus and its juices into the pit.

…The method was old-fashioned, but its strength lay in how well it worked. Abal had not yet grown into the physique of an adult man, and he was born lacking in raw strength. Schemes and despicable tricks were precisely his strong suit. Sensing something wrong, the animals all moved away. Abal drew his knife and drove it into the old camel’s neck.

The old camel let out a miserable cry and collapsed to its knees, panting. Threads of blood flowed into the water, spreading through the murk and staining it crimson. Its heartless master had already swung onto his horse and left. Behind him came a whistle, and his hawk and hounds sped away like a cloud of dust. Jiang Yuan gripped the branch and silently listened to the dying creature’s moans. In the stillness of night, listening to death was not an easy thing to endure. The goitered gazelles did not return, but foxes darted over from the sand and approached it tentatively.

Jiang Yuan turned her face away, unable to bear listening. There came the sound of tearing and cries of pain, followed by the beating of wings. Desert vultures had followed the trace of the dying. They were carrion birds and only ate dead flesh, waiting for that poor old camel to bleed dry before feasting to their hearts’ content. One of the vultures tried to grab her, and Jiang Yuan raised her knife and gave it something to remember. After that, they gave up on her branch and, without being picky, landed on the others. The whole tree seemed to sink under their weight. Their hoarse, chilling cries carried far into the night.

Jiang Yuan held on until dawn-no, not dawn yet. In the darkest hour, roars came from afar. The male lions had heard the commotion and were racing over.

This was the first time she had ever seen the king of beasts that roamed the desert and the grasslands from such a close distance, with absolutely no protection-if one was truly willing to call tying herself to a tree with a rope knotted twice in slipknots a protective measure. In the Arabia of the present day, lions had already vanished, but a thousand years ago, they still ruled this wilderness, contending with wolf packs and giant lizards.

Their bodies were leaner than Jiang Yuan had imagined, but after half a year of field experience, she understood that this was only because their modern zoo counterparts carried too much extra flesh. Their manes stirred up dust in the wind. They looked thin, yet possessed a terror no one could look at directly. The great beasts came running this way-not one, but two, one after the other, roaring as they advanced.

The foxes fled in a flash, one of them dragging away a strip of meat as it left. But the greedy little thief immediately paid the price. One lion accelerated into a sprint and reached the edge of the pool almost in an instant, pinning it beneath a paw and biting down on its throat.

The flock of vultures erupted in clamor, celebrating the addition of more food. A few particularly reckless ones flew down to the ground, testing whether they could approach. A swipe of a paw and a roar sent them flapping away again to circle overhead, crying out in a hateful chorus. The other lion leapt in nimbly and, following the sound, tore open the old camel’s throat. The poor old camel twitched in its jaws, then soon breathed its last.

Jiang Yuan’s heart rose into her throat as she watched them begin to patrol. The traps Abal had laid here were so conspicuous they bordered on crude. Would they truly fall for them? Besides, she was still up in the tree, risking her life as she looked down on the tops of their heads. One of the lions lifted its head and met Jiang Yuan’s eyes. The other sniffed at the pool, as if it had detected an unfamiliar scent. From the corner of her eye, Jiang Yuan saw it raise its head to sniff the air. What made her heart pound even harder was that this lion was walking toward her. Its tail hung between its legs, and it lifted its head, staring straight at her through the leaves. Its footsteps made no sound, bringing with them a fearsome stillness.
It was hunting.

Jiang Yuan gripped the branch with all her strength and stayed still. Abal had told her, “You absolutely cannot move.” No matter what happened, she had to listen to Abal.

The lion soon lifted its paw and let out an irritated growl. Sharp stakes had been buried around the tree, keeping it from getting close. It paced unwillingly beneath the tree for a while, but the other lion had already begun to feast, and the ready-made meal soon tempted it away. It lowered its head and began to enjoy the banquet.

Jiang Yuan pressed herself tightly against the tree. The places where she had smeared on mud and sand began to itch. In her ears came one low rumble after another. The lions ate while facing her, a show of threat and intimidation. Dawn was breaking. Fiery red sunlight leapt up from beyond the horizon, magnificent in a terrifying way. She absolutely could not move. She had to pretend she was a branch, or a vulture. When the camel had been eaten down to a small patch of bones, the lions finally had their fill. They licked their bloodstained mouths and moved aside, and the vultures shrieked as they swarmed in. The lions seemed to have forgotten there was something wrong with the pool. After licking themselves for a while, they walked to the water’s edge and drank a few mouthfuls.

It was time. Jiang Yuan reached into the pouch beside her. Smack. A stone landed next to one of the lions. The beast jerked its paw, sprang backward, and raised its head to stare at Jiang Yuan.

Through the leaves and branches, Jiang Yuan saw yellow eyes, bared teeth, and a blood-red gleam on its canines, their yellowed edges sharp. She threw another stone. The lion let out a deafening roar and pounced at her. But it immediately jumped away again, most likely because its paw had caught on a stake. The ground there had been overturned in patches, all traps it had knocked aside. Jiang Yuan picked up the long spear that had likewise been tied to the branch and, forcing down her terror, stabbed downward with all her might.

A wound opened on its face. Successfully enraged, it crouched low and sprang with all its strength, kicking up onto the tree. Jiang Yuan screamed, venting her fear, and used the spear to force it back down. Stones rained down, smashing into its face. The other lion leapt over, but with a sharp whoosh, an arrow pierced through its ear and pinned it to the tree, the fletching buzzing.

The hunting dogs barked wildly, joining the battlefield together with the shrieks of the hawks. Night had circled in a wide arc at a distance. Abal hung sideways from the saddle, drew another poisoned arrow from his pack, and shot it into the lion’s eye.

Five hunting dogs tangled with one male lion at once, fighting it and hampering its movements. The other lion roared in madness and went after Abal. But it was full now, and its steps were not as agile as when it had been hungry. It had drunk from the pool, and the cactus was exerting its faint but impossible-to-ignore effect. Moonlight led the other two hawks in flight around it, constantly harrying it. Sharp talons tore open its haunches, and hard beaks struck down, trying to pluck out its eyeballs. Blood scattered across the yellow sand, speckling it drop by drop. Its steps grew slower and slower. Belatedly, it tried to run, but it was too late. From horseback, Abal sent a blade flying like the final straw, knocking it to the ground.

Jiang Yuan panted in the tree. She did want to climb down, but then discovered her legs had gone weak. The vultures had long since flown off, yet they could not bear to go too far. They circled nearby, waiting, just as they had once waited for the two lions. She did not know how long she sat limp in the tree, still shaken. Night trotted lightly into the grove. Abal, mounted on its back, slipped a foot from the stirrup and flipped up to stand. He gave a whistle, and Night, as if it understood his mind, came to a perfect stop beneath the tree. Standing on its back, Abal could just barely meet Jiang Yuan’s eyes.

Jiang Yuan’s first words were, “Aren’t you afraid Night will step on the poisoned stakes?”

The bandit chief was covered in blood and sand. For the first time, the sheath at his waist was empty, and the enormous longbow was slung behind him. His blue eyes narrowed slightly. Compared to Jiang Yuan, whose hands were trembling and weak, he was truly calm and composed. “Night has horseshoes. Besides, it’s much smarter than those two stupid lions.” He said, “You should come down.”

Jiang Yuan said calmly, “My legs are weak.”

“Were you scared?”

“I was.” She admitted it.

“Then,” Abal said, “you won’t be scared in the future.”

He reached out and hooked Jiang Yuan’s foot with his bowstring. Jiang Yuan screamed as he yanked her down, only for the slipknot around her waist to catch, leaving her suspended in midair. Abal pulled the knife from her boot and helped her cut the rope. Unfortunately, he was not strong enough to catch her. The two of them tumbled off the horse together and rolled to the edge of the pool. Jiang Yuan’s face was nearly flattened from the fall, and she kicked him hard. “Weren’t you afraid I’d hit the poisoned stakes?!”

Abal burst into loud laughter. His face veil slipped down, revealing a handsome face smeared with dust and sand, looking utterly high-spirited. “A pity their pelts were ruined by the wounds from my arrows and are no longer perfect!” he chanted, lying on the ground. “They can no longer adorn my clothes, so they shall have to adorn my battle record!”

A faint layer of stubble had already grown along his jaw, soon to form the full beard of a man of Arabia.

Half an update. Sleep.

I kept thinking, just sleep, write the rest tomorrow morning after waking up.

But as I wrote and wrote, I still ended up finishing it.

Speaking of which, I just realized I don’t think I’ve seen many bearded male leads.

But people of Arabia generally keep beards. A man with no beard basically doesn’t exist. In theory, if he doesn’t believe in Islam, he doesn’t have to keep one, but even starting from the pagan religions of Arabia before Islam, beards were already a trend among Arabia and the Bedouin, the predecessors of the people of Arabia. A thick beard symbolized a man’s strong combat ability, and for nomadic peoples, being good at fighting was extremely important.

In today’s Middle Eastern countries, not having a beard, or having sparse facial hair and too little beard, can very likely cause social difficulties. Beard transplants are a popular cosmetic procedure in the Middle East.

I suddenly remembered all those stories where someone transmigrates to ancient China and no matter which husband they marry, his chin always seems to be perfectly clean-shaven. Ancient China also considered beards beautiful.

If anyone has an issue with people of Arabia having beards, you can look up Dubai princes or male models first and get an impression. Actually, men grooming their beards is just as meticulous as girls styling their hair. It’s the kind of meticulous where they spend a lot of money and you still can’t tell the difference.