sinovels Chapter 670 May your lives be smooth every day.
Chapter 670 May your lives be smooth every day.
Chen Fan paused slightly in the hand holding the wine pot.
He hadn't expected there to be such a rule on the grasslands.
He served as a servant in the palace for over sixty years, always the one kowtowing to others, and never once did anyone need him to bestow blessings.
This feeling is quite unfamiliar, but it's not necessarily a bad thing.
Chen Fan nodded, his tone calm and composed: "Okay. Is there anything you need me to do?"
Batu's smile widened when he saw that Batu had agreed: "You don't need to do anything. Just stand in front of the newlyweds and say a few auspicious words. We grassland people don't care about those formalities. The gods are watching from heaven, and the elders are blessing us on earth. That's enough."
A month passed in the blink of an eye.
On the eighth day, the weather was perfect. The snow that had been falling for several days stopped, and the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, illuminating the entire snowfield.
Several large tents were set up in the open space in the center of the tribe, with roasted whole lamb, mare's milk wine and various grassland delicacies laid out inside.
Several surrounding tribes sent people to offer their congratulations. Dozens of people crowded the open space, children darted in and out of the crowd, and the barking of dogs rose and fell, making it as lively as the New Year.
Today, Batel wore a brand-new sheepskin robe with a red silk sash around his waist. The playful energy on his face had subsided considerably, and he actually looked quite like an adult.
The bride, Surina, was a girl with a round face and big eyes. She had two shallow dimples when she smiled. She was gentle and obedient and followed Batel to toast the elders one by one.
When it was Chen Fan's turn, Batel pulled Su Rina to kneel down in front of him, holding a bowl of mare's milk wine above their heads with both hands.
The noise inside the tent gradually subsided, and everyone looked at the dark-skinned, taciturn stranger.
Chen Fan took the wine bowl, looked at the two children kneeling in front of him, and remained silent for a moment.
He had seen similar looks from Xiaodie and Shi San in the Golden Bowl Space.
That is a child's respect and dependence on their elders, pure and without any ulterior motives.
At that time, he never felt like a real elder; he was just a monk, a passerby, someone who could leave at any moment.
Standing in this tent, surrounded by the gazes of a group of ordinary herdsmen, Chen Fan suddenly felt that he really was Batel's master, the master who taught him how to raise horses, how to be a person, and who saved his life when his father was dying.
He held the wine bowl steady and slowly began to speak.
His voice remained in that indifferent tone, yet each word carried an indescribable weight, as if blown by the wind across the grasslands.
"May the spirits of the grasslands protect you. May your sheep always be fat and strong, may your tents always be warm, and may your descendants be as free as the wild horses of the grasslands."
After he finished speaking, he brought the wine bowl to his lips and drank it all in one gulp, then showed the bottom of the bowl to everyone.
A cheer erupted in the tent. Some clapped, some whistled, and Batu grinned from ear to ear as he poured wine for everyone.
Batel and Surina kowtowed three times before standing up, their eyes sparkling.
The wedding lasted for a full day and night.
Chen Fan sat in the crowd, holding a wine bowl and looking at the lively scene before him. Suddenly, he remembered his days in the Dayuan Imperial Palace.
Back then, the palace would be decorated with lanterns and colorful decorations during festivals, but all the excitement belonged to others.
The eunuchs could only stand in the corner to serve him, not daring to even laugh loudly. But now, in this simple sheepskin tent, being toasted and entertained by a group of unfamiliar herdsmen, he felt more at ease than in the palace.
The cicada gently fluttered its wings in his sleeve, emitting a very faint buzzing sound. During this period, it quietly fell asleep several times, and each time it woke up, the dark gold patterns on its carapace became clearer, and the pure black tentacles beside its mouthparts became thicker.
Chen Fan knew that it was also accumulating power, just one step away from its next breakthrough. But he didn't urge it or deliberately feed it with spiritual energy; he simply let it grow naturally in rhythm with the grassland.
Just like himself, he was neither impatient nor anxious, nor did he rush or demand anything; he let everything take its natural course.
As winter deepens, snow falls one after another.
The herders in the tribe huddled in their tents, drinking and chatting around the fireplace, living a long and leisurely life.
Chen Fan's tent was more lively than usual.
Since the news spread that he had saved Batu with a few herbs, more and more people have been coming to him for treatment.
First, it was the herders from several nearby tribes who suffered frostbite, broke their legs, had women experience difficult childbirth, and had children with fevers.
Chen Fan treated each patient without accepting any payment, using only the most common herbal remedies.
His methods seemed unremarkable, nothing more than observation, listening, questioning, palpation, herbal medicine, and acupuncture. However, the herders who had spent half their lives nomadic on the grasslands keenly discovered that as long as this outsider had examined them, even the most serious illnesses could be cured.
Gradually, people from tribes a hundred miles away came to visit, some queuing up in front of their tents, leading sheep or carrying children, waiting for most of the day in the wind and snow.
Chen Fan neither deliberately pandered to this nor deliberately avoided it. He would watch when people came, and continue chopping wood and feeding the horses when no one came.
He never refused anyone, nor did he ever show any contempt for the suffering of mortals because of his status as a monk.
For ordinary people, the cold is as deadly as inner demons are for cultivators.
Chen Fan had spent sixty-eight years in the palace and had seen far too many low-ranking eunuchs die silently from minor illnesses, left unattended. He still remembered the manner of their deaths, so he would not refuse.
One evening, an old herdsman carrying his grandson, who had a persistent high fever, traveled thirty miles to find him. Chen Fan used herbal decoctions and acupuncture to bring down the child's fever and prescribed several doses of medicine for the old herdsman to take back.
The old herdsman was moved to tears and said he wanted to give him his daughter's sheepskin coat as a token of his gratitude, but Chen Fan simply waved his hand and refused to accept it.
Batu sat at the entrance of the tent watching this scene. After the doctor finished his treatment, he came in, sat down by the stove, and rubbed his hands, which were red from the cold. "Your medical skills are better than those Gu cultivators in Wan Gu City. I've heard that Gu cultivators can also heal people, but they use Gu worms and charge dozens of sheep for each treatment. You, on the other hand, don't even charge a single sheep."
"I only know a little bit." Chen Fan didn't even look up as he sorted and wrapped the herbs in his hand.
"You're too modest with just a little knowledge," Batu grinned, took a swig from the wine jug, and handed it to him.
As winter fades and spring arrives, the snow on the grassland begins to melt, and the first tender green shoot peeks out from the frozen soil.
The herders in the tribe began to get busy, driving their flocks to more fertile pastures, the women busily tanning the sheepskins they had collected over the winter, and the children chasing and playing by the lake, as if they were trying to unleash all the energy they had been holding back all winter.