I don’t want to let Tunshe Nalin see that I was at a disadvantage. I bit my lip and endured, my fingers unconsciously digging into the carvings on the door, but my stomach pain worsened with each cough, and cold sweat began to pour down. Just as I felt I couldn’t hold on any longer, I suddenly heard a deep voice from across the room: “Qin Ran.”
I suppressed my cough, snorted, and walked towards him.
Last night you were so passionate, kissing and biting me like crazy, and today you refused to admit it. It’s nothing more than you couldn’t control yourself because of my face, you felt guilty when you sobered up, and you couldn’t face it. There is no other possibility. I’m not stupid, can’t I guess this?
But I, Qin Ran, am not some poor victim who is willing to play the substitute game with you.
You are the muse I vow to capture. Since you are attracted by my appearance, I will use it as bait to lure you out of your Garden of Eden. You can’t find your sweetheart, but here I am, always in front of you day and night. Over time, am I still afraid that I can’t win you over?
I thought to myself as I walked over to the low table and sat cross-legged.
But as soon as I sat down, the pain in my stomach became more pronounced, it was a burning sensation—this was not a good sign.
Seeing him hand the scroll in front of me, I lifted my head and squinted at him. “Tunshe Nalin, to play this goddess consort role and meet you, I’ve been starving since last night. I need to have breakfast.”
“Break, fast?” Tunshe Nalin froze, holding the scroll in mid-air, as if the word I said was something completely unfamiliar, far beyond his usual vocabulary.
“What’s this? Do people here not eat breakfast?” I propped my elbow up and rested my chin in my hand. “You want the horse to run, but you don’t even feed it grass—how can you be like this?”
He stood still for a moment, as if thinking, then took out his bone flute from his waistband and blew a short note. The sound of an eagle’s cry echoed, and soon after, I heard heavy and slow footsteps approaching from the door, followed by a knock—”du-du,” the door was knocked.
“God, Lord.” A man’s voice came, it was flat and without inflection.
“Come in.”
The door was pushed open, and a tall, gaunt man wrapped in a sheepskin cloak, his face hidden in shadows, walked in with stiff steps, holding a tray of something in his hands.
I was surprised to find that there were other people inside the snow mountain. Moreover, did Tunshe Nalin just blow a whistle and transmit signals to his servant without saying a word?
The man in the cloak knelt down, crawling towards Tunshe Nalin, and placed the plate in front of him. When I saw what was on the plate, I was stunned.
The dough mixed with grains… shaped like a pyramid. Isn’t this the “Torma” they use for offerings to the gods? Tunshe Nalin actually gave this to me to eat? Doesn’t he worry about breaking taboos? And it doesn’t look very appetizing either; it’s probably very hard…
If I eat this, my stomach condition will probably flare up on the spot.
I pursed my lips and frowned. “I’m not eating the offering for your corpse god. Who knows how long it’s been there? I want something fresh and hot to eat and drink. I spent three days grinding the pigments for you… it isn’t too much to ask for you to make me breakfast, right?”
The cloaked man silently crawled out. I couldn’t tell if my request seemed too outrageous to them or not, but he moved so quickly, disappearing without a trace in an instant.
I stared at Tunshe Nalin, noticing that he lowered his head, seemingly looking at me through the blindfold, his brows slightly furrowed. A sense of unease filled my heart. I couldn’t help but wonder if my request would anger him. If it did, and he drove me away in a fit of rage, what would I do?
Maybe I should just compromise…
I tried picking up a small piece of the sticky grain dough at the tip of the “Torma” in front of me and took a bite. The bitter, cold taste made my stomach churn: “Mmm—”
I covered my mouth and suddenly heard another eagle’s cry. I looked up and realized that it was Tunshe Nalin blowing the bone flute again. My furrowed brows relaxed, and I raised an eyebrow, gazing toward the half-open door. Almost immediately, the sound of fluttering wings grew closer from outside.
A red-headed vulture flew in, holding something in its beak. With a dull “thud,” it dropped the object in front of the table, startling me greatly.
It was a wild rabbit, its neck snapped, still twitching slightly.
Tunshe Nalin bent over and picked up the rabbit, walked to the door, and turned his back to me. With a clear sound of flesh tearing, a bloody mass of internal organs fell between his feet. He was actually skinning and gutting the rabbit with his bare hands. I was dumbfounded, smelling the strong smell of blood blowing in the cold wind, and quickly covered my mouth and nose.
As if he noticed my reaction, Tunshe Nalin slightly turned his face, and a hint of mockery seemed to appear at the corner of his mouth—as if he was saying, Don’t you want me to make breakfast for you?
I suddenly realized that the new muse that I took a fancy to at first sight was a mysterious, ferocious, and proud creature like the vulture, wolf, and snowy mountain… he’s like a wild creature that could not be tamed.
This thought was like a handful of diesel poured into my heart, making my already burning desire for conquest surge even higher. I put down my hand that was covering my mouth and nose, picked up a few skull candlesticks, gathered them together, hesitated for a moment, and walked to the window with the plate of “Torma”, poured it all out, and used the copper plate that was vacated to hold the clean new snow on the windowsill.
When I turned around, I saw Tunshe Nalin coming in with a skinned rabbit.
I held the copper plate filled with snow and stared at him provocatively.
Want to scare me off? I’ll do something even more daring to show you.
Anyway, since you dare to give me the offerings to God to eat, you must not be afraid of blaspheming your corpse god. Then I have nothing to be afraid of either. If I pour it out, it also won’t be considered blasphemy.
I don’t know if it was an illusion or not, but the corners of his lips curled up slightly and he actually smiled—as if my behavior did not anger him, but instead greatly pleased him. I felt like I had punched cotton, I was both confused and at a loss. Why is this person so strange?
Is he very happy seeing me pouring out the offerings to the god?
He is the divine shaman of the Nashe tribe!
I looked at him and vaguely remembered yesterday’s ceremony and what Tunshe Nalin said to his people. His attitude towards them was as if he had deep-rooted… disgust and hatred towards them.
Is he also like this to their Corpse God Lord?
No, if that was the case, why didn’t he just leave and even stay in the deep forest? Why? What on earth had Tunshe Nalin experienced?
“Your, breakfast.”
I came to my senses when I heard him speak. I put the copper plate on the skull candlestick, took out the paint cans one by one, and scooped some snow water to mix the mineral color particles.
By the time I finished mixing the paint, the new snow in the copper plate had been boiled into water, and the rabbit meat was emitting a slight aroma, though it smelled a bit fishy.
“Tunshe Nalin, do you have any seasoning?”
“Seasoning?”
Oh my god, does Tunshe Nalin not even know what seasoning is?
“Just salt, pepper, onion, garlic, and so on.”
He shook his head.
I was stunned: “There is not even any seasoning. How do you solve your daily meals in this mountain?” You can’t eat these offerings or gnaw on those skull bones, right?
Tunshe Nalin did not answer. I thought, Maybe his servants prepared it and sent it to him. This man is really just like he looks, he was not interested in worldly things at all.
I had no choice but to eat the unseasoned rabbit meat. Fortunately, although it was a little fishy, the meat was very tender and soft, and it was not difficult to swallow. My stomach felt warm, and I wolfed down a few mouthfuls. I felt a gaze on my face, and when I looked up, I noticed that Tunshe Nalin, who was sitting opposite me, seemed to be looking at me, smiling, as if he found it interesting, but he had no intention of sharing the plate of rabbit meat with me at all.
I picked up a rabbit leg and handed it to him: “You… you should eat some too.”
“I won’t, eat.”
He doesn’t eat meat? Or had he already eaten it? I was chewing the rabbit meat, wondering, He is so tall and so strong, he should not be someone who doesn’t eat meat.
Maybe he just doesn’t like eating rabbit meat.
Seeing that the mountain vulture next to me had not flown away yet and was staring at me with its blood-red pupils, I tore off a piece of rabbit meat and threw it to it. It lowered its head to sniff it, glanced at the forest, and seemed to eat it. I felt a little amused and remembered the day when I asked it to deliver the painting.
—Did Tunshe Nalin accept the sunset I gave him?
As I was thinking this, I choked and coughed, and my stomach started to hurt again.
…Please don’t get gastritis on this snowy mountain.
I didn’t dare to eat any more and tried to move the copper plate to make room. But before my fingers could touch the plate, he suddenly grabbed my wrists and said, “Don’t hurt your hands.”
I was stunned and realized that this would burn me.
Tunshe Nalin picked up the hot copper plate with one hand and threw it on the ground outside the door, where a pile of rabbit entrails was spread out, as if he could not feel the temperature at all. With a “whoosh”, a group of vultures suddenly landed from the eaves, but they did not eat. Instead, they formed a neat circle. It was not until the vulture with red head feathers flew among them and took the first bite of meat that the other vultures started to eat. It turned out that it was their leader.
The sight of Tunshe Nalin sitting quietly in front of the group of vultures eating is a picture that cannot be surpassed. I missed the moment when I first met him, and I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to paint this moment again. My fingers trembled slightly, and I grabbed the paintbrush in the back basket, but there was no other paper or canvas on the table except the painting he gave me to touch up.
“Tunshe Nalin, can you give me a piece of white paper or canvas? I want to draw you.” I was so excited that I almost begged him.
“I want you to come, to help me fix the painting.” His tone was cold and unmoved.
It was like being poured with a basin of ice water, but it was actually poured into a frying pan. My passion for painting was not extinguished but burned even more vigorously. I took a deep breath, my fingers dug into my flesh, and told myself to be patient—he is here, I had no shortage of inspiration, and it would not be too late to paint him after finishing this painting. With trembling hands, I opened the old painting he asked me to fix.
A strange fragrance mixed with stale air entered my nose, and that feeling of panic came back again.
When I saw this gorgeous and delicate ancient painting again, instead of appreciating it, I somehow developed a strong aversion to it. I hated it to the point of nausea. I wanted to tear the painting into pieces, throw it into the fire and burn it to ashes, and then run away from it.
I was shocked by my own strange impulse.
What’s wrong… what’s wrong with me? Of course, I think this painting is not well done, but I shouldn’t be wanting to destroy it either. Is it because of… envy?
Am I envious?
I have never experienced such a strange feeling before, and I feel confused and lost.
For fear that Tunshe Nalin would notice something, I forced myself to remain calm and slowly spread the scroll on the table, fearing that I would tear the already brittle leather canvas in a fit of impulse.
