Nurhaci's fifth son, Mang Gurtai, who is ranked third in Heshuo Baylor, has just returned to the vicinity of Hetuala.
After his beloved Yehe shaman witch was executed by his father, Mang Gurtai asked for orders to leave the city. For the purpose of sentinel inspection, he went south to Dingliao Youwei and then turned back.
On the one hand, it is to detect the general defense of the Ming army in the south of Hetuala, so as to estimate the danger of being attacked in the Jurchen backyard of Jianzhou when they attack next year.
On the other hand, I just came out to relieve my anger.
Unexpectedly, I met my cousin whom I had not seen for many years.
Mang Gurtai's mother and Yilanzhu's mother were both from the Fucha family. They were close to each other when they were in the boudoir, and they married into the Aixinjueluo family at the same time.
Nurhachi and Shuerhaqi each have a lot of women, and the relationship between their half-brothers and sisters is uncertain. For example, Mang Gurtai was extremely disgusted with Huang Taiji, the eighth elder brother who was now called Sibeile.
After reporting the shaman witch incident this time, Mang Gurtai even gritted his teeth and lamented that his brother's cruelty was indeed like Ama's. The self that is not cunning enough and unaware of vigilance is like the dead Uncle Shuerhaqi.
As for Fucha's aunt, Mang Gurtai often visited her with her mother since she was a child. She also had a close relationship with her aunt's only daughter Yilanzhu, even better than her sister.
The Fucha family is a large Jurchen family, but Fucha's aunt is just a little Fujin with a low status. When Shuerhaqi chose a daughter to give to Li Chengliang, the Li family of the Ming Dynasty, he chose the docile and taciturn Yilanzhu. Fucha's aunt No matter how much tears you cry, you can't change it.
Seventeen-year-old Mang Gurtai drove a convoy, filled with sorrow and humiliation, to send his young and ignorant little sister Yilanzhu westward along the Taizi River to Liaoyang, the most important town in Liaodong of the Ming Empire.
Twelve years passed by, and I had not changed much from youth to adulthood, so my cousin recognized him easily.
And the little cousin has changed from that weak and timid young girl to a graceful young woman. The difference between before and after is huge.
When they recognized each other, Mang Gurtai suddenly realized that it was actually much better for his sister to marry far away from the Ming Dynasty than to stay in Hetuala and see his father Shuerhaqi die at the hands of his siblings.
Later, he learned that his sister already had two children. This time, the Ming court wanted to let her return to her hometown to pay homage. She also saw that the Ming government was accompanied by bodyguards with decent military appearance, as well as loads of brocade cloth and tea leaves. Mang Gur Tai's complexion became better and better.
But Mang Gurtai asked a few more questions about Zheng Haizhu.
This was the first time Zheng Haizhu saw a living Jianzhou man, the famous Sanbeile Mang Gurtai.
He is naturally very different from the heroic and handsome Lord Baylor in those idol dramas. He is a rough-boned warrior with slightly protruding gums and a face full of pockmarks left by smallpox. In his narrow eyes, he has the look of when facing his relatives. He has a gentle smile, but also has a fierce vigilance when looking at outsiders like her.
However, he speaks Chinese quite fluently.
Zheng Haizhu showed an expression that was half nervous and half fawning, and stated that she was a junior of Yilanzhu's friend and was entrusted to bring gifts to the East.
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"Her Nanjin Nanbu is very good, brother. If we need silk and cotton cloth in Jianzhou from now on, let's buy it from Miss Zheng." Yi Lanzhu innocently supported from the side.
Mang Gurtai sneered in his heart.
Whatever you want to buy, just grab it. Not only the brocade cloth, but also the Ming Dynasty women like them can be snatched directly.
But now, Mang Gurtai calmly waved his hand to Zheng Haizhu: "I have something to talk to my sister, you go down."
…
Aya walked out of a side room of the inn.
She had just finished answering Miss Zheng's cross-examination about the general content of the string of Jurchen words Yi Lanzhu and Mang Gurtai said when they recognized each other.
It's just a surprise exchange between close relatives when they meet again.
After hearing this, Zheng Haizhu asked her with concern: "Aya, are you okay? In the days to come, you have to continue to be patient. You will see many Jianzhou men like Mang Gurtai today."
Aya said calmly: "Aya's life was given by the girl, and Aya will not harm the girl."
Seeing the relief on Zheng Haizhu's face, Aya said he would get her hot water to soak her feet, and by the way, he would go and see how the horse in his team with a hoof ulcerated two days ago was doing.
Arriving in the courtyard, Aya took a deep breath of cold air.
For the first time, she found that it was very difficult to pretend not to understand when she returned to a Jurchen-speaking world.
She would react to those words involuntarily, and for a moment she almost revealed her secret. Fortunately, Mu Zaohua glared at her.
"I don't understand, I don't understand..." She muttered silently as she walked towards the stable.
A horse caught her eye.
It's not because of the beautiful coat and fine saddle, but because of the sound of the horse's snorting and the way it taps its hooves.
Aya, who has been raising horses with her parents since she was a child, is very familiar with this, as familiar as hearing her mother tongue.
There must be something wrong with the horse, either sick or injured.
Aya walked over, first used a skillful technique to soothe the horse's neck and shoulder blades, and brought the condom close. Then he took off the hanging oil lamp and leaned down to check the horse's hooves.
"What are you doing!"
A stern Jurchen language from a male voice sounded like thunder behind him.
Aya's shoulders suddenly shook in fright, and the oil lamp in his hand dropped.
Immediately afterwards, Mu Zaohua exclaimed: "Aya, you still come out to blow the cold wind, be careful of the baby in your belly!"
Aya turned around and saw Mu Zaohua running out from behind Mang Gurtai. She first picked up the oil lamp that was about to roll into the grass, and then stretched out her other hand to support her.
The two women, who remained silent, experienced a brief silence.
Mang Gurtai seemed to be in a daze and was silent for a moment before speaking again: "Are you two the wrappers of slave Zheng?"
He used Jurchen dialect.
He was answered with two pairs of frightened and blank eyes, obviously not understanding.
Mang Gurtai changed to Chinese and said, "Are you that Miss Zheng's maid?"
Mu Zaohua nodded quickly.
Mang Gurtai walked to the horse and asked, "Why did you touch my horse?"
A Arthur shrank and replied: "The horse's hoof seems to be injured."
Mang Gurtai frowned, took the oil lamp from Mu Zaohua, and bent down to inspect it.
Sure enough, there was an iron thorn stuck in a very hidden place above the left front hoof.
In winter, the road is covered with heavy snow, and the snow is thick enough to cover up the danger. Horses will suffer hidden disadvantages in places where the horseshoe cannot protect them.
Mang Gurtai's expression softened a little: "I understand, please step back."
Mu Zaohua pulled Aya, knelt down deeply, bowed her head and walked away.
After walking a few steps, Mang Gurtai stopped them again.
He walked up to Mu Zaohua and stared at her with lowered eyes: "What's your name?"
"The grass people call it Zaohua."
"Well, Zaohua, next time you must remember that you must kneel down and kowtow to your master before you can retreat."
Mu Zaohua bit her back teeth and cursed in her heart: Mr. Wu won't even let me kowtow, so you're a damn Tatar!
On his face, he still looked helpless and pitiful.
Mang Gurtai shook his head: "Let's go."
The two women, as if granted amnesty, turned around and disappeared into the night.
Mang Gurtai looked at their backs.
"You still come out to blow the cold wind, be careful of the baby in your belly."
Those words just now made him feel suddenly confused.
Although one speaks Jurchen dialect and the other speaks Ming dialect.
The loyal servant who spoke Jurchen language had been brutally strangled before his mistress, the shaman Yehe.
