Obtained a Mount: Dark Cloud

The room was dimly lit, with a simple altar table placed in the center. On it were a few neatly arranged offerings: an ancient incense burner with wisps of smoke curling up, a pair of candlesticks casting a warm glow, and a selection of fresh seasonal fruits exuding a faint fragrance.

Hanging behind the altar was a portrait of a woman with gentle eyes and a subtle smile. Her expression seemed to transcend time, conveying a quiet and intimate presence.

Dan Dage walked to the altar, stood still, and bowed deeply with his hands clasped in salute, his expression devout. His gaze remained fixed on the portrait, silently recounting memories of the past.

Standing to the side, Wei Lan quickly followed suit, mimicking his gesture with a bow and clasped hands. In her heart, she murmured, “Sister-in-law, please forgive me. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Seeing Dan Dage’s sincere yet sorrowful expression, Wei Lan felt a pang of sympathy. She softly said, “Dan Dage, my condolences.”

Dan Dage smiled faintly, his expression tinged with helplessness. “She passed away years ago.”

Wei Lan hesitated before cautiously asking, “Dan Dage, have you ever considered remarrying? You’re in your prime, skilled in archery, and handsome. Wouldn’t it be nice to find someone to share your life with?”

Dan Dage was briefly stunned but then shook his head. “Years ago, my wife and I swore before heaven and earth—one life, one love. After she left, I never considered marrying again.”

Only then did Wei Lan realize that despite the passing years, Dan Dage still referred to his late wife as “my wife.” Her heart stirred with admiration—such deep and unwavering love, unchanged even in the face of death.

Recalling his beloved wife, Dan couldn’t help but reminisce: “That year, she coughed terribly. Even lighting a fire at the stove left her gasping for breath.”

A gentle smile touched his lips, his eyes filled with warmth as if recounting a sweet memory. “But she insisted on making my favorite wild vegetable pancakes.”

Then, his expression darkened slightly, and his voice dropped. “In the later days, she lay in bed all day, coughing as if she would cough up her very soul. Your brother carried his medicine chest every day to treat her. Thanks to him, she lived a little longer.”

Wei Lan grasped the red silk tassel hanging from the altar, gently twirling it around her fingers. “And then?”

Dan Dage took out a small oil-paper packet from his sleeve and carefully unwrapped it, revealing a few pine nut candies. “In her last six months, she relied on these sweets to counter the bitterness of the medicine.” He placed one before the portrait. “Later, every time I hunted a pheasant, I would send the fattest one to your brother as payment for his kindness.”

Hearing this, Wei Lan felt a lump in her throat. So all those wild pheasants and rabbits Dan Dage had sent over weren’t just gifts—they were expressions of gratitude.

She hesitated before speaking, but then bit her tongue. The person was gone; it wasn’t right to ask about her illness. She mentally scolded herself—occupational habit, must change that!

Dan Dage wiped the incense burner with his sleeve, the weak light reflecting off his slightly reddened eyes. After a brief silence, he lifted the blue curtain and said, “It’s time to water the plants.”

Wei Lan peeked outside and saw Jiabao digging frantically in the vegetable patch, his yellow tail kicking up dirt everywhere. She gasped, “Jiabao! That’s the sweet potato seedlings we just planted!”

She quickly lifted her skirt and ran outside, grabbing Jiabao’s ears with a light twist. The little dog immediately played dead, eyes shut tight, its black nose still covered in mud.

Cicadas chirped in the background. Dan Dage stood at the doorway, watching the lively scene at the vegetable patch. A faint smile touched his lips. In that moment, he was transported back to a summer long ago, when someone had crouched by the field ridge, smiling at him just as brightly.

He stepped into the field, straightened the fence post that Wei Lan had accidentally knocked over, and resumed tilling the soil.

Wei Lan noticed his silence, seemingly lost in thought, and decided to change the subject with a grin. “Dan Dage, I need your advice! I want to buy a strong horse, but I don’t know how to judge its teeth or hooves. You’re always in the mountains—you must be an expert in choosing horses!”

Dan Dage pressed his hoe into the soil and rolled up his sleeves, revealing tanned, muscular forearms. “If you’re not in a rush, let me finish planting these sweet potatoes.”

“Nonsense!” Wei Lan knelt down and began filling the soil back in. “I’ll help you.”

Jiabao yipped happily and joined in, kicking dirt with his little paws.

As the sun tilted westward, the two were already on the main road. The donkey’s copper bell jingled as Jiabao ran circles around it, thoroughly entertained.

They soon arrived at Wangcheng’s horse market. The stone-paved ground, polished smooth by countless hooves, gleamed underfoot. Hundreds of hitching posts lined the street, with horses either standing or resting. Horse traders shouted, buyers weaved through the crowd, and the air was thick with the scent of hay.

As Wei Lan took in the sight, a loud voice called out behind her, “Miss, look over here! A Treading Snow Colt from Liangzhou—can run 300 miles a day without breaking a sweat!”

“Be careful,” Dan Dage gently guided her away from a puddle, shielding her from the splashing mud. “The southern horse market is full of old or sick horses from the north. That so-called Treading Snow Colt? Its hooves are cracked, and its eyes are yellow—probably had liver disease.”

He led her toward the eastern section, where traders from the southwest displayed sturdy, mountain-adapted Dian horses.

Dan Dage brushed aside tall grass and led her into a shaded stable. The horses here had glossy coats and were peacefully chewing alfalfa hay.

“How do you pick one from so many?” Wei Lan asked curiously.

“Choosing a horse is like choosing a friend,” Dan Dage said softly, running his fingers through a dark green horse’s mane. “First, see if it dares to meet your gaze.” He suddenly grasped its halter, and the horse raised its amber eyes, looking at them clearly and calmly. Its warm breath brushed against Wei Lan’s temple.

At that moment, Jiabao darted out of a pile of hay, startling two horses into rearing up.

Before Wei Lan could scold him, the little fluffball leaped onto a jet-black horse with white hooves.

A trader rushed over, waving a brush. “Ah! This little rascal! That horse fears strangers the most—”

But the black horse only flicked its tail and continued munching hay, unfazed by Jiabao’s presence.

Dan Dage’s lips curved slightly as he examined the horse’s muscles. “Steady in a scare, well-proportioned build.”

He tapped its flank lightly, making it lift a hoof. “Judging by the wear, this horse has traveled at least 3,000 miles through the Yun-Gui mountains.”

In the end, after bargaining with the trader, they secured the horse for thirty taels of silver.

Back home, Wei Lan stroked the sleek black horse, eyes full of admiration. “What a beauty! I’ll name you ‘Dark Cloud.’”

The horse neighed, tapping its hooves in response.

Dan Dage smiled. “It likes the name.”

That night, as the sound of grinding herbs filled the air, Wei Lan made a cozy bed of old cotton jackets for Dark Cloud. The horse nuzzled her gently in thanks.

Jiabao sniffed at the trough but was met with a playful snort from Dark Cloud, sending alfalfa-scented air into his face. Jiabao let out a dramatic little yelp, looking both indignant and adorable.