Under the ink-blue canopy of the sky, moonlight cascaded down like water onto the vast and boundless desert. The night in the desert was gentle, devoid of the dazzling sunlight of daytime and the howling winds; all that remained was a serene and solemn tranquility. The Crescent Spring lay quietly amidst the infinity, just as it had been for centuries, its jade-blue waters perpetually flowing.
 
The melodious sound of camel bells drew nearer, gradually breaking the silence of the night. A young woman, clad in a red dress, descended gracefully from the camel's back, her black hair flowing freely in the night breeze. She murmured softly as she approached the legendary Crescent Spring:
 
"In the sky, a crescent moon,
On the earth, a crescent spring.
If you have doubts,
Go tell the Crescent Spring,
She will tell you the answer,
She is the miracle of the desert."
 
As she drew closer, her eyes shimmered like water, clear and profound. Just like the waters of the Crescent Spring, shimmering with a jade-green hue, only visible under the gentle moonlight, revealing a hint of melancholy in her gaze.
 
The furthest memory should be from when I was four years old. The brash Prince Dushi released two fierce leopards, and I, unaware of the danger, reached out curiously to touch the leopard's head. It was he who, at the critical moment, lifted me up and shielded me in his arms, narrowly escaping the leopard's claws. At such a young age, he already had a chivalrous heart.
 
Those were the best times, weren't they? Childhood innocence, with no secrets. Riding horses through the reeds, galloping freely. We learned horseback riding, archery, and hunting on horseback in the wilderness. I couldn't tame the little red horse I had set my eyes on, but he, with his skillful riding, tamed it effortlessly. Finally, when the horse was exhausted, he brought it to me and said, "Huazheng, this horse you like, I'm giving it to you." He smiled at me, his eyes clear and flawless, like the vast sky on the grassland. Naively, I thought that because of him, I would live a joyful and carefree life forever.
 
But I am Huazheng, the daughter of Genghis Khan, a princess of the grassland, the wife appointed by my father to the Prince of the Kereyit tribe. Tribal marriages were bound to be common on the grassland.
 
Ten years later, he was exceptionally strong and had extraordinary eyesight. In the famous archery contest, he shot two eagles with one arrow, displaying unmatched courage. The crowd cheered, and my father was delighted, asking him what reward he desired. After a moment's thought, he said, "I only ask that the Khan not betroth Huazheng to Dushi." With such intentions, I knew I hadn't misjudged him. However, the betrothal set by the Khan couldn't be easily annulled. It wasn't until my father was trapped by the Kereyit tribe, and he helped my father to defeat them, that a glimmer of hope arose in my heart. During the celebration that night, my father, slightly intoxicated, said to him, "I bestow upon you the brightest star of the Mongolian grassland, my daughter, Princess Huazheng. You are my golden knife son-in-law."
 
In that moment, I heard the sound of every flower blooming on the distant and silent grassland. But flowers eventually wither. He returned to the Central Plains to avenge his father, and on the eve of his departure, he bid farewell as lightly as usual, without even a word of longing or reluctance. That was when I should have realized.
 
Seasons passed, and life moved on. Beyond the grassland to the north lay the Jiangnan region, where mist enveloped the warm waters, and birds sang sweetly. The mountains and rivers of Jiangnan were enchanting, with willow trees swaying in the spring breeze, lotuses blooming along the riverbanks in summer, and the fragrance of osmanthus flowers filling the air in autumn. These were landscapes I had never seen. I wondered if his heart had softened amidst these sights.
 
Perhaps encounters in life are just like this, utterly irrational. Regardless of who came first or last, it's all about that fleeting moment of recognition; it doesn't matter how many years we spent together, just that moment of heartfelt connection.
 
So, my "Brother Guo Jing" became her "Brother Jing."
 
She, in Jiangnan, was as beautiful and intelligent as a painting, exuding charm and grace. The sparkle in his eyes as he looked at her was a radiance I had never seen before. In that instant, my heart shattered, scattering to the ground. From beginning to end, it was all my own wishful thinking. Though his eyes held guilt and sorrow when they met mine, I knew it was only because of the promise he carried. I left despondently, perhaps only the vastness of the grassland could heal me, perhaps only our two white eagles could bring me a glimmer of hope. Indeed, he did return to the grassland, but not for me. Watching him worry for her, I couldn't help but feel desolate: "Go find her, ten years, twenty years, as long as I live, I'll always be waiting for you on this grassland." I said this to him, but really, I said it to myself. In truth, I had always known he never promised, nor did he ever fail me.
 
And so it fades.
 
A tear trickled down her cheek, slowly flowing. The Crescent Spring listened quietly, still serene and peaceful. The young woman's heart was clear, just like the waters of the Crescent Spring. She took out the sheepskin parchment and a small golden knife she carried with her, and slowly carved a few lines of Mongolian script:
 
"My master marches south to attack Xiangyang, to hear of your loyalty to the country at the risk of your life. I have heard of the tragic death of your mother, ashamed to face you again, I head west to the ends of the earth to rely on my elder brother, never to return to my homeland. May you cherish yourself and have boundless blessings."
 
A distant red glow emerged in the eastern sky. Huazheng gently shook off the yellow sand from her red dress and mounted her camel. The sound of the camel bells faded into the distance as she rode westward. As the wind rose, the yellow sand danced, and the camel's footprints disappeared one by one, as if they had never been there.