A pheasant had to have its throat cut and be bled before cooking, plucking it straight away was not only cruel to the bird, but putting it in the pot like that would leave the meat a bit red, looking less than fresh.
There were no bowls here. On the way back Qin Ziheng had brought along two bamboos, and he cut a bamboo tube to serve as a bowl before beginning to bleed the fowl. Mao Xiaoshu had quite the appetite, so Qin Ziheng thought to kill four and keep four. Four pheasants didn’t have much blood, not even half a tube. He’d just finished dressing them when Mao Xiaoshu came trotting back happily cradling a pot of water.
Once the water boiled, Qin Ziheng scalded the thoroughly dead fowl in it, then took the four pheasants and, with Mao Xiaoshu shouldering the pot, they went to the river together.
This time when Mao Xiaoshu plucked the feathers, his eyes were bright, he found it unbelievable. The pheasants in the grove had few natural predators, so they lived quite long, the older they got, the harder to pluck, but scalded, they came off easily.
Once plucked and gutted, Qin Ziheng found a wooden stump and a few big tree leaves, laid the leaves on the ground, and began chopping the fowl.
It was very sunny at the river, no shade anywhere. Mao Xiaoshu washed the pot clean, rinsed the chicken intestines and kidneys as Qin Ziheng had told him, then crouched to one side watching Qin Ziheng chop the meat. Qin Ziheng told him to go back first, it was too sunny, but he shook his head, refusing to leave for anything, his cheeks flushed red from the sun.
Helpless, Qin Ziheng could only quicken his pace.
Mao Xiaoshu’s pot was very large, four pheasants didn’t even fill it. Qin Ziheng couldn’t fathom how the Beast World’s scallops grew so huge. He added a bit of water to the pot and then took Mao Xiaoshu back.
The pheasants were a bit old and really should be cooked a good while, but Qin Ziheng was very hungry, and Mao Xiaoshu was terribly ravenous, back home he still wouldn’t go into the cave, crouching by the pot as it cooked. Even flushed from the sun, drenched in sweat, he wouldn’t go inside, he just stared into the pot, not moving.
Qin Ziheng found the sight of him a little pitiful. His own family had been poor when he was small, at six, a catty of pork actually cost only five yuan, and even so his family could only manage a meat meal once in a long while. Every time meat was cooked, he too would stay in the kitchen like Mao Xiaoshu, unwilling to go anywhere, and Grandpa would tease him for being a little glutton-cat back then.
Apart from yesterday’s meal, Mao Xiaoshu probably hadn’t eaten meat in a very long time.
Almost the instant the chicken was done, Qin Ziheng lifted the pot off, and Mao Xiaoshu followed close on his heels into the cave.
Pheasant meat wasn’t fatty, not like feed-raised chicken with a belly full of grease, but the skin was very yellow, and very fragrant, cooked only this little while, a layer of yellow oil already floated on top.
The pot was set on the ground.
There were no stools, so Qin Ziheng and Mao Xiaoshu sat cross-legged right by the pot. Although it hadn’t cooked long, the chicken smelled fit to kill, and Mao Xiaoshu grinned ear to ear at the sight of the whole big pot of it.
Qin Ziheng first picked out two drumsticks, put them in a bamboo tube, and handed it to Mao Xiaoshu. “It’s very hot, blow on it first, don’t burn your mouth.”
“Xiaoshu knows.” Mao Xiaoshu took it with both hands, saying it anxiously. The tube wasn’t big, and it could barely hold two drumsticks. Mao Xiaoshu looked them over and finally grabbed the bigger one and blew at it furiously. Seeing he wasn’t rushing to stuff it into his mouth, Qin Ziheng felt reassured and reached for meat.
But the moment he reached out, a big drumstick was suddenly held out to him. Qin Ziheng blinked and looked at Mao Xiaoshu, puzzled.
“…Is this for me to eat?”
Mao Xiaoshu nodded hard. “Mm. Xiaoshu blew it cool. This one has lots of meat, for Qin Ziheng to eat.”
Qin Ziheng very much wanted to say no need, there was more in the pot, but meeting Mao Xiaoshu’s bright, utterly untainted eyes, he found himself, as if bewitched, taking a bite right from Mao Xiaoshu’s hand. “There. You eat it.”
Mao Xiaoshu, anxious, was about to say something more, but Qin Ziheng added, “There’s plenty in the pot.”
Compared with drumsticks, Qin Ziheng preferred other cuts. Drumsticks had a lot of thick meat, but the meat inside was flavorless, the bone-in pieces were tastier.
Mao Xiaoshu looked, there really was still plenty in the pot, and plenty of soup too. Qin Ziheng wouldn’t go without, so, thus reassured, he happily gnawed the drumstick.
“So good, so good.”
The chicken wasn’t very tender, even a bit tough. Conditions were crude, it had been cooked in a rush, no seasonings added, not even salt, but free-range chicken had a natural sweetness to it, wild pheasant all the more, the more you chewed, the more fragrant it got, and the soup was delicious, wonderfully fresh.
Mao Xiaoshu must have been half-starved, he ate very fast. Two big drumsticks were gone in a couple of gulps, like a person licking an ice pop, the drumstick seemed only to skim past his mouth, and a big chunk was gone. His cheeks bulged, working up and down, his little curls bobbing along, rather like a greedy squirrel, quite adorable.
Qin Ziheng poured a bit of soup into a bamboo tube, blew on it, and handed it to Mao Xiaoshu. “Have some soup, don’t choke, slow down.”
Mao Xiaoshu nodded obediently, and after two sips of soup fell to wolfing down meat again. He hadn’t eaten meat in ages, and was hungry, how could he slow down.
Qin Ziheng ate more genteelly. The chicken was chopped into big pieces and was tough, so he always chewed a long while before swallowing. Although the cave was crude and they sat right on the ground without the least ceremony, Qin Ziheng, fair-skinned, back straight, fingers long, features striking, somehow made a pleasant sight even eating meat and drinking soup.
Mao Xiaoshu stole a couple of glances. He didn’t know what it meant to “eat well with a good view,” but he felt today’s Cluck-Cluck Beast was extra fragrant, he could eat a whole big pot.
“Uncle?” Someone suddenly called from the cave mouth.
Qin Ziheng followed the sound and found a child of four or five, bare fist-sized bottom on display, little birdie swinging, standing unabashedly and fixedly at the cave mouth.
Qin Ziheng started again.
Like Mao Xiaoshu, the child had two human ears, and on top of his head two fluffy cat ears as well.
“Aiya.” Mao Xiaoshu stood up and went over to the child happily. “Guoguo, how’d you come?”
Guoguo held a wad of something green in his arms. When Mao Xiaoshu got close, he first stole a glance at Qin Ziheng, then tipped his head up and said to Mao Xiaoshu in a small voice, “Mother went gathering this morning and found lots of black-fruit. Mother told me to bring it over to Uncle.”
The fruit was wrapped in a big lotus leaf by Mao Xiaohe, a very large bundle. Qin Ziheng hadn’t known what black-fruit was, when Mao Xiaoshu opened it he took a look, it turned out to be wild rose-myrtle berries.
This stuff was far tastier than pucker-fruit. The tribe’s females, demi-beasts, and children all loved it, and when the beasts came across it hunting they’d bring some back for the females at home. With so many pickers, wild rose-myrtle had become quite rare.
“Uncle.” Guoguo hugged Mao Xiaoshu’s leg and, pointing shyly at Qin Ziheng, asked Mao Xiaoshu in a small voice, “Who… who is he?”
That Mao Xiaoshu had picked up a demi-beast, no one in the whole tribe knew except Grandpa Rabbit, and Grandpa Rabbit wasn’t a gossip. Qin Ziheng had only woken yesterday and hadn’t strolled about the tribe, so no one knew Mao Xiaoshu had brought a beast home.
Mao Xiaoshu said excitedly, “He’s Qin Ziheng. He’s going to live with Uncle from now on, Uncle has family now too.”
Guoguo blinked.
Noticing him staring at himself, Qin Ziheng gave a slight smile. “You’re called Guoguo? Are you Xiaohe’s son?”
He knew Mao Xiaoshu had a sister called Mao Xiaohe.
Guoguo’s face went bright red. He kept his head down, looking rather bashful and coy, and at the words nodded very lightly.
One look told you he was a shy child, and somehow he was a bit like Mao Xiaoshu. On the first day Qin Ziheng woke, Mao Xiaoshu had been just the same, Qin Ziheng had only offered a word of praise and Mao Xiaoshu had ducked his head bashfully, not daring to look at him. Nephew takes after uncle, it really was true.
Mao Xiaoshu asked Guoguo whether he’d eaten. Guoguo shook his head.
Mao Xiaoshu immediately ran over to Qin Ziheng, leaned close to his ear, and asked in a tiny voice whether his little nephew could have some meat too. Qin Ziheng said “Mm,” and Mao Xiaoshu, delighted, ran straight out of the cave, pulled a twig from the pile of bamboo gathered yesterday, folded it once, and made Guoguo a little pair of chopsticks.
Guoguo felt a bit awkward. He understood his uncle’s situation, his uncle’s mind wasn’t quite right. Back when his father’s leg was still good, his father could go out hunting with the party, and every time he got meat, Mother cooked it and Uncle could eat. But since his father broke his leg, the family hadn’t eaten meat in a long time, Mother went out gathering with the gathering party every day, but what she could find each day wasn’t much, not even enough for their own family, so naturally she couldn’t see to Uncle’s side.
Guoguo had several times heard beasts of the tribe say his uncle was thick-skinned, running to others’ caves to beg for food.
But he didn’t believe it. These two years Uncle didn’t even much like coming to their cave to eat, let alone go to other beasts’ homes.
Where Uncle had gotten this whole big pot of Cluck-Cluck Beast meat today, he had no idea. There were several more outside the cave, he’d seen them clucking just now, and out there was one thing, but who’d have thought there was more inside too, a whole big potful, looking so tasty.
Uncle couldn’t hunt, so this Cluck-Cluck Beast must have been caught by this fair-skinned demi-beast.
Qin Ziheng hadn’t said anything, so Guoguo didn’t dare eat.
Qin Ziheng had first thought the child was shy and had refrained from looking much, lest he grow more nervous. But seeing Mao Xiaoshu hand him the chopsticks, and Guoguo wanting to take them yet not daring, sneaking careful glances at him, Qin Ziheng understood. He drained the chicken soup in his bamboo tube in a couple of gulps, fished in the pot, brought up a big drumstick, and looked at Guoguo. “Come eat.”
Only then did Guoguo take the chopsticks and sit down beside Mao Xiaoshu.
The two of them sitting together, gnawing drumsticks, really did look alike, eyes contentedly half-shut, the picture of blissful joy.
Mao Xiaoshu had gnawed five drumsticks, and there were still more in the pot, he actually wanted to gnaw another, but seeing his little nephew beside him with a drumstick in each hand, eating so happily, he bore the pain and picked out some other meat instead.
Four chickens, eight drumsticks, Qin Ziheng had kept them all unchopped, afraid that too few wouldn’t even fill the gaps in Mao Xiaoshu’s teeth. He didn’t expect that dopey, none-too-clever-looking Mao Xiaoshu would still know to love his nephew. He smiled and put a mid-wing into Mao Xiaoshu’s bamboo tube.
Mao Xiaoshu was very happy, and, following suit, put a plump, round chicken tail into Qin Ziheng’s.
“…??”