People were naturally fond of gossip. Hunter Yang and Hunter Zhang stood some distance outside the general store, one speaking and the other listening with complete absorption. Hunter Zhang spoke animatedly, spittle flying as his face showed undisguised glee at others’ misfortune. Behind them stood two donkeys, the hunters’ mounts. Bamboo or iron baskets hung on both sides of the animals, filled with unsold game.
While the two were whispering together, Hunter Zhang’s donkey stamped its hoof, and the latch on a cage fell to the ground. The old mountain goat inside seized the opportunity. With a sudden leap it sprang out of the cage and bolted wildly down the long street.
Passersby cried out in alarm. “The goat’s running! The goat’s running!”
At first Hunter Zhang did not realize the escaped animal was his own. Only when he followed the shouting did he slap his thigh in dismay. “My goat!”
Wild creatures raised in the mountains were nothing like the docile livestock kept at home. Although the old goat was no longer as fast as it once had been, it was still far quicker than any man could chase. Hunter Zhang hurriedly grabbed his donkey and tried to pursue it, but the stubborn beast chose that exact moment to dig in its heels. No matter how many slaps Hunter Zhang gave it, the donkey lowered its head and refused to move.
Hunter Yang quickly pulled out a crude arrow and aimed at the goat, but the animal seemed to have eyes on its back. After a few quick bounds the arrow flew wide of its mark.
Seeing the old goat about to run out of the street, Hunter Zhang beat his chest in frustration and began cursing loudly. He had spent great effort catching that goat and had hoped to sell it for a bit of silver to support the household. If it escaped now, his wife would surely nag him again.
Just then the sound of rapid hoofbeats came from behind them.
Hunter Zhang turned his head and saw a handsome jujube-red horse charging straight toward him. The crimson steed surged past in a rush of wind, the gust kicking up dust that forced both hunters to squeeze their eyes shut.
Old Yang rubbed his eyes and grumbled, “Hunter Qin is far too reckless. What if he had run someone over…”
But when his vision cleared, the rest of his complaint died in his throat.
In the blink of an eye Qin Yi had already ridden to the far end of the street. One hand held the reins while the other gripped a length of hemp rope. The rope’s far end had been tied into a slipknot, which was now looped tightly around the old goat’s neck.
The goat kicked and lunged wildly, trying to break free, yet it could not escape the tightening loop. It bleated miserably. Then the rope, which had seemed loose moments earlier, suddenly went taut. Qin Yi gave a sharp tug, dragging the goat toward him.
Before the goat could struggle again, a sharp dagger pierced straight through its neck. Bright red blood dripped steadily down its throat. The goat’s legs kicked a few times before its body sagged limply and fell still.
Qin Yi slowly withdrew the dagger from the goat’s neck. After wiping the bloodied blade twice against the goat’s body, he returned the dagger to his waist. One hand held the rope while the other gently patted Junjun’s neck.
Junjun turned around and carried its master and the dripping goat steadily back. When the horse reached the two donkeys, Qin Yi loosened his grip. The old goat fell heavily at Hunter Zhang’s feet. Warm blood splashed from the wound, scattering in an arc. The hunters’ shoes and the hems of their clothes were stained with the pungent goat’s blood, making their already dusty garments look even dirtier.
Still seated on the horse, Qin Yi gave the two stunned men a slight nod. “No need to thank me.”
With that he turned his horse and rode away toward the grain and oil shop without another glance.
Hunter Zhang inhaled sharply several times, his face twitching awkwardly. Hunter Yang watched Qin Yi’s back disappear into the distance, and after a long moment he finally exclaimed in awe, “Damn, horses really are fast.”
When Qin Yi returned home, it was already noon. The moment he reached the gate, he caught the scent of something rich and fragrant in the air. He sniffed again and realized the aroma was drifting from his own kitchen.
“Brother, you’re back.”
As Qin Yi busied himself unloading the things he had bought from Junjun’s back, he heard Qin Lang’s voice. Looking up, he saw Qin Lang standing there with half-dried hair and rosy cheeks. The boy wore a slightly oversized set of clothes. Without his padded jacket, Qin Lang looked much thinner, yet his complexion was far healthier than before.
Qin Yi could not help glancing at him a few more times. His younger brother was delicate and fair, so much so that anyone unfamiliar with him might mistake him for a little girl.
Before Qin Yi could ask anything, Qin Lang eagerly explained, “Sister Jia made delicious food and even helped me wash up. I didn’t catch a chill at all.”
Qin Lang’s health had always been poor. Even the slightest cold could make him cough and develop a fever, so Qin Yi usually only allowed him to bathe at certain times. Although Qin Lang was a quiet child, wearing thick clothes and going long without bathing inevitably left him less than fresh.
Jian Jia had not insisted on bathing Qin Lang because she disliked any smell. Rather, it was because she had boiled a large amount of hot water while preparing the clay pot chicken. The soup needed to simmer slowly in the earthen stove’s fire chamber, surrounded by thick charcoal embers to draw out the full flavor of the ingredients.
The Qin household had no ready charcoal. If she wanted embers, she had to burn wood slowly. Jian Jia could not bear to waste so much firewood just for a pot of soup. After thinking it through, she simply boiled a great deal of water on the stove. Since she had been covered in dust while cleaning the courtyard earlier, the hot water would also allow her to bathe.
Yet before she could bathe herself, she noticed the dark grime behind little Qin Lang’s ears. Looking more closely, she realized that aside from his face and hands, which were fairly clean, the small body hidden beneath his clothes clearly had not been properly scrubbed for a long time.
Thus the person pressed into the large basin for a thorough washing became Qin Lang.
At first he protested softly that men and women should not touch each other improperly. Jian Jia immediately held him down and declared, “I’m practically your elder sister, and an elder sister is like a mother.” With that single statement, Qin Lang had no argument left.
Though embarrassed and reluctant, he soon grew ashamed when he saw how the grime from his body turned the clean bathwater gray. After scrubbing three times until his skin was smooth and pale, Qin Lang finally climbed out of the wooden tub.
When Qin Yi carried the rice and flour into the house, he saw Jian Jia stepping out of her room while drying her hair. Fresh from her bath, she wore a light blue robe. Her flushed cheeks reminded him of the wild apples in the mountains after the first autumn frost. His gaze moved from her face to her damp hair, then drifted involuntarily to the hem of her robe, which spread like a lotus leaf. For a moment he did not know where he should look.
He felt he ought to thank her for thoughtfully bathing Lang’er, yet the polite words stuck in his throat and refused to come out.
Jian Jia, however, remained perfectly natural. Seeing Qin Yi return, she greeted him cheerfully.
“You’re back. Did the sale go smoothly today? Want to take a bath? There’s plenty of hot water.”
Qin Yi had been about to refuse when Jian Jia added, “The weather is perfect today. Not cold and not hot. It’s really a good time for a bath. And once you’re done, lunch will be ready.”
Qin Yi lowered his head and looked at himself. He had been wearing the same clothes for quite a while, and they were indeed rather dirty. Moreover, he did not plan to go up the mountain that afternoon, so taking a bath was reasonable. After a moment of thought, he nodded.
“All right. I’ll bathe in a bit.”
With that he carried the rice and flour into the kitchen. The moment he stepped inside, he noticed a small square table that had not been there before. It stood near the door. The cabinet that had originally been there had been moved a few feet south, making just enough space for the camphorwood table.
On the table lay a large square cutting board. A dusting of white flour covered its surface, and on top rested a neat pile of hand-rolled noodles, all evenly cut.
Qin Yi stared at the board in astonishment. After a long moment he looked at Jian Jia in disbelief.
“You made these?”
Jian Jia smiled and nodded. “Yes, we’re having clay pot chicken soup and hand-rolled noodles for lunch.”
All the ingredients were ready. They only needed to be cooked.
Qin Yi cast Jian Jia a complicated glance, unsure how to describe what he felt at that moment. On the way home he had been worried about Jian Jia and Lang’er. He feared the two might not get along in his absence, and he worried that his delay would leave them hungry.
All his life he had felt as though a heavy burden rested on his shoulders, and he had never expected anyone to share that weight. When he brought Jian Jia home, he simply thought there would be one more mouth to feed. He had never imagined she could actually help him.
Now, seeing the beautiful hand-rolled noodles and smelling the rich aroma of chicken soup, Qin Yi suddenly felt his eyes grow warm. He set down the rice and flour and hurried toward the courtyard gate.
“I’ll go move the rest of the things.”
If Qin Yi used the word “move,” it meant he had bought quite a lot. When Jian Jia opened the sack and began taking out stacks of oil-paper packages, she could not help saying to Qin Lang beside her, “Did your brother bring the whole shop back?”
The seasonings Qin Yi brought back exceeded Jian Jia’s expectations. She had assumed this world only had a few basic condiments, but after opening the packages she found herself staring at a pile of unfamiliar spices in strange shapes and scents. Holding a small dark brown round fruit between her fingers, she fell into deep thought.
“What… is this?”
She sniffed it. It smelled faintly like Sichuan pepper, yet also somewhat like black pepper. Curious, she bit into one.
Immediately a numbing, spicy sensation shot straight to the top of her head. Defeated by a single mysterious spice, Jian Jia clutched her cheek and gasped. “That was careless…”
At that moment Qin Lang ran in from outside and whispered softly, “Sister, my brother will finish bathing soon.”
Jian Jia gathered up the oil-paper packages covering the table. “All right. I’ll go get the chicken soup.”
Qin Lang followed her. The two crouched by the stove and peered inside the fire chamber.
Amid the glowing embers stood a round-bellied clay pot about a foot tall. On its round body was a handle with a hole through it. The gray-black surface bore several darker streaks of oil that had overflowed during the simmering process.
Putting the pot inside had been easy, but taking it out was another matter entirely. The pot was filled with boiling chicken soup and surrounded by scorching embers. One careless move could spill the soup she had worked so hard to cook.
But Jian Jia was not troubled by this.
She took out a strangely shaped rake. A normal ash rake had a flat wooden board at its end, but this one had a three-inch piece of wood nailed to the end. Two smaller round wooden rods were attached parallel to it. The upper rod passed through the pot’s handle while the lower rod caught against the body of the pot beneath the handle.
With a slight twist, the rods clamped firmly around the clay pot. Jian Jia carefully lifted the soot-blackened pot out of the embers and set it at the mouth of the stove.
A slightly oversized broken shard of pottery covered the top, and beneath it was the pot’s original lid.
The round lid was ringed with a layer of golden oil. When she lifted it, the soup inside was still boiling vigorously. Beneath the layer of golden chicken fat were clearly visible chunks of chicken cut into bite-sized pieces. There were no red dates, no goji berries, no ginger or tied scallions. The soup contained only two small spoonfuls of fine salt, yet the pure, natural fragrance of chicken broth had already spread through the air with irresistible force.
“So fragrant…” Qin Lang sniffed deeply, and his stomach rumbled helplessly.