Chapter 12: Cookware (6)

Muchen woke up facing an unfamiliar ceiling. He stared blankly upwards while he dug up the memory of what had happened before he fell asleep, then braced himself against the incoming agony. For some reason, it never arrived. He blinked. Had he escaped unscathed? Was it all a dream?

No. There it was. As though summoned by his good mood, Muchen felt a throbbing ache in his shoulder, a reminder of the wolf's attempt to tear his arm off. At the same time, he began to itch all over his body, as though ants were crawling over all of the skin that he remembered being torn the previous night. It was annoying and distracting, but not debilitating.

He sat up, intent on taking stock of his surroundings. The movement was smooth and easy. He took note in passing of the bandages covering most of his limbs before taking a look around the room.

He was sitting on a bed. It was a step up from the bare ground outside, but not much of one, being a pile of straw covered with cloth instead of any of the nicer sort of mattresses he'd enjoyed when staying at inns.

The room itself was also more modest than what he was used to seeing. The walls were drab, built out of some uninspired construction material and left undecorated. The only furniture besides the bed was a pair of stools made of unfinished wood, one of which was occupied by a small girl.

She didn't look like she was more than eight or nine years old, and she was staring at Muchen with innocent curiosity. Muchen stared back, half expecting her to transform into some kind of fantastical creature or perhaps to try and kill him now that he was awake. Not that there was any reason for it, that was just how his day had been going.

Instead, she stood up without a word and padded out of the room. A moment later he heard a murmur of conversation from the other side of the doorway. He couldn't make out the words, but Xinyi's cheerful voice was unmistakable.

Muchen let out a sigh of relief. Xinyi's presence didn't feel like quite the guarantee of safety that it used to, not after she sat and watched him get mauled by wolves, but at least he wasn't all alone in a stranger's house.

She walked in a moment later. Trailing in her wake was the tall boy Muchen remembered appearing just before he passed out, walking side by side with the young girl he had seen earlier. Seeing them together, they were obviously brother and sister.

"You're awake!" Xinyi announced. "I thought you were going to laze around all day."

Muchen took a calming breath and reminded himself not to lash out at the cultivator who could squash him like a bug if she felt the urge. Instead he ignored her and turned his attention to the teenager beside her.

"Thank you," Muchen said, "for the help."

The teenager bowed in greeting. "It was only what I should do."

"The world would be a much kinder place," Muchen said with a wry grin, "if everybody did what they should do."

The battle was fuzzy in his memory, cloaked in a haze of adrenaline and pain, but he remembered being pinned to the ground by a wild beast and flanked by its companions. He figured most people who stumbled across that kind of scene would be more worried about their own safety and would hardly spare a thought to helping a stranger. Especially in the Qianzhan Continent, where weakness was more likely to prompt contempt than sympathy.

Muchen turned his attention to Xinyi, who looked as carefree as ever. On the topic of people doing what they should do... he'd thought he had a tacit understanding with Xinyi. He would help her move around the Qianzhan Continent without drawing the attention of her enemies, help her track down what she was looking for, and in exchange she would pitch in should he find himself near death.

He closed his eyes for a moment, the sight of Xinyi calmly watching him get mauled flashing through his memory. He shook his arms, chasing away the phantom sensation of jaws clamped down and pinning him in place. He had misunderstood their arrangement, and he'd paid the price. He couldn't allow the latent danger to linger any longer.

"We should talk," he said.

His teenage savior showed an admirable ability to read the environment despite his young age. He gave Muchen a polite nod before ushering his younger sister out of the room. The door swung shut, giving them a bit of privacy. Xinyi, for her part, gave him a flat look.

"You have an opinion of my methods?"

Muchen held her gaze. This wasn't a time to show weakness. "I almost died."

Xinyi had offered him valuable pointers and could be counted as half a master. But only half. She hadn't taken the initiative to offer him a position as an official disciple. Accordingly, she didn't owe him the care and affection that a master owed to his disciples. By the same token, though, Muchen didn't owe her any sort of obedience above and beyond the ordinary.

"With me right there?" Xinyi asked, rolling her eyes. "If by some fluke you had died, it would only show that you were never fated to succeed in your cultivation."

Had she been waiting for the right moment to jump in and save him? Muchen was skeptical that there had been much longer to wait before any attempt at rescue would have been hopeless.

"Even so," Muchen said, "jumping into a life and death battle after three weeks of training seems reckless."

Xinyi scoffed. "How do you want to advance without taking any risks? In order to go farther you need to put your life on the line and taste the feeling of combat in order to harmonize with your dao."

Muchen blinked. He'd heard the idea that the marketplace was a battlefield, but he'd never taken it so literally. "My dao... I suppose doing business is a matter of life or death, but I didn't think there was such a direct connection."

Xinyi just stared at him, poleaxed.

Muchen reached up to rub the bridge of his nose as the realization hit him. "You forgot that I'm not following a martial dao."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Xinyi protested, while her embarrassed flush provided all the confirmation Muchen needed. She placed her hand on her hip, striking a dramatic pose. "Anyway! You should rest and recuperate."

She turned and left the room while Muchen was still trying to come up with a response. He thought about chasing after her, but before he could make a move all of the fatigue he had been trying to ignore came washing over him.

He laid back down. Might as well rest his eyes for a while and put off talking to Xinyi until he had all of his wits about him.

ooOoo

When Muchen woke up facing the same ceiling for a second time, the first thing that he noticed was that the itching was gone. He held his breath for a moment, afraid that a stray thought might have brought the irritating sensation back to the fore, but he found that no matter how long he waited, his body showed no inclination to raise any complaints.

He sat up in bed and studied the bandage wrapped around his right arm. It had been applied with a tidy precision that spoke of long experience. It only took a moment for him to figure out how to pry it free, revealing untouched flesh underneath. No trace remained of what had to have been disfiguring injuries—no bloody marks, no scars, not even any whitening of the skin to mark where it had been damaged.

There was a bit of a sheen to his skin, a faint residue of whatever medicine had been applied. Leaning closer, he could smell a faint herbal scent. Nothing more pungent than a freshly mowed lawn. If he hadn’t seen the results, he wouldn’t have thought any medication had been applied at all.

Taking a look around the room, Muchen found that he wasn’t being monitored this time. Instead, the pair of stools now supported a small wash basin filled with clear water and a few neatly folded towels. He pulled himself out of bed, still marveling at the quick recovery from his injuries, and gave himself a quick wipe down.

Bandage after bandage came off to reveal unblemished skin. Even his shoulder had recovered, though he still felt a bit of a twinge when he moved his arm too quickly. It was an amazing sight. Muchen was only jolted out of his appreciation for the medical marvel by a rumble from his stomach.

There was the complaint from his body that he’d been anticipating. It was perfectly reasonable. After all, it had been more than a day since he’d last eaten. That didn’t make it any less urgent, though. Muchen finished toweling himself off and dressed without wasting any more time, then set off in search of food.

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He emerged from the bedroom to find himself in a larger version of the same room. Drab walls made of rammed earth and free from decoration set the tone. A homemade wooden table was the only piece of real furniture in the room..

The young girl that he’d seen the last time he woke up was across the room, sitting atop a folded blanket. She was taking advantage of the sunlight streaming in through the open door to stitch a fabric patch onto a pair of trousers. Judging from her practiced motions it was far from the first time she had taken on such a chore.

She set her work aside with a smile when she noticed that Muchen had entered the room. “You’re awake! Wait here a minute.”

She stood and bustled out of the room. Muchen stood as directed, taking a moment to take in his surroundings. The place was at least neat and tidy, but if there were any hidden signs of wealth then they were too well hidden for him to spot.

The girl returned bearing a wooden bowl that was filled with porridge. He was confused for a moment at why she had needed to go outside to fetch such a thing, until he remembered that for people living in the countryside cooking meant first of all building a fire. For practical reasons, the kitchen was kept separate from the living areas.

“Here, eat, you must be hungry,” she said, pushing the bowl and spoon into his hands.

Muchen didn’t stand on ceremony. The porridge was nothing special, but it was just what he needed to soothe his stomach. He was halfway through the bowl before he stopped to take a breath. He looked up to find the young girl watching him with rapt attention.

“I never did ask your name,” he said, before introducing himself.

That simple request was enough to unleash a torrent of words from his host. The girl, Liu Chuhua, seemed like something of a natural chatterbox who was gleeful at finally finding a conversation partner. Muchen let the words wash over him with a smile as he finished up the last of the porridge.

Chuhua answered many of the questions that Muchen had been pondering without waiting for him to raise a single one. It turned out that she and her brother, Yize, lived at the base of a mountain some small distance from Li village. The village, in turn, was the first settlement of any size that was part of the web of human habitation spreading out from the Tuanliu river. She and her brother were alone. Yize was a hunter like his father before him, making a living from the bounty of the wild. Although the rewards for a successful hunt were generous, it was still a dangerous way to live. Muchen could hear both pride and worry in Chuhua’s voice when she spoke of her brother.

“Where are the others?” Muchen asked, once there was a break in the flow of words.

“Brother is still processing the wolves you brought back,” Chuhua said. “Miss Xinyi is out gathering treasures from the forest.”

“Treasures?” Muchen asked. He didn’t think that anything valuable would be hidden in such a desolate place.

“I didn’t know about them either,” Chuhua said, “but she was able to use the herbs she gathered to make that miraculous wound medicine.”

Muchen nodded in acknowledgement. He suspected that the utility of the medicine had more to do with Xinyi's efforts at concoction than the properties of the materials. It was hard to feel much gratitude when she was the one who had pushed him into danger to begin with, but it was reassuring that she cared about his well-being in her own way.

“Are you from a sect?” Chuhua asked, eyes bright with excitement. “Brother said you were taking on an entire pack of wolves by yourself for training.”

“I’m just a traveling merchant,” Muchen said, his smile faltering for a moment as he remembered just how effective he had been in taking on the larger group of wolves. “I’ve only trained enough to be able to protect myself a little.”

“Right, right,” she said, nodding her head with enthusiasm. Muchen could practically see the script written in her eyes as she built up a flight of fancy of a hidden master training up a disciple fit to trample all of the sect’s so-called geniuses underfoot. “A merchant. Have you ever been to see the Wumu Falls? Is it true that cultivators can cross the land in an instant on their flying swords?”

“I’ve traveled all over the Qianzhan Continent,” Muchen said. “I’ve seen buildings tall enough to scrape the sky itself and vessels that carry hundreds of people through the air.”

Muchen had never enjoyed dealing with little kids, but he found himself warming to Chuhua and her naive enthusiasm. Something about her honest face made him want to wind her up with tall tales dug up from his memories

Fortunately, he had plenty of memories to draw on. Memories of a life on the road, sprinkled with a healthy dose of memories from a life in the modern world. Chuhua ate it all up with delight. Muchen suspected that she’d be relaying his tall tales to her brother at the first opportunity.

As though summoned by his thoughts, Yize entered the room as Muchen was in the middle of trying to translate the experience of attending a professional football game to something Chuhua would understand. Yize was covered with a thin sheen of sweat from a morning of hard work.

“How can you come inside so dirty when we have guests?” Chuhua protested, before pushing her brother outside to take advantage of the washbasin and cloths that she’d prepared. Even if her language was strict, the familial love was obvious.

It wasn’t long before a freshly scrubbed Yize stood before Muchen once more, clad in a clean set of clothes as well.

“I should thank you properly for coming to my rescue,” Muchen said. He drew an ingot of silver from his money pouch and set it on the table.

Yize shook his head. “I can’t accept a reward for something like this.”

“If you won’t accept a reward for life-saving grace, when will you accept a reward?” Muchen said. “To be honest, I feel that my life is worth more than this bit of silver.”

Yize shook his head again. “For anybody who makes their living by traveling through the wilds, it’s our obligation to assist each other in the case of danger. Making money from somebody in danger is no better than banditry.”

Muchen clicked his tongue in frustration. Certainly it would have been banditry to demand a payment before acting, even while the wolf was at his throat. A freely offered reward once danger had passed was quite different, to his mind. It would be churlish to keep arguing, though. He reached out to take the silver back, then paused as another approach occurred to him.

“What’s to be done with the remains of the wolves?” Muchen asked.

“The meat is worthless. The teeth have some use, but the best part for sale is the skin,” Yize said. “Miss Xinyi said to sell the skins in town and split the money evenly.”

“How can we split the money evenly when you’re doing the hard work of preparing the pelt?” Muchen asked. "Besides, it would be a waste to sell good materials in a small place like this when I’m planning to travel to the capital. How about this? I’ll pay you for the effort of dismantling the wolves and buy your half of the skins. Then I’ll take them with me when I go.”

Muchen took the ingot in front of him and slid it across the table. He wasn’t sure exactly how much the pelts were worth, but it had to be less than ten taels of silver. Otherwise Yize would be rolling in silver and their house wouldn’t show such stark evidence of their hardscrabble living situation.

Yize looked down at the silver, then looked up to meet Muchen’s eyes. “Your words are reasonable, but those skins aren’t worth more than five taels all together.”

Muchen held his gaze for a moment. Once it was clear that Yize wasn’t going to waver he sighed, then tucked the five tael ingot away in his money pouch before fishing out three single tael pieces of silver. He set them on the table and pushed them towards Yize, holding up a hand to forestall any objections.

“I wouldn’t have any skins to sell if you hadn’t shown up. Leaving that aside,” Muchen said, “I don’t know the first thing about preparing skins for market, especially from something as large as a wolf. You deserve to be paid for your hard work.”

Yize hesitated for a moment. It wasn’t until his sister elbowed him in the ribs that he reached out and swept the silver into his own pockets. Muchen smiled in satisfaction. It was good to have principles, but it would only be harmful to take things to such an inflexible extreme. Refusing to take even half a tael of silver as thanks for saving a life would have made him feel stifled.

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