Chapter Fifteen: Companions on the Journey

“Brother Yang, why don’t we go hunt some game together later? You’re in for a treat at lunch; it’s been two days since Little Xuan cooked for us. I’m really missing his grilled fish and roast chicken,” Old Master Tong said with delight. Suddenly, the tiring journey felt worthwhile—not only had he managed to tire Zhang Xuan out, but now Zhang Xuan himself had volunteered to cook. It was an unexpected bonus. Not bad at all. He’d have to keep this in mind for the future.

“Little Xuan is that good in the kitchen?” Uncle Yang found it hard to believe, but seeing Old Master Tong’s expression, he realized the old man wasn’t one to easily hand out such high praise. It seemed there was indeed something to look forward to.

All along the way, Old Master Tong left marks on the path now and then. When he judged the time was right, he called Uncle Yang and Yang Hu to go hunt for game, leaving Yang Zaixing to watch over their belongings and wait for Zhang Xuan. After all, Yang Zaixing was still recovering from an injury—not a serious one, but it was best to be cautious. As for safety, there was little to worry about for now; in this age, where information traveled so slowly, it would take a long time for news to spread. It would be difficult for anyone with ill intentions to track them down.

Perhaps because the three of them worked efficiently together, it wasn’t long before they returned fully laden with game. Seeing there was still time, and with no sign of Zhang Xuan, Old Master Tong led Uncle Yang and Yang Hu to the creek to clean the game’s entrails, instructing Yang Zaixing to gather some firewood and wait until Zhang Xuan returned before lighting the fire.

But when they finished cleaning the game and returned, they found that Zhang Xuan still hadn’t arrived. Old Master Tong couldn’t help but frown.

“Could something have happened?”

“Old Master Tong, do you think something’s gone wrong with Little Xuan? It’s never taken him this long before. Should we go back and look for him?” Yang Zaixing had been waiting the longest, and with Zhang Xuan’s prolonged absence, he couldn’t help but grow anxious.

“Hold on—ah, no, Zaixing, let’s wait a bit more. With that cleverness of his, nothing serious should have happened. Maybe he just lost his way, like he did last night. Then again, our pace on horseback wasn’t exactly fast. By my reckoning, he should have caught up by now. What do you think, Brother Tong? Should we go back and check?” Uncle Yang was uncertain about Zhang Xuan’s situation. Since Old Master Tong knew him best, it was up to him to decide.

Old Master Tong explained that he’d always given Zhang Xuan free rein. Their daily interactions were spent bickering or offering guidance, and sometimes just more bickering. “Let’s wait a bit more. That kid’s clever—if he runs into trouble, he’ll bolt faster than anyone. Unless he stumbles upon something truly irresistible, and then he might throw caution to the wind. Let’s see. He’ll come scampering back soon enough. If you’re bored, let’s make a bet: what do you think his first words will be when he sees us?”

The others, seeing Old Master Tong was still in the mood for jokes, felt somewhat reassured. What they didn’t realize was that Old Master Tong himself was uneasy—he was simply masking his worry with a lighthearted tone, something he’d never had to do before.

So the four of them sat on the ground, casting anxious glances now and then back along the road they’d come.

“Hey, what are you all doing, sitting around like this? Are you scheming to trick me again? Come on, I’m ready for whatever you throw at me!” came a familiar voice.

Their relief was palpable as all four exhaled deeply.

“Where have you been, Little Xuan? You know we were worried sick! We thought something had happened to you,” Yang Zaixing said, standing up and giving Zhang Xuan a light punch.

“Something was off with my running today—I’d get tired easily, and once I stopped, I just didn’t feel like running anymore. So I took a break, picked up a stick, practiced some basic spear moves, and rested a while. Then I kept running and made it just in time for lunch. Sorry to keep you waiting—I’ll be more careful next time,” Zhang Xuan explained, scratching his head.

Old Master Tong came over and flicked Zhang Xuan’s forehead.

“Ouch! Old Master Tong, you’re out to get me! That was harsh. But I’ll forgive you since you’re old,” Zhang Xuan complained, knowing there was little he could do to retaliate.

“You could always choose not to forgive me!”

“I wouldn’t dare. So, you caught all this game? Uncle Yang, it must’ve been Old Master Tong who talked you into it. Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me at lunch. Why, oh why, did I run my mouth this morning?” Zhang Xuan said helplessly, surveying the pile of game.

Uncle Yang looked at Zhang Xuan, feeling he simply couldn’t keep up with the young man’s train of thought. Wasn’t he supposed to be reflecting on his actions? How had the topic shifted to food so abruptly?

“It’s all yours now. We’ve done the prep; all that’s left is to eat. Consider this your punishment for being late—got to have some rules, otherwise we’d never keep you in check,” Old Master Tong said. He was long accustomed to Zhang Xuan’s antics, and for the sake of his own future meals, he’d come up with this little rule to keep things in order.

“With great power comes great responsibility. I should never have revealed my culinary prowess. If only I’d kept it to myself, I wouldn’t be in this predicament,” Zhang Xuan groaned theatrically.

“Oh, quit your moaning and get to work. Once we’ve eaten, we need to get back on the road,” Old Master Tong said, giving Zhang Xuan a nudge.

Zhang Xuan glanced at Old Master Tong and thought to himself, “Life is so wonderful, yet Old Master Tong is so irritable. Oh well, he’s at that age. I’ll forgive him…”

“Little Xuan, need any help?” Yang Zaixing asked.

“Big Brother, get a fire going. I’ll handle the rest for now. Old Master Tong, don’t just stand there—you’re not planning to eat for free, are you? Here, whittle these sticks for me; I’ll need them soon.” With that, he handed some sticks to Old Master Tong.

Without complaint, Old Master Tong took the sticks and, drawing his knife, began to carve them carefully.

Zhang Xuan watched in surprise. He’d braced himself for a scolding, but when none came, he couldn’t help but wonder if the sun had risen in the west that day.

“Anything we can do to help?” Uncle Yang and Yang Hu came over, eager to lend a hand.

“If you’ve got knives, help carve some sticks. Just do it like Old Master Tong over there. Don’t bother with the thin branches—just give me the finished ones when you’re done.”

And so, under Zhang Xuan’s “instructions,” the five of them set about preparing the grilled game. Tools and ingredients were limited—especially condiments, for all they had was a bit of salt—but they made do with simple roasting. For Uncle Yang and the others, this was probably their first time eating this way, and they found it delicious, finally understanding why Old Master Tong so eagerly anticipated Zhang Xuan’s cooking.