Enraged, Gao Ti immediately stepped forward, raised his elbow, and swung a punch toward Xue Ci’s face.
Xue Ci took the movement as a declaration of combat. Borrowing his opponent’s momentum and turning it against him, he deflected the punch in a heartbeat, twisted halfway around with a short burst of force, and clamped his hand around the back of Gao Ti’s neck like the iron talons of a bird of prey. Then he pushed downward with tremendous strength.
Gao Ti’s footing was unstable. He staggered forward and pitched face-first toward the ground.
Seeing his face about to slam into the filthy earth, Gao Ti squeezed his eyes shut. But the crushing force against his neck stopped abruptly. He cautiously opened one eye and discovered that his cheek had halted barely half a cun above the ground. His ragged breathing was strong enough to blow the sand away beneath him.
Xue Ci, meanwhile, had not even lost his breath. He asked calmly, “Do you admit defeat?”
At those words, the people gathered around either finally came back to their senses or released the breaths they had been holding. Who could blame them? The bout had ended decisively in a few dozen breaths. Even those who had expected a burly man like Gao Ti to win would never have imagined he could subdue his opponent so quickly.
Still shaken, Gao Ti dared not provoke Xue Ci further. He ground out through clenched teeth, “…I admit defeat.” He could hear the tremor in his own voice.
Only then did Xue Ci release his grip and straighten up.
Knowing he had met someone far stronger than himself and lost face before the crowd, Gao Ti scrambled upright in anger and humiliation. He flung the straw ball he had hidden in his sleeve back at Xue Ci, shoved his way through the onlookers, and hurried off.
Xue Ci caught the ball without missing. He did not need to sniff it closely to know that Gao Ti’s body odor had rubbed off on it, completely masking He Yi’s scent. Unable to smell He Yi’s familiar fragrance, he grew terribly frustrated. He scrubbed the straw ball vigorously against his clothes before turning back toward his tent.
An Hu, who had watched the entire encounter, was speechless. For a moment he thought his eyes had tricked him, but the excited discussion surrounding him forced him to believe what he had just seen.
What sort of martial-arts master had he somehow become acquainted with? How could a person be so formidable?
The camp’s daily drills never stopped unless a sandstorm struck or a battle broke out. Today the sun shone fiercely, so training continued as usual. Xue Ci had barely spent a quarter of an hour back in his tent before he had to hurry out for assembly again.
Afterward some soldiers practiced with blades and spears, others took care of their quarters, and Xue Ci went to clean and feed the horses.
One task followed another. As the sun moved overhead and the temperature steadily rose, Xue Ci’s condition deteriorated. He felt as though someone had covered his mouth and nose, making it hard to breathe. Only in the shade did the feeling ease a little.
At such times he always longed for the cold of night. Only in that low temperature could he escape the sensation of suffocating and feel comfortable throughout his body.
Under the blazing sun, Xue Ci worked with his head down, expecting to endure the day as usual. But Commander Qin sent a messenger to say that someone had come to see him at the visitors’ tent.
“But I haven’t finished the rest of my work…” Xue Ci said, puzzled.
“I’ve been assigned to replace you,” the messenger replied, making no attempt to hide his impatience.
Xue Ci nodded. “Then thank you for taking over.”
Perhaps Xue Ci’s harmless manner and strikingly refined appearance were different from what the messenger had expected. He looked faintly embarrassed, waved Xue Ci on, and spoke less harshly than before.
On his way to the visitors’ tent, Xue Ci wondered who would come all this way to see him. Could it be He Yi? The possibility made him quicken his pace at once.
Yet before he even entered the tent, his sense of smell told him who was inside. It was not the person he had hoped to see.
“Young Master Xing.” Xue Ci lifted the tent flap and entered.
Xing Junshu, seated neatly inside, turned toward him with a smile. “You’re here, A-Ci.”
*
Xue Ci watched exquisite food boxes being arranged on the low table, then looked at Xing Junshu in confusion.
“I came to see how you’re doing. I failed to settle the matter of the academy, and now you’re suffering here because of it. My second sister-in-law told me the food in this military camp was awful, so I asked a local cook to prepare some dishes. Come, let’s have lunch before we talk.”
“Why eat at this hour?” Xue Ci asked. He did not even know what ‘lunch’ was.
“You don’t eat a midday meal here?” Xing Junshu was astonished. He opened the boxes one by one and gestured for Xue Ci to start.
Inside one box was a glossy, bright-red broth topped with dark-green celery leaves. Small milky-white shapes floated within it, neither obviously meat nor vegetable, each with a large head and narrow tail like a tadpole.
“What is this?” Xue Ci had not smelled anything so delicious for ages. The fragrance seemed to drive away some of his discomfort, and his eyes brightened.
Xing Junshu had never eaten northwestern food himself. Since Xue Ci was curious, he stepped outside to ask someone, then returned to explain. “It’s jiangshui yuyu. They make it from mung-bean flour and let the mixture fall through a sieve, which gives it that shape. I thought it was fish! There’s lami oil in it, but not much, since I can’t handle very spicy food.”
Lami oil was made from shi zhuyu, an ailanthus-leaved prickly ash. Before chili peppers became widespread in the northwest, much of the local heat came from lazi herb and shi zhuyu.
Xue Ci had already encountered spicy food at the camp. At first it had hurt his tongue so badly he had nearly cried, but there was no choice of meals, and refusing to eat meant going hungry, so he had forced himself to get used to it. Afterward, he would sometimes form a little lump of ice in his mouth to soothe his tongue. That solved the problem well enough.
The jiangshui yuyu slipped down as smoothly as real fish and felt pleasantly cool in his mouth. The heat from the lami oil was different from what the camp cooks served. Their spiciness left a slightly bitter aftertaste, whereas this was bright and fresh, without any bitterness he could detect. It also seemed to contain vinegar, making the dish pleasantly sour and spicy with a lively bite.
Both tiers of the food box were packed with jiangshui yuyu. Xue Ci polished them off so quickly that he was thoroughly full.
Xing Junshu was less accustomed to the taste. He slowly finished one tier, then asked whether Xue Ci wanted more. At Xue Ci’s honest nod, he passed over the remainder too.
At the bottom was a dessert that the cook had especially recommended. A pale, milky custard lined the dark-brown food box, dotted with grayish-white bits of mushroom. It smelled richly creamy, so in the stifling heat of the tent it looked as though it might be cloying.
But the first mouthful overturned that impression. The box had apparently been kept chilled beside an ice vessel, and the pale custard released a faint coolness on the tongue.
The dessert was a mushroom and sulao cream soup. Even Xing Junshu, who had tasted delicacies of every sort, could find no fault with it.
The scooped portions had a delicate, slightly fluffy texture, while the whole was soft and dense, somewhere between a thick paste and steamed egg custard. Unlike the sulao Xing Junshu had eaten in Jiangcheng, this version was savory. Its flavor was unusual and delightful.
“Are these mogu?” Xue Ci asked, pointing to the little pieces embedded in the custard.
“Mushrooms,” Xing Junshu corrected his pronunciation. “I hadn’t realized they grew around here too.”
But Xue Ci had seen them before. They were identical to what he had dug from the sandy ground when he sneaked out at night. The smooth, tender mushrooms had their own refreshing bite. Although he had grown tired of eating them, paired with the rich sulao he could hardly stop himself.
“Thank you for the meal. It was very good.” Xue Ci thanked Xing Junshu politely.
“Don’t mention it. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Xing Junshu took up his teacup and rinsed his mouth, fastidious as ever.
Xing Junshu then asked how life in camp had been. Xue Ci selected a few things to tell him.
“From the sound of it, it’s hard, but rather interesting. You make me want to come train here myself! Say, A-Ci, where did you learn your martial arts? How do you keep your stance so steady and move so nimbly? You make it look effortless.”
Xue Ci wanted to say he had been born that way, but after a moment’s thought decided he should not tell the truth so directly. Xing Junshu probably would not believe it. “I don’t know how to explain it. I can only demonstrate it in practice.”
“…I was too forward.” Naturally, such profound martial skills could not be explained in a handful of sentences. Xing Junshu continued frankly, “Come to Jiangcheng next year when your service is over. There won’t be any trouble with the academy or getting through the city gates this time, I promise. If you could spare the occasional moment to guide my martial-arts practice, that would be enough.”
He truly admired Xue Ci’s abilities. Otherwise he would never have slipped away from Jiangcheng and traveled such an enormous distance just to see him. If the Xing family had possessed more influence in the northwest, he would have found a way to take Xue Ci away. As it was, all he could do was try to win his favor with a fine meal in a tent.
Across from him, Xue Ci lowered his head and thought for a while. Soon he looked up and shook his head with determination.
Half a double-hour later, Xing Junshu left the Northwestern Main Camp because one of his elder brothers had personally come looking for him. The man was cold and proud, strikingly handsome and dignified, yet looked nothing like Xing Junshu. He said nothing, merely giving Xing Junshu a sidelong glance. Xing Junshu immediately excused himself and hurried after him.
Xue Ci returned to his unit alone. Since hearing about his exploits that morning, those around him had feared him even more. Now that a distinguished visitor had come specifically to see him, rumors spread in every direction, but everyone agreed on one point: his background could not be simple.
Before long it was evening mealtime. Xue Ci eyed the pot of terribly watery flour gruel and the dry roasted flatbreads beside it, so crumbly they might choke a person. His throat tightened.
The food was flavorless, yet somehow still left his throat painfully dry. It was absurd.
Yesterday he would simply have eaten it. He had gone numb to how bad the meals were. But after the wonderful lunch, his taste buds had awakened again. Staring at the evening food, he could practically feel his stomach cramping in protest.
Still, skipping the meal would leave him hungry enough to wake at night. In the end he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and swallowed his portion with the determination of a man marching to his death.
*
Two days later, He Yi’s letter finally arrived. When Commander Qin handed it over, this was what he said.