He Yi had prepared quite a few gifts for Xu Peng on this trip up the mountain. He carried two dou of rice, both glutinous and indica, on his back, tucked two bamboo tubes of oil into his belt, and held a black-boned chicken in his left hand.
Because the load was so heavy, he had drunk some yao dew to make the climb easier. Afterward, while wondering what else Xu Peng might need, he remembered that his cousin had once mentioned wanting someone to teach him how to make steamed buns.
An image of a page from his younger sister’s notes suddenly surfaced in his mind. It recorded detailed instructions for making steamed buns and mantou using an old-dough starter.
It was just what he needed, delivered at precisely the right moment.
The method involved quite a few details. Afraid the clarity bestowed by the yao dew would fade and he would forget them, He Yi stopped at Tang Huai’s house on the way up to borrow brush and paper and copy the instructions down.
Tang Huai rested his chin on one hand and watched him write. He did not ask where the recipe came from; he merely continued studying He Yi.
When He Yi finished and glanced up, he met that measuring gaze. “What is it?”
“I didn’t realize you and your cousin were so close. Look at all the things you’re bringing him.”
“Xu Peng isn’t the person some people make him out to be. He’s helped me a great deal.” He Yi paused, then asked, “Brother Tang, are you managing without rice now? Are you still eating at Qianli’s home?”
Tang Huai lifted his eyelids and smiled. “Someone was working against me from the shadows. I’ve finally caught hold of the fox’s tail. Perhaps out of guilt, they’ve left a cook living in the east wing, so I don’t have to worry about my meals.”
He Yi sensed there was more to his words, but could make little of them. As it was getting late, he took his leave and started up the mountain.
He had not been here for some time, and the landscape had changed considerably. A few trees were bearing fruit that might have been peaches or plums. Unfortunately, his basket was full, and even fruit wrapped in broad leaves would be hard to carry in his one free hand. Perhaps he could pick some on the way down.
Many other trees also bore fruit, and small, distinctive flowers he did not recognize had blossomed here and there. The mountain was not as richly flowered as in spring, but it had charms of its own.
He Yi followed the shortcut uphill and soon reached Xu Peng’s home. He was secretly nervous. Without the convenience of modern communication, he could not contact his cousin in advance, and if Xu Peng was absent, the journey might have been for nothing.
He could either wait for him, but the fields at home needed attention and a hunting trip might last a day or two, or leave a note, except he had no writing materials and Xu Peng could not read.
Still, there was no use worrying now that he had arrived.
He Yi was about to push open the fenced gate when a dog suddenly barked behind it.
Perhaps Xu Peng’s slender hound no longer recognized him after so long. He Yi tried speaking to reassure it.
“It’s me, He Yi. I’ve visited several times before. Don’t you recognize me?”
The barking stopped at once. After waiting a dozen breaths without hearing anything else, He Yi opened the gate and saw the familiar slender hound, its smooth black coat still shining in the fierce sun.
The black hound walked slowly over and circled him, raising its head slightly to look down its nose at him with an air of considerable self-importance.
“?” Was the dog looking down on him or trying to intimidate him? It had not behaved like this when Xue Ci visited in snow-leopard form.
Perhaps it only dared act grand because Xue Ci wasn’t here.
He Yi laughed. Since the hound was not actually blocking him, he moved the basket from beside the wall to the shelter beneath the eaves.
A palm-leaf fan lay beneath the gate. He Yi picked it up and fanned himself. The cool air gradually dried his sweat, chilling his damp clothes against his skin. He felt much better.
Xu Peng’s vegetable garden was still flourishing and bore plenty of fruit. He Yi recognized far more plants than before, even crops such as ginger and sweet potatoes whose edible parts grew underground and whose leaves alone showed above the soil.
Just as He Yi was growing sleepy from waiting, Xu Peng returned with another slender hound at his side. It was not the black one that had rushed out to meet him, but a snow-white hound with curls around its ears, as if someone had carefully permed them. It was rather pretty.
The black hound hurried over to sniff the white one’s hindquarters, but the white dog sidestepped it so subtly that the black dog’s wildly wagging tail drooped at once.
Xu Peng carried the grim air of a hunter fresh from a kill. Slung over his shoulder was a blood-drained animal about the size of a dog, its blood staining a broad patch of his clothes red.
“How long have you been here?” Xu Peng asked.
“I’ve lost track.” He Yi yawned and went over for a closer look.
“Then you’ve been waiting quite a while.” Xu Peng placed the carcass where he usually butchered his game, fetched some water from the vat, and rinsed the wooden board underneath.
“Is it a fox?” He Yi asked uncertainly.
“A dhole,” Xu Peng corrected him.
He Yi had heard of the animal. “Aren’t they exceptionally fierce and cunning, and often found in packs? How did you catch one?”
Xu Peng was accustomed to his cousin’s broad knowledge and answered without surprise. “With a trap. Look at how the leg was pierced straight through.”
“They’ve been restless lately. I’ve seen them surround a lone wild boar. If I confronted a pack directly, I wouldn’t have much chance.” Even trying to ambush them one by one with his bow might not be safe.
A dhole’s fur was worth little, and this was not a complete hide anyway. But the skin could be used medicinally, and few hunters managed to catch one, so certain buyers would still pay a good price.
Xu Peng skinned the animal as he chatted casually with He Yi.
“When I arrived, your hound barked at me. Has it forgotten who I am?” He Yi asked, glancing at the black dog still persistently investigating the white dog’s backside.
Xu Peng did not look up from his work. “It remembers you. Otherwise Sesame wouldn’t have let you sit on its bed.”
What? So the low wooden box he had sat on was the black hound’s bed? And its name was Sesame? He Yi was learning both facts for the first time.
“What about the white one? I haven’t seen it before. Does it have a name?”
Unusually, Xu Peng took some time to reply. He Yi almost wondered whether he had touched upon a subject Xu Peng disliked. A moment later, as though remembering, his cousin said, “Huajuan. I’m looking after it for someone for a while.”
What an adorable name. The white dog had a somewhat aloof air and would not give Sesame a second glance, yet the name fitted strangely well, lending it something of the softness of a fluffy steamed flower roll.
He Yi was hungry.
Fortunately, Xu Peng usually ate lunch. Perhaps He Yi could share a meal.
After dressing the dhole hide, Xu Peng noticed the grain and the black-boned chicken in the cage. When he learned they were gifts for him, he said nothing, simply put everything away in its proper place.
While they waited for lunch, He Yi watched the hounds in the courtyard. One dug holes while the other observed coldly. After quite some time the scene had not changed, so he could not resist calling Huajuan’s name.
He had expected the dog to recognize its name at most and perhaps ignore him entirely. To his surprise, Huajuan crossed the yard and nudged his hand with its head.
“…” For a moment he saw the snow leopard instead. Before he knew the snow leopard was Xue Ci, it had often nudged his hand this way, wanting its head stroked. If he stopped petting it before it was satisfied, the leopard would narrow its eyes and glance at him in silent displeasure.
Lost in the memory, He Yi stroked Huajuan’s head. Its fur was smooth, without the thick fluffiness of the snow leopard’s coat. The hair around its ears looked soft and full, but He Yi did not presume to touch it.
Having finished its digging, Sesame realized Huajuan was no longer watching and bounded over. It immediately resumed trying to sniff the white dog’s hindquarters. Huajuan turned to glare at it.
He Yi had no idea how long the two dogs faced off. By then fragrant smells were drifting from the kitchen, making his stomach growl.
Fortunately, Xu Peng was a practiced cook and worked swiftly. In less than half a double-hour, lunch was finally ready.
He Yi sat on Sesame’s bed again, while Xu Peng brought a stool beneath the veranda. Together they enjoyed the mountain breeze and freshly steamed lotus-leaf glutinous-rice chicken. When the lotus leaves were opened, hot steam rose alongside their fresh fragrance, lending the aroma of the meat an unexpected lightness.
The glutinous rice, soaked in sauce, had turned a deep golden brown. It clung slightly to the teeth, then released an intensely savory aroma. The rice itself was warm, fragrant and faintly sweet, and the boneless chicken at its heart was tender and delicious. He Yi could not think of an adequate description. A thousand words were no better than simply saying it tasted wonderful.
As expected of Xu Peng. Nothing he cooked was ever simple. With skills like these, he could probably make a living as a professional cook.
“Every household in the village has collected lotus leaves this season, but I haven’t seen any at our ponds,” He Yi said, unwrapping another parcel and fingering the steamed leaf, now turned the color of tea.
“There aren’t any in Chongzi Village. I picked these in Hejia Village.”
“That’s a long way away. I haven’t been there in ages, not since I dredged pond mud. Thank goodness for that mud. My fields yielded so well this harvest that I still have plenty after paying the grain tax. I can’t eat it all, so I brought some for you.”
Before Xu Peng could respond, He Yi added, “Why not come down and collect more when you finish your staple grain? It’ll save you the cost of buying rice.”
Xu Peng seized on something else. “Can’t eat it all yourself? What about the person living with you?”
It was a long story, but He Yi was happy to tell it. Speaking of someone he missed helped him feel that his life had not lost a piece of itself.
A little later.
“The Northwestern Main Camp?” Xu Peng’s eyes widened slightly in obvious surprise.
“Yes,” He Yi answered quietly.
Then it was He Yi’s turn to be surprised. He had not expected Xu Peng to have served at the Northwestern Main Camp himself.
Many years earlier, Xu Peng had performed his military service there and remained for over four years. He knew the place very well, and his expression was unmistakably nostalgic as he spoke about it.
“Are relatives allowed to visit soldiers at the camp?” He Yi asked.
Xu Peng studied him for a moment. “Only if the soldier has leave to visit his family can he come out of camp.”
He Yi had not even asked how such leave could be arranged when Xu Peng changed the subject. “But if you really want to go, I can help you see him.”
“Wouldn’t that be too much trouble?” Despite his words, He Yi’s hopeful gaze and suddenly hurried speech gave away exactly how much he wanted it.
“Not right now. We’ll see what can be done next month.”
Xu Peng never made promises about things he was uncertain he could manage. That made He Yi feel reassured. Perhaps next month he could truly travel to the Northwestern Main Camp and visit Xue Ci.
Whether or not it worked out, he would remember his cousin’s kindness. He Yi dispensed with empty courtesies and, after lunch, took out the written instructions for leavening dough and read them aloud.
“If you want buns that are soft and fluffy, don’t collapse and spring back when pressed, a second proofing is essential. Sometimes you may even need three. First ferment the old-dough starter as a batter, then let the dough rise, and finally let it rise again after kneading and rolling out the air. Those are the three stages. Steam over a strong fire once the water is boiling, and wait a little before lifting the lid.”
His sister’s notes also specified adding edible alkali to the old dough. But He Yi did not know which kinds of edible alkali existed in this era or whether they would be suitable, so he had left that detail out.
He could only hope the method worked and that Xu Peng would succeed in making delicious mantou and steamed buns.
Xu Peng, who rarely let any emotion show, urgently asked He Yi to repeat everything from the beginning. Then he went straight into the kitchen to experiment with dough.
He Yi had achieved what he came for. Rather than get under Xu Peng’s feet in the kitchen, he decided it was time to descend the mountain.
On hearing that he was leaving, Xu Peng set his work aside and came out. “When I finish this rice, I’ll come down for more and trade wild game for it. How does that sound?”
Excellent. He Yi knew Xu Peng would not be comfortable accepting help without offering anything in return. He felt the same way himself, so he agreed without wasting words.
Before He Yi left, Xu Peng gave him several packets of seeds, including lettuce and radish seeds. They were just what he needed. He Yi accepted them, said goodbye, and set off home carrying a much lighter basket.