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Kalgan, at the crossroads of commerce between the South and the North, was a small but very lively city, where the trade of the region was centered, especially the fur trade. Holding his red horse by the reins, Guo Jing glanced right and left with great curiosity. Never had he seen a town of such importance and everything appeared strange and new to him. Arriving in front of a large restaurant he felt the pangs of hunger. He tied up his horse in front of the door and went in. Once seated at a table, he ordered a dish of beef, with two pancakes, and having a good appetite, he ate in the Mongol manner, wrapping the meat in the pancake and taking bites out of it. While he satisfied his hunger, he suddenly heard a disturbance at the door of the inn. Fearing for his mount, he rushed to the doorway.
The little red horse was quietly eating its fodder while two inn boys were scolding a young, slender boy, clothed in rags. He appeared to be fifteen or sixteen years of age and on his head he wore an old leather hat with many holes. His face and hands were dirty; so much so that one could not distinguish his features clearly. He held a big bun in his hand and laughed foolishly, revealing two rows of beautiful white teeth that seemed out-of-place in comparison with his general appearance.
His black, very lively eyes, shone with intensity.
“Hey you!” one of the boys screamed. “Get lost!”
“Sure.” the young lad said, “Since you want me to go, I'll go…” As he turned on his heels the other inn boy interrupted, “Leave the bun!” He handed the bun back, but it was covered with the marks of dirty fingers and could no longer be sold. The inn boy was furious and launched a blow with his fist that the boy ducked.
Guo Jing, feeling pity for him and thinking that he had to be hungry, interposed himself. “There's no need for violence,” he said. “Put that on my account!”
He took the bun and gave it to the young man who took it and said, “This bun is no good! Poor thing, this is for you!” He threw the bun to a small skinny dog that started to devour it.
“What a waste!” the inn boy disgustedly said, “giving a dog such a good bun!”
Guo Jing was taken aback, for he had believed that the boy suffered from hunger... He returned to his table to continue his meal. The young man followed him inside the establishment and stayed there, looking at him fixedly. Guo Jing felt a little bothered and asked, “Do you want to eat here, too?”
“Gladly,” replied the young man with a laugh. “I was bored being all alone and I've been looking for a buddy...”
He had a Jiangnan accent and its familiarity delighted Guo Jing. In fact, his mother was from Lin’an, in Zhejiang province, and the Freaks all came from Jiaxing. Since childhood he had been immersed in the accent of Jiangnan. The young boy seated himself at the table. Guo Jing called the waiter. When he saw the rags and dirtiness of the new guest, the look on his face was not very nice.
It was necessary to call him several times before he finally, dragging his feet, brought over a bowl and plate.
“You take me for a pauper,” the young boy said, “and unworthy to eat here. Pah! Even should you serve me your finest dish, who knows if it’ll be to my taste?”
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“Ah yes,” the waiter said coldly. “We will assuredly follow your orders, sir. The problem is that we don't know if anyone will pay!”
“Whatever I order,” the boy demanded of Guo Jing, “will you treat me?”
“Of course…of course!” Guo Jing replied. He then told the waiter, “Quickly cut up a plate of roast beef and a half plate of mutton liver!” To him, roast beef and mutton liver constituted the ultimate in delicacies... “Do you drink wine?” he asked the boy.
“Wait,” the boy replied. “Don't rush into the meat. Let us begin first with fruit. Eh, waiter! First we’ll have four dry fruits, four fresh fruits, two salted sweetened ones, and four preserved fruit in honey.”
Not expecting such an order the waiter was shocked,. “Which fruit and sweets do you wish, sir?” he inquired.
“In this little establishment, in this pathetic little town,” the boy said, “I imagine it's impossible for you to come up with anything great. We’ll have to content ourselves with lesser things. The four dry fruit are lichis, longans, steamed jujubes and gingkos. For the fresh, you will choose seasonal fruits.
For the salted sweetened, perfumed cherries and plums and filaments of ginger, but I don't know if you’ll find those here. As for the honey preserved fruit, you will bring rose perfumed tangerines, preserved grapes, sugar frosted peaches, and pear slices." This knowledge of culinary matters impressed the waiter, who no longer dared to act superior.
“There are no fresh fish or fresh shrimp to accompany the wine,” continued the boy, “so I will be content with eight average... dishes.”
“What else do you desire, sir?” asked the waiter.
“Of course,” said the boy with a sigh. “If I don’t explain all the tiniest details, you will be incapable of doing anything properly! Here are the eight dishes: steamed pheasant, fried ducks feet, chicken tongue soup, deer stomach in rice wine, beef ribs with chives, rabbit in chrysanthemum petals, stir-fried thigh of wild boar, and pork feet in ginger vinegar... I'm choosing simple dishes only; it's not worth mentioning more sophisticated ones." The waiter's mouth gaped.
“Those eight dishes,” he said, “are rather expensive! For the duck feet and the chicken tongue soup, we will require a lot of poultry!"
“The gentleman is paying,” the boy responded, pointing at Guo Jing, “Do you believe that he does not have the means?”
The waiter saw that Guo Jing wore a sable coat of great value. “Even if you have no means of payment,” he thought to himself, “this coat will suffice to cover the expenditure!” Then he demanded, “Is that all?”
“You will also bring,” the boy said, “twelve more dishes to accompany the rice and eight different dimsum.” The waiter didn't dare to ask for details concerning the dishes, fearing that the boy would order dishes he could not provide. He went to the kitchen and told the cooks to prepare the best.
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“Which wine do the gentlemen wish?” he returned to ask. “We have clear rice wine ten years of age. What would you say to two horns to start?”
“Why not,” the boy said.
A little later the waiter brought fruits and cookies. Guo Jing tasted each plate and marveled at all these delicious things he had never known of. The boy talked continuously, telling of local customs and habits, describing famous characters and anecdotes about the country of the South. Guo Jing was fascinated by his eloquence and his immense knowledge. Guo Jing's Second Shifu was a well-read man and a great scholar, but Guo Jing, who had devoted all of his time and energy to martial arts, and had only learned from Zhu Cong, during their rare free time, some basic characters.
It seemed to him that this young boy was as cultivated as his Second Shifu and he was filled with wonder. “I believe,” he thought, “that what seems a poor beggar is in reality a well-read man of culture. The people in China are definitely quite different from those in Mongolia.”
Half an hour later the dishes were ready. It took two large tables together in order to serve them all.
The young boy drank very little and ate in the same way and was satisfied with picking at the less spicy dishes. Suddenly, he called to the waiter and thundered, “This rice wine is five years old!
How do you dare to serve it with the food?”
“Your palate is really very refined!” the manager came begging for forgiveness. “Please excuse us.
The fact is, our humble establishment did not have it, and it was necessary to borrow some from the nearest larger restaurant, The House of Eternal Celebration. In general, one does not find aged wine in Kalgan.”
The young boy made a gesture to remove it and resumed his conversation with Guo Jing, asking him a thousand questions about the steppe and Mongolia. Since his Shifus had urged him to be discreet so as not to reveal his identity, he was content to tell anecdotes of hunting for hares and wolves, shooting eagles, horse races etc. The boy listened with fascination, applauding the sharpest accounts and often bursting into fresh and childish laughter.
Guo Jing had lived all his life on the steppe. He had certainly had a close friendship with Tolui and Hua Zheng. But Temujin, who loved his youngest son very much, often kept his son near him, so that Tolui didn't have much time for play. As for Hua Zheng, she had a headstrong character and often quarreled with Guo Jing, who was reluctant to do everything she wanted. Although they always reconciled in the end, the relationship wasn't an easy one. However, it was very different with this young boy; they were eating and conversing so that Guo Jing, without knowing why, felt a joy he’d never experienced before.
Usually he spoke little and expressed himself with difficulty. A person needed to ask him questions that forced him to hesitatingly answer. Han Xiaoying gently made fun of him by saying that he was the preferred disciple of his Fourth Shifu, because he had adopted Nan Xiren's motto, "silence is golden". But now, surprisingly, he could talk nonstop, not hiding anything of his life, except his martial arts training and things related to Temujin. He even told of all silly and stupid things. He spoke easily and, at a certain moment, forgot himself and grabbed the left hand of his questioner.