Chapter 13 — Reunion

That day was the first time he formally cooked rice and fried dishes. He busied himself alone in the kitchen all morning, washing rice and rinsing vegetables with great vigor, and before he knew it noon had come. Tian Buhui and the others walked into the dining hall and saw the dishes laid out on the table as usual. Zhang Qingyue sat at the foot of the table, both hands clasped together, trembling with fear; anyone could sense that nervousness.

Everyone sat down. Tian Buhui said nothing. It was Su Wan who glanced at Zhang Qingyue, a hint of a smile on her face, and said, "Xiaofan, how does it feel to cook for the first time?"

Zhang Qingyue opened his mouth but could think of nothing to say. Tian Buhui gave a snort. "Eat." The disciples answered and lifted their chopsticks, taking food and putting it into their mouths.

In the dining hall, there was dead silence.

Zhang Qingyue was so nervous his heart had leaped into his throat. Cold sweat seeped from his forehead, and he said in a low voice, "Master, senior brothers, I—I did not do well. You—you..."

"Wow, this is absolutely delicious!" Tian Lingsu suddenly cried out in delight, unable to resist taking another slice of bamboo shoot and putting it in her mouth. Zhang Qingyue was stunned. He saw that every one of his senior brothers was wreathed in smiles, nodding

without pause, their chopsticks flying like the wind as they praised him endlessly.

"Who would have thought our junior brother had this in him—formidable, formidable!"

"Mmph (indistinct), better than Old Five—no, better than Old Five and Old Six put together, ha ha!"

Even Tian Buhui took a few extra bites, nodded, and a little more warmth came into his eyes. Zhang Qingyue saw it, and a wave of contentment washed over him.

From then on, Zhang Qingyue stayed on in the kitchen. He had not yet shown any talent in cultivating the Daoist arts, but in cooking he proved quite gifted, his skill self-taught, and the

dishes he produced were fresh and savory, far surpassing anyone else's. And in his heart, so long as Tian Buhui gave a slight nod of approval, that was already the greatest joy.

Time hurried on. Another half year passed, and the once-in-sixty-years "Seven Peaks Martial Trial" of the Canglan Sect drew ever nearer. Not only Su Wan but even Tian Buhui began to urge the disciples under them on. Everyone devoted

themselves to cultivation; no one came to disturb Zhang Qingyue, and in any case no one held out much hope for him.

Zhang Qingyue himself did not mind. He bustled about the kitchen every day, and from those pots and pans he gleaned a measure of happiness. In his spare time he cultivated the Daoist arts on his own, and late each night he practiced the "Great Brahma Prajna." His days passed peacefully enough.

During this time, the gray monkey he had brought back from the secluded valley had lived with him for half a year, and man and monkey had grown quite close. Zhang Qingyue had even given it a name: Little Gray. This

name was like his own—plain and utterly unremarkable.

Ever since he had begun working in the kitchen, Little Gray had enjoyed the advantage of proximity, often following him to the kitchen, grabbing a slice of bamboo shoot here and a piece of fruit there, stealing food all day long, and in half a year it had actually

grown a size rounder. But on Dazhu Peak, the monkey Little Gray still had one enemy: Big Yellow, the big yellow dog Tian Buhui had raised from a pup.

For some reason, the yellow dog had never taken a liking to this monkey. At first, every time it saw Little Gray it would bark wildly, frightening Little Gray into scrambling for high places. As time went on, it finally came to grudgingly accept Little Gray as one of Dazhu Peak, but at every meeting it would bare its teeth and put on a fierce show, and only when Little Gray was scared into shrill squeals would Big Yellow give a few "woof woof woofs," lift its proud doggy head, wag its tail, and walk off to one side.

Autumn went and winter came, and the weather on Dazhu Peak gradually turned cold. Apart from Tian Buhui and his wife, whose cultivation was deep and who had long ceased to fear ordinary cold and warmth, the rest of the disciples slowly added more clothes.

One day the sun on Dazhu Peak was uncommonly warm and mild. Zhang Qingyue finished his work in the kitchen and came out, stretched, and sat down by a pine tree outside the house. Leaning against the trunk, he narrowed his eyes and basked comfortably in the sunlight.

He had sat there a while and was just growing drowsy, on the verge of sleep, when he suddenly heard a few barks from ahead. He opened his eyes and saw Big Yellow sprawled lazily on the ground in front, sunning itself, while Little Gray crept toward it step by step from behind.

Zhang Qingyue was greatly astonished. Big Yellow often ran to the kitchen to eat and had grown familiar with him too, so he knew the relationship between monkey and dog better than anyone. He had not expected the sun to rise in the west today—Little Gray was actually approaching Big Yellow of its own accord! Zhang Qingyue perked up at once and fixed his eyes on the scene ahead.

He saw Little Gray quickly draw near Big Yellow. Though Big Yellow could not see behind it, its nose twitched and it caught the strange scent at once. It turned its head, and immediately opened its big mouth, baring sharp teeth, barking several times in a row: "Woof woof woof!"

Little Gray shrank back, evidently still somewhat afraid. But the monkey's eyes rolled a few times, and it raised its right hand and waved it before Big Yellow.

At first Big Yellow paid it no mind, barking at Little Gray without cease. But then its nose twitched a few times, as if catching some scent, and its two doggy eyes fixed on Little Gray's hand, unblinking and motionless, and it stopped barking. It opened its mouth and lolled out a long tongue, and even its tail began to wag without pause, signaling friendship.

Zhang Qingyue was astonished beyond measure. Looking closer, he could not help laughing aloud. It turned out Little Gray held a meat bone in its hand, its fragrance spreading far and wide—even he had caught a faint whiff from that distance. This was what he used for making soup. Knowing Big Yellow loved such things best, he had carefully sealed it and put it up high after cooking. Little Gray, however, had stolen a piece at some point and come to curry favor with Big Yellow.

Then he saw Little Gray shake it twice and toss the meat bone before Big Yellow. Big Yellow's mouth had long been watering; it immediately took the bone in its jaws and crunched away: "Chomp chomp chomp."

Watching Big Yellow carry on, Little Gray gave two squeaks and cautiously approached. After a moment's hesitation, it reached out to touch Big Yellow's head.

Big Yellow gave a low growl, and Little Gray quickly pulled its hand back. But before long it could not resist reaching out again toward Big Yellow's head. This time Big Yellow did not react, busy as it was gnawing the bone. Little Gray laid its hand on Big Yellow's head and gently stroked the glossy, soft yellow fur. Big Yellow actually seemed to find it pleasant; it shrank back a little and gave a low sound, but by then all

hostility was gone.

Little Gray grew bolder, chirping happily, and began parting Big Yellow's fur as if searching for lice. Now and then Big Yellow turned its head and actually licked Little Gray with its tongue. Between this monkey and this dog, intimacy had sprung up faster than anything.

Zhang Qingyue watched with his mouth hanging open. He thought to himself that Little Gray was truly clever—though it seemed he would have to hide the meat bones more carefully from now on.