A Savory Death 1
Only after the Grand Law ended did the backlog of tasks finally surface in my mind.
I still needed to check on the nests of the Golden-haired Bee Kings I had left in the care of the Poisonous Creature Squad, and confirm whether the Chinese hamsters in the Poisonous Creature Garden were growing well.
After returning home I had been running around catching wild geese for the engagement ceremony, then thrown myself so completely into the Grand Law that I had not given either matter a single thought until now.
The Golden-haired Bee Kings lived in perfect division of labor among themselves, so beyond a polite greeting there was little for me to do; the Poisonous Creature Garden, however, still needed looking in on.
I grew careless because there wasn’t a single living creature there yet.
So today, after an early breakfast, I was on my way to the Poisonous Creature Garden when a voice called out from the side.
“Young Master So-ryong!”
It was Squad Leader Gu Pae. I turned and saw him in the distance clutching a large sack. He tossed the sack aside and hurried over at a run.
“Ah, Squad Leader Gu.”
“Did you safely receive the Grand Law? I heard there had been an accident and was quite worried!”
His face was full of genuine concern. As expected of our Squad Leader Gu. Grateful for the worry, I answered.
“Thank you for your concern. There was a brief difficulty, but with Grandfather’s and Father-in-law’s help I was able to receive it safely.”
“What a relief! Then the Grand Law was a success!? Congratulations, Young Master So-ryong!”
Once the greetings were finished, the sack he had simply thrown down began to bother me, so I asked what it was—and whether it was really all right to leave it lying about like that.
“But what is that? Is it all right to just toss it anywhere?”
“Ah, that? It holds feed for the mice.”
Feed for the Chinese hamsters. Since the squad leader seemed bound for the Poisonous Creature Garden as well, I stepped out in front of him at once.
“You’re heading to the Poisonous Creature Garden, I see? I was just about to go there myself—shall we walk together?”
“Is that so? Do you not need a few more days of rest? Ordinarily one rests several days after receiving the Grand Law. You need not worry about the garden; I have been faithfully carrying out the orders I was given.”
A dependable, reassuring answer. Still, simply dumping work on a subordinate and then washing one’s hands of it was out of the question.
“Even so, how could I? And it’s only a quick look, after all.”
“Yes—well, if it’s only that much.”
As we walked toward the Poisonous Creature Garden together I asked how things had been progressing. I would see for myself soon enough, but a proper report was still essential.
“How are the short-tailed mice?”
Short-tailed mice was our name for the Chinese hamsters. Gu Pae explained the current situation.
“About forty of them have given birth, and it appears the first litters are already pregnant themselves.”
Chinese hamsters come into heat between seven and fourteen weeks after birth and produce young only two or three weeks later—creatures of mad fertility. Already the pups of the first generation were preparing to deliver their own.
“One or two more litters and the mice should be more than sufficient.”
Forty mothers producing even six young each meant two hundred forty. In roughly two months those would give birth in turn and a thousand would appear at once; unless the number of creatures we raised increased dramatically, the pinky supply would enter a stable course.
I was still nodding in satisfaction when Gu Pae’s next question came, face bright with anticipation.
“Then will we go catch poisonous creatures now!?”
He clearly wanted the Poisonous Creature Garden filled with every variety of venomous beast as soon as possible.
“Well…”
I had just begun to answer when we passed the entrance to the training grounds and something ahead caught my eye. I widened my gaze: against the wall in the distance a small child was crouched with their back to us.
What? Who is that?
There were children on Tang Family Mountain, of course, but this was the direct-line quarter. No ordinary child would wander this far in. Curious, I approached and called out.
“Who’s there?”
The child sprang up and bolted straight toward me, then latched onto my leg.
“Big Brother So-ryong!”
“Yeong-yeong!?”
The figure that had been squatting against the wall was Yeong-yeong—daughter of the Hebei Paeng Family head. I looked at Gu Pae with a clear question in my eyes, and he explained.
“She will be staying at the Tang Clan for a while for treatment. Only our Tang Clan can handle poison, after all. Family Head Paeng made the request himself.”
“Then Family Head Paeng as well?”
“He must look after the family, so he has already returned. He left a few warriors behind and went back.”
“So only Yeong-yeong was left?”
Thinking it over, I had to admit he was right. Extracting wasp venom, finely metering the dose, and delivering it by needle was something only the Tang Clan could do. Even knowing the method, no other house could actually carry out the treatment. I had assumed Yeong-yeong would be gone by the time I returned; instead she had simply settled in.
“I missed you, Big Brother! I heard you came back days ago—why didn’t you come see Yeong-yeong? So today I waited for you myself.”
Somewhere along the way she had lost a front tooth; her pronunciation whistled through the gap. I glanced at Gu Pae for clarification. Apparently, once it became clear she would stay long-term, Yeong-yeong had tried to be as little burden as possible and had almost never left the courtyard she had been given last time. That was why, even though only family elders had attended, I had not seen her at my own engagement ceremony.
Ill, separated from her family, cooped up in a courtyard with a handful of rough warriors who looked like little bandits… I scooped the pitiful child into my arms and answered with an apologetic face, gently steering the conversation so she would stop fussing.
“I’m sorry, Yeong-yeong. Big Brother thought you had already gone home. By the way, what were you doing crouched there just now?”
She had clearly been squatting over something with great concentration. Yeong-yeong smiled and answered.
“I was catching clicky-bugs!”
“Clicky-bugs?”
At my question she carefully drew the silk pouch tied at her waist out of her robes, plucked something from inside, and set it on my open palm.
-Click!
A sharp snapping sound rang against my skin, and something bounced straight up into the air.
“Oh! This is—!”
What Yeong-yeong had placed on my hand was a click beetle—the insect that, when flipped onto its back, makes a sharp “click” and flips itself upright again. In the West they call them click beetles. They bore holes in potatoes and sweet potatoes and destroy the roots of root crops, a genuine pest, yet to children they are familiar and oddly endearing.
Looking at her, I wondered if this little one was walking the exact same path I once had. When spring arrives the click beetles become active, and in my previous life these had been my very first bugs. They turned up near the house and sometimes flew indoors at night; I used to catch them, lock them in matchboxes, and take them out whenever I was bored just to watch them click and jump. You could call them the introductory insect that set this particular Fabre on the long road that brought him here.
“A head-knocking insect, I see.”
That was the local name for them.
“So you were catching these?”
“Yes! Clicky-bugs.”
I smiled and asked; she nodded. In my previous life I had called them “click-click bugs” myself. At this age, Yeong-yeong’s and my sensibilities were clearly cut from the same cloth.
That common ground sparked another thought. I had always wondered why the Paeng family all ended up looking like little bandits; it turned out they specialized in saber techniques that swung great heavy blades. Stamina and muscle training therefore dominated their days, and they inevitably developed those gym-bro physiques. On top of that they trained from dawn till dusk without pause—how was a person supposed to live like that? A little leisure, a little free time, was necessary. Which was why the idea of secretly giving Yeong-yeong a gifted education in insects and poisonous creatures, without Family Head Paeng ever knowing, suddenly seemed rather appealing.
Yeong-yeong, I hereby induct you into our Insect and Poisonous Creature Club!
I would not be teaching martial arts—only hobby knowledge. No harm in that. Smiling, I asked her.
“Yeong-yeong, do you like bugs?”
“Yes! I like them! Bee kings are good! Clicky-bugs are good too!”
“Then would you like to learn about bugs together with Big Brother? Bugs are very special and very fun.”
“Yes!”
She threw her arms around me in delight. Still smiling, I decided to examine her catch first and begin the inaugural lesson at once. A faintly coppery smell clung to her; it seemed Yeong-yeong was repeating the exact same mistake I had made as a child.
Yeong-yeong is going to have a rough day today.
I could already picture the evening’s events, but every true insect enthusiast has to undergo the baptism sooner or later. I pointed at her pouch.
“Yeong-yeong, may Big Brother see that pouch?”
“Yes, Big Brother. Big Brother look at the clicky-bugs too. Yeong-yeong caught this many.”
She pulled the silk pouch free and handed it over. I led her toward the Poisonous Creature Garden. With nothing living there yet except the blood-sucking snakes, it was hardly a restricted zone, and it was the perfect place to explain her little mistake. Yeong-yeong was nowhere near old enough to be an industrial spy, either.
Once inside the Poisonous Creature Garden I laid a sheet of white paper on a large wooden tray and tipped out her entire catch.
-Swish.
Dozens of click beetles spilled across the paper. The ones that had landed on their backs began to jump wildly.
-Click! Click-click!
First I herded the ones Yeong-yeong called clicky-bugs—more precisely, bronze click beetles—to one side. Then I gathered the remaining third or so to the other. The reason for the separation was simple: although they looked almost identical, the two were completely different insects.
“Yeong-yeong, look carefully. These ones here are the head-knocking insects you call clicky-bugs. But these ones over here are something else entirely.”
“Different?”
She watched me swiftly scoop up the bugs that were trying to scatter in every direction, her face a picture of confusion. Laughing inwardly, I said,
“Yeong-yeong, would you try smelling your hand for me?”
“My hand?”
She brought her palm to her nose. The moment the scent hit her she recoiled with a shriek.
“Ewwww! My—smell!”
No wonder. Right now her hands reeked. Worse, the odor clung stubbornly even after washing; Yeong-yeong had well and truly opened the gates of hardship for herself today. Come evening the maids would probably drag her off for a very long bath.
Gu Pae picked up one of the remaining insects, examined it closely, and smiled.
“This is a yellow powder insect, isn’t it? It looks similar to the head-knocking insect, so Miss Paeng must have scooped them up together. Haha.”
Powder insect? Wait—that name is a bit much.
Apparently here the mealworm beetle was called the yellow powder insect. In my previous life, people who left nothing but spiteful comments online were said to shit instead of write, and were mockingly called dung insects; the local name felt almost as harsh. Adults did give off a mildly foul odor, true, but the larvae and pupae were extremely nutritious food. Yes—this was the second most common feeder insect, edible even for humans and the staple diet of countless insects and lizards: the adult form of the mealworm.
After calming Yeong-yeong, who was still reeling from the smell, I set the two beetles side by side and explained.
“The head-knocking insect has this click-joint on its underside; the yellow powder insect does not. Next time don’t mix them up when you catch them. They look so alike at a glance that it’s easy to get wrong.”
“I understand, Big Brother.”
Yeong-yeong stared at both her hands with a teary, woebegone face. Still, she could not bear to give up her click beetles; she carefully sorted only those back into her silk pouch. What remained were the yellow powder insects—the mealworms.
I turned to Gu Pae, who was still smiling.
“Well then—the second creature we will raise in our Poisonous Creature Garden is none other than these yellow powder insects.”
The second feeder stock required for mass breeding. After the pinkies, mealworms. This was the garden’s second official breeding project. Pinkies, mealworms, and crickets were, after all, the three indispensable pillars of raising insects, poisonous creatures, and lizards.