The Road to Kaifeng
The road to Kaifeng. In truth, since Cheong was also from Hubei, she knew Hubei cuisine inside and out. When one thought of Hubei, mandarin fish and softshell turtle came to mind first. If you simply tossed mandarin fish or softshell turtle into a pot with lotus root and called it Hubei cooking, most people in the Central Plains would nod and accept it without question. There were also dishes made with lamb and duck, but those were everyday fare across the entire Central Plains, enjoyed everywhere. As for pork—well, pork was simply the Central Plains itself. The Central Plains people’s love for pork went beyond mere consumption; their very temperament had come to resemble it. In short, they were living piglets themselves.
Besides that, various freshwater fish dishes had developed, though oddly enough, people here did not eat them raw as sashimi. They did not refuse it outright, but there was a strong aversion rooted in history. In the past, the geniuses of the Wu region had eaten freshwater fish raw and died young from intestinal parasites. Even as they coughed up blood on their deathbeds, they had cried out to the heavens in resentment. From the heavens’ perspective, watching these people devour parasite-ridden fish and then blame the sky before dying must have been infuriating enough to withhold any affection from the Wu region.
Thus, every dish Jegal Ihyeon had laid out until the table legs nearly broke was something Cheong already knew. Yet there was a unique pleasure in unfamiliar dishes, while familiar ones tasted even better. After a long while—three whole hours, to be precise—Cheong began eating in earnest, like a storm.
In truth, the freshwater fish of the Central Plains tended to favor the carp family. These creatures had bones that spread out in every direction like some kind of monster, making them difficult to debone. However, Gyeon Po-hui, seated beside her, skillfully filleted the fish and piled the meat onto Cheong’s plate without pause. Unable to lose, Cheong devoured each plate as quickly as it was filled.
“What? Me too. I can do it.”
Dang Nan-a clumsily tried her hand at filleting, occasionally sending ragged scraps of flesh flying onto Cheong’s plate.
“Thanks, but there are still bones in it, you know.”
She said this while crunching through the sharp freshwater fish bones, bones and all. Dang Nan-a attempted to debone again, but as mentioned, the bones were both elastic and razor-sharp, extending without a single gap—an emperor among villains, a tyrant of malice. Only after Dang Nan-a finally put her own deboned fish into her mouth, found it half flesh and half bone, and spat it all back out did she grasp the severity of the situation.
“Huh? Sorry, the bones are really…”
“It’s fine. It tastes good. If you chew the bones slowly, they have a nice nutty flavor.”
“Even so, give it here. I’ll do it again.”
“I said it’s fine. You went to the trouble of deboning it for me.”
Cheong popped the ragged fillet into her mouth before Dang Nan-a could take it back.
“You…”
To Dang Nan-a, it had been something she could not possibly eat and had spat out. Yet seeing Cheong force herself to eat it was enough to move any woman. Of course, Cheong was simply eating. Her body had already reached the point where she could crunch through even the tough bones of ribs as if they were nothing. This was the true reward of possessing high stats.
“If it’s hard, just debone the mandarin fish instead. That one doesn’t have many bones.”
“Huh? Mandarin fish? What’s that?”
“That one over there.”
She meant carp for the immediate fish and mandarin fish for the other. To Dang Nan-a, however, all fish looked the same—fish with fish heads. In her world, fish always arrived at the table already named and prepared. “My dear, the mandarin fish is quite delicious,” and so on. The fact that Cheong was the first person to personally debone fish and serve it to her would have made the heads of the Dang Clan lament that raising a daughter was pointless.
“Haha. Elder Sister eats with such gusto!”
“You’re not insulting me, are you?”
“Of course not! Your spirit reminds me of the Paeng Clan’s young lady in her prime. If I’m not careful, I might fall for you myself. Why is it that the women of the Central Plains only pretend to eat while actually doing the opposite? Dining with them only kills my appetite.”
“Ah. The Paeng Clan’s young lady does eat well. Though she is quite picky.”
“Does the Paeng Clan’s young lady still only eat meat?”
“Yeah. She says you need to eat muscle to grow muscle.”
“‘You are what you eat’ is nothing but superstition. Though when I think of the Paeng Clan’s young lady, I sometimes wonder if it might not be entirely false. Ah, ‘you are what you eat’ means that eating the same thing…”
Jegal Ihyeon continued his rapid-fire chatter without a single word slurring, even while stuffing his face. Since he was the friend who had paid for the meal, Cheong merely pretended to listen while focusing on eating. Ah. Oh. I see. Right. With soulless replies, the pleasant mealtime passed.
“Whew, that was good.”
Cheong had already undone her sash while eating, so she gently rubbed her now-protruding belly. Dang Nan-a poked it and marveled.
“Wow, it’s really bloated. You ate all that…”
“I could probably eat more, actually. But that space is reserved for dessert.”
“How do you eat like this every meal and not gain weight? Hmm. All the fat must be going up here, to the chest…”
Dang Nan-a’s hand crept upward, so Cheong slapped it away.
“There you go again.”
“I didn’t mean to, it just happened.”
Cheong narrowed her eyes. It was fortunate this one had been born a woman. If she had been a man, she might have become the greatest lecher and scoundrel under heaven.
---
In truth, the general consensus among martial artists was that Wuhan itself had little to offer in terms of sights. There was only the towering Yellow Crane Tower, and Dong Lake, famous for its cherry blossoms, was currently out of season and merely a quiet lake where one could gaze at the horizon. Of course, being able to see the horizon from a lake was a meteorological wonder unique to the Central Plains. Though Yeongcheon Temple was famous, it was not quite on the level of the White Horse Temple in Luoyang, so it was merely a place one stopped by on the way to Dong Lake. With nowhere else to go after dinner, they decided to stop by the Jegal Clan and stay the night.
Jegal Ihyeon talked a lot, but he was genuinely kindhearted and had a surprisingly impressive side to him—a massive youngest brother. Since he offered to let them stay at his house and wanted to travel together to Kaifeng anyway, there was no reason to refuse.
In truth, Wuhan did have one hidden gem: the short stretch of road leading right up to the Jegal Clan’s main gate. It was lined with teahouses and restaurants, their outdoor tables packed with burly women and the occasional man, each claiming their own seat. The merchants here ran businesses owned by the Jegal Clan, and the customers were people who had gathered hoping to catch the Jegal Clan’s favor. Their instinct for making money was truly demonic.
“What are those scrawny girls? Just because their faces are a little pretty, they think they can wag their tails?”
“Exactly. Girls with waists thinner than Elder Sister’s arm daring to cling to the young master.”
“Look at that face. It’s smaller than my fist.”
“They’re not womanly at all. If you’re a woman, you should compete with muscle.”
Their muttering was suspicious enough that Cheong focused and eavesdropped. What was this? Had they come from some distant ocean kingdom of women? Compete with muscle? Was this some kind of marriage-by-abduction? Was this the famous gender reversal? Of course, Cheong did not know any internal energy techniques like Clear Hearing. Her hearing itself had simply transcended human limits, so when she concentrated, she could hear everything. They were not speaking loudly, yet the content of their whispers was shocking. It was not particularly unpleasant, so Cheong simply pretended not to hear.
When visiting a friend’s house, the proper order was to greet the parents first. Before that, they headed to unpack their belongings.
“Hyun-orabeoni~”
Cheong flinched. Orabeoni? Who would use such a heaven-offending word? And dragging out the ending like that! At the same time, a tiny figure came running up— a girl who looked about six or seven years old. Ah, little children were acceptable. She was cute, at least.
“Oh, Hyang-ah. Have you been playing nicely?”
Jegal Ihyeon lifted the girl high above his head, spun her around four times, then plopped her onto his shoulder. Normally one would give a piggyback ride, but his shoulders were so broad that he seated her there instead. The clear, bright laughter unique to children filled the surroundings. Cheong smiled behind her veil like a proud father. It was a heartwarming scene to behold, at any rate.
She was Jegal Hyang, the direct-line youngest daughter of the Jegal Clan. However, the conversation that followed was rather strange.
“What book did Hyang-ie read today?”
“Um, Hyang-ie read thirty-one chapters of the Yuliaozi today.”
“Oh, Yuliaozi! That’s a good book. And quite entertaining, too. What part left the deepest impression on you?”
“Um, first, about the heavenly officials. Since a single day is merely a heavenly official, it was not included in the human affairs. This is a different perspective from the time, enemy, and situation that Sun Wu spoke of…”
“Hmm. That is merely emphasizing the need to prepare defenses before the heavenly officials, not that Yuliao…”
“But after the fortifications, if we dig moats in preparation for a siege, dig wells, expand storehouses, and prepare for winter in case of a siege…”
“Those are all things that should be prepared in advance anyway…”
Cheong looked at Dang Nan-a. She wondered if she understood any of it. Dang Nan-a happened to be looking at her with the exact same expression, so they simply accepted it as is. There was no need to check with Gyeon Po-hui, so neither of them bothered glancing her way.
Feeling oddly foolish and uncomfortable, they unpacked their things and paid their respects to the slender Jegal Clan Head and his burly wives.
“Please take care of our A-hyeon. The boy only has a head full of knowledge and is still ignorant of the ways of the world. I would be grateful if you treated him like a younger sibling.”
“Yes, Elder.”
“Good. Tsk. Young people should play together.”
Even though his most cherished and proud son had returned with a crowd of women and even declared he would travel with them, his attitude remained refreshingly straightforward, as if his son had merely brought home same-gender friends. The one who looked upset was Jegal Hyang, who had been nestled in Jegal Ihyeon’s arms as if building a nest.
“What? Orabeoni, where are you going?”
“You little rascal, Hyang! Stop being spoiled. Leave your brother to his friends and come here.”
“No, I hate it! Hyang-ie wants to stay with Orabeoni! Nooo!”
Jegal Hyang clung on desperately, but no matter how much strength a small child exerted, she could not overcome a mother whose arm was as thick as her daughter’s. The little girl was pried away, unable to resist her mother’s strength. Afterward, they moved to a separate building, laid out snacks, and chatted idly. Surprisingly, the miscellaneous stories Jegal Ihyeon told were quite entertaining. Eventually, he excused himself early, saying he had to pack as well, and Cheong soaked in a hot bath to relax. She even allowed the maid to attend to her bathing. Afterward, while sitting on the veranda of the guest hall to dry her hair, swinging her legs, she felt a subtle gaze and turned her head. Peeking out from behind the wall was a single head.
“Hmm? Little one? Your name was Hyang, right?”
“Ugh…”
At Cheong’s gesture, Jegal Hyang approached hesitantly, then suddenly asked:
“You’re the sister who was wearing the veil earlier, right? Are you going to become our new sister-in-law?”
More precisely, she had asked if Cheong would become a sister-in-law, the Central Plains term for a brother’s wife. Cheong smiled playfully.
“Why? Don’t want me to?”
“Yeah. I don’t want you to.”
“Why not?”
“You’re weak.”
“Weak? This body is a master.”
Cheong released a crude burst of qi from her hand. If Seomun Su-rin had seen it, it would have earned her a nuclear noogie. Showing a demonic art to a child just because she had nothing else to demonstrate. Fortunately—or unfortunately—young Jegal Hyang did not possess the discernment to recognize the Sosu Magong.
“Ugh. Not that. You don’t have muscles either. And you’re not strong.”
“I’m strong, though? Super strong, actually.”
Jegal Hyang pouted.
“Hmph. Liar. Can you even lift a hundred geun with those arms?”
“A hundred geun? I could lift that with one hand.”
“Then what about two hundred geun?”
“If I hold one in each hand, that’s two hundred geun, isn’t it?”
“Three hundred geun?”
“I’ve never tried, but I think I could. Lifting it shouldn’t be too hard. Swinging it around might be difficult, though.”
“Without using internal energy?”
“Without using internal energy.”
Jegal Hyang slapped Cheong’s knee.
“You can’t. You’re a total liar.”
“Look at this kid? Already resorting to incitement and fabrication at such a young age? Hah, and I can’t even demonstrate it directly.”
Jegal Hyang answered as if she had been waiting for this. In fact, she had been waiting. As a member of the Jegal bloodline, one should be capable of scheming by the age of seven.
“Then show me.”
“Oho?”
“Quickly. Otherwise, I’ll tell Orabeoni you lied.”