A Cold Winter's Night

"A toast to Yuanzheng and his trapping skills, allowing us to feast so royally even in winter," Xuxian said cheerfully, raising his bowl.

There was laughter in the yard as they sat around the small fire Yuanzheng had built specially for roasting the partridges. They were small ones, as was expected in winter, but the smell of roast meat was still heavenly in the cold air. Balancing on small stools, huddled under their cloaks, they put down the skewered birds for the toast, reaching for their winebowls with greasy fingers.

Suzhen picked up the jar of wine. "Anyone needs more wine?"

She went around the small circle and poured more wine into the empty bowls. In the flickering firelight she looked calm and lovely, with a half-smile on her lips, the halo of fur around her face a wispy gold.

Fahai's eyes followed her over the edge of his bowl.

Yuanzheng raised his half-eaten remains of his partridge. "You're welcome, everyone."

He paused midway gnawing at the wing to remark, "It's a pity Qingqing wouldn't come. Even when there's roast partridge. That's not like her, to miss out on meat!"

With a shrug, he gave a short laugh. "Just as well perhaps. There might not be enough for everyone if she did."

Xuxian also paused, lowering his wine to look thoughtfully at the circle of faces in the firelight. Granny Hong was chattering with Suzhen, the two making an unlikely pair, one so radiant with youth and beauty, the other so old and worn, yet with genuine happiness glowing on both faces. As he watched them, Suzhen laid her head against Granny Hong's shoulder in a pretty, child-like gesture, and Granny Hong patted her hand.

He smiled and turned his gaze to where the monk sat, silently holding his bowl of wine, slightly withdrawn from the others so his face was more masked in shadows. He ate little, as always, but he seemed to be content just sitting there in their company, observing them. Xuxian had originally wondered a bit uneasily if the monk was silently disapproving of their flippancy, from the way he just silently sat and watched them. But he had realized from the look in the man's eyes how unfamiliar the cosiness of the atmosphere was to him. With compassion, Xuxian remembered the wandering monk did not have any family or friends to speak of, and probably spent days without even seeing or speaking to another human. Intimidating as the monk seemed, he was but human too.

Next to the monk, rather subdued by his presence, sat Xiaohu, his increasingly long legs sticking out even though he tried to fold them under himself. He clearly felt uncomfortable with Fahai besides him instead of Qingqing, and was devoting himself singlemindedly to the roast partridges as result.

"It feels different without her," Yuanzheng said abruptly, reaching for his winebowl. "She seemed almost angry when I tried to convince her to come."

He sighed. "I think she doesn't like the holy man," he said lowly, so that Fahai would not hear. "Since he came to stay with us she hasn't dropped by the hut a single time. I only come across her in the mountains, or in the city with Xiaohu."

Xuxian smiled. "That's natural, I would suppose. He is possibly the opposite of Qingqing in every aspect. I think she would feel uncomfortable with him around. Just look at Xiaohu."

They laughed softly, as Xiaohu inched away from Fahai to sit closer to Granny Hong.

It was true that the circle felt rather different without Qingqing's bright eyes and laughing face. She and Xiaohu had always been the life and soul of the party, with their witticisms and pranks and endless feuds. Xuxian, glancing at Yuanzheng's face, saw that he was thinking about her.

The two of them were so different, yet strangely enough they had developed this odd friendship, where Yuanzheng scolded her and Qingqing teased him, yet Qingqing would come looking for him, and Yuanzheng would miss her when she wasn't around. Xuxian smiled to himself.

"By the way," Yuanzheng said, turning to him. "I've got a cut on my hand that doesn't seem to be healing, though it's been several days already. Do you happen to have a salve or something that will help it to heal quickly?"

He wiped the grease off his left hand and held it out for Xuxian to examine.

Putting down his winebowl, Xuxian took a look at it. "It's nothing serious. But it could be the cold weather, making your skin chapped, so it splits easily even when the scar has started to heal, keeping it from making a full recovery. I have a salve with me somewhere, I think. Wait, I'll fetch it."

Suzhen looked up quickly from across the fire as he got up, and as she did Fahai did too.

"Xuxian, where are you going?"

"I want to get my medicine pack," he explained, wiping his hands. "I'll just run over quickly."

Suzhen got up quickly. "Let me. I want to show Granny Hong the shirt I've been making for her, and ask her for her advice on the difficult parts."

She flashed him a smile and hurried off.

Granny Hong chuckled. "Ah, Physician Xu, the gods were good to you when it came to a wife. If only Yuanzheng can find a woman half as good as Madame Xu, he will be a lucky man."

Xuxian smiled to himself, as Yuanzheng snorted. "Mother, don't be ridiculous. If there's a woman willing to marry me in the first place the gods would have already done their best to grant your prayer." He laughed.

Xuxian hurried to change the topic. "Holy man, why don't you tell us some stories to pass the time. Yuanzheng, you won't believe the tales he has to tell. I could scarcely believe them myself." He shivered, refilling his wine and sitting down next to the monk. "A cold winter's night like this is the best for telling stories about spirits and demons."

"These are not old wive's tales to gossip about," Fahai said sternly. "Physician Xu, you take them flippantly."

He paused. An idea had just occured to him.