Chapter 66

Chapter 66

Early the next morning, Xie Zhiwei woke up hungry.

He'd spent most of the previous day going back and forth with Hu Shoulian, so caught up in verbal sparring he barely touched his food. After returning to the inn, he'd chatted with Pei Dinglan for a while before collapsing into bed—Pei Dinglan had even helped him wash up and brush his teeth.

Now his stomach was growling loudly, loud enough to keep him from falling back asleep.

The sky outside the window was just beginning to lighten. Xie Zhiwei turned over and reached out to pat the space beside him—Pei Dinglan had already gotten up at some point.

That guy always got up before him. Where does he get all that energy?

His stomach growled again, so he couldn't just lie there anymore. Xie Zhiwei sat up and rubbed his eyes, hair a mess, undershirt all wrinkled. Half-asleep, he sat on the edge of the bed, dazed, for a minute.

Hungry.

The inn's dining area probably didn't have breakfast out yet. The staff had probably just gotten up too—who knows if there was anything to hold him over.

There might be some leftover buns or flatbread from last night in the kitchen. Even a couple bites to tide him over would work. Worst case, there might be warm water on the stove—a bowl of hot water beat just sitting around waiting.

With that in mind, Xie Zhiwei fumbled into his clothes, slid on his shoes, and headed out.

The morning was still and quiet. The osmanthus tree in the courtyard rustled in the morning breeze, its sweet scent mixing with that damp, fresh early-morning smell.

Xie Zhiwei headed toward the kitchen.

The inn's kitchen was in a side courtyard tucked between the front and back yards. Xie Zhiwei remembered the staff saying the owner was particular—he didn't want the kitchen anywhere near the guest rooms.

Xie Zhiwei had just yawned and reached the mouth of the passage when he heard a racket coming from the kitchen.

Total chaos.

"Stop! Don't run!" It was the cook's voice, frantic and furious. "You damn chicken! Hold still!"

Then came the flapping of wings, the crash of stuff getting knocked over, and the cook's cursing.

"I'm gonna slaughter you today for sure! Run! Go on, run!"

Xie Zhiwei figured the cook was butchering a chicken this early. No wonder it was so loud.

The inn didn't keep its own chickens; they bought them from the village. Probably free-range ones, at that.

Just as Xie Zhiwei was about to step into the kitchen courtyard, a flash of color shot out of the kitchen door—moving crazy fast.

It was a rooster.

A glossy rooster with golden feathers and a bright red comb.

The rooster ran like lightning, wings half-out, claws scrabbling noisily on the ground.

The cook chased after it, apron covered in feathers, cleaver still in hand, panting: "Don't run! You can't get out of this yard!"

The rooster clearly disagreed. It burst out of the kitchen, looped halfway around the yard, then cut hard—heading straight for Xie Zhiwei.

Before Xie Zhiwei could react, the bird was already on him.

The rooster apparently decided this human blocking the moon gate was an obstacle on its road to freedom. It kicked off the ground with a mighty leap, golden feathers fanning out in the air, and drove its long, strong chicken feet square into Xie Zhiwei's chest.

"Ah!"

Xie Zhiwei stumbled back from the sudden "attack." Before he could steady himself, the rooster used his chest as a springboard, flapped its wings, and scrambled up onto his shoulder.

Finally, it perched itself right on top of Xie Zhiwei's head.

Golden feathers exploded across the top of his head like some ridiculous hat.

Xie Zhiwei went completely still. He could feel the chicken's claws gripping his hair, feel the warmth of the bird's body.

And after settling on his head, the rooster proudly stretched its neck and let out a loud, triumphant crow.

"Cock-a-doodle-doo!"

"AAAAAAAH!"

Xie Zhiwei let out a full-on screech.

He—an imperial official of the court—was getting stood on by a chicken, making the most embarrassing sound of his whole life.

Pei Dinglan, who'd been drawing water from the well in the back courtyard, heard the scream. The bucket clattered back into the well, and he was off like a shot.

"What's wrong?! What's wrong?!" Pei Dinglan ran faster than the wind, tearing over—

Pei Dinglan's eyes went huge.

In the kitchen courtyard, the cook stood off to the side with his cleaver, looking like he wanted to laugh but didn't dare.

Xie Zhiwei stood in the middle of the yard, hair a mess, with a magnificent golden rooster perched on his head, looking totally unbothered.

What a picture—a golden rooster standing on one leg.

Pei Dinglan's lips started twitching.

"Pfft—" He couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.

Xie Zhiwei's eyes burned with fury. "PEI! DING! LAN!"

What's so funny? Is this funny?

"You done laughing?" Xie Zhiwei's voice squeezed through gritted teeth. "Get it off me!"

Pei Dinglan laughed, but he was quick. He wiped the tears from his eyes, strode over, and reached up toward Xie Zhiwei's head.

The rooster tried to flap away, but Pei Dinglan grabbed both wings at the base and lifted it up like it was nothing.

"What a fat chicken." Pei Dinglan weighed it in his hand and commented.

The rooster, wings pinned, dangled in midair, kicking its legs uselessly and letting out angry clucks.

Xie Zhiwei was finally free. He crouched down, grabbed his head, and felt his precious hair.

What if that damn chicken had scratched him bald?

Only then did the cook dare come over, bowing apologetically to Xie Zhiwei: "Sir, I'm really sorry, really sorry. This chicken was just bought from the village—free-range. I let it out of the cage to slaughter it, and who knew it would bolt like that? Couldn't stop it at all..."

Xie Zhiwei looked up, murder in his eyes. "I want revenge."

The cook blinked. "Huh?"

"Braise it in soy sauce!" Xie Zhiwei stood up, smoothing his hair that the chicken claws had completely wrecked, and said through gritted teeth, "This chicken is going on my dinner table tonight."

Pei Dinglan stood nearby, holding the still-struggling rooster, watching Xie Zhiwei's angry yet stubborn expression, the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth impossible to suppress.

"Fine, fine, braised it is." Pei Dinglan went along with his words. "Braised is delicious—rich and saucy, perfect for a plump free-range chicken like this."

Xie Zhiwei shot Pei Dinglan a glare. "Don't you laugh!"

His hair was a mess, his robes were all rumpled, and there were two chicken claw prints on his chest.

"I'm not laughing." Pei Dinglan immediately pressed his lips together.

But even in this disheveled state, Pei Dinglan thought Xie Zhiwei looked absolutely gorgeous.

"And stop looking!" Xie Zhiwei said fiercely.

"Okay, okay, not looking." Pei Dinglan handed the rooster to the cook and instructed, "Make sure it's braised."

The cook took the chicken, nodded and said yes, and carried the still-struggling rooster back into the kitchen.

Pei Dinglan walked over to Xie Zhiwei and reached out to smooth down the hair the chicken claws had ruffled, his fingers threading through Xie Zhiwei's strands, his touch as gentle as if he were handling something precious.

"Easy now." Pei Dinglan's voice carried both amusement and coaxing. "It's just a chicken—we'll have it braised for dinner tonight, eat it till there's nothing left but bones."

Xie Zhiwei's anger had mostly cooled from being soothed, but he still had to get the last word in. "I'm going to eat two bowls of rice with it."

"Even three bowls, no problem." Pei Dinglan smiled as he fixed the last strand of hair. "It's not like we're broke."

Xie Zhiwei let out a huff and turned to walk back, but after two steps he stopped and glanced back at Pei Dinglan.

"You're really enjoying yourself, huh?"

Pei Dinglan immediately composed his expression, looking perfectly serious. "No, I just think that chicken had great taste."

Xie Zhiwei squinted. "Oh?"

Pei Dinglan caught up to him and walked shoulder to shoulder. "See, it ignored the cook and went straight for you—that means it knows what's up."

Xie Zhiwei was speechless. "That's total nonsense."

"It's obvious the chicken has good taste, going straight for the handsome one." Pei Dinglan said, deadpan. "If I were that chicken, I'd come for you too."

Xie Zhiwei: "...Yeah, let's not."

He had no desire to cuddle up with a chicken in bed, nor could he picture himself getting all lovey-dovey with one.

From the kitchen came the sound of the cook butchering the chicken, the rooster letting out one last tragic squawk before falling silent.

Xie Zhiwei glanced back toward the kitchen. "Hmph, that wretched rooster."

The moment he finished bad-mouthing the rooster, Xie Zhiwei's stomach let out an extremely loud "gurgle."

The sound was especially clear in the quiet morning courtyard.

Pei Dinglan's shoulders were shaking as he tried not to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Xie Zhiwei clutched his stomach, trying to muffle the still-rumbling noise with his sleeve. "You've never been hungry before?"

"I'm not laughing." Pei Dinglan claimed he wasn't, but the mirth in his eyes was impossible to conceal. "I just think our Lord Xie's stomach growls in a way that's one of a kind."

"Oh, shut up." Xie Zhiwei was done—Pei Dinglan could find something to compliment in literally anything.

Pei Dinglan reached out and tugged at Xie Zhiwei's sleeve. "Let's go."

Xie Zhiwei: "Where to?"

"Weren't you hungry?" Pei Dinglan pulled Xie Zhiwei along by the sleeve. "Let's go see if there's anything in the kitchen to tide you over."

Xie Zhiwei let himself be dragged along, but still had to save face. "I can walk by myself—let go, what will people think with all this tugging and pulling?"

Pei Dinglan didn't let go—he just gripped the sleeve even tighter.

The kitchen door was wide open, steam rising from the stove. The cook was crouched in the corner dealing with the rooster, most of its feathers already plucked, leaving pale white skin, with a few golden feathers floating in a basin of hot water beside him.

On another stove sat a large iron pot, its lid half-covered, white steam seeping out, carrying the smell of grain.

The cook heard the noise and looked up, seeing the two guests return. He quickly stood and wiped his hands on his apron. "Gentlemen, forget something?"

"No." Pei Dinglan's gaze swept across the stove. "Got anything ready to eat?"

The cook scratched his head, looking a bit troubled as he glanced at the stove. The inn's dining room wouldn't start serving breakfast for another half hour, and there wasn't really anything decent on the stove right now.

"I only have some rough grain buns I was gonna eat myself." The cook pointed to a steamer basket in the corner of the stove, smiling apologetically. "They're the breakfast the boss makes for the staff. If you two don't mind..."

"No problem." Xie Zhiwei nearly shouted it out.

Nothing mattered more than food—coarse or fine, anything that filled the belly was good.

The cook hurried over and lifted the steamer lid, a wave of white steam rushing out, revealing a few grayish buns inside.

The coarse grain buns were made from a mix of cornmeal and sorghum flour, giving them a yellowish-brown color and rough texture, nothing like the smooth, fine white flour buns.

The cook took a clean white porcelain plate, used tongs to pick out a few buns, then fished out some pickled radishes from a jar under the stove, sliced them into small pieces, arranged them on a small dish, and brought it all over.

"Gentlemen, please eat first—I'll heat up some soup for you right away." The cook said eagerly.

"No need to bother." Xie Zhiwei took the plate. "This is plenty."

He was simply too hungry.

Xie Zhiwei sat down on the stone steps by the kitchen door, not caring if they were dirty, picked up a coarse grain bun, and took a big bite.

The bun was way rougher than white bread, and chewing it felt dry and kinda stuck in the throat.

Xie Zhiwei chewed a few times, then took a small bite of the pickled radish. The radish was salty, sour, crisp, and tender—perfect with the bun, cutting through the dryness.

Pei Dinglan sat down beside Xie Zhiwei, took a bun and tore it in half, tucked a piece of pickled radish between the two halves, and took a bite.

The bun was rough, the radish salty and sour—hardly gourmet.

But with the morning light and the person beside him chewing with puffed-out cheeks, it somehow tasted like the best thing in the world.

The morning light grew brighter, the sun climbing higher, golden rays filtering through the kitchen window and casting a soft warmth over them.

The morning breeze blew freely, mixing the scent of osmanthus with the kitchen's smoky aroma.

The two sat side by side on the stone steps at the kitchen entrance, sharing a plate of coarse grain buns and a dish of pickled radishes, feet on the gray brick ground, the sky above slowly brightening.

Xie Zhiwei stuffed the last bite of bun into his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and let out a long breath.

"You full?"

"I'm full," Xie Zhiwei patted the crumbs off his hands, then looked down at the chicken footprints on his clothes with a sigh.

Pei Dinglan followed his gaze: "Go change when we get back."

"Mm." Xie Zhiwei stood up, brushing the dust from his robe. "Let's go."

The two left the kitchen, an empty plate and a few crumbs of steamed bun left on the stone steps. Several sparrows flew down from the eaves, landing beside the plate, pecking at the crumbs and chirping away.

The cook peeked out from behind the stove, confirming the two guests had gone far, before returning to the stove with the empty plate, muttering to himself, "Even the high and mighty can eat simple food."

Xie Zhiwei returned to his room to change into clean clothes, while Pei Dinglan carefully combed through his disheveled hair, which had been ruffled by the chicken, until Xie Zhiwei was satisfied he looked elegant and dignified again, then nodded approvingly.

Pei Dinglan said, "There, now no one can tell a chicken stepped on you."

"Pei Sanlang, you're really good at this," Xie Zhiwei remarked.

Pei Dinglan placed the comb back on the dressing case and, in the same motion, planted a kiss on the top of Xie Zhiwei's head. "Serving my Zhiwei? Of course, that's a given."

Xie Zhiwei snorted, twisted around to pull Pei Dinglan down, and kissed him on the chin.

Pei Dinglan seized the opportunity, leaned down to catch Xie Zhiwei's lips, and gave them a gentle bite.

"May I ask, Lord Xie, is this my reward?"

Xie Zhiwei pressed his fingertip against Pei Dinglan's chin, gazing up at him from below: "You know that already."

Pei Dinglan: "Then I'll make sure to behave well, so I can earn more rewards from Lord Xie."