Chương 63: Chapter 60 - Sichuan Spice

Cyrus gasped, reaching desperately for some airag. Through his teary eyes, he was barely able to see the mug that his neighbour passed into his grasping fingers, and the sour and soft taste of the fermented mare's milk washed away the spice.

"Hoooeee!!!" He shouted, coming up for air to the sound of laughter from his seatmates.

"That's spice-ay!"

"Hah! Your first time with our Sichuan province spice, is it?" Kiho shouted.

"Too much for your Nakjin tongue?" In answer, Cyrus immediately dove in for seconds, allowing the burning sensation to flood his mouth and body. After the cold, the overwhelming hot was almost a relief. The soup was thinner that he liked – nothing at all like a good New England clam chowder, or beef stew – but it had that texture that only came from the freshest of ingredients. He grabbed the bowl in both hands, table manners be damned, and lifted it to his lips, draining it in one gulp.

Noodles, vegetables, and meat all went down with it. The noodles were overcooked, and the meat a bit tough. It was the best thing he'd ever tasted. Tears sprang to his face. Not just from the hot. When he'd eaten Song's last celebratory dinner, it'd been a mere few days after returning. But now it'd almost been a month. A full month without something to whet his palate and take away the edge of his sterile existence.

The burning sensation on his cracked lips, and the protests of his stomach were more welcome than he'd realized.

"Ahhhh…" He groaned, leaning back from the table. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Since coming here he'd fought for his life not just once, but twice. The worst he'd ever had to fight back home were drunk parents when he'd been reffing for the high school leagues. Was this world just that vicious, or had he chosen the wrong teenager to get trapped inside? The table had grown silent. The soldier next to him patted him on the back.

"It's alright lad. We're all soldiers. We've seen combat. You don't need ta hide it from us." The man's accent had a different timbre to it, and his skin was a bit darker than the others. Cyrus wiped away tears.

"I'm fine! It's just the spice. It's great, but you're right, I'm not quite used to it." The soldier nodded, accepting his excuse. Kiho passed over a sizzling hotpot, steam rising from a mashed jumble of what looked like ground meat, bits of tofu, bits of green onion, and more red peppercorns than were strictly right. The entire mix was nearly red as blood, and burbled menacingly.

"You can't stop at the soup, Haksaekki! You need to try the mapo tofu next!" Cyrus picked up the chopsticks and dug in. The mapo tofu was even more spicy than the soup, if that was even possible. The meat was better this time, seared to perfection, with a soft texture that complemented the smoothness of the tofu perfectly. The peppercorns added a bit of crunch to what would be an otherwise rubbery dish, and the green onions managed to somehow add another level of spice without being overpowering.

The meat was pork this time, and tasted much better than the overdone beef in the soup in Cyrus's opinion. He grabbed a bowl of rice and ladled some of the mapo tofu onto it. He gave it a little stir to mix the rice with the sauce then took a bite. The rice was the right choice to pair with the dish. It took a bit of the edge off the heat while not overpowering the flavour of the pork. It was much more bearable to eat, and he wolfed the whole bowl down.

By now, Cyrus's tongue was too seared to even notice the heat, though his eyes and nose were another story. He wiped his nose with a sleeve, making sure not to get any of the chili oil into his eyes. The soldiers had begun eating too, more interested in the food than the young cultivator. Cyrus matched their indifference by chowing down on the next thing. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

This time he decided to try something less meaty, and reached for a plate arranged with a half-dozen thin rectangular slices of white jelly. They bounced and jiggled, threatening to splatter their thin red layer of red chilli sauce all over the table. Like the tofu, it was also heaped tall in sliced green onions.

"Mung Bean jelly," his seatmate commented around a mouth full of rice and meat.

"Sichuan style." It seemed Sichuan Style was synonymous with spicy. Cyrus took a careful bite. It was cool and refreshing, the flavour both sweet and vinegary with texture not quite unlike jello. Then came a musty aftertaste that reminded him of smoked meat, followed by another blast of heat. Cyrus found he liked it even more than the soup. He alternated bites of jelly with bites of rice, enjoying the interplay of the sweet and spicy jello with the sweet and mild rice.

He took a moment to breathe, sipping at his mug of airag. He'd initially considered the stuff a mere shadow of a bad sour beer, but it was starting to grow on him. It especially paired well with the spicy food. He noticed the innkeeper at his side, holding her serving tray and giving him a questioning look.

"Do you like it?"

"Love it," Cyrus grinned.

"My complements to the chef." The innkeeper swept a curl of hair over her ear.

"That would be me. I wanted to be a chef at one of the Imperial Restaurants in Chengdu. But… as it came to pass, I ended up here on the borders, serving wayward travellers, lost souls, and barbarian Nakjin."

"Ahh, come on now. It's not all that bad, Miss Nari. You've got us!" Kiho called, giving her a lazy wave. The innkeeper – Nari? – gave Kiho a winning smile.

"That's true Kiho. I guess I'll have to comfort myself with old soldiers to keep me company." There was some laughter, and Kiho's neighbour elbowed the old man in the ribs. He blushed, and took another drink from his tankard to hide it.

"Imperial Restaurant?" Cyrus asked. Nari clutched her serving tray harder as she looked up through the open floors of the pagoda.

"They're accredited by the Imperial censors, and bear the Golden Mark of the emperor. Only the best of the best can claim such, and it can be taken away at any time."

"Why not just get a censor or whatever to come judge you here?" Cyrus asked, ladling another dish onto his quickly declining bowl of rice. This time it was a mound of peanuts, with diced chicken and of course, more chili oil. Nari shook her head.

"No. I'm just too small. You need to be capable of serving a certain number of people. It's not just about the food, but the service and the amenities as well. I'm afraid it'll have to remain a dream from my youth."

"At least you're honest to your dao," Cyrus commented, munching away on the crunchy peanuts.

"This stuff is amazing." Nari laughed, a bright chipper titter.

"Coming from a cultivator? Truly you honour this unworthy innkeeper. But yes, I guess I have. Thank you." She gave a small bow, then ran off to another table where a patron was gesturing with the menu. They continued eating for the rest of the hour, talking every once in a while about the food and drink. When they were done, Cyrus suddenly felt a massive wave of fatigue. His body catching up with him, no doubt.

"I'm sorry all. I'm going to need to call it here and go rest." He stood and bowed.

"Thank you so much for the honour of eating with you."

"No, the honour is ours for being treated to fine food and better tales, young Haksaekki! We'll make sure every soldier this side of the plains hears of what a fine man the Crane Child of Nakjo is!" Kiho raised his mug in a toast, and the other soldiers did too. The warmth in Cyrus's belly was matched only by the warmth in his heart as he ascended the stairs back to his room. For all the death and madness in this world, there was also a bright spark of passion and brotherhood.

As he stumbled through the door to his bed, his stomach suddenly twisted. All the spice he'd brought down was threatening to come back up. He clutched at his guts and realized that he was in fact, incorrect – it was threatening to come out both ways. And he could already tell what all those spicy oils were going to feel like when they did. He ran for the bathroom, and opened it to reveal a little squatty thing that opened to a hole that disappeared down into the darkness below. And no sink or bucket in sight.

His stomach roiled. Cyrus groaned.

"Soooong, I'm ready to give the body back now. Any time. Come oooon. Sooooooonnnggggg!!!" There was much more groaning before the day was done. But unfortunately for Cyrus, and fortunately for Song, the young cultivator didn't wake up until the next morning.