Chapter Thirty-Two: Grilled Fish with Jinghua

After the commotion at White Tang Creek, Jinghua lost all interest in cultivating. Gu Zhiheng led everyone down the mountain.

Having eaten only a fruit in the morning, he was now famished. There should be wild chickens or rabbits at the foot of the mountain—he’d hunt a couple and roast them for lunch. Truth be told, though he could subsist without food, he still preferred three meals a day. Whenever he skipped eating, he felt absent-minded all day.

"Sir, why are we going down the mountain? My grandfather will be angry if he finds out," Jinghua fretted. He had never ventured off the mountain before. Though curiosity tugged at him, wanting to glimpse the world beyond, his grandfather always said it was too dangerous.

Gu Zhiheng glanced down the slope. He remembered there was a small river by the foot of the mountain; perhaps fishing would be easier. The mountain was home to all sorts of spirits and creatures—he didn’t want to risk roasting someone else’s grandchildren by mistake. Going down seemed safer.

He ignored Jinghua’s concerns and simply dragged the boy along. Jinghua’s short legs slowed their progress, so Gu Zhiheng eventually picked him up and jogged to the riverside.

"Whew, you’re heavier than you look—must have been eating plenty," he teased, estimating the boy weighed at least forty pounds.

"I’m not fat, I’m just right!" Jinghua mumbled, a bit disgruntled.

Despite his annoyance, Jinghua watched curiously as Gu Zhiheng broke off a branch and strode toward the riverbank.

"Hey, hey, stay out of the water. I’ll catch a couple of fish myself," Gu Zhiheng quickly stopped Jinghua from attempting to wade in. Children had no business playing near the water—it was far too dangerous.

While Jinghua stood dazed, Gu Zhiheng swiftly snatched two palm-sized fish and cleaned them. He then grabbed the absent-minded child and headed back up the mountain.

Exhausting work, day after day. Thankfully, the path from the foot to the midway point was gentle, otherwise just walking would be enough to wear anyone out.

Mo Han had taken Chu Xingran and Chen Yuan down the mountain to who knows where, leaving Gu Zhiheng alone. Two and a half months remained before the red-tailed fox appeared most frequently—a sign that he’d have to stay at Mistbrow Mountain for quite some time.

Still, if his cultivation advanced quickly, he could leave sooner. He’d saved Mo Han’s phone number—if anything arose that he couldn't handle, he could call for remote guidance.

The thought wasn’t too bad; solitude could be good, a chance to hone himself.

"Jinghua, go gather some dry branches. We’ll roast the fish together," Gu Zhiheng said. Daytime was idle anyway—better to find something to pass the time.

The Bamboo Courtyard seemed to have many worldly items, so he assumed there’d be seasonings as well.

Watching Jinghua collect dry bamboo in the grove, Gu Zhiheng headed to the kitchen in search of salt.

Though he wasn’t much of a cook, he could recognize seasonings. He and Hanging Ghost had roasted fish a few times at the ancestral shrine—he had some experience there, so he wasn’t worried.

The Bamboo Courtyard occupied a cleared plot halfway up the mountain, about two hundred square meters—a spacious area. Surrounding it was a grove of green bamboo, lush year-round. The house itself was a simple bamboo structure, but contained everything: kitchen, living room, study, bath—nothing lacking.

A small stream ran beside the right side of the house, making water access easy. Gu Zhiheng felt satisfied with the prospect of spending the next two months here.

Soon, Gu Zhiheng found salt in the kitchen—though it looked like it might be past its prime, slightly damp. There was chili powder, but he didn’t like spicy food, and Jinghua probably couldn’t handle it either. He took only a jar of salt back to the courtyard. Jinghua returned with the firewood.

"Take two thin branches, wash them in the stream, and bring them back to skewer the fish. I’ll light the fire," Gu Zhiheng ordered, naturally assuming the role of taskmaster.

Jinghua, though only four, knew much more than ordinary children—handling small chores was no problem. Besides, the boy was right within sight, so there was no danger.

There were no fire-starting tools in the courtyard, so Gu Zhiheng simply stacked the wood and tossed a fire talisman onto it—flames sprang up instantly.

Using a fire talisman for such simple tasks was a bit extravagant, perhaps wasteful. But since it was Gu Zhiheng doing it, everything seemed reasonable.

"Sir, I’ve washed them. How do I skewer the fish?" Jinghua asked. Roasting fish—wasn’t that the way wild men ate, according to books? Was Sir so hungry he’d turned into a wild man? Or perhaps… he was a wild man all along?

"Insert the stick through the mouth and out the tail—that’s all. How are you so clueless?" Gu Zhiheng mocked, deftly threading the fish.

He kept one skewer for himself, handed the other to Jinghua, sprinkled salt, and placed them by the fire.

"Hold it higher, or the outside will burn to ash before the inside is cooked," Gu Zhiheng sighed, rolling his eyes as he turned his fish over the flames.

Each fish weighed over a pound—should be enough to fill them.

Jinghua watched Gu Zhiheng’s movements, mimicking him. Roasted fish should taste delicious, he thought. He’d never eaten food before—especially meat.

This morning he’d tasted the fruit Sir gave him, and now, at noon, he could eat roasted fish. Life with Sir was indeed good.

Unlike before; whenever hunger struck, he’d revert to his true form and absorb nutrients from the earth. Or, like this morning, quietly absorb spiritual energy to maintain his state.

Soon, the fish’s skin turned golden and a faint aroma wafted through the air.

Jinghua was stunned—could anything really taste this good? If he stayed with Sir, perhaps he’d never have to root himself in the soil again when hungry.

"You little glutton, watch your drool. If you don’t turn it, it’ll burn!" Gu Zhiheng laughed. Children were so easily tempted—a simple roasted fish could make them drool. What would happen when they saw worldly delicacies?

"Sir, I must become your apprentice one day—you’re truly amazing." Jinghua was determined; delicious food awaited, and he was resolved to succeed.

As they conversed, the fish finished cooking—crisp on the outside, tender inside, fragrant.

Jinghua copied Gu Zhiheng, tearing off a piece and popping it into his mouth, chewing experimentally.

The flavor exploded between his lips and teeth—sweet and savory, indescribably good.

"So… so delicious," Jinghua mumbled as he ate, utterly conquered by the roasted fish.

Gu Zhiheng merely smiled, eating his own fish leisurely, pondering whether the days ahead would be spent hunting or, perhaps, returning to fasting.