Chen Shuyuan sat in stony silence, only occasionally twisting his neck out of habit, a gesture that made him resemble an old vulture patiently waiting to descend and feast upon a corpse...
Though the Old Sect Master appeared composed, his heart was burning with impatience. That he could maintain such a solemn and composed bearing was the fruit of decades of cultivation and rigorous training; for without such iron patience, he could never have attained such illustrious success. Nevertheless, for a man of his absolute authority, the forced vigil was a monotonous burden that left him feeling stifled.
At this hour, the Master was compelled to wait, and there was no matter suitable for discussion to beguile these stifling hours. Even if there were, it was not an appropriate season for parley, for to engage in conversation while one's internal emotions were so focused and turbulent was to invite harm without benefit. At best, the talk would be incoherent; at worst, one might unwittingly divulge matters that should remain shrouded in secrecy.
For those in high station, every word uttered must be deliberated, considered, and weighed with extreme caution before it is allowed to pass the lips. Moreover, one must possess enough presence of mind to receive the reports of others, to filter and digest their essence, and to determine the rightful response. Yet at such a time, even one as seasoned in discipline as Chen Shuyuan could not be certain he could speak or listen with the required rectitude. Thus, stony silence was the most prudent course.
Compelled to wait and unable to converse, he could only retreat deep within his own mind and recall the events of the past. As a man of advanced years, he possessed a memory of the past far superior to others, for his history was long and laden with the multitude of experiences he had encountered throughout his life.
At that moment, Master Chen cast a glance toward the side table, where a spread of delicacies had been prepared for him. For those blessed with riches and honor, such "refreshments" serve as a fine remedy for beguiling idle hours. Among the wealthy, eating is often not born of hunger, but rather a desire to alleviate the torment of boredom.
The refreshments that had been laid out consisted of 'Hu Bing' (胡饼) pastries, which were expertly prepared by a former chef of the Imperial Palace. These were served alongside a pot of fine tea, the fragrant brew of which filled the room with a delicate and enticing scent. This selection of delicacies had but recently been delivered by a retainer from the kitchen; consequently, both the pastries and the tea were still warm to the touch.
Hu Bing is a simple pastry favoured by the common folk, crafted from flour or a blend of flour and mashed sweet potato. While it bears a resemblance to the traditional mooncake, its origins lie not with the Han people, but in the lands beyond the pass. It is said to have originated in the Western Regions (Xiyu); indeed, the character "Hu" (胡) denotes the non-Han tribes residing in the western territories. This delicacy reached the Central Plains during the Han Dynasty and has been refined through the ages into its present form.
Hu Bing may be found either plain or filled. The filled variety often contains sweetened mashed beans or taro. To prepare this dish, wheat flour—sometimes blended with mashed taro or sweet potato—is shaped into balls, flattened, and then seared upon an iron griddle, often garnished with sesame seeds for an enticing fragrance. The filled pastries are customarily savoured as a snack alongside fine tea or soy milk, while the plain variety serves as a staple accompanying meat or vegetable dishes in a principal repast.
Though a common fare, it is well known among his trusted confidants that the Sect Master of the Divine Eagle uniquely prefers this dish for both his snacks and main meals. The Head Chef of the sect is peerless in his understanding, ensuring that Hu Bing, served piping hot, is ready at the Master's slightest request at any watch of the day.
The Head Chef's culinary expertise extends to the refined palates of the other leaders. He knows that Vice-Master of the Left Sikong Fu favors a rich "Mutton Broth," meticulously prepared using choice hindquarter meat and simmered for three full watches until the meat is meltingly tender. The soup must be deeply infused with the scents of star anise, cardamom, ginger, spring onion, and garlic. Meanwhile, Vice-Master of the Right Dongmen Yuan prefers "Steamed Carp," using only the freshest fish steamed with ginger and spring onions, finished with a drenching of soy sauce and wine flash-fried in scorching oil.
These are but the simple staples of the common people, yet they remain the cherished choices of the three greats of the Divine Eagle Sect.
"Hu Bing…" the Old Sect Master murmured softly under his breath, gazing blankly at the plate of sesame-sprinkled fried pastries as his mind drifted back to the past—his own arduous and difficult past.
At this moment, these Hu Bing, though expertly prepared by a former chef of the Imperial Palace, were merely refreshments that he did not yet deign to touch. However, looking back to the days of his youth, Hu Bing was the very thing he yearned for and desired above all else.
A mere glimpse or the faint scent of it would make his mouth water, his mind buzzing with the intense craving to eat. Many were the times when this desire would surge alongside the groans of his stomach and intestines, protesting for food—sustenance that seldom reached his belly, yet was essential to sustain his life.
Hu Bing had served as his lifeline on many occasions. But more than that, his opportunity to enter the Divine Eagle Sect was also, in truth, due to a single Hu Bing! It was but an ordinary pastry from a marketplace stall... and it was a Hu Bing that he had stolen!
Although over fifty years had passed, every image remained distinct in the Old Master's memory.
That day, as a starving orphan, he walked past a Hu Bing stall in the center of the market. He saw those fried pastries, freshly lifted from the griddle by the vendor, the aroma of oil and heated sesame being more enticing than anything else. But as a destitute orphan without a single copper, he could not simply offer money in exchange for goods. At that time, if he wished to obtain it, there were but three paths: to beg, to seize, or... to steal!
Begging yielded no results! He had tried time and time again, only to endure torrents of abuse and scolding, or even being beaten and having things hurled at him. He was forced to carry his gnawing hunger away empty-handed, gaining nothing in return. It could be said he was both pained and shamed, yet remained without the food he so desperately craved...
He was thus compelled to find a more effective method to satisfy his cravings; however, to seize by force was an impossible feat. He was but a child—small, emaciated, and utterly lacking in physical strength. Possessing neither reputation nor authority, he could not simply barge in and snatch what he desired as the lawless ruffians or the minions of the law were wont to do—those who merely strode forward and claimed whatever they pleased according to their whims.
Thus, for a destitute orphan who yearned for the savory taste and the full belly that Hu Bing provided, there remained but one path: theft!
The Hu Bing stall belonged to Li San (李三), a large-framed man with a round face deeply pitted with pockmarks from smallpox scars. That day, Li San was heavy with worry, though he forced a smile for his customers; the market owner had declared that morning his intention to nearly double the stall's rent.
Li San usually engaged in petty trade; even now, his meager profits were barely enough to provide for the mouths of himself, his wife, and their two small children. If the rent were to be raised, he would likely be forced to forfeit several meals just to balance his income. Naturally, such a plight affected not only Li San; every vendor in the marketplace faced the same trial. While those with savings felt slightly more at ease, the majority merely eked out a meagre existence, living hand-to-mouth. Every merchant knew of this trouble, but 'Little Chen' remained ignorant of it...
Driven by gnawing hunger and the craving for the Hu Bing, the orphan plotted to steal. He feigned exhaustion and slumped down near Li San's stall, pretending to idly play with the dirt and stones on the ground, yet his vigilant gaze flickered surreptitiously to and fro.
The stall of the Li family was constructed from sturdy bamboo, with a cloth covering above to ward off the sun and shield it from the rain—a measure meant to allow just enough time to gather the wares when the raindrops began to fall. At the front were arranged woven bamboo baskets and wooden plates laden with Hu Bing, freshly lifted from the frying pan, their fragrance wafting through the air.
The pastries were modestly priced and savory, drawing a continuous flow of common folk. The little thief watched surreptitiously, his throat constricting as he swallowed his saliva in a gnawing desire; the tantalizing aroma served only to sharpen his hunger, an agony truly difficult to endure. Yet he knew he must await the opportune moment when a throng of customers would crowd the stall; only in such a clamor could he find the chance to snatch a morsel for naught. Patience is a virtue that those of limited means must possess; for those who know how to keep a vigilant vigil, opportunity will eventually manifest.
Presently, a group of five or six customers crowded the front, proffering their coppers to purchase the delicacies. Seeing that the "opportune moment" had arrived and the proprietor's attention was diverted, Little Chen darted forward, snatched a Hu Bing, and secreted it within the folds of his tunic. He feigned an air of indifference, intending to stroll away as if nothing had occurred.
However, his calculations were flawed; he had looked to the front but neglected his rear. An aged woman surnamed Wang, known by the folk as the "garrulous" Aunt Wang Li (王丽), who peddled soy milk across the way, chanced to witness the deed and raised a great clamor. This alerted Li San, the stall-keeper, and the large-framed man lunged forward to seize the boy, raining down a torrent of blows and abuse.
A single Hu Bing cost but two coppers, yet wrath does not depend upon price. The stifling stress born of his financial plight—the exorbitant rent extorted by the market-owner which threatened to leave his family destitute—now surged forth. All his bitter resentment was vented upon the frame of the little thief!
The proprietor rained down fists and kicks upon the boy time and again; even as the child's countenance became swollen and his mouth split, the assault did not cease. Driven by excruciating pain, he was compelled to summon his fighting spirit. The boy, but twelve years of age, suddenly twisted his body and shook himself loose from Li San's grasp. Planting his feet firmly upon the earth, he pivoted his frame and unleashed a double-punch with all his might. The blow sent the large-framed proprietor soaring backwards through the air, looking for all the world like a weightless hemp sack!