Peking Opera Cat: I Became A Zi's Brother

The wind in Dazong always carries sand, making the flags in the martial arts field flutter. The red flags are blown taut, and the golden thread of the word "Wu" on them shines coldly under the scorching sun.

"Ah……"

Wu Song tightened his grip on the fire stick, his knuckles leaving white marks on the red fire-marked stick. The flame at the tip of the stick was about to shoot up half a foot high when his heart suddenly sank, as if a piece of red-hot iron was weighing down it. A fishy-sweet taste filled his throat, and even breathing was accompanied by a burning pain.

"boom!"

The fire stick hit the bluestone slab hard, sparks flew three inches high, and were quickly extinguished by the wind and sand.

Wu Song staggered back two steps, holding onto the stone lion beside him and breathing heavily. The cold sweat mixed with sand and dust flowed down his forehead, hitting the ground and leaving a small wet mark, which was quickly blown dry by the wind, leaving only a circle of faint white marks.

The old locust tree at the edge of the martial arts field was rustling in the wind, and its leaves were falling all over the ground, just like the banana leaves that were blown down by the rain when Mo Yun was burying sugar in the back mountain of Shenzong. They stuck to the ground limply, without even the strength to roll up.

"Can't hold on again?"

The old sect leader's voice came from the stands, with a bit of helplessness and hoarseness.

He held a copper pipe in his hand, with sparks flickering in the bowl and a warm patina on the pipe stem. It was an item that had been passed down in the family for three generations.

"Your rhyme power is strong, but your heart meridian can't keep up. Forcing the fire rhyme to rush to a higher realm is like using firewood to burn a pot with a leaky bottom. The stronger the fire, the faster the pot leaks."

Wu Song didn't turn around, simply bent down and picked up the fire stick. The stick still carried the warmth of his palm, and the fire pattern glowed dark red in the sunlight. But the burning pain that had nearly burned through his bones lingered in his meridians. The slightest movement made his arm ache and feel heavy, and even lifting it was a struggle.

He remembered the day of the decisive battle. When the black energy of the original chaos and the sugar-wrapped rosary came crashing down on him, he had clearly mobilized all the fire energy in his body, burning the air so hard that it made it tremble, but he was still a step too slow. If Xiao Qing hadn't rushed over to block it, if Mo Yun's last shot hadn't been fast and fierce enough to pierce through the black energy of chaos along with the violent energy in his body, he might be the one lying in the ground now.

"I can handle it."

He spoke in a hoarse voice, put the fire stick on his shoulder, turned and walked towards the center of the martial arts field.

Grains of sand were blown into his eyes by the wind. He blinked and held back the bitterness - there had never been a saying in the Xingluo class that "they couldn't hold on", not before and not now.

Bai Tang was still waiting for them to go to Dongqiang Town, and Mo Yun was still carrying him in the rain. If he collapsed first, how could he still be considered a member of the Xingluo Squad?

The old master looked at his back, sighed softly, and knocked his pipe on the stone platform. The ashes fell on the bluestone slab.

"Your personality is exactly like your father's. Stubborn as a donkey, he won't turn back even if he hits a wall. But forcing yourself isn't a solution. If Bai Tang were here, he wouldn't watch you abuse yourself like this. He'd hold your arm and rock you, insisting you practice rhythm with him, instead of letting you compete with him."

Wu Song paused. The wind, swirling with sand, hit his face, stinging slightly, like being hit by a pebble.

He remembered how Bai Tang always loved to snatch his grilled dried fish when they were traveling. If she couldn't get it, she would hug his arm and shake it, her tail stroking his wrist until it itched, and she would say, "Wusong, Wusong, teach me how to use the fire rhyme. Once you learn it, I will grill you the biggest fish, bigger than the fish in the Buzong Desert."

He recalled that in the desert of Bu Zong, he fainted from heat stroke. When he woke up, he saw Bai Tang squatting beside him, handing him the last sip of water. His lips were dry and cracked, but he still smiled and said

"Wusong, you're awake. I thought you were going to sleep until dawn." He remembered that before the decisive battle, the boy patted his chest and said, "When we win, I will treat you to Changzong's sweet porridge with double candied dates, and you will also have to eat date buns with the owner's mother-in-law under the locust tree in Dongqiang Town."

But now, the candied dates were still in his arms - they were stuffed by Xiaoqing when he left the sect, wrapped in a small cloth embroidered with white lotus, and she said, "This is Baitang's favorite. You take it with you, just as if he is still with us" - but the cat that wanted to treat him to candy porridge had been wrapped in a white cloth bag by Mo Yun, with its back facing the direction of Dongqiang Town, without even having time to say a word of goodbye.

"Om-"

The fire stick suddenly trembled slightly, and the flame rushed up along the palm of the hand, but this time it was steadier and no longer as agitated as before.

Wu Song took a deep breath, tapped the ground with his toes, and flew up. The flame on the tip of the stick drew a red arc in the air, as if to burn through the wind and sand in the sky.

But just as he turned the third circle, the burning pain in his heart surged up again, more intense than before, as if countless red-hot needles were piercing his heart veins. He groaned and fell heavily to the ground. The fire stick rolled a long distance and knocked out a few sparks on the bluestone slabs.

The dust choked him and made him cough. The fishy and sweet taste in his throat became stronger and stronger. He couldn't help but spit out a mouthful of blood. The blood dripped onto the bluestone slab and was soon covered by the wind and sand, leaving only a dark red mark.

He lay on the ground and saw that his claws had left several white marks on the bluestone slabs. There were grains of sand embedded in the cracks of his nails, just like Mo Yun's nails that were embedded with grass debris when he was digging the soil, embarrassed but persistent.

"Stop practicing."

The old clan leader came over, put his pipe on his waist, and reached out to help him, but Wu Song dodged him.

"I haven't lost yet."

Wu Song propped himself up and sat up, with blood on the corner of his mouth, but he smiled, revealing two sharp teeth.

"Back in Dongqiang Town, I couldn't defeat him, and I still can't defeat Hun Dun now, but I won't keep losing. When my rhyme power gets stronger, I'll go to Chang Zong to find Da Fei, and then we'll go to Dongqiang Town together to find Brother Mo Yun, Xiao Qing, and... Bai Tang. I want to tell him that I'm much stronger now and can protect everyone."

The old sect leader looked at the light in his eyes and suddenly became speechless.

The wind was still blowing and the leaves of the old locust tree were still falling, but Wu Song's hand had already grasped the fire stick again, and the fire at his fingertips lit up again, although it was weak, but it did not go out.

He slowly stood up with the help of the fire stick, staggered to the center of the martial arts field, and raised the fire stick again. The fire energy condensed at the tip of the stick. This time he was no longer as impatient as before, but steadier, like the obsession in his heart. Although it hurt, it became more and more firm.

……

The rain in the Chang Sect was different from that in the Shen Sect. It was dense, with a hint of sweet and fishy water vapor, soaking the entire sect in moisture.

A thin layer of water accumulated on the green tiles, dripping down the eaves and hitting the bluestone slabs in the yard, splashing tiny water droplets.

Dafei sat on the threshold of the kitchen, watching the porridge bubbling in the pot. The aroma of rice mixed with the sweet aroma of candied dates wafted out. The wooden spoon in his hand stirred unconsciously, and the bottom of the spoon scraped the bottom of the pot, making a rustling sound.

The fire in the stove was very strong, making his face red, but his back was cold and stiff - that was the place that was swept by the chaotic black air during the decisive battle. Now it hurts on rainy days, as if countless needles are pricking it, and he can't even lift his arms.

"Brother Dafei, is the porridge ready?"

The little apprentice's voice came from the door, with a hint of excitement.

The young disciples of Chang Zong all like to gather around Da Fei, because the porridge he cooks is the best and the cakes he bakes are the most fragrant. He is not as fierce as other masters. He will also tell them stories about the Xingluo Class, and talk about how brave Brother Bai Tang is and how powerful Brother Wusong is.

Da Fei put down the wooden spoon and stood up, holding onto the door frame. The pain in his back made him frown, and a thin layer of sweat oozed from his forehead, but he still smiled and nodded:

"It's almost done. Just simmer it for a little longer. It's very sweet with the candied dates. When it's done, I'll give you the biggest bowl."

The young apprentice ran in, leaned over the pot and sniffed it, his eyes sparkling like two black grapes:

"Is this the candied date porridge that Brother Bai Tang likes? You once said that Brother Bai Tang could drink three bowls at a time! You also said that when he ate the porridge, he would pick out all the candied dates and eat them first, and then drink up the porridge at the end."

Dafei paused.

The firewood in the stove crackled, sparks splashed to the ground, and quickly went out.

He remembered that when he was in Xingluo Class, every time he cooked candied date porridge, Baitang would rush to stir the pot, and the porridge would splash all over his body. His white fur was covered with rice grains, like a small ball covered in snow.

I remember when Da Fei was making pancakes, Bai Tang always liked to squat beside him. As soon as the first pancake came out of the oven, he would reach out to grab it. He would shake his hand because it was so hot, but he would still smile happily, stuff the pancake into his mouth, and say, "Da Fei, you eat first, it's delicious!"

He recalled that before the decisive battle, Bai Tang hugged his arm and said, "Da Fei, when we win, I want to eat the pancakes you make, with three layers of meat and double the sauce. After I'm full, we'll go to Bu Zong to see the desert and to Chang Zong to listen to opera."

"Yeah, he likes it."

Da Fei touched his apprentice's head, his voice a little hoarse.

"When the porridge is ready, I'll give you the biggest bowl and put three candied dates in it."

The young apprentice ran out cheering, and Dafei was left alone in the kitchen again.

He picked up the wooden spoon again and stirred the porridge in the pot. The sweet aroma of candied dates filled the room, but he felt a bitter taste in his mouth, as if he had swallowed coptis chinensis.

The pain in his back became more and more severe, and he had to lean on the stove, gasping for breath, his left hand pressing the old wound on his back tightly, his knuckles turning white.

His rhythmic power had indeed increased - after the decisive battle, he had secluded himself in the Chang Sect for three months, forcing the chaotic black energy out of his meridians bit by bit, and he had also thoroughly understood the Chang Sect's "sound and rhythm". Now, when he opened his mouth, he could shatter stones three meters away, and even the gong left by his master could produce a more resonant sound.

But his body couldn't keep up. Every time he practiced for more than half an hour, his old back injury would flare up. It hurt so much that he couldn't even stand steadily. He was even slow to turn over the pancakes.

"Wow--"

Some of the porridge in the pot splashed out and landed on the stove, making a sizzling sound.

Dafei quickly wiped it with a cloth, looked at the candied dates rolling in the pot, and suddenly thought of Wusong.

That guy has a quick temper and must be training hard in Dazong again. I wonder if he's eating well or if he's injured. Back in Xingluo class, Wu Song always loved to argue with Bai Tang, and after the arguments, he would secretly give Bai Tang some grilled dried fish.

When Wu Song suffered from heatstroke, it was Bai Tang who stayed by his side; when Wu Song was injured by Hun Dun, it was Bai Tang who tried her best to protect him. Now, Wu Song must be thinking about Bai Tang too, and must be blaming himself for not being strong enough, just like him.

"Om-"

The gong at the waist suddenly vibrated slightly, and the sound surged up along the meridians like a warm current, relieving the pain in the back a little.

Dafei reached out and touched the gong. It was left to her by her master and was also a token of the Xingluo class. The patterns engraved on the gong had been polished to a shine.

He remembered that during the decisive battle, he used this gong to repel the chaotic black energy and protect Xiaoqing and Mo Zi, but he still failed to protect Hai Piao - if he was stronger, if his voice was deeper, maybe he could force the chaotic black energy out of her instead of having to do it himself.

"When the porridge is ready, leave a bowl for Wu Song."

Da Fei said softly, as if he was talking to himself, or to Bai Tang,

"When he comes to Changzong, I will make him the most delicious pancakes with three layers of meat and double the sauce. I will also go with him to Dongqiang Town to find Mo Yun and Xiaoqing and see Bai Tang. When the time comes, we will cook candied date porridge together and save a bowl for Bai Tang to tell him that we are all fine."

The porridge in the pot is finally ready, sweet and fragrant.

Da Fei filled a bowl and placed it on the stove, then filled another bowl, wrapped it in cloth and put it in his arms - this was left for Wu Song, so that when he came to sing the zong, he would be able to drink the hot candied date porridge.

He also specially added two more candied dates, the kind that Bai Tang liked best, which were so sweet that they were greasy.

The little apprentices ran in and chirped around the pot like a group of little sparrows.

Dafei smiled and served them porridge. Seeing them eating happily with rice grains on the corners of their mouths, he suddenly felt warmer in his heart.

The pain in his back was still there, but he knew he couldn't fall down.

The Xingluo Squad is still there, Mo Yun is on the way to Dongqiang Town, Xiaoqing and Mo Zi are guarding Shenzong, Wusong is fighting hard in Douzong, and he has to be well too. After the rain stops and everyone gathers together, he will serve Baitang a bowl of the hottest candied date porridge and tell him, "We are all fine, we still remember your wish to eat all over Maotu."

The rain was still falling, densely, with a hint of sweet and fishy water vapor.

Dafei stood at the door of the kitchen, looking at the mountains in the distance shrouded in rain and fog, like a layer of white gauze.

Holding the gong in his hand, the sound flowed slowly through his meridians. Although it was weak, it was very steady.

He knew that the rain would eventually stop, just like the obsession in Wu Song's heart, which would gradually fade away.

Just like what Bai Tang didn’t finish saying, there will always be someone to say it for him; just like the bond of Xingluoban, it will never be broken.

When the rain stopped, he would go to Dazong to find Wusong and practice rhyme with him to become stronger together. He wanted to teach Wusong to use rhyme to harmonize fire rhyme so that Wusong's heart meridian would not hurt so much.

Wu Song wanted to teach him how to bake pancakes using fire, saying that the pancakes would be more fragrant that way.

When they are all ready, they will go to Dongqiang Town to find Mo Yun, Xiao Qing, and Bai Tang.

When the time comes, he will make the most fragrant pancakes and the sweetest candied date porridge for everyone, and tell Baitang

"We are all here. We will take you to try all the delicious food in Maotu, from the sugar porridge in Changzong, to the baked cakes in Buzong, and the jujube buns in Dongqiang Town."

The porridge on the stove was still steaming, and the porridge in my arms was still warm.

Da Fei smiled, turned and walked into the kitchen, and began to prepare another pot of candied date porridge - he wanted to cook more, wait for Wu Song to come, wait for Mo Yun and Xiao Qing to come, wait for all the members of Xingluo Class to come, and drink a bowl of hot candied date porridge together, as if they had never been apart.

The raindrops fell on the window paper of the kitchen, making a rustling sound, like white sugar beside it, softly humming the song of Xingluoban.