The Crossed Chopsticks

"While you're at it, why don't you be the one to come? I have no desire to face the Meng family's dogs myself."

"I will do my utmost."

"Don't do your utmost. Stop them."

"That will be difficult."

"Useless as ever."

"And yet I did draw the talismans for you."

Jinseong replied with perfect equanimity as he handed the bundle of talismans over to Sowol. Then, quite abruptly, he changed the subject.

"By the way, Senior."

"Now what."

"What is the child's name?"

Sowol could not answer right away. The baby had no name.

"...She doesn't have one. A baby's name is for her parents to choose. What am I supposed to name a child I'm only minding for the moment?"

As Sowol mumbled out his excuse, a strange look crept across Jinseong's face.

"So you intend to simply keep calling her 'the baby'?"

"That's right. What else can I do?"

Jinseong blinked once, as if taken aback, then said nothing more. Sowol silently glanced over at the cradle. Somewhere along the way, the baby had drifted into a deep sleep.

He was tucking the rumpled swaddling clothes back around her when he clicked his tongue. Murmuring voices had begun to drift in from outside.

"What's going on? Is the rite finished?"

"I don't hear anything from inside..."

The villagers, unable to contain their curiosity, had apparently gathered around the inn once more. Sowol swallowed a sigh and opened the door—and the murmur died away as if it had never existed. The people did not dare step inside; they simply craned their necks, straining to peer into the depths of the inn.

"You finish this up. They may not believe me, but a Taoist priest's word they'll trust."

At Sowol's prompting, Jinseong stepped forward.

"Step back, please. The energy has not yet fully settled."

The villagers flinched and hurriedly retreated at those words. Sowol held out the bundle of talismans to Jinseong.

"Put these up too. You've already written them—might as well make them visible from far off."

"Yes, sir."

Jinseong began pasting talismans along the doorframe and the front gate. For all his clumsy beginnings, the sight of him pressing each slip of paper firmly into place with his fingertips looked fairly convincing. Sowol watched with his arms crossed, then furrowed his brow.

"Hey. I said visible from far off—when did I tell you to paper the whole door?"

"This way it is visible from far off."

Jinseong answered with perfect calm and pressed down the last talisman. Before anyone noticed, the doorframe had been packed edge to edge with yellow paper. When the slips fluttered and shivered in the wind, the watching villagers collectively held their breath.

The village headman's wife, who had been hanging back and reading the mood, cautiously approached.

"Master Taoist, how is it? Is everything all right now?"

"Yes. I have suppressed all the malevolent energy."

Jinseong answered without a flicker of hesitation, and the headman's wife let out a long breath of relief.

"Oh, thank goodness. Now we can come to the inn without a care in the world."

The gathered crowd clucked and nodded in agreement.

"Wonderful news, Master Yeon. You'll have customers coming back in no time."

"Thank you, Master Taoist. You've saved us."

"I'll come by for some somyeon tomorrow."

"Of course. See you tomorrow, then."

Sowol swallowed a hollow laugh as he answered. A few sham talismans, and the whole mood had turned on its head. One thing at least was undeniably effective.

Just as the front of the inn began to grow rowdy again, the headman's wife clapped her hands and shooed the crowd away.

"Now, now. The Master Taoist says it's all taken care of, so let's all head home. Master Yeon has a business to run, too."

Only then did the villagers scatter, one by one. Before long, quiet had settled over the inn once more.

Jinseong gazed outside the gate for a moment, then, deciding there was nothing left for him to do, smoothed down his robes.

"I have confirmed the child's condition, so I will take my leave."

"Right. Good work."

Sowol waved a hand absently, but Jinseong, his lips twitching as if to say something more, called out to him instead.

"...Senior."

"Now what."

"You should give some thought to naming the child."

Sowol blinked, caught off guard by the sudden advice, and Jinseong added, "A child needs a name before she can have a place to stay."

"..."

"Then, I truly must be going. Take care of yourself."

With a courteous fist-and-palm salute, Jinseong turned away without the slightest lingering attachment. The hem of his pristine white Taoist robes vanished from sight in an instant.

Just as Sowol was about to close the gate, the headman's wife's voice came flying over from down the lane.

"Master Taoist! Before you go, couldn't you write a talisman for our house too? My old man hasn't slept a wink in days!"

"Ours too! One that brings money in, if you please!"

"I'd like one that keeps my children healthy and strong..."

"I do not know how to write any such talismans."

"Oh, spare us the modesty! A ghost-catching Master Taoist like you, and some little paper charm is supposed to be hard?"

"Is it that you think a village can't afford it? We'll shell out the silver handsomely, I promise you!"

"That is not the issue, I truly do not know how—"

The voices of the villagers and Jinseong's flustered, fumbling refusals faded away down the lane together.

"Poor bastard. He picked the wrong crowd to impress."

Sowol chuckled under his breath and shut the gate.

3. What the Gold Left Behind

Bubble, bubble.

White steam curled up toward the ceiling. The rich smell of simmering broth filled the kitchen. Sowol ladled up a spoonful of the thickened somyeon broth and tasted it. A deep, savory umami spread across his tongue.

"Hm. That came out well."

Satisfied with the flavor, he replaced the pot lid. It was time to start getting ready for the day's business.

The moment he opened the inn's front door, the cold morning air rushed in. Broom in hand, he crossed the yard toward the gate. One corner of a talisman pasted to the doorframe had peeled up, loosened by a night of wind.

"Idiot. Can't even paste one properly."

Frowning, Sowol pressed the fallen talisman back into place. They were nothing but scraps of meaningless paper, but if they put people's minds at ease, he intended to leave them up for the time being. Casting a wry glance at the yellowed doorframe, he slid back the bar and began sweeping the ground in front of the gate.

Swish. Swish.

Over the rasp of the broom, the footsteps of several people came mingling in.

"Master Yeon!"

At the familiar voice, Sowol looked up. Jang Wi, a fur pelt slung over his shoulders, was waving at him. Dry leaves and flecks of snow dusted his collar white—he had evidently just come down from the mountain. Behind him trooped five big men in a cluster, and one glance at their outfit was enough: hunters, unmistakably. One of them carried a huge sack over his shoulder.

Flap, flap.

By the way the sack jostled with every step, it held game. If the baby went floating things into the air in front of this many strangers, there would be trouble. Sowol spoke low, toward the back of the yard.

"Baekya. Take the baby upstairs, and don't come down until I call for you."

"Okay."

Soon the sound of wooden stairs creaking rose from inside the inn. Only after confirming that Baekya had disappeared upstairs did Sowol return the greeting.

"What brings you out this early?"

"What do you think? We've come to sell. It's been rough going these past few days."

Jang Wi grinned and jerked a thumb at the men behind him.

"They came straight down off the mountain—hungry for food and drink both. And when that's the mood, nothing beats your somyeon, right, Master Yeon?"

"Flattery, but it's nice to hear. Come on in."

Sowol smiled faintly and swung the gate wide open. Jang Wi herded the men through after him.

"Come on, everyone, in you go. This place has the best somyeon in all Sichuan."

"Phew, just give us something to thaw our bones with. We spent all night lost in the snow—I'm frozen to the marrow."

"A hot bowl of broth is all I need."

"Broth alone? What good does that do? If you've worked your body, you've got to tear into some meat."

As the men each threw in their two coppers' worth, Jang Wi sorted out the order.

"Master Yeon, four bottles of yellow wine and whatever side dishes you have on hand. A bowl of somyeon for each man, too."

"You've got it."

While Sowol went into the kitchen to warm the wine, the men pushed two tables together and settled in.

"Brother Jang, what are you doing with that wolf pelt you took today?"

"What do you think? Cure it and hand it over to the leather dealer."

"That's what Yi-ga here says—some merchant on the east side pays better than the Wang family does."

"Oh? Is that so? Then maybe we try them this time."

Sowol listened to the hunters' chatter as he poured broth into the pot. The sort of haggling talk you could hear anywhere. Before long he brought out the warmed yellow wine, and the men brightened at once and filled their cups. They knocked back the wine and let out a collective groan of contentment.

"Ahh, now I feel alive again."

"That hits the spot."

Stir-fried meat followed, and then the somyeon came out steaming in heaping bowls. The men barely got their bowls in hand before gulping down the scalding broth first.

As he ferried wine and dishes back and forth, Sowol's eyes swept over the men's appearance. Worn fur pelts. Hands cracked from frost. Calluses worn smooth by bowstrings. Everywhere he looked, they were hunters who earned their bread rolling through the mountains.

Old habits, nothing more, he thought, clicking his tongue—he was just about to withdraw his gaze when it happened. The man sitting at the far end, having cleaned out his somyeon bowl, laid his chopsticks across the empty dish.

Crossed. Neat and even.

Sowol's eyes narrowed.

A shape he had once made countless times with his own hands.

The signal of Sahom.