The Wandering God

30 Cold Pillow and Lonely Bed 2/2

枕冷衾寒
Zhěn lěng qīn hán
Cold pillow and lonely bed.
Cold and solitary existence.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The celebratory banquet was held in the large hall of another temple filled with long tables piled high with food.

Again, Sanli and Ermi were given places of honor, close to where the head priest and priestess sat.

Ming Lang was sat at a special table, with the other initiates. Sanli watched as she talked and laughed with those beside her, her smile bright. The prince found himself happy, just to see her happy.

He turned his attention to the banquet before him. As one of the tenets of service to the Green King was to not eat meat, all the dishes at the banquet were made purely from plants. There were breads made with dried fruits and nuts, and vegetables fried and sautéed with different sauces of all kinds. Everything was delicious, but much simpler than the dishes served to the royal family in the valley.

Although there was no meat, an attempt at a substitute had been made using bean curd shaped and fried. Kageyama picked up one such piece of imitation meat with his chopsticks and looked at it with disappointment.

"It's not quite the same thing, is it?" Sanli heard the kitsune mutter to himself, before placing the shaped bean curd in his mouth.

"Do you like it, Sho Sensei?" asked Ermi, oblivious, on Kageyama's other side. "It tastes just like real meat, doesn't it? Here, have more." Ermi heaped a generous serving onto Kageyama's plate.

Kageyama smiled wanly and thanked Ermi.

Throughout the banquet, Sanli could not stop thinking of the refugees he had seen in the courtyard today. Simple though the food before him was, it far surpassed the unappetizing food the refugees had been eating. If they had been eating anything at all. The thought dimmed his appetite.

On Ermi's other side, Ao also seemed to be lacking in appetite, something that shocked Sanli more than his own lack of hunger. He had never known her to not devour whatever was put before her.

No meat did not mean no alcohol, and the monastery was particularly famous for their buckwheat ale, brewed using pure mountain water. Liang'yi and Zakhar had ended up beside each other, and were now competing to see who could down a tankard of the famed ale faster. Around them a crowd of monks and nuns chanted for their chosen drinker in a very unholy manner.

Liang'yi put her mug down first and wiped her mouth with a satisfied 'ahhh', and the crowd around her cheered.

Sanli grinned at their antics. Then he glanced over at Ao just in time to see her stand with a soft excuse of being 'tired'.

"Ao?" Sanli questioned. If she heard him over the noise of the dinner hall, she did not show it.

Ao turned and left. No one remarked at her leaving.

Sanli's eyes crossed the hall once more and saw an opportunity to congratulate Ming Lang. He stood and made his way across the bustle of the great hall, around the servers with their trays of food and dirty dishes, dodging between the monks and nuns who were walking to and fro.

The prince sat beside his friend in an empty chair that it's owner had vacated.

"Congratulations, Nun Wen," he said, grinning.

Ming Lang turned to him, her cheeks rosy with drink. "Ahh, if it isn't the Little Leaf! Your majesty, I am in your service!"

Sanli laughed, "How much have you had to drink, Ming?"