The next day was naturally spent busy frying pork cracklings. Uncle Liu and the others came to work and mooched a meal of pork crackling and cabbage dumplings. Everyone who ate them raved about the taste. They weren’t wrapped by Chen Ji, though—Xiao Wang had made them. Chen Ji’s dumplings were the kind that didn’t even need boiling; they were just a lumpy mash of vegetables, meat, and dough.
The System Cat, having puked from overeating the night before, had lost all interest in pork crackling dumplings. After forcing down two, it retreated to the warehouse to hug a cola bottle and settle its stomach. Second Master Huang, on the other hand, had scarfed down plenty, but now he was nowhere to be found—no telling where he’d scampered off to nap.
Chen Ji eyed the leftover dumplings. They smelled amazing, but he couldn’t stomach a second round. That evening, all he craved was some greens and plain porridge to cut the richness. After a moment’s thought, he decided to take them and feed the little yellow weasels.
True to his word, Chen Ji boiled the dumplings, packed them one by one into insulated boxes, and grabbed the big bag to head out. The System Cat piped up: 【Aww… I’m not tagging along. You be careful out there… Hic!】
【Got it.】
In broad daylight, Little Azure Mountain was fairly safe. Chen Ji wandered around the area near his home but spotted no sign of the yellow weasels. Recalling the direction Second Master Huang had carried the red-clothed fellow off in, he simply headed that way.
Twenty minutes later, Chen Ji sat on a large rock, resignedly looping the same shout on his phone: “Second Master Huang—! Second Master Huang—! Any of his disciples or grand-disciples around—? If you’re here, give a squeak!”
“Give—a—squeak—if—you’re—here!”
Propping his cheek on his hand, he scanned the surroundings. Good thing he’d kept the dumplings and soup separate; otherwise, they’d be a soggy mess by now. His gaze wandered, then locked onto a tree and froze. That tree looked awfully familiar.
Its trunk was straight and stout, blending unremarkably into the forest, but clusters of reddish leaves sprouting along its length had caught his eye.
Why did it look just like the kind he loved…? Phone scan: identification successful. Toona tree.
It really was toona!
Toona in this season!
Chen Ji let out a whoop and trotted over. Up close, the sight was even more thrilling. Folks, who gets it? How could there be such a perfect toona tree? The lower trunk was covered in those red new shoots—tender, so tender, deliciously so!
He never left home without his sickle, and this time he’d upgraded with a telescoping pole. Lashing the sickle to it, he easily harvested the tender toona buds from the trunk. As the branches snapped, the toona’s distinctive pungent aroma filled the air, making Chen Ji swallow hard.
Top-quality stuff like this would taste great no matter how he cooked it. He could polish off three bowls of rice with a simple toona egg stir-fry!
He bundled the toona from the base with some weeds and soon had six or seven bundles. He was definitely making stuffed toona egg pancakes!
Chen Ji happily slung his bamboo basket over his shoulder and returned to the rock. He decided to leave the dumplings right there—the little yellow weasels could have them if luck was on their side. After all, toona was precious; it needed refrigerating back home, pronto!
He set the insulated boxes on the ground and was prying off the lids one by one when a rustle came from the bushes. Looking up, he spotted an oversized cat head. Chen Ji paused, then beamed and walked over, bowing his head in greeting. “Grandpa White Tiger’s here? Perfect timing—come try these pork crackling dumplings I made.”
White Tiger’s azure-blue eyes flicked to Chen Ji, then he turned to leave. Chen Ji hurried forward in three strides to block his path, his eyes brimming with hope. “Don’t stand on ceremony, Grandpa White Tiger. The dumplings won’t taste as good if they sit too long! Give me a little face and try one, please!”
A flicker of helplessness crossed White Tiger’s eyes. With a resigned air, he twisted back toward the boxes. Chen Ji noticed White Tiger had completely ignored the toona and figured the boxes might be too small for him to eat comfortably. He flipped one upside down onto its lid. “Go on, Grandpa White Tiger, dig in!”
Steam still rose from the dumplings. White Tiger lowered his head for a sniff, then delicately picked one up in his mouth. Chen Ji watched eagerly, awaiting his verdict.
Wild beasts couldn’t talk, but their reactions were universal: if they liked it or were hungry, they’d inhale it like a storm; if not, they’d pick at it daintily.
White Tiger ate one and lifted his head, staring at Chen Ji as if to say: I’ve eaten. Can I go now?
So, he didn’t like them.
Chen Ji was baffled. Pork cracklings were so rich and meaty—animals usually loved that stuff. Then it hit him: the dumplings were too small for White Tiger, like Zhu Bajie swallowing ginseng fruits—gone in one gulp, no flavor detected.
The wrapper was just plain flour, undipped in sauce. Of course it was tasteless.
Emboldened, Chen Ji placed a hand on White Tiger’s back. “Was it flavorless?”
To his surprise, White Tiger nodded.
Chen Ji knew this white tiger was a spirit no less formidable than Second Master Huang, though for some reason he refused to speak. Still, White Tiger had always treated him kindly. “Try chewing it? Or eat a few more—don’t just swallow.”
White Tiger obliged, lowering his head to take three or four into his mouth. After a chew, Chen Ji felt the muscles along his back relax. He’d tasted it now.
There was nothing not to love about cabbage and pork crackling dumplings. The cabbage was fresh on its own, and paired with the cracklings, it was fresh squared. Cooked soft, the cracklings melted like meat in the mouth, bursting with juice on the bite. The cabbage tempered the oiliness just right—not too greasy, not too heavy. Even Chen Ji, no fan of rich foods, found them perfect.
White Tiger glanced back at Chen Ji. Somehow, Chen Ji understood and smiled. “It’s all for you. Eat at your leisure.”
White Tiger gave a slight nod. Though just a beast, the gesture was strikingly elegant and refined. He circled Chen Ji once, then lay down and began to eat. Chen Ji carefully settled beside him, watching contentedly as he ate the dumplings unhurriedly.
Nothing wasted, fed to a little animal who clearly enjoyed it—perfect all around.
Though the animal in question wasn’t quite a yellow weasel, it was still an animal. No need to nitpick.
Chen Ji’s hands itched. He scooted closer. White Tiger merely glanced sideways, showing no displeasure. Emboldened, Chen Ji reached out.
White Tiger’s fur was incredibly soft, lacking any of the coarse hardness expected of a fierce beast. It even carried a sunny scent.
Truly a clean, polite big cat.
Chen Ji sighed inwardly, combing through the fur with his fingers while waiting for him to finish—no need to waste the containers by tossing them. These lock-and-lock boxes weren’t cheap! Next feeding, he’d just wash and reuse them.
From this close, Chen Ji could even make out the translucent barbs on White Tiger’s tongue.
He watched, entranced, for a moment until something wet and raspy scraped his hand. Snapping back, he saw White Tiger had polished off the pile and was meticulously grooming himself. Chen Ji’s hand, buried in the fur, had gotten licked in the process.
White Tiger froze.
Chen Ji’s eyes crinkled with delight. He flopped down onto White Tiger’s back. White Tiger went rigid, but Chen Ji boldly rolled over atop him, meeting those azure-blue tiger eyes. Suddenly, he thought: if Grandpa White Tiger cried now, it’d be tears welling in genuine tiger eyes!
The idea cracked him up, laughter unstoppable.
White Tiger eyed him, bewilderment and exasperation brimming. Amid chuckles, Chen Ji gasped, “No… not laughing at you…”
White Tiger turned away, ignoring him, but let him stay put.
Chen Ji fought the urge to bury his face in that fur, gritted his teeth, and pulled out his phone for a selfie with his “tiger-skin sofa.” Standing, he said politely, “I got too bold, Grandpa White Tiger—forgive me. Tomorrow, how about some toona meat pancakes?”
If one ignored his barely suppressed giggles.
White Tiger neither nodded nor shook his head, as if he hadn’t heard.
Chen Ji had two saviors: Chang Xu and White Tiger. His patience with them far exceeded that for ordinary folk. Coaxing softly, “They smell amazing. Big chunks of meat for you? Maybe beef ribs? Australian ones, super tender and tasty…”
White Tiger gazed at the distant view, the very picture of an emotionless tiger-skin sofa.
The tufts on White Tiger’s ears twitched in Chen Ji’s eyes. Unable to resist, he reached up instinctively. White Tiger shuddered all over, leaped up on the spot, shot Chen Ji a terrified glare, and bolted—swift as the wind, gone before Chen Ji could react.
Chen Ji didn’t chase, just shouted, “I live at the Mountain Lord Temple—! Come tomorrow, Grandpa White Tiger—! I’ll make you a big jug of milk tea too—!”
The white blur streaked away like lightning, vanishing from sight. Chen Ji wasn’t fazed. No refusal meant acceptance in his book. If he came, great; if not, other critters could have it—no waste.
…So cute.
And shy, too.
A soft smile played on Chen Ji’s lips as he packed the empty boxes and headed home. The System Cat waddled over, round belly swaying, to greet him: 【Back already! What took so long?】
【Ran into White Tiger.】 Chen Ji hoisted it onto his shoulder. The System Cat flicked its tail. 【Hey hey hey, no no no—too much to drink. Gonna hurl!】
Chen Ji lowered it promptly. The System Cat flopped belly-up in his arms, its plump rear pressing into his elbow. Chen Ji kneaded the hefty belly, practically hearing the sloshing inside: 【Drink less cola next time.】
The System Cat perked up instantly, ears erect: 【What do you know? It’s to avoid waste!】
【I told you to get the small cans, but you insisted on the 2.5-liter ones. Can’t finish in one go, goes flat by next time—then you toss it! Every time!】
Chen Ji carried it inside. 【But I bought them for parties.】
It wasn’t as if there were no small cans of cola available, but the System Cat had insisted on cracking open a large bottle—clearly with the intention of chugging the whole thing in one go. Chen Ji chuckled and said, 【Drink it and be done with it. You’re not really a cat, after all; one bottle of cola won’t burst you open… And I don’t mind losing a single bottle.】
