Volume One, Chapter Six: Three Days and Three Nights

Three days without food! For a born foodie who had never known hunger, that was a fate worse than death!

On the first day, Yibing displayed remarkable composure. His chubby face drooped, but he went about his training and sutra recitations with apparent calm. Despite this, his two senior brothers dared not relax their vigilance, shadowing him at every step, lest he hatch some scheme to break the rules. Fooling their master was one thing, but their martial uncle was another matter entirely—if discovered, who knew how many punishments awaited them? Why else would their master be so fearful of her, even in her madness?

Sure enough, when the midday aroma of rice wafted from the kitchen, Yibing began to fidget, unable to sit still. His legs twitched incessantly as he struggled with temptation. The two brothers, sensing his unrest, readied themselves for pursuit. Yet, even as they took turns eating their own meals, Yibing did not so much as budge.

When Yibing quietly returned to his room for a nap, Hongkun finally breathed a sigh of relief. Guarding someone was exhausting work!

"Senior brother, what are you doing?" Hongpeng asked.

"Going back to rest," Hongkun replied with a yawn. Hongpeng frowned and shook his head, while Hongkun’s face twisted in fatigue.

They kept watch until the hour of the Monkey, but nothing stirred in Yibing’s room. Just as Hongkun was about to doze off, a soft creak snapped them both to attention. The door had opened a crack. Hongpeng signaled with his mouth, and the two crept to the door, peering through the gap. There, a pair of round eyes stared straight back at them.

"Ah—!" Hongpeng's cry was cut short as a ball of flesh barreled out of the room.

"Catch him! Catch him!" Hongkun shouted as he was knocked to the ground. The meatball spun deftly and shot toward the kitchen’s rear window. Hongpeng lunged after him with Eight-Step Cicada, but could only graze Yibing’s sleeve before sprawling face-first on the floor.

Hongkun’s laughter shook the entire Banyue Mound. Hongpeng burned with anger and leapt up, ready to curse. But then he noticed Hongkun wasn’t laughing at him—Yibing was stuck in the kitchen window! His body had squeezed through, but his oversized rear had not.

Their laughter rang out in chorus, shaking the rafters. If Yibing could have seen them, he would have fainted from rage. Hongpeng was practically rolling on the ground, while Hongkun bounced in place. Only after they were both breathless did they calm themselves, helping each other stagger into the kitchen.

Yibing’s large head strained forward, his mouth moving in silent incantation, and his pudgy hands clawed desperately at the air—yet the steamed buns on the rack did not move an inch.

"Don’t bother trying," Hongpeng said through tears of laughter, waving a bun covered in talismans. "We saw this coming." Yibing instantly deflated, his head drooping. No wonder he couldn’t burrow underground or fly away.

It took all their strength to pry Yibing from the window. On the way back to his room, Yibing lay limp as a dead pig, not moving at all. But though his body was still, his mind was racing: within Banyue Mound they could cast spells, but outside, they had no hold over him!

As soon as they laid him on the bed, Hongkun traced a circle around him, chanting softly.

"Yibing, it’s just three days—endure it and it’ll be over," Hongpeng said sympathetically.

"Hmph! You can’t escape this barrier, so just behave," Hongkun added with a frown.

"What?" Yibing, who had been feigning sleep, sprang up. He reached out—sure enough, invisible walls blocked him on all sides.

"Senior brothers, don’t do this! Please!" Yibing pleaded, panic rising.

"We have no choice! You’re the one who made that boast to our martial uncle," Hongpeng sighed.

"Don’t! Look how obedient I’ve been, always following Master’s teachings! It’s just a few bites—three days without food could kill me! It won’t be easy to find another fat one..." Yibing, suddenly eloquent, alternated reason and emotion, nearly moving Hongkun to tears.

"Senior brother..." Hongpeng glanced at Hongkun.

"What are you looking at? Can you afford to cross martial uncle?" Hongkun glared at him, then turned to Yibing. "People on the path of cultivation often fast—it’s normal! If you make a mistake, you face the consequences!"

"But it wasn’t my fault! I only ate what Master gave me—how is that my mistake?"

"That’s not what you told martial uncle! You said, ‘I ate all the pills, it’s my fault—punish me if you’re angry!’ That’s what you said!"

"At the time... at the time..." Yibing faltered, wondering what had possessed him to be so bold.

Taking advantage of the moment, Hongkun dragged Hongpeng out. The morning had worn them out, and as soon as they reached their room, they fell asleep. But at dusk, wailing and howling erupted outside: "Are you trying to starve me to death? You two kidnappers! I was peacefully reading at home, and you abducted me to this place—no food, only suffering! I’ll tell Master! I’ll tell!"

Hongpeng tried to rise, but Hongkun pushed him back down. "Just ignore it, he’ll tire himself out," Hongkun said, frowning.

But Yibing’s invective only grew more creative and outrageous, shaking heaven and earth. Even the birds and cicadas of Banyue Mound fell silent, the eaves seemed to droop. More than once, Hongkun nearly sprang up in anger, until Hongpeng finally stuffed cotton in their ears, bringing peace at last.

No one knew when he finally stopped. When the brothers awoke again, the cursing had ceased. In the darkness, they crept to Yibing’s door, hearing only muffled muttering from within.

The next morning, the brothers skipped breakfast and hurried to Yibing’s room. Inside, all was still. Through the door crack, they saw Yibing lying motionless, his belly rising and falling steadily.

"Let him sleep," Hongkun muttered.

"Yes! Sleep and you forget hunger," Hongpeng agreed.

But by midday, Yibing hadn’t moved at all, not even to turn over. The brothers, who had begun to relax, now grew anxious. By nightfall, Yibing remained as still as stone. Unable to endure it, they burst into his room.

"Yibing! Yibing!" Hongpeng called, but there was no response.

"Could he be sick from hunger?" Hongpeng’s face flushed red with worry.

"Don’t say that... a mad master and a mad disciple would be too much," Hongkun replied, remembering how their master had gone mad after lying silent all night.

"But—?"

"He looks fine—his face is rosy," Hongkun reassured himself.

That night, the brothers barely slept, checking on Yibing countless times until dawn, finally dozing off in exhaustion.

"Senior brother! Senior brother!" At noon on the third day, Hongpeng suddenly sat up.

"Has he run off again?" Hongkun jerked awake—he’d dreamt all night of Yibing escaping.

"It’s already noon," Hongpeng said, eyeing his red-eyed brother.

"Oh..." Hongkun flopped back onto his bed. "Peng, go get something to eat. With him fasting, we’ve hardly eaten ourselves—I’m starving."

"Alright, I’ll check on Yibing first," Hongpeng nodded.

When Hongpeng returned with food, his face said it all—Yibing was unchanged. But the sight of the sesame cakes sparked an idea in Hongkun. He urged Hongpeng to eat a few bites, then pulled him into Yibing’s room.

"Call him," Hongkun whispered, then conjured a freshly roasted rabbit in his right hand.

"Yibing! Yibing!" Hongpeng looked puzzled as his brother waved the rabbit near the bed, the aroma making even him salivate.

"Watch his nose," Hongkun chuckled. Yibing’s little nose twitched unconsciously.

"Heh, this boy... even asleep, he reacts to the smell of food. He’s fine," Hongpeng laughed.

At dusk, as Hongpeng prepared to cook, Hongkun stopped him. "Make plenty of porridge—we can’t give him too much solid food after three days of hunger." Hongpeng started; when had his brother become so considerate?

At midnight, as soon as the hour passed, the brothers dashed into Yibing’s room. Hongkun murmured a spell and swept his hand, dissolving the barrier.

"Yibing! It’s time—you can eat now!" Hongpeng nudged him, but Yibing didn’t move.

"Hey, what’s wrong with you?" Hongkun slapped him.

"Senior brother?" Yibing finally opened his eyes.

"Aren’t you hungry? We’ve been calling you!"

"Not at all," Yibing replied seriously.

"Are you alright?" Hongpeng felt his forehead—no fever.

"Who said that?" But the moment Yibing spotted the porridge bowl, he transformed, bouncing to the table like a ball.

"Now that’s more like it," Hongkun sighed in relief.

Once all had settled down, the brothers asked Yibing how he managed not to feel hungry. It turned out, at first he had nearly fainted from hunger, so he simply lay still. His mind was full of thoughts of chicken, duck, and fish, but since he couldn’t have any, he forced himself to think of something else—the sutras Master had taught him. Reciting them over and over, he began to practice his cultivation, and astonishingly, he stopped feeling hungry.

The brothers exchanged glances, silently cursing: "Damn this fatso—even starving, he manages to cultivate!"

In the blink of an eye, half a year passed. Their master remained as mad as ever, sometimes lucid, sometimes not, his teachings as chaotic as before. Yet Yibing had grown remarkably, able to make sense of things on his own, and seeking his brothers’ advice when needed. Since the incidents with the stolen pills and fasting, the three had grown much closer; Yibing’s respect for their master deeply moved the brothers, who now truly saw him as a fellow disciple. Before, he had been little more than a hostage in their eyes.

Even so, Yibing was still the worst cultivator among the four junior disciples. But this was hardly his fault—the others followed a proper system, while he muddled along. However, his ability to fetch things from a distance had improved immensely. Every morning, his first task was to round up all the rabbits in Banyue Mound. He couldn’t eat them, but he still caught them. At first, the rabbits would scatter at the sight of him, but eventually, they stopped running, lining up each morning for him to catch, leaving Yibing stomping his feet in frustration.

A year passed, and their master’s madness reached new heights; he insisted on holding a disciple acceptance ceremony and insisted their martial uncle attend. After some discussion, the brothers decided to send Yibing to deliver the invitation—it was high time he left the Mound.

"Really?" Yibing’s eyes widened, his belly quivering with excitement.

"Really. You’ve been diligent lately, so consider it a reward," Hongkun replied in all seriousness.

"Great! Martial uncle must have plenty of good food!" Yibing said, tongue lolling.

"Don’t get your hopes up—martial uncle’s place is full of female disciples who eat nothing but grass... all vegetarian!" Hongkun shot back.

"No way! Then I’m not going," Yibing’s face fell instantly.

"Fine, if you don’t want to go, I will," Hongpeng teased, reaching for the invitation.

"Wait, I’ll go!" Yibing darted aside, thinking, "Surely the rabbits outside the Mound aren’t all immortal rabbits!"

Before his departure, Hongpeng drew him a map: head thirty li east to a forest, cross the forest to a marsh, then beyond the marsh lies a basin surrounded by mountains. In the center is an earth cave called the Five-Colored Cave—martial uncle lives there.

"Isn’t this just like a monster’s lair?" Yibing thought. "Master lives in the heavens of Banyue Mound, martial uncle underground in the Five-Colored Cave—there’s something fishy about their relationship. I’d better be careful delivering this letter. After all, I was abducted here in the first place, and I still don’t know their true intentions. If they decide to eat me, this plump, tender body is doomed!"

"What are you scheming now?" Hongkun caught the glint in his eye. Since meeting Yibing, he’d learned one thing: fat does not mean foolish.