between his martial arts lessons.

But this young man appeared every bit as

cultivated as his Second Shifu Zhu Cong. And here I was taking him for just a
poor beggar, he thought to himself. Chinese men are very different from those
on the northern steppe.
Not an hour later the dishes had all arrived – enough to cover two tables
pushed together. Guo Jing’s companion merely picked at the plates, however,
and hesitantly sipped at the wine. Suddenly he called the waiter over.
“This wine is only five years old! How dare you try to cheat us?”
“Please, sir –” the manager came rushing over – “your palate is most
exquisite. Our little inn did not have sir’s requested wine in stock, so we had to
procure some from a nearby establishment, the Eternal Celebration. It’s not easy
to get vintage wine in Kalgan.”
The boy waved for them to take it back. Having just learned that Guo Jing had
come from Mongolia, he resumed their conversation, asking Guo Jing all about
the desert wilds of the north. The Freaks had told Guo Jing not to reveal his
identity while on the road, so he related only anecdotes about hunting hares and
wolves, shooting eagles and racing horses. The boy listened with fascination,
clapping his hands and laughing like a little child.
Guo Jing felt an instant ease with him, the likes of which he had never known
before. This was only strengthened by the fact that the boy spoke his mother’s
dialect. He had grown up in the desert alongside his good friends Tolui and
Khojin, but the Great Khan kept his beloved son close and Tolui had had less
and less time to spend with Guo Jing of late. He often bickered with Khojin, who
was headstrong and usually wanted him to do as she wished. Theirs was not the
easiest of relationships. Guo Jing was taciturn and found it difficult to express
himself. Most people found it necessary to probe him with questions to get him
to speak. Jade Han teased him for taking after Nan the Merciful, as if words
spoken out load cost their weight in gold. But now, sitting with this young man
he had only just met, he talked non­stop, sharing everything save for his martial
arts training and his connection to the Great Khan Temujin.
Guo Jing lost himself in the moment while relating a particularly exciting
encounter with a wild animal, and without any thought to propriety, grabbed the
boy’s hand. To his astonishment, it was soft and smooth and somehow almost
boneless. The boy blushed and looked away, revealing the alabaster skin of his
neck. It was perfectly clean, not at all smudged in dirt like his cheeks, Guo Jing
noticed.
“The dishes have gone cold,” the boy said, gently pulling his hand back.
“Yes, but they’re still delicious,” Guo Jing said.
The boy disagreed.
“Then let’s have them warm them up,” Guo Jing suggested.