"The dog at home is barbecuing meat"—that wasn't entirely a lie.
Jiang An'an had come to the teahouse alone to observe the ways of the world, without bringing Chunhui along.
That silly dog was in the courtyard in the west of the city, breathing fire from its dog mouth as it happily roasted a huge ox leg.
Snow filled the sky, the courtyard rails held back the west wind—a grill, and a fire-breathing dog.
When a whistle swept across the horizon like startled sparrows, Chunhui abruptly swallowed the flames. The fiery glow around all four paws went out, and it flopped onto the ground, becoming an utterly ordinary big gray dog in a floral padded jacket.
Its floral jacket was plump with cotton, its tail fluffy; it grinned wide and wagged without pause.
Its master had commanded that, while out and about, it must keep a low profile and never reveal its spirit form. Before people, it could only behave like a native mutt.
It faithfully obeyed the imperial decree!
The courtyard gate was soon pushed open. Annoying Frost Wind drove snow pellets ahead of it as its master entered with an unfamiliar woman.
Wagging its tail, Chunhui went up to greet them. But when it met the woman's gaze, it suddenly felt immense danger, as though a towering mountain were toppling down upon it. Its entire dog body flattened against the ground, sinking three inches into the snow.
Yet that danger instead stirred its ferocity. Its master was beside danger!
It instinctively bared its teeth. Blood-red fire ignited in its canine eyes, its claws dug fiercely into the earth, and the fledgling crimson Samadhi True Fire danced in its throat—
"Chunhui, we have a guest!" Jiang An'an snapped, forcing Chunhui's spirit form back down.
Chunhui understood the word "guest."