"Old man, puzzling over that lousy chessboard again?"
After leaving the station, Lian Youming went to the Junk King's little courtyard instead of heading home.
He did not know why, but after a year apart, he kept feeling that something about the man had changed.
Just yesterday, the old man had known he had brought tiger bones back with a single sniff. That was far too uncanny.
The cold wind blew bleakly. Inside that tiny doorway, the Junk King still held his wooden chessboard, playing against himself. The aluminum lunchbox beside him was empty, looking as though it had been washed.
Lian Youming chuckled. "You've got a picky palate. So yesterday's bowl of leftovers wasn't good enough for you, huh? Well? My mom's cooking is unbeatable, isn't it?"
The Junk King did not even bother raising his head. "The red sausage and cured pork were both good. They didn't taste as good as an imperial chef's cooking, but they were made with care. They had a rich warmth of human affection. That alone put them above any rare delicacy."
"Of course. My mom..." As he spoke, Lian Youming suddenly widened his eyes. "You've eaten food made by an imperial chef?"
"Enough nonsense," the Junk King said flatly. "You haven't brought food, so what are you doing here?"
"I wanted to ask you something." Lian Youming crouched and took out a letter Yan Lingyun had sent him, listing several medicinal ingredients for making Tiger Bone Wine. Originally, he had wanted to ask where he could find them in the city, but hearing the old man's astonishingly grand claims, he decided to test him. "Take a look at these things. Can you make anything of them?"
The Junk King first scratched his tangled hair, then took the letter and glanced over it.