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“Lao Wen, are you sure you know what you are doing?” Zhou Zishu asked of his bustling spouse as he darted around the cavern they called their home.
“Of course I know what I am doing, a-Xu,” Wen Kexing retorted, “I managed to get a-Xiang and myself to adulthood without losing any limbs to infection or frostbite, so taking care of our disciple’s fever should be a breeze. Besides, my parents were the Divine Hands and that has to count for something.”
Zhou Zishu could not contain his snort as he replied, “Philanthropist Wen, you and I have read the same histories in this frozen library, so you know very well that that is crap. The only reason your parents were called the Divine Hands is because your mother gave all of her poisoning notes to your father after she was done. Otherwise, your family would have been persecuted long before Zhao Jing poisoned Rong Xuan.”
“Be that as it may, a-Xu, my father was still very good at curing things, so I will also be able to cure this fever.”
“Shifu, shishu, I am so cold,” rose from the mournful pile of furs in the center of the room. The pile of furs was so large that the only part of Zhang Chengling’s body that could be seen was his eyes.
Wen Kexing scurried over to the pile of furs with eyes, carrying some rags and a bowl of water. “Oh little idiot, rest easy. I was just going through our supplies and will whip you up something to make you feel better soon. Do not worry, your shishu has this in hand.”
“Lao Wen, as someone that has actually helped a child through one of these training fevers, what Chengling needs to be doing is meditating to regulate his qi, not sipping tea or being covered in every fur on this mountain that is not still attached to an animal.” This last part was pointedly directed towards Zhang Chengling.
“But a-Xu,” Wen Kexing whined, “who can meditate while their head is pounding and they feel so cold they cannot move? Have some mercy on our disciple, Zhou-zhuangzhu.” After saying this, Wen Kexing playfully bowed to Zhou Zishu and nudged Zhang Chengling’s fur pile to do the same.
With a start, Zhang Chengling obeyed, “Yes, shifu! Have mercy on your disciple.”
“Enough, both of you! It is as if someone decided my struggles training and raising Jiuxiao were not enough and gave me the two of you as recompense.” After saying this Zhou Zishu stormed out of the room.
“…Shishu? Did I do or say something wrong? Shifu never mentions er-shishu.”
“You did nothing wrong, Chengling. It is just one of those days. Now, I am going to go find your shifu and you, little idiot, are going to rest and meditate until we get back, understood?”
“Yes, shishu! I will definitely rest and meditate. Go find shifu, I will be fine.”
With Zhang Chengling’s blessing, Wen Kexing anxiously ventured after his absent shixiong. “A-Xu? Where are you a-Xu? A—oh, there you are a-Xu.”
“Lao Wen. Has anyone told you that your voice could wake the dead?”
“Now, now a-Xu, you love hearing my voice.”
“Lao Wen,” Zhou Zishu scoffed, “no one loves hearing the sound of your voice more than you.”
Affronted, Wen Kexing pulled back. “A-Xu, are you saying that you do not want to hear me chattering on for eternity?” He began pacing back and forth in front of Zhou Zishu, muttering all the while. “I cannot believe it. That Zhou-xianggong would take me from my mother’s house and then treat me so cruelly after our bows? Woe is me!” The dramatic Wen Kexing was even beginning to tear up for emphasis.
“Enough, Lao Wen. I am not in the mood for your antics. Go back to Chengling if you are going to keep carrying on.”
Wen Kexing’s eyes softened as he came to a halt in front of Zhou Zishu. “A-Xu, you can tell me what is wrong. A simple training fever should not be upsetting you this much.”
“Ai, Lao Wen, it is not the training fever as much as it is that if Chengling were calling me shixiong instead of shifu, it would be as if Jiuxiao was standing before me again. He would often whine to his father, our shifu, about my not letting him or my other shidi sleep off their training fevers. Shifu may have liked to play more than I did, but he would never let his son or disciples shirk their meditation. Granted, we would end up being served several cooling foods for the next couple of days, courtesy of shifu making pleading eyes at shimu, so obviously shifu did not like the fevers any more than we did.”
“Do you remember the ingredients, a-Xu? Maybe we can mix up a cooling soup for our disciple after he has meditated a little more. Or at least something to keep his head from pounding.”
Zhou Zishu chuckled as he replied, “Lao Wen, what do you think I was doing in the storeroom? Moping among the produce is your thing rather than mine; although you do look so pretty while doing it.
“I was making sure Da Wu had Ping An send up all of the ingredients we would need in the last shipment. It is a good thing I could tell Chengling was getting close to a breakthrough, or else he would be dealing with his training fever by meditation and a dip in a snowbank. Now, follow me and hold out your hands because the cooling soup requires a lot of ingredients.”
“Yes, Zhou-xianggong, my hands are yours to command. Ouch! Why did you pinch me?”
“Two words: Wandering hands. Now come on, we do not have all day and this soup is fiddly.”
With that said, the two immortals started gathering the supplies, bickering and trading playful blows the whole time. Zhang Chengling’s cooling soup was…slightly delayed by a couple of hours, but he did not notice because he spent that time practicing the noble art of not recognizing what his ears were hearing. It was good for his martial training or so Zhou Zishu would tell him later.