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It’s something like a science experiment, Li Lianhua reasons. Very few have seen the formidable Di Feisheng without his veneer of distant disinterest; even Li Xiangyi rarely saw it slip. A’Fei isn’t exactly tractable, but he’s much more expressive than Di Feisheng and Li Lianhua can hardly be blamed for being curious, can he? Of course not. So, he packs Xiaobao off on some errands a few towns over to prevent any disagreements, and takes A’Fei to the market. It’s not a particularly large one, but it’s lively and there are street performances dotting the stalls. Most importantly, there are plenty of food vendors around. Now that it’s clear that Di Feisheng can taste, it would be a shame not to see what he does or doesn’t enjoy, wouldn’t it?
Li Lianhua sits down at a table by the noodle stall, gesturing at the proprietor for a pot of tea and two bowls of the house specialty. A’Fei follows a bit more gingerly, settling with his back to the wall. That’s as expected; it’s why Li Lianhua selected this particular table, after all. A’Fei wears Di Feisheng’s hypervigilance with a sort of unadorned arrogance rather than the overwhelming sense of power the leader of the Jinyuan Alliance exudes, but it’s still there. Li Lianhua wouldn’t quite call him open but he smiles more easily and doesn’t hide his curiosity. It’s almost cute. Rather, it’s very cute, if you use Di Feisheng himself as the only point of reference.
He pours them both a cup of tea when it’s dropped off at the table, watching A’Fei drink it almost automatically, without any reaction. It’s rather weak tea, when Li Lianhua samples it himself, so much so that he doesn’t have much of an opinion about it either. The food looks more promising: plump noodles and boiled greens covered in a light brown broth with a touch of oil and dotted with wontons.
A’Fei eats quickly, eyes scanning their surroundings between each slurp of soup, the contents of his bowl disappearing with alacrity. Li Lianhua follows much more slowly, examining A’Fei’s face for any indication of appreciation or displeasure. He neither can nor wants to explain the desire to find something Di Feisheng honestly enjoys, but he’s determined to do it. Science, he reminds himself. How hard can it be?
The noodles are decent, but not extraordinary. Perhaps not the best opening bid, then. “What do you think?” Li Lianhua asks, pushing his own bowl away, still half full. He’s never very hungry anyway, and there will be more to eat later.
“About what?” A’Fei says, blinking from behind his half mask. Ah. Disappointing.
“Nevermind,” Li Lianhua says, tossing payment down on the table and leading the way back into the market.
He pauses in front of a booth, watching A’Fei out of the corner of his eye. A’Fei looks at the brightly colored kites without much interest, so Li Lianhua moves on to the next stall. Ring puzzles. Xiaobao could probably solve them with his eyes closed; they are for children. A’Fei’s eyes slide right past them altogether; same with the rattle drums and cloth tigers. Perhaps toys just aren’t of any interest? He is an adult, after all, if one that, from the sound of it, never had much of a childhood. Hmm. Perhaps Li Lianhua’s plan to find things A’Fei likes has to take a different tack.
Ah. Perhaps one of Li Lianhua’s own vices— sweets. Li Lianhua catches a passing tanghulu seller and purchases a stick. “Here,” he says, wrapping A’Fei’s fingers around it.
A’Fei regards the tanghulu with suspicion, the candied fruit bright red and glistening. “Oh, come now,” Li Lianhua says and, pulling A’Fei’s hand closer, neatly removes a sticky berry with his teeth. “See?” he says around his mouthful of sugar, “Nothing wrong.” A’Fei doesn’t look particularly convinced, but slowly brings the stick up to his mouth. He bites into the tanghulu, tugging one off the stick and chewing thoroughly before swallowing.
“It’s not terrible,” he concedes. Li Lianhua beams.
“See,” he nearly coos, “that wasn’t so hard was it? Eat up.” A’Fei snorts but does as told, methodically devouring the tanghulu before tossing the stick. Li Lianhua notes it down as a draw. Not particularly exciting, but not distasteful. No sweet tooth, then, most likely. Somehow that’s mildly disappointing. Maybe he’ll like Li Lianhua’s own favorite candies more? Perhaps he should have started with those, but it will have to wait, now that A’Fei’s tongue is already coated in sugar. Something savory next, then.
“Oh, meat buns,” he says, the vendor down the street catching his attention. He pulls A’Fei along by the hand, ignoring the perplexed look he gets in response. This is science! He orders two, biting into his own while A’Fei is still examining the one in his hands like it might grow legs and run off. So suspicious! “Eat, eat,” Li Lianhua urges, chewing. It’s good. The meat is fragrant, spiced just enough to bring out the flavor, and the dough is tender without being so soft that it falls apart in the hand. “If we eat enough here,” he says, “I won’t have to make dinner.”
That does it. A’Fei bites into the bun, juice running down his chin. Li Lianhua pushes aside the wholly inappropriate impulse to lick it off for him, focusing on observing his expression. A bit of surprise. A hint of pleasure? He polishes the bun off much more quickly than he did the tanghulu and, after a moment of contemplation, licks his fingers. Li Lianhau coughs and looks away. Successful, then. So far in that column: chicken legs and meat buns. Not surprising, perhaps, that he would like meat. Li Lianhua will have to find better wontons next time.
As Li Lianhua looks around for the next thing to sample, A’Fei lingers by a street performer.
“Those are blunt,” he says, looking at the sword-swallower with a glint Li Lianhua recognizes all too well in his eyes, and he pulls A’Fei away before he does anything inadvisable. They pass a few stalls selling hair pins and scented sachets before Li Lianhua slows at the next performance. Alarming or not, it was the first thing A’Fei showed interest in of his own volition, so perhaps it’s the correct direction to go in.
The shadow puppet show is, perhaps predictably, telling the story of how Li Xiangyi defeated the Demon of the Blood Realm. A’Fei seems engaged and isn’t giving any indication of pain from his sealed memories, so Li Lianhua lets him watch, despite his personal disinterest. That was all a lifetime ago. The puppetry itself is beautiful, A’Fei watching the animated battle as if he can see it play out in his head. Perhaps he can; it wouldn’t be surprising, from such a prodigious martial artist. Li Lianhua watches his face, the way his eyes track the intricately carved puppets, the interest in the line of his brow. It’s not quite the joy that Li Lianhua wants, but it’s a start. He waits until they finish the story and start setting up for the next before he draws A’Fei away.
“Did you like that?” he asks quietly.
“It was interesting,” A’Fei says, glancing back at the screen behind them. “Fighting such a strong opponent must be exhilarating.”
Li Lianhua hums noncommittally. Well, everybody knows that about Di Feisheng.
*
They spend the next twenty minutes or so digesting and wandering around the market; A’Fei predictably has no interest in games of chance and Li Lianhua avoids the pitchpot stall out of self-preservation. He doesn’t doubt A’Fei would turn in a fine showing at a game of hand-eye coordination, but it would draw too much attention and Li Lianhua already knows he likes to win. He’s here to learn new information, after all.
As they turn the corner, the aromatic scent of roasting lamb greets them. There’s a kick to it, an almost hair-raising edge that has Li Lianhua on the cusp of a sneeze. Once they’re close enough he sees why: the skewers of meat are coated in a bright orange-red crust and sizzling with chili oil. interesting. He turns to check A’Fei’s reaction, only to realize that A’Fei is stopped several paces behind him surrounded by, of all things, a small flock of children.
“Da ge,” they’re clamoring, “do it again, kick it again!” One of them has a brightly colored shuttlecock in his hand, waving it as he jumps up and down in excitement. A’Fei looks bemused but not irritated so Li Lianhua decides to let it play out.
“I don’t know how,” A’Fei says after a minute, and the children shriek, hopping around him.
“You just did it,” one of them says, not the one with the shuttlecock. “It was coming toward you and BAM you just—”
“It went so high!” another one says, as they talk over one another to recount the apparently stupendous kick Li Lianhua completely missed.
“It’s easy,” the one with the shuttlecock says, “look, look, you just—” he tosses the toy into the air and kicks it back up with practiced ease.
“And then you just pass it around—” says the first one, intercepting the shuttlecock over his friend’s indignant protest.
“As long as it doesn’t fall—” the children spread back out into a loose circle with A’Fei incorporated, the shuttlecock passing between them from foot to foot.
“Da ge!” they cry and the shuttlecock arcs toward A’Fei. For a moment it seems like he won’t react. Then his foot shoots out at the last possible moment, sending the little bundle of leather and feathers neatly across the circle in a high, clean parabola.
The children dissolve into triumphant screams, circle breaking and reforming, even as they somehow keep the shuttlecock in the air. It crisscrosses their shifting formation, inevitably returning to A’Fei, who repeats his feat to renewed acclaim. There’s a serious little furrow between his brows, eyes tracking the toy through the air, body still with the calm of a hunter until the moment his leg whips up and sends the shuttlecock flying up from the dirt.
Something heavy and warm shakes itself loose in Li Lianhua’s chest and he nearly stumbles beneath the weight, hiding his smile behind his hand though A’Fei is unlikely to look at him just then. He leaves A’Fei to play as he turns his attention back to the lamb skewers, making his purchase and waiting for them to cook as he watches the children dance around A’Fei.
They seem to have devolved into some other sort of game entirely by the time Li Lianhua is headed back toward them, skewers fresh off the grill in his hand. The lamb is tender, oozing with grease and spice, and the first bite he takes blasts his sinuses clean of any lingering road dust. Li Lianhua coughs, shaking his head slightly as he chews and swallows. This should certainly be new territory for the Di Feisheng who eats only plain rice.
“Sorry, this da ge needs to leave now,” he tells the disappointed children, free hand on A’Fei’s upper arm. A’Fei gives the children an oddly solemn nod and strides off with Li Lianhua without a word. Li Lianhua hides his smile by tearing another chunk of meat off his skewer, offering the other one to A’Fei.
A’Fei takes it with a suspicious sniff, eyes widening at the aroma. “S’good,” Li Lianhua assures him, despite being flushed with heat. He laps up a stray bit of grease off his hand, catching the flicker of A’Fei’s eyes following the movement. Ah, not the right kind of experiment. “Eat,” he says, clearing his throat. Science, he reminds himself.
Li Lianhua is nearly finished with his own skewer by the time A’Fei takes his first bite, wiping his fingers carelessly on his clothes. A’Fei stops dead, and Li Lianhua nearly misses the expression he’s been waiting for all day. His eyes are scrunched shut as he chews, opening slowly wider and wider, something like wonder on his face. Li Lianhua’s heart stutters for a few beats and then evens out; he’s smiling as A’Fei stares at the lamb skewer, then at Li Lianhua and back again. “What is this,” he says, sounding almost offended.
“I told you it was good,” Li Lianhua says, nearly skipping as he tugs A’Fei back into motion. “You like it?”
“I don’t know,” A’Fei says. His eyes are still huge. He takes another bite, chewing like he’s trying to solve a complex problem, face flushing as the capsaicin does its job. Perhaps, Li Lianhua thinks, taking in his shiny, red mouth, he’s miscalculated a bit. He transfers his gaze to A’Fei’s fingers instead, tracking a bead of grease sliding across his knuckle. “I think so.”
“Huh?” says Li Lianhua.
“I think I like it,” A’Fei repeats, and Li Lianhua stares at him a moment before he laughs, slinging a familiar arm around his shoulders.
“Perfect,” he says, feeling like the sun is shining right through him. “I’m so glad.”
A’Fei makes a face but doesn’t stop eating, taking Li Lianhua’s weight like it’s nothing. “You are very strange today,” he says, and Li Lianhua can’t seem to stop laughing.
“Am I not strange other days?” he manages, and A’Fei looks contemplative as he chews.
“No,” he says, “you are.”
“All right then,” Li Lianhua says, uncontrollably cheerful. He did just win a victory for science, after all. “If I’m always strange then I’m never strange.”
“No,” A’Fei repeats, after thinking about it for a moment. He tears the last bit of meat from his skewer, discarding the stick with regret. On someone else it could almost be called a pout. Li Lianhua stares up at the cloudless sky, wrestling himself into some semblance of control. He ends up grabbing A’Fei by the face anyway.
“You,” he says, and has to let it go at that, affection bubbling thick and heavy in this veins. A’Fei stares down at him, a questioning tilt to his brow. “You,” Li Lianhua says again, and lets go abruptly. He turns on his heel, striding off toward the edge of town. “Come on,” he calls, sure A’Fei will follow, “Let’s go home.”