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The first night Zhan Zhao spent awake in Bai Yutang’s company, the man had somehow procured a fish out of nowhere, expertly gutting it with deft fingers before skewering it with a stick. The fire he’d set up between them flickered gently as he stoked it, stabbing the skewered fish on the ground and letting it cook.
The young man clearly had years and years of experience, if the speed and efficiency had anything to say about him.
Meanwhile Zhan Zhao, for all his experience living out in the wild, rarely had the chance of handling fish.
Oh, he’s had to do it a few times when he had to stake out and investigate near a river with only the stars and the trees as shelter, when the only choice was either to fish or waste time scavenging for food with no convenient tea stalls on the side of the road. But for some reason, his insides would squirm at the first bite of soft chewy flesh, the tangy taste making his nose twitch uncontrollably each time.
His comrades at Kaifeng Fu would incessantly tease him for avoiding it ("The great Imperial Cat Zhan-daren is actually picky about fish? The Emperor would be beyond amused!"), Ming Zhu'er in his disbelief even attempted to introduce him to different fish dishes—soup, fried, baked…but Zhan Zhao would simply politely hum his approval and swallow down his disgust, urging him to eat more instead.
"You're a growing boy," he would tell him with an indulgent smile, smoothly placing all the fish onto his plate in bite-sized pieces. "Didn't you say you want to get back at Zhao Zhi for sneaking off with your bao last week? You'd need be strong enough for that, now wouldn't you?"
So over the years, he would learn to stock up extra dry rations no matter where he went, even if it meant having less space for travel. It wasn’t like he needed a lot to bring with him during his wanderings anyway.
Huo Linglong somehow caught his apparent distaste for it somewhere along the way, despite his years worth of practice of hiding his reactions.
“Your nose scrunches up whenever Bai-dage isn’t looking,” she laughed, her own skewered fish dangling in her hand.
“Ah,” Zhan Zhao let out a soft sigh. “Please keep it from him. I’m already used to it anyway, and it’s…not too bad. He always looks so pleased whenever we eat fish…”
Her eyes sparkled as she leaned towards him, beckoning him closer. Brows furrowed, he turned his ear to her cupped hand.
“I think Bai-dage knows,” whispered Linglong conspiratorially. “Or at least he suspects it, and he’s just waiting for you to admit it to his face.”
She then sprang back with a huge grin like she never said a thing.
Zhan Zhan blinked and huffed out a laugh, his own face breaking into a wide smile.
“Ah, that sleek rat…”
His smile suddenly deepened, eyes shifting like a cat that found its prey.
“Well, we can’t let him win, now can we?”