Master Uncle 02

Jiang Mubai was a sensible boy. Knowing his master was a kind man who had taken him in, he took on the daily chores of sweeping and fetching water so his senior brothers could focus on their assigned studies.

One day, as he gazed at the rickety double doors of Baiyun Temple, wondering when they might collapse, his eldest brother had assured him they’d find tools to fix them eventually.

Lost in thought, the door was suddenly kicked open with a violent crash. The worn-out wooden panel slammed against the wall, shaking loose a tile that shattered on the ground.

Stunned, Jiang Mubai saw a ragged man storm in, his face twisted with resentment. The stranger looked like a famine refugee. Hurrying forward, Jiang Mubai asked, "Sir, how may we help you? Are you here to offer incense or—"

The man ignored him, took a deep breath, and bellowed, "Xuan Chen, you old fool, get out here!"

Jiang Mubai froze. The man’s fury was overwhelming, and worse—had he just ordered his master to come out?

His senior brothers emerged one after another, puzzled by the intruder, while Jiang Mubai stood rooted in place.

Then, a lean figure stepped out slowly from one of the rooms—his master had arrived.

The master frowned at the man before him.

"You’re a hard man to track down! Is this what you call ‘wandering the world’? Looks more like you’ve settled down for good!" The stranger planted his hands on his hips, seething.

The master exhaled. "Junior Brother, it’s been a while."

At these words, everyone in the courtyard turned to stare at the disheveled man.

"Spare me the pleasantries—do I look like I’ve been ‘well’?" He spread his arms, revealing a robe riddled with holes and stains. "Got any food?"

In the kitchen, Jiang Mubai watched as his "uncle" devoured their steamed buns, gulping them down with frantic urgency. The boy pitied him—he must have starved for days. Knowing hunger himself, Jiang Mubai quickly fetched a bowl of water. The uncle muttered what might have been thanks, spraying crumbs everywhere.

The master stood with his hands behind his back, his frown deepening. He didn’t seem pleased with this visitor.

The second brother leaned against the doorframe, eyeing the uncle skeptically, while the eldest remained expressionless.

Jiang Mubai suddenly realized: if the uncle stayed, their food stores wouldn’t last.

The uncle let out a satisfied belch, took a sip of water, and patted his stomach. "What kind of hospitality is this? I traveled miles to see you, and this is what you serve?"

Jiang Mubai was stunned. Was this what people meant by "biting the hand that feeds you"?

The master asked, "How did you find me?"

The uncle grinned. "Divine calculation."

The master sighed but swallowed his words after glancing at his disciples. Instead, he said, "Come, greet your uncle."

Jiang Mubai and his brothers bowed obediently. The uncle nodded, pleased.

"Good, very good." He then asked, "Where do I sleep tonight?"

The master hesitated. "You may use my meditation room."

Without ceremony, the uncle declared, "Fine! Off to bed then—see you later!"

After he left, the second brother asked, "Master, why have you never mentioned him before?"

Jiang Mubai looked at the master curiously.

The master shook his head. "After your grandmaster passed, I left and lost contact with him. I don’t know why he’s come now."

The eldest brother remained calm. As the master walked away, Jiang Mubai glanced at his seniors.

The eldest patted his head. "Don’t worry. I’ll skip dinner—you and your second brother eat."

The second brother pursed his lips but said nothing.

Jiang Mubai nodded obediently.

That evening, only he and the second brother ate. The master didn’t join them, and the absence felt strange. But soon, the uncle reappeared, freshly awake. He eyed the steamed buns with disdain, then leaned in and whispered, "Want some meat?"

Meat? Jiang Mubai’s mouth watered. It had been so long.

The second brother kept his head down, silent.

The uncle grew impatient. Jiang Mubai felt a slap on his head. "Well? Want meat or not?"

He nodded eagerly. Who wouldn’t?

The second brother finally relented when the uncle raised his hand again.

"Good, it’s settled." The uncle snatched Jiang Mubai’s bun, took a bite, and tossed it into the stove. Jiang Mubai gasped—that was his dinner! But before he could protest, the uncle yanked him by the collar and dragged him out. Turning back, the uncle barked, "You! Need an invitation?"

The second brother stuffed the bun into his mouth and scurried after them.

The uncle led them down the mountain. By the time they reached the village, night had fallen, and the locals were asleep. He told them to wait while he "took care of something."

Jiang Mubai whispered nervously, "Senior Brother, what’s he doing?"

The second brother grimaced. "If I had to guess..." He trailed off, leaving Jiang Mubai in the dark.

Soon, the uncle returned, clutching two squawking chickens. "Let’s go!" He shoved a bird into each boy’s arms.

Jiang Mubai stood frozen, the struggling hen in his grasp.

Had the uncle just stolen these?

They returned to Baiyun Temple in silence, but the uncle wasn’t done. He ordered them to gather firewood, salt, and bowls. Watching him deftly start a fire and slit a chicken’s throat, Jiang Mubai wondered how many poultry heists the man had pulled.

The uncle didn’t dismiss them, so the boys stood nervously by.

The aroma of roasting chicken soon filled the air, making Jiang Mubai’s empty stomach growl.

The uncle muttered, "Should be done," sprinkled salt, and tore off a drumstick. He thrust it at Jiang Mubai, who hesitated—this was stolen food.

"Eat! Or I’ll roast you next!"

In the firelight, the uncle’s glare left no room for refusal.

Truthfully, the meat was delicious—though the scrawny birds left little for three.

The uncle declared that since they’d already sinned, they might as well enjoy it. The second brother, though reluctant, ate his share.