Xiaohu

Qingqing was about to leap onto the rooftop for a quick getaway, but Yuanzheng caught her arm and pushed her behind him. A particularly rotten radish exploded into mush on his shoulder.

"Xiaohu! Stop it!"

The shower of radishes paused. Qingqing peeked out cautiously from behind Yuanzheng, not too frightened that she forgot to hold her nose.

She recognized the ragged boy that had been gnawing the stolen bao behind the wagon, and darted forward indignantly. "How dare you throw radishes at me! Did you steal them like you stole that bao you were eating earlier?"

The ragged boy came forward defiantly, chin stuck out, and they paced around each other like two fighting cocks. "How dare you get my friend into trouble? Don't pretend you didn't, I saw you! You were the one who threw that thing at Miss Mao and made her throw a fit."

He was a skinny thing with scabby elbows; his legs were mottled with bruises and there were scars on his body peeping through the tears in his clothes. But his eyes were bright and shrewd, and he had the quick, agile movements of a little fox. He had a broad generous forehead almost hidden by badly overgrown hair, and a nose almost as sharp as Qingqing's. Instead of shoes, he had battered straw soles bound with rags on his feet, and a dirty length of brown cloth draped across his chest looked like it had hidden pockets; there were mysterious bulges here and there, and he had just taken out another radish from somewhere within it. He could not have been more than thirteen, but he had a strange air of being a child and a grown-up all at the same time.

Xiaohu shook the radish threateningly at Qingqing. Unlike Qingqing, he had a good aim. He squinted with one eye, aiming for her face.

"Well, I'm the one who saved him, did you forget?" Qingqing snapped back. "Who are you to make such a big fuss?"

A firm hand came down on both their necks and separated them. Yuanzheng looked sternly from one to the other.

"Miss Qing. So you were the one who threw that thing at Miss Mao?"

Qingqing glowered. "Yes, but so what? I got you out of trouble, didn't I?"

He turned to the ragged boy and slapped the last radish out of his hand as the waif tried to sneakily fling a last shot at Qingqing. "Xiaohu. Where did you get all these radishes from?"

The boy sulked. "From a farmer in the marketplace. He didn't want them anyway. They're mostly rotten, can't you see? Stop yelling at me. I tell you, I saw her throw it with my own eyes. Then acting like she was so righteous for getting you out of trouble, when really you were just her scapegoat!" He spat at Qingqing, who made a spring for him, slipping past Yuanzheng's arm.

There was a flurry of limbs as they fought tooth and nail, and Qingqing emerged with her thumbs and fingers in Xiaohu's cheeks, while he howled. Both had scratches--Qingqing's hair was disheveled, and Xiaohu had a bitemark on his arm. Qingqing, though she had questionable morals in many areas, would not have been as dishonourable as to use her spirit energy on a mortal child armed only with radishes, or Xiaohu would not have stood a chance. As they were, they were equally matched. Qingqing was just moments faster.

"Throw more radishes at me, I dare you!" she panted, hanging on grimly. "You nasty little mortal child. If you had any more flesh on you I'd eat you just out of spite! Just you wait till you get fatter."

Yuanzheng, trying to loosen her hold while avoiding getting kicked by Xiaohu's legs, burst out laughing helplessly. "You'll eat him? Are you really that hungry? I've never heard anyone make that threat before."

Qingqing glared at him. "Why not? I'm starving right now. Because of that stupid Miss Mao, and because I decided to save you, you blockhead, I still haven't gotten my roast chicken!"

As Yuanzheng managed to loosen QingQing's fingers, Xiaohu broke free and backed away, feeling his cheeks ruefully. "The roast chicken stall is closed by now," he said with malicious satisfaction, and stuck out his tongue at her.

Qingqing stamped her foot. This was the last straw. "And whose fault is it? I declare, I really am going to eat you, even if I get your bones stuck in my throat! I'm going to throw a fit. After all that, to be denied the one thing I wanted to eat--"

Yuanzheng brushed the traces of rotten radish off himself. "Well. Why don't you both come to my house, I'll make noodles for you. My treat. I can't offer you roast chicken, Miss Qing, but you can consider that my thanks to you for helping me just now. And Xiaohu, for having my back; or I wouldn't have known who the real culprit was." He lifted an eyebrow significantly at Qingqing, who sniffed.

Xiaohu grinned, easily pleased. "Goody, noodles! I'm hungry. All right, Miss Qing--" he made a face. "Since Yuanzheng says so, I'll let it pass this time."

Yuanzheng had to intervene just in time as Qingqing sprang at him. "You arrogant little mongrel!" she fumed. "I'll--"

Xiaohu sniggered. Yuanzheng shot him a warning look. "Miss Qing, don't mind him. He's not had much manners taught to him. I'll give you more noodles to make up for it. Xiaohu, she'll get your share if you keep being rude."

Grabbing them by the back of their collars, he strode off, pulling them in tow. "Do you want cilantro in your noodles?" he asked, hoping to distract them.

"Of course not. Disgusting leaves, it tastes horrible." snapped Qingqing and Xiaohu at the same time. They glared at each other.

Yuanzheng hid a smile. "Fine, no cilantro. Miss Qing, you'll have to bear with my lowly home. Xiaohu has been there before so he knows what it's like. Now, the two of you have to promise not to kill each other while I cook the noodles, or I'll eat it all myself."

Qingqing folded her arms. "Only till the noodles are cooked. After that we'll see." she said stiffly.