The irascible scoundrel, Tongjun
...
An infant ray of the early morning sun snuck a crack in the ceiling to reflect on Tongjun's golden headpiece, forcing him awake while cursing irately. In a daze, he knocked over a pail that had been collecting drops of the rain that fell the previous night from that very crack the sun shone in from. Because of this unfortunate mistake, Tongjun slipped on the water and banged his head on a broken chair leg, narrowly avoiding impaling his head on it. Cold sweat immediately covered the poor man's back. To think he would have died so pathetically... Tongjun threw on a tattered cloak and swept a glance across the shack he lived in. He adjusted the fallen pail and put everything else in order. A man may fall into dire straits, but dire straits should not fall into a man.
Once outside, Tongjun locked the flimsy door and bolted it with an even more flimsy padlock, making for a perfunctory sense of security. Tongjun's decrepit shack stood high on a hill on the outskirts of Shi Village, contrasting starkly with the flagrantly rich houses scattered at the base and around the hill. An arrogant rich man had once taken a fancy to this hill and desired to put a mansion on it to complete the scenery, but Tongjun, like a wild boar, chased the rich man off the hill and out of town. This very action cemented the villagers' already low opinion of Tongjun, as for whatever had lowered their opinion of him, they kept close to their hearts.
Tongjun whistled as he swaggered down the hill. A chicken coop stood not too far away from the base of the hill, and having not tasted meat in more than a month, he couldn't help but eye them with naked desire in his eyes. A hand quickly slammed shut the door to the chicken coop, earning a click of the tongue from Tongjun, to think that would stop him if he had any designs...
The hand belonged to Madam Selena, a thirtysomething-year-old woman from one of the rich households who originally refused his occupation of the hill.
"Madam Selena, I see your chickens are getting bigger every day. It would be a shame if any went missing," Tongjun expressed his goodwill to her. The layers of fat on Madam Selena shook in undisguised fury; she would be a fool not to recognize the underlying threat in those words. Only the heavens knew how much she had suffered at the hands of this irascible scoundrel. Although she had several other chicken coops, the losses from this one were enough to cry blood.
Tongjun, having succeeded in riling her up, continued his swagger to the village. Rows and rows of cornfields adorned the bushy road, and he looked upon them with satisfaction. His lunch was settled. Faced with such bountiful offerings, who was he to refuse?
Song's carpenter's house was the first he came across when he got to the village. Seeing the smoke rising out of Song's chimney, may he have taken care of Tongjun's breakfast? There was still the issue of the chair-leg-turned-murder-weapon in his shack. As a contemplating look adorned Tongjun's face, his eyes caught a sorry figure donning a gloating look approaching him, and his expression soured. Was this rascal here to rain on his parade? Talk about pot calling kettle black.
"Lao Tong!" the sorry figure saluted. "Are you here to beg for alms again?"
"And what's it to you?" Tongjun riposted without an ounce of shame, "Aren't you here to do the same?"
The sorry figure naturally wasn't offended by Tongjun's clapback: "Of course not! I, Japhyn, am here to give Lao Song my wedding invitation."
To that, Tongjun snorted, "Which poor girl has had herself sold to you? I am handsome and of fine temperament, but I have no suitor. Why would you, a makeshift human being, get married before me? You must be Delulu."
In response to this, irritation flashed across Japhyn's eyes, but Tongjun now had his back to him, so he could only swallow his annoyance. At that moment, the door to Song's house opened, and a girl rushed out while adjusting her robes. Her skin was flushed as she set her amorous eyes on the insides of the house. Soon after, Song's good-looking face came into view; sweat lined his forehead, and anyone could see he was in a good mood. Tongjun sighed in admiration; his good friend was out pollinating flowers, and even this scampy fellow was about to tie the knot. He suddenly wished he had a beard to stroke to express his detachment from worldly affairs.
At some point, Japhyn had moved so close to Tongjun that the latter felt a slight movement would result in a kiss. Anyone would feel the disgust emanating from Tongjun as he subconsciously widened the space between them. Ignoring the situation between Japhyn and Tongjun, Song had succeeded in seeing the girl off and was waiting patiently for them to finish. Japhyn he could ignore but Tongjun? Not so much; his infamy has spread across the seven seas. While he was lost in thought, he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to find Tongjun's handsome face too close for comfort. Song tried to take a step back, but Tongjun's iron-like grip held him firmly in place. "Take a bath, will you? You reek." With a scrunched-up nose, Tongjun sidestepped him into the house, and Japhyn followed quickly. As Song went to the stream to have his bath, Japhyn took the opportunity to ravage his kitchen, but he controlled himself because Tongjun's catlike eyes were firmly on him. As for the latter, his beautiful face had twisted into a knot at the state of the house, the wrinkled sheets and clothes strung around, and... was that a panty? Urgh! The smell of humanity! Lao Song really outdid himself. Almost methodologically, Tongjun set about gathering the clothes, removing the sheets, and having Japhyn air the mattress outside. He pushed open the windows, hesitant to breathe in the stale air for a second longer. Such was the state of affairs when Song returned from the stream. He found his furniture arranged in a certain fashion, and the air in his house was a lot fresher. He glanced at Tongjun, who still had a frown on his face in contemplation: there wasn't enough time for the room to be properly ventilated; after all, he spent less than twenty minutes at the stream. "Lao Song!" Japhyn approached him with a plate of wontons and said, "I have some great news for you." Looking at that plate of wontons, Song's face darkened. He hadn't had breakfast after that round of activities, and Tongjun probably didn't either, yet this riffraff left his house to become a devourer here. "Return those wontons now!"
The raw emotions in Song's shout startled both of them, and Japhyn timidly returned the remaining wontons. After all, he had had quite a lot. "Lao Song, I am getting married next week!" Japhyn thumped his chest with pride, expecting to see an expression of awe and envy on Song's face, but the latter's face still held a drab countenance. "Is that so? Your parents must have succeeded in buying you a wife; congratulations. I'll support you with a set of furniture."
Before Japhyn's cheek could smarten from the emotional slap, Tongjun stood up and said, "And I'll support you with three big chickens."
Song narrowed his eyes at that: "Don't tell me you still have designs on Madam Selena's chickens."
Tongjun sucked in his cheeks in deviance. "She must pay for trying to drive me off the hill. Japhyn, get us a plate of wontons each."
...
On the outskirts of the village, close to Tongjun's hill, a strange phenomenon took place in the air, and a man materialized out of nowhere. He cut a sorry figure in his battle-worn leather and bleeding eyes. He drew a few lines in the sand, and the phenomenon disappeared. He then wiped off those lines and hurried up the hill to find cover. However, on getting close to Tongjun's shack, he stumbled over and lost consciousness.