When the group returned to camp, Wu Ling treated everyone to a hearty broken rice soup with broth made from the bones of yesterday's grouse combined with finely diced mushrooms and wild greens picked by Yu Jinqi.
"Brother Wu," Zhang Buyan said after several spoonfuls of the hearty soup. "Where did you learn to cook like this? It's… not like any soup I've had before. That isn't to say it's bad, but it's very different."
"It's better with an egg or two scrambled in," Wu Ling said, ladling more into Zhang Buyan's empty bowl. "My mother's hands were crippled years ago to prevent her from holding a sword again. She enjoys family meals more if it's a rich soup that she can drink instead of something that she needs to have fed to her."
"Brother Wu!" Jin Wuya exclaimed, horrified that someone would go so far to prevent another person from holding a sword again while leaving them alive to suffer. "Who would do such a thing?"
