Chapter 20: Returning From Town
The climb back to the cliff cottage always felt slightly longer than the walk down, not because the distance changed in any meaningful way, but because going upward required a certain level of patience that the body only agreed to after a few quiet negotiations with gravity.
Khun Ming followed the narrow trail with steady steps, adjusting the weight across his shoulders as the bundles shifted slightly with each movement, the cloth resting against one side while the sack of supplies pulled gently against the other, and although the added weight from the butcher's purchase made the climb more demanding than usual, it remained within a range he considered acceptable, the kind of effort that felt earned rather than inconvenient.
The forest remained calm around him, sunlight filtering through the leaves in uneven patterns that moved slowly with the wind, and the scent of earth and vegetation mixed faintly with the unmistakable presence of raw and cooked ingredients carried in his bags, creating a combination that would have seemed unusual to anyone else but felt entirely practical to him.
As he reached the final turn in the path, the bamboo fence of the cottage came into view between the trees, the structure appearing quietly as if it had been waiting there without expectation, and the courtyard beyond remained still in the soft afternoon light.
Khun Ming adjusted his grip slightly and called out before stepping through the gate.
"I am home!" he said in a relaxed tone that carried easily across the courtyard, "I have returned, and I trust that you have not interpreted my absence as an opportunity to reduce your responsibilities to purely decorative observation."
From inside the courtyard, the golden dog appeared almost immediately, trotting toward the entrance with a steady enthusiasm that did not quite reach the level of excitement but clearly expressed recognition, his tail moving in a calm, consistent rhythm.
Khun Ming smiled faintly.
"Well," he said, "it is reassuring to know that at least one member of this household maintains a positive attitude toward my return."
The golden dog circled him once, nose lifting slightly as he inspected the bundles, the scent of meat clearly registering as a priority worth investigating.
"Yes, I am aware that you can identify the contents without visual confirmation," Khun Ming said while stepping fully into the courtyard, "but I would still prefer to set everything down before you begin forming conclusions about portion distribution."
The dog wagged his tail again, which did not confirm agreement but also did not indicate refusal.
A moment later, Hu Xinyan appeared from the doorway.
Unlike the dog, she did not approach immediately, instead stepping forward with measured movement and stopping several paces away, her posture steady, composed, and noticeably stronger than it had been even the previous day.
The afternoon light rested across her fur, and the wind moved gently through the courtyard, lifting a few strands along her back.
Khun Ming noticed the difference almost at once.
He blinked, then nodded slightly.
"That is a significant improvement," he said. "Your posture suggests that your balance and muscle coordination have recovered to a functional level, which is faster than I initially expected."
Hu Xinyan lowered her head slightly in acknowledgment, the motion controlled and deliberate, carrying a quiet elegance that made the interaction feel oddly formal despite the setting.
Khun Ming tilted his head as he observed it, the moment carrying the faint atmosphere of a reunion scene where someone returns home after a long day and is greeted with calm composure instead of excitement, except in this case the welcoming party happened to include a large tiger who looked like she had decided to behave politely for reasons she had not fully explained.
"You look almost like someone greeting a family member returning home from work," he said casually. "Although I should clarify that most households do not involve this particular arrangement."
The dog let out a soft bark.
Khun Ming stepped forward and placed the bundles on the wooden table in the courtyard, setting them down carefully to avoid unnecessary impact.
"Well then," he said, "since both of you appear interested in the results of today's trip, I will organize everything properly so that we can review the contents without creating confusion."
The dog sat beside the table almost immediately, posture straight, attention focused in a way that suggested this was now an official inspection process.
Hu Xinyan remained where she was, though her gaze followed every movement.
Khun Ming untied the first bundle and began placing items onto the table with methodical precision.
"First," he said, lifting several skeins of yarn, "I obtained additional fiber materials, because the merchant's reaction earlier indicates a high probability of future demand, and it is generally more efficient to prepare resources in advance rather than respond to orders after they arrive."
He set the yarn aside in a neat arrangement.
"The quality is consistent," he continued. "Not exceptional, but sufficiently stable that dye absorption should remain predictable if the mordant process is handled correctly."
The dog leaned forward and sniffed the yarn.
Khun Ming glanced at him.
"That is not food," he said patiently. "I understand that you are conducting a thorough evaluation, but this particular material is not relevant to your dietary interests."
The dog wagged his tail, which could have meant anything.
Next, Khun Ming lifted the folded bolts of undyed cloth.
"These will be used for testing," he explained. "Once a stable yellow has been achieved, the next step is to explore variations using different plant materials, because the same base fiber can produce a wide range of results depending on preparation."
Hu Xinyan's ears shifted slightly as she listened.
Then Khun Ming reached for the wrapped bundle from the butcher.
"Well," he said with mild satisfaction, "this portion of the purchase will likely be of greater immediate interest."
He unfolded the paper.
The scent of fresh meat spread through the courtyard, immediate and unmistakable.
The dog's tail began wagging more noticeably.
Hu Xinyan did not move, but her eyes sharpened slightly, the shift subtle but very clear.
"Yes," Khun Ming said calmly, "I visited the butcher before leaving town, because it would be unreasonable to expect a recovering tiger and an active dog to maintain proper health on a purely plant-based diet."
He placed the meat on a wooden board.
"However," he added, "portion control remains important, even in situations where appetite is not lacking, because recovery is more efficient when the body is not overloaded."
The dog blinked.
Khun Ming looked toward Hu Xinyan.
"You are recovering from a severe lightning-related injury," he said, his tone steady. "Which means your body requires nourishment, but it is still advisable to proceed in a controlled manner rather than approaching the situation with excessive enthusiasm."
Hu Xinyan stared at him.
Khun Ming smiled faintly.
"Yes," he said, "I am aware that this recommendation may not align with your personal preferences."
He carried a portion of meat toward the cooking area.
"I will prepare a small amount first," he continued. "The rest can be stored."
The dog followed him immediately, his steps quiet but purposeful.
Khun Ming lit the stove and placed an iron pan over the flame, then set a piece of meat onto the surface, the sound of sizzling filling the space almost instantly.
"You know," he said while adjusting the heat, "proper cooking improves both digestion and nutritional retention, which is why I prefer not to serve everything raw unless necessary."
The dog sat beside him, watching closely.
Khun Ming flipped the meat with careful timing.
"For a recovering patient," he continued, "it is best to retain moisture within the meat rather than overcooking it, because that preserves the internal structure and makes it easier to process."
The dog's tail moved steadily.
Khun Ming glanced at him.
"I see that you are paying close attention," he said.
Once the first portion was ready, he placed it on a plate and set it down.
"This is for you."
The dog began eating immediately.
Khun Ming prepared another portion and carried it toward Hu Xinyan, placing it a short distance in front of her.
"This is yours," he said calmly. "Please eat at a reasonable pace."
Hu Xinyan looked at the meat.
Then at him.
Khun Ming folded his arms.
"Yes," he added, "I am aware that you are capable of handling raw food in other circumstances, but since you are currently staying here, I would prefer to maintain a consistent standard."
Hu Xinyan lowered her head and began eating.
Khun Ming returned to the stove, finishing the remaining preparations and storing what was not immediately needed, placing everything in its proper location with the same quiet organization he applied to every task.
When the work was done, he stepped back into the courtyard.
The space had settled again.
The dog had finished eating and now sat calmly nearby.
Hu Xinyan rested near the entrance, her breathing steady.
Khun Ming stretched his shoulders slightly.
"Well," he said thoughtfully, "since today's delivery was completed successfully and the materials have been restocked, tomorrow should be dedicated to preparing new dye experiments, because it would be inefficient to delay while conditions remain favorable."
The wind moved gently through the bamboo.
The light shifted slowly as the afternoon leaned toward evening.
And the courtyard returned to its quiet rhythm, holding within it the same strange balance as before, where nothing appeared extraordinary unless someone stopped long enough to notice that everything worked a little too well to be entirely ordinary.
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The courtyard settled into a quiet rhythm once the evening meal finished.
A Huang finished his portion of meat with the focused determination of a creature that believed meals should be handled efficiently and without unnecessary philosophical reflection. Hu Xinyan ate more slowly, though Khun Ming noticed that the tiger's appetite seemed healthy despite the injuries she had suffered.
When both animals finished eating, Khun Ming collected the empty plates and washed them near the stream.
He worked calmly, humming faintly to himself.
The forest breeze carried the scent of damp leaves, clean water, and wood smoke drifting lightly from the cottage stove.
Khun Ming dried his hands and walked back toward the table where the bundles of yarn and cloth rested.
"Well," he said thoughtfully, glancing between the materials and the two animals now watching him, "since today's travel and cooking have concluded without any unfortunate accidents, it seems like an appropriate time to begin preparing the new fabric for future dye work."
A Huang lifted his head.
Hu Xinyan's ears twitched slightly.
Khun Ming untied the cloth bundle and lifted the first skein of yarn.
"As I mentioned earlier," he said conversationally, "anyone who intends to dye fabric properly must begin with scouring. Even if the material appears clean when it arrives from the merchant, there are always oils, dust, and small residues left behind during spinning and weaving."
He rubbed the yarn lightly between his fingers.
"These substances might seem insignificant, but they can prevent dye molecules from attaching to the fibers evenly. If the dyer ignores that detail, the result will be uneven coloration, dull shades, and a great deal of frustration that could have been avoided with proper preparation."
A Huang blinked slowly.
Khun Ming chuckled.
"Yes, I understand that you probably did not expect a lecture about textile chemistry this evening," he said mildly. "However, since both of you are now part of this household, it seems reasonable that you should at least understand why I keep boiling cloth in strange liquids."
He carried the yarn toward the stream.
The water flowed gently over smooth stones.
Khun Ming knelt and dipped the first skein into the current.
"This first step is a simple rinse," he explained. "Cold water removes surface dust and loose particles before the fibers enter the scouring bath."
He squeezed the yarn carefully, allowing the water to flow through the strands.
"Notice how the water carries away a faint cloud of residue," he continued. "That is the evidence that the yarn has not been properly cleaned since leaving the loom."
Hu Xinyan watched quietly.
Khun Ming rinsed the remaining skeins one by one.
When the yarn finished soaking, he carried it back toward the cottage.
Next he unfolded the two bolts of cloth.
"These will require slightly more attention," he said. "Large pieces of fabric trap oils between the threads during weaving, which means the scouring process must be thorough if we expect the dye bath to penetrate evenly."
He dipped one corner of the cloth into the stream.
The fabric darkened as it absorbed water.
"Yes," he murmured thoughtfully, "this confirms that the cloth has retained some sizing compound. The texture becomes slightly slippery when the water begins dissolving those residues."
A Huang walked closer to the water's edge.
Khun Ming raised a finger.
"Before you attempt to inspect the stream personally," he said patiently, "I should warn you that wet yarn tends to attract curious dogs. Unfortunately, curious dogs also tend to create tangled yarn, which would make my evening considerably more complicated."
The dog sat down obediently.
"Thank you," Khun Ming added.
After rinsing the cloth thoroughly, he carried everything back to the courtyard.
The iron pot rested on the stove, still warm from earlier cooking.
Khun Ming filled it halfway with clean water.
Then he retrieved a bowl of hardwood ash from the shelf.
"This is where the actual scouring begins," he said.
He poured the ash slowly into the pot.
The water turned cloudy gray.
"Wood ash contains natural alkaline salts," he explained. "When dissolved in warm water, those salts break down oils and residues that cling to plant fibers."
He stirred the mixture carefully with a wooden stick.
"If the temperature becomes too high, the fibers may weaken. Therefore the bath should remain warm but not violently boiling."
Hu Xinyan tilted her head slightly.
Khun Ming smiled.
"Yes, I know that explanation probably sounds unnecessary to someone whose usual approach to hunting involves teeth and claws rather than textile chemistry," he said gently, "but proper dye work is built upon careful preparation."
He lowered the yarn into the pot.
The fibers sank slowly into the alkaline solution.
"This stage usually lasts thirty to forty minutes," he continued. "During that time the solution dissolves oils and opens the fiber structure."
A Huang sniffed the steam rising from the pot.
Khun Ming shook his head.
"That smell might seem interesting," he said calmly, "but I would strongly advise against tasting the solution."
He stirred the yarn slowly.
The courtyard remained quiet.
Hu Xinyan watched the process with calm curiosity.
After some time passed, Khun Ming lifted the yarn from the pot and rinsed it again in the stream.
The fibers felt softer now.
"Much better," he said approvingly.
He hung the yarn across a rope stretched between two bamboo posts.
The evening breeze moved gently through the strands.
Next he returned to the bolts of cloth.
"These will undergo the same treatment," he explained.
He folded the cloth loosely and lowered it into the ash bath.
The fabric absorbed the alkaline solution quickly.
Khun Ming stirred the cloth slowly with the wooden stick.
"If this stage is skipped," he said thoughtfully, "even the most beautiful dye bath will produce disappointing results."
A Huang tilted his head.
"Yes," Khun Ming added with a small smile, "I realize that your interest in this subject may be limited, but you are already doing an excellent job listening politely."
Hu Xinyan remained still near the cottage doorway.
Her eyes followed the slow movement of the cloth in the pot.
Steam rose gently into the evening air.
After several minutes, Khun Ming removed the cloth and carried it back to the stream.
He rinsed it carefully, squeezing the water through the fibers until the runoff flowed clear.
Then he returned to the courtyard and hung the cloth beside the yarn.
The rope sagged slightly under the weight of the damp fabric.
Khun Ming stepped back and studied the arrangement.
"Yes," he said thoughtfully, "that should dry evenly overnight."
A Huang stretched and lay down beside the bamboo post.
Hu Xinyan settled near the doorway again.
Khun Ming wiped his hands with a clean cloth.
"The preparation stage is now complete," he said calmly. "Tomorrow morning we can begin considering which color experiment would be most interesting."
He glanced toward the forest.
"There are several possibilities," he continued thoughtfully. "Turmeric would produce a bright yellow, while tea tannin combined with iron could produce a moss green shade. Sappanwood might also be available deeper in the forest if I take the time to search for it."
A Huang blinked slowly.
Khun Ming laughed softly.
"Yes, I know that sounds like an unusual set of evening plans," he said. "However, experimentation is the heart of craft work."
The sky darkened gradually.
Lantern light glowed inside the cottage.
Khun Ming stretched his shoulders and turned toward the doorway.
"Well," he said gently, "since the cloth is hanging properly and the fire has burned low, I believe it is time to rest."
A Huang followed him inside.
Hu Xinyan lingered for a moment, looking at the rows of drying yarn and cloth swaying in the wind.
Then she quietly entered the cottage as well.
The courtyard remained silent beneath the stars.
And the freshly scoured fabric waited patiently for the colors that would come tomorrow.
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The courtyard settled into a quiet rhythm once the evening meal finished, not with any sense of conclusion, but with the soft continuation of a day that had simply shifted into its next phase without needing to announce it.
A Huang finished his portion of meat with focused efficiency, the kind of seriousness usually reserved for important tasks, except in this case the task happened to be eating as quickly as possible while still pretending to maintain some level of dignity, while Hu Xinyan ate more slowly, her movements controlled, her attention split between the food and the man who had prepared it, as if she were still trying to determine whether the situation itself required more caution than the meal.
Khun Ming observed both of them briefly, noting the difference in pace, then nodded once as if confirming that the results met his expectations.
"Good," he said calmly. "A steady appetite indicates stable recovery, and a stable recovery reduces the likelihood of complications, which is always preferable."
A Huang swallowed his last bite and looked up immediately.
Hu Xinyan finished a moment later, lowering her head slightly before stepping back from the plate.
Khun Ming collected the dishes without comment and carried them toward the stream, moving with the same steady rhythm he applied to everything else, his sleeves rolled slightly as he knelt near the water.
The stream flowed gently over smooth stones, the surface reflecting the fading light of evening in soft, shifting patterns.
He rinsed the plates carefully, using clean water and a small cloth, his movements unhurried, almost meditative, as if the act of washing dishes belonged to the same category of work as preparing dye or harvesting plants, something that did not need to be separated into important and unimportant tasks.
He hummed faintly to himself.
The sound was quiet, barely noticeable, blending into the natural background of wind, water, and distant leaves.
Behind him, A Huang lay down near the bamboo post, his posture relaxed, his tail resting against the ground in a way that suggested he had fully accepted the current situation as both safe and satisfactory.
Hu Xinyan remained near the doorway, her body lowered but not fully resting, her eyes following Khun Ming's movements with quiet attention.
After finishing, Khun Ming dried his hands and returned to the courtyard, glancing briefly at the table where the yarn and cloth remained.
"Well," he said thoughtfully, looking between the materials and his two silent observers, "since today's travel and cooking have concluded without incident, it seems appropriate to begin preparing the fabric for the next stage of work, because delaying preparation tends to create unnecessary inefficiency."
A Huang lifted his head.
Hu Xinyan's ears shifted slightly.
Khun Ming untied the bundle and picked up the first skein of yarn, running it lightly between his fingers.
"As I mentioned earlier," he said conversationally, "even newly purchased material requires proper scouring before dyeing, because the manufacturing process leaves behind oils, dust, and residues that interfere with pigment absorption."
He paused briefly, examining the fibers.
"These residues are not always visible," he continued, "which is why they are often ignored, and ignoring them is the most reliable method of producing disappointing results."
A Huang blinked slowly.
Khun Ming gave a small smile.
"Yes, I am aware that this may not be the most engaging topic," he said, "but since both of you are now present during the process, it seems reasonable to provide a basic explanation."
He carried the yarn toward the stream and knelt again, dipping the fibers into the cool water.
The current moved gently through the strands.
"This initial rinse removes surface particles," he explained, squeezing the yarn slightly so the water flowed through it. "If you observe closely, you can see a faint cloud of residue dispersing into the stream, which indicates that the fibers have not been fully cleaned."
Hu Xinyan watched without speaking.
A Huang stood up and took a step closer, curiosity outweighing caution for a moment.
Khun Ming raised a hand slightly.
"I would advise against close inspection at this stage," he said calmly. "Wet yarn and curious dogs tend to produce results that require additional time to correct."
The dog paused, then sat down again with quiet acceptance, like someone who had just been gently reminded that their enthusiasm might lead to unnecessary work.
"Thank you," Khun Ming added.
He finished rinsing the yarn and carried it back to the courtyard, then unfolded the bolts of cloth and repeated the process, dipping the fabric into the stream and watching as the water darkened slightly upon contact.
"Yes," he murmured. "There is still sizing present, which explains the texture."
He lifted the cloth, allowing excess water to drain before returning to the stove.
The iron pot remained warm, and he filled it with clean water before retrieving a bowl of hardwood ash.
"This is where the actual scouring begins," he said.
He poured the ash into the pot, the water shifting into a cloudy gray solution.
"Wood ash contains alkaline salts," he explained. "When dissolved in warm water, those salts break down oils and residues attached to plant fibers, effectively preparing the material for dye absorption."
He stirred the mixture slowly, maintaining a steady, controlled motion.
"The temperature should remain moderate," he continued. "Excess heat weakens fibers, which creates structural damage that cannot be reversed later."
Hu Xinyan tilted her head slightly.
Khun Ming glanced at her.
"Yes," he said, "I am aware that this process differs from hunting, but both activities rely on proper timing and control."
He lowered the yarn into the solution.
The fibers sank gradually.
"This stage typically lasts around thirty minutes," he said. "During that time, the solution penetrates the fiber structure and removes remaining impurities."
A Huang leaned forward and sniffed the steam.
Khun Ming shook his head.
"That is not suitable for consumption," he said. "I would strongly recommend maintaining a respectful distance from the pot."
The dog stepped back.
The courtyard remained calm as time passed, the soft bubbling of the pot blending into the background, while Hu Xinyan watched the process with increasing focus, her earlier confusion replaced by quiet observation.
After sufficient time had passed, Khun Ming lifted the yarn from the pot and rinsed it again in the stream, the fibers noticeably softer now.
"Yes," he said with quiet approval. "That is a significant improvement."
He hung the yarn across a rope stretched between two bamboo posts, the strands catching the evening breeze as they settled into place.
Next came the cloth.
He repeated the same process, lowering it into the ash bath and stirring it carefully, ensuring even exposure.
"If this step is skipped," he said, "the dye will not bind properly, and correcting that later is far more difficult than preventing it now."
A Huang tilted his head again.
Khun Ming gave a faint smile.
"I appreciate your continued attention," he said.
Hu Xinyan remained still, her gaze fixed on the cloth as it moved slowly through the solution, the steam rising gently into the cooling air.
After several minutes, Khun Ming removed the fabric and rinsed it thoroughly, squeezing the water through until it ran clear, then hung it beside the yarn.
The rope dipped slightly under the added weight.
He stepped back and studied the arrangement.
"Yes," he said. "That should dry evenly."
A Huang stretched and lay down again.
Hu Xinyan lowered herself near the doorway.
Khun Ming wiped his hands with a clean cloth and glanced toward the forest.
"The preparation stage is complete," he said. "Tomorrow we can begin selecting the next color experiment, because there are several viable options depending on material availability."
He paused briefly.
"Turmeric would produce a bright yellow," he continued. "Tea combined with iron could produce a green tone, and certain woods may produce deeper shades if prepared correctly."
A Huang blinked.
Khun Ming let out a soft laugh.
"Yes," he said, "I understand that this may not align with your immediate interests, but experimentation remains necessary."
The sky darkened gradually.
Lantern light glowed from inside the cottage.
Khun Ming stretched his shoulders and turned toward the doorway.
"Well," he said gently, "it is time to rest."
A Huang followed him inside.
Hu Xinyan remained for a moment longer, her gaze resting on the rows of yarn and cloth moving gently in the wind, her thoughts quieter now, more settled.
Then she rose and entered the cottage as well.
The courtyard fell silent beneath the evening sky, and the freshly prepared fabric waited patiently, as if it already understood that tomorrow would bring color, whether anyone chose to announce it or not.
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Chapter 20 complete.