Chapter 13: Shared Soup and the Panda’s Dream

After finishing the grilled meat, Lin Mo used the remaining bones to stew a bowl of broth, tossing in some wood ear mushrooms she had gathered that morning. Remembering the spiritual plant she’d “confiscated” from the Ginseng Boy—which surely contained a lot of energy—she decided to drop it into the pot as well. They had been busy all day, and she figured they could use the boost.

While the soup simmered, Lin Mo set up the tent. It was spacious enough for two people to lie side-by-side. The Oxford cloth felt durable, and the black mesh inner layer provided perfect mosquito protection. With doors on both ends, it was quite convenient.

Tonight, Mo Jin and I can squeeze in here, Lin Mo planned. Later, I’ll build a wooden bed and buy some warm quilts and pillows for the cabin.

As she finished her mental checklist, the soup began to bubble and pop. When she lifted the lid, a thick cloud of white steam billowed out, carrying a rich, savory aroma. The little bamboo on Lin Mo’s head shivered its leaves in the steam, looking instantly more energized.

Lin Mo took a spoonful to taste, confirmed it was ready, and asked Mo Jin to extinguish the fire. However, looking at the solitary spoon in her hand, she faced a dilemma.

“What’s wrong?” Mo Jin asked, seeing Lin Mo staring blankly at the pot lid.

“We only have one spoon,” Lin Mo said, conflicted. “How are we both going to drink the soup?”

“Give it to me,” Mo Jin said simply.

“Oh.” Lin Mo obediently handed it over.

Mo Jin took the spoon, elegantly scooped some soup, blew on it gently, and held it to Lin Mo’s lips. “Open.”

Eh? She’s feeding me?

Lin Mo looked at the soup, then at the deadpan Mo Jin, and took a sip. No sooner had she swallowed than the second spoonful arrived. Not wanting to refuse, Lin Mo finished every drop. By the time the pot was nearly empty, her belly was rounded and full.

She began to wonder: Is Mo Jin trying to fatten me up so I’m more delicious when she eventually decides to eat me?

Lin Mo rubbed her stomach secretly, looking piteously at the next incoming spoonful. “I’m… I’m kind of full. You drink the rest.”

Mo Jin frowned slightly and placed the spoon back in the pot. Just as Lin Mo prepared to get up and walk off the meal, she heard Mo Jin’s cold voice:

“Feed me.”

Lin Mo thought she had misheard. She looked at Mo Jin in disbelief.

“Feed me,” Mo Jin repeated.

Astounded, Lin Mo scooped a spoonful and brought it to Mo Jin’s lips. Mo Jin glanced at her, seemingly dissatisfied, and turned her head away.

What’s going on? Didn’t she just ask me to feed her?

“Like I did before,” Mo Jin added.

Before? Suddenly, Lin Mo realized she had skipped a step. She brought the spoon to her own lips, pretended to blow on it gently (even though it had cooled), and offered it again. “There, I blew on it. Drink up.”

Mo Jin turned back, gave Lin Mo a long, mysterious look, and swallowed the soup.

Now there is someone close to me to feed me too, Mo Jin thought. I am no longer a lonely panda.

The warm liquid slid down her throat, and the rich $qi$ from the spiritual plant was quickly absorbed, replenishing the energy she had spent during the day. However, as the energy accumulated, Mo Jin found she couldn’t absorb it all at once. The $qi$ began to surge wildly through her meridians. She stopped eating and began to meditate to regulate her breath.

Seeing Mo Jin’s face flush and a layer of fine sweat appear on her brow, Lin Mo assumed the soup was just too hot. “Want to wait a bit before drinking more?”

“No more,” Mo Jin replied. Lin Mo, being a bamboo spirit, naturally embodied the “Way of Nature,” making it easy for her to absorb plant energy. But for a panda spirit, a sudden surplus of spiritual flora could be overwhelming.

“Alright then.”

Lin Mo went to wash the pot but was hit by a wave of exhaustion. Her eyelids felt heavy. She crawled into the tent and, before drifting off, managed to mumble, “Mo Jin, why don’t you come in and sleep too? The tent is really big…”

Mo Jin finished her meditation. “Okay.”

As soon as the answer came, Lin Mo’s eyes closed, and she sank into a deep sleep. Mo Jin entered the tent, zipped the door, and lay down beside her. She rested her chin on her hand, watching Lin Mo’s peaceful sleeping face. After a while, the previously well-behaved Lin Mo began to roll toward her.

Mo Jin calmly pushed her back. A few minutes later, Lin Mo rolled back again. After several attempts at maintaining distance, Mo Jin’s own exhaustion took over. She closed her eyes and let Lin Mo roll into her, allowing the bamboo girl to wrap her arms possessively around Mo Jin’s slender waist.

Together, they entered a deep dream.

Lin Mo found herself in a beautiful valley with a trickling stream and lush, vibrant trees. The most striking feature was a brilliant green bamboo growing in the center. Its leaves shimmered with golden light in the sun, and the surrounding flora seemed to sway in reverence, waiting for the bamboo’s favor.

Lin Mo sat beneath the bamboo, soaking in the warmth. Eventually, she grew bored and looked toward the valley entrance, where a dusty little panda appeared.

The panda’s head was grey, its black eyes were full of spirit, but its pace was slow and its hind legs seemed weak. It was injured. Upon seeing the valley, the panda’s eyes lit up. It focused on the central bamboo and walked toward it without hesitation.

Lin Mo watched as the panda drank from the stream. It used its paw to pat down its messy fur, ensuring it looked neat before moving on.

The way it fixes its hair… it looks just like Mo Jin, Lin Mo thought.

The panda reached the central bamboo and looked up at the golden leaves with raw longing. But the panda was too small, and the bamboo was too tall. It seemed impossible for it to reach the leaves.

Lin Mo shook her head, but the little panda didn’t give up. It pressed its front paws against the stalk, testing its grip before kicking off with its hind legs. It tried to climb but slipped and fell. Lin Mo noticed a smear of bright red blood on its hind leg.

That must hurt, she thought.

She wanted to help, but the panda was already back on its feet, climbing again. This time it was more cautious, moving inch by inch, leaving drops of blood on the emerald stalk. Finally, it reached the top and feasted on the tender leaves. Exhausted and satisfied, it curled up on a branch and fell asleep in the sun.

Lin Mo, leaning against the base of the bamboo, also fell into a slumber.

Suddenly, cold raindrops on her nose woke her. The scenery had changed. The lush valley was now withered and yellow; even the bamboo leaves had turned gold-brown. She looked up—the little panda was still there, clinging to the stalk as a violent wind tossed it back and forth.

Lin Mo waited below to catch it, fearing it would fall. But the panda gripped tight, head lowered against the storm.

Thunder rolled, and a torrential downpour began. The panda was soaked instantly, its fur matted and shivering. Lin Mo tried to climb up to get it, but her hands passed through the bamboo as if she were a ghost. She could only watch in agony, praying for the storm to end.

The rain lasted for a day and a night. When it finally stopped, the panda lay motionless on the branch.

Is it… dead? Lin Mo’s heart ached.

After a long time, she finally saw a paw twitch slightly.