Being a sixteen year-old boy traveling down the Yangtze river can have…well...a few misshapes. Such as...death threats, broken limbs, and of course a few instances where I almost died. but lets not spoil the story…
I was mileing around the kitchen (if you can call a small storage area a kitchen) thinking about wich dish I was to prepare first. As you will learn I am a very fidgety teenager, I have a severe case of adhd and a lot of anxiety. My anxiety got worse when they said they were going to put up the great wall. If they were going to the trouble of putting up a wall then that definitely indicates the the Mongols are really bad people. But that’s not where it stops. I was peacefully humming a tune in the kitchen, cooking dinner. our now, small and rationed meals, were enough to keep us alive but sometimes we went to bed hungry. As you might have figured we were much more poor now that my mother had died. But my father and three sisters kept their heads up throughout the day and worked hard. And that was all I needed. Anyways, as I was saying… I was preparing a small meal for my family (made up of aragog, a fermented mares milk and some dark meat that was boiled alongside some onions and garlic) when my father entered. the stern look on his face told me that something was amiss. He spoke to me in a voice you would use to calm an animal right before you butchered him. “Son, finish your chores then bring the meal you are making to the table. We have something to discuss.”
For some reason I took this comment like a blow to the head. I knew something was wrong...
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