This figure, somewhat plump and broad, made the mountain path seem even narrower. But being fat didn’t mean being clumsy—this person was actually quite nimble, climbing the seventy or eighty meters of steps in one go, and after reaching the top, was only slightly out of breath.

“Hey, fatty, why are you only getting here now? Where have you been all this past year? I’ve missed you so much…” Upon seeing the newcomer, the young Taoist’s face lit up with joy, showing not a trace of a monk’s restraint in his words.

“Cut it out. I think you’re just starving and hoping I’d bring you something to eat…”

It was only when the fatty came closer that his age became clear—he wasn’t very old, at most around twenty. His small, squinting eyes were full of spirit, giving off a shrewd impression, but when he smiled, that shrewdness vanished, replaced by a look of simple honesty.

“Here, my dad caught a rabbit…” The fatty raised his left hand and said, “Don’t say I’m not a good friend. I just got home yesterday, and this morning I brought you a rabbit. Hey, what are you doing?”

As soon as the fatty lifted his left hand, he realized the rabbit he was holding had been snatched away. Before he could finish his sentence, the young man who grabbed the rabbit turned and ran into the temple, disappearing from sight in an instant.

“How hungry must this kid be?”

The fatty shook his head in pity. He knew that the young Taoist, bound by monastic rules, could only move within a few square kilometers around the mountain. All his daily necessities had to be bartered with the villagers below, so running out of food was a common occurrence.

“Hey, aren’t you a bit too quick?”

When the fatty entered the temple’s backyard, he found that the rabbit he’d brought had already been gutted and skinned by the young man, skewered on a thick branch, with flames already flickering in the shallow pit on the ground.

“I haven’t eaten for three days…”

Staring at the rabbit meat being licked by the flames, the young Taoist couldn’t help but lick his lips and said in a plaintive voice, “Fatty, you’re really something. You disappeared for over a year, and I’ve been waiting for you to bring me food every day…”

“Come on, you wouldn’t starve without me…”

The fatty scoffed at the young man’s words and shook his head. “Fatty here was a soldier, you know. I can’t be a farmer my whole life, right? I went out to work this time. By the way, I’m older than you, so stop acting big in front of me. You should call me Fat Bro, got it?”

“Tch, who says you’re older? You were born three days after me…” the young man said seriously. “Even if it’s just an hour, I’m still your big brother. If you don’t believe me, go ask your fat dad…”

Though both were already eighteen or nineteen, they clearly cared a lot about who was older. Annoyed by the young Taoist’s words, the fatty blurted out, “Come on, you don’t even know your own birthday…”

“Sigh, I… I didn’t mean it, Ethan, I… I’ll call you big brother, okay?”

After saying this, the fatty realized he’d misspoken and quickly raised his hand, looking at the young man with caution. Having grown up together since they were toddlers, they naturally knew each other’s weaknesses.

“You said it yourself, I didn’t force you…” Hearing the fatty’s words, the young man’s face stiffened for a moment. Although he soon smiled again, the fatty, who had grown up with him, still noticed the unnatural look in his expression.

Actually, the fatty wasn’t wrong—the young Taoist really didn’t know his own birthday.

When the boy was adopted by his master, he was still an infant. Although his master was already quite old and skilled in the arts of yin-yang, divination, and physiognomy, he had never raised a child before and had no idea how many months old the boy was at the time.

Since he was found outside the temple gate, and the temple was on Fang Mountain, the old Taoist gave the boy the surname Fang. When he picked up the boy, he was sleeping soundly and peacefully, so the old Taoist gave him the single name Yi, making him Ethan Foster.

Of course, the old Taoist would never admit he’d named Ethan Foster so casually. According to him, the surname Fang was to encourage the boy to be upright, and the name Yi was to hope he’d grow up to be extraordinary and stand out from the crowd.

At the time, Ethan Foster was at most two or three months old. The old Taoist took him down the mountain to have the fatty’s mother, who had also just given birth, nurse Ethan Foster. But the countryside was very poor back then, so after three months of milk, the old Taoist took Ethan Foster back up the mountain and fed him rice gruel.

But because of this connection, Ethan Foster and the fatty had nursed from the same mother and naturally felt close to each other, forming a strong bond from childhood. Sometimes, when the fatty’s father went into the mountains to gather herbs, he’d leave the fatty at the temple, and the two kids really did grow up together, running around in their open-crotch pants.

Chapter 2: Monkey Wine

“Come on, call me Ethan, and drop the ‘er’ at the end…”