After placing the rabbit over the fire pit, Ethan Foster sat down in his master’s rocking chair, twitched his nose, and said contentedly, “If you sing well, I’ll bring out that precious monkey wine for you to try. But if it’s not heartfelt, I’ll just enjoy it myself…”

“Monkey wine? Ethan Foster, you actually still have monkey wine hidden away?”

Hearing Ethan Foster’s words, Chad immediately stood up, his massive body lunging toward Ethan Foster, shouting with a face full of grief and indignation, “Three years ago you told me the wine was gone, turns out you’d just hidden it away?”

“Heh, trying to use force, huh? Since we were kids, when have you ever beaten me?”

Even though Chad weighed a full two hundred jin, he still wasn’t a match for Ethan Foster. Without even seeing Ethan Foster make a move—or even stand up—he twisted one of Chad’s arms behind his back, making Chad cry out in pain.

“Ethan, I… I was wrong, isn’t that enough?”

Knowing Ethan Foster’s temper well, Chad did his best to force his chubby face into a smile like a blooming chrysanthemum, and said, “From now on, you’re my big bro. If you say go east, I’ll never go west. If you say chase dogs, I’ll never chase chickens. Is that good enough?”

“That’s more like it…” Ethan Foster let go and said, “This monkey wine is something I brewed myself over the past few years. The old wine was gone long ago. If you dare accuse me again, you can forget about ever tasting this wine…”

Speaking of monkey wine, it was a secret between Ethan Foster, Chad, and his master.

When Ethan Foster was seven or eight years old, the surrounding cities’ development of Fang Mountain was still in its primitive stages. Not far from the temple, there was a troop of monkeys, about fifty or sixty in number. Ethan Foster had practically grown up watching these monkeys, so the troop was not very wary of him.

Ethan Foster’s master was afraid the monkeys might hurt Ethan Foster, so he rarely let him interact with them. But kids of seven or eight are usually mischievous, and one day when the old Daoist wasn’t watching, Ethan Foster sneaked over to where the monkeys were and started playing with them.

Although the old Daoist found out, seeing that the monkeys didn’t harm Ethan Foster, he didn’t interfere.

But one day, when Ethan Foster went to play with the monkeys, he didn’t return even late at night. Worried sick, the old Daoist barged in and drove the monkeys away, only to find the eight- or nine-year-old Ethan Foster passed out under a big tree, reeking of alcohol.

The old Daoist had been born in the Tongzhi era of the Qing dynasty and was already over a hundred years old. There was hardly anything in the world he hadn’t seen. After thinking for a moment, he realized that this troop of monkeys must have brewed monkey wine.

So-called monkey wine refers to the mountain monkeys gathering all kinds of fruit and storing them in tree hollows. At first, this was to stockpile food for the winter, but if there was no shortage that season, the monkeys would forget about the stash. The fruit would then gradually ferment, eventually turning into a hollow full of fruit wine.

The conditions for monkey wine to form are extremely strict. The hollow tree chosen by the monkeys must be able to keep the fruit from rotting through the winter—how many such trees are there? It also has to be hollow and well-sealed, so monkey wine is something you can only come across by chance.

This kind of wild brew is truly a matter of luck. Genuine monkey wine is worth its weight in gold. The old Daoist had traveled all over the country in his life and had only ever tasted real monkey wine once, on Mount Emei. He never expected to encounter it again on Fang Mountain.

When carrying Ethan Foster back to the temple, the old Daoist also brought back a jug of monkey wine. Understanding the principle of not draining the pond to catch all the fish, he only took a gourdful and then covered up the tree hollow.

Monkey wine isn’t very strong, and since it’s fruit wine, Ethan Foster and Chad would sneak some to drink from time to time. The old Daoist turned a blind eye, since even the wine he drank later was all stolen by Ethan Foster.

But the good times didn’t last. As the city below the mountain changed, even the pure land of Fang Mountain was affected. The troop of monkeys that once lived there disappeared within five years, and the monkey wine was gone too. The last bit was finished off by Ethan Foster’s master, the old Daoist, before he died.

However, in the years since his master’s passing, Ethan Foster, with nothing better to do, made use of the abandoned tree hollow left by the monkeys. Every time the fruit trees ripened, he’d toss some fruit in. By sheer luck, he actually managed to brew monkey wine that tasted pretty close to the original.

“Heh, homemade is fine too. Ethan, you sit and rest, I’ll roast this rabbit first…” Hearing there was monkey wine, Chad immediately put on a fawning smile, almost ready to massage Ethan Foster’s legs for him. He scampered into the house and came out with oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar in hand.

Chad had loved eating since he was a child. Although no one had much money back then, there was plenty of wild game on Fang Mountain. Ethan Foster was in charge of setting traps and catching animals, while Chad handled the roasting. Every time, the two of them would eat until their mouths were greasy.

In no time, the four- or five-jin rabbit was roasted, and the aroma of meat filled the entire backyard. Tearing off the fattest hind leg, Chad handed it to Ethan Foster with a flattering smile and said, “Try it and see if it suits your taste. If it does, then bring out that monkey wine…”