- Post-Meal Chatter (食後閑談) _1
“Hang the cauldrons.”
In the middle of the rest, Gyeongpil got up and shouted.
The Third and Fourth Units had gone far out, so the First Unit had bought time.
Now the First and Second would serve as the main body (本隊), while the Third and Fourth would go to ground.
The Fifth moved with Lee Hui and was always exempted.
The Sixth and Seventh and everything below were drilling back and forth on newly taken horses.
“Hang the cauldrons, you bastards!
You’re not eating?
You stayed up all night!”
Poison edged Gyeongpil’s voice.
After the dawn battle, most of the soldiers had slowed down.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
He roared again.
The men did not move.
Training movement and battle movement were different.
In battle you burn yourself down to the bone, so when it ends you usually don’t even have the strength to lift a finger.
No one looked like getting up.
Even Gyeongpil, the unit commander, was leaning on a long, pale stick—who knew where he’d picked it up—like he was borrowing his own spine from it.
When nobody moved, Soun got up.
Who else would?
He figured that if anyone had to start, it should be him—the youngest by a year.
When he stood, his lower back felt like it might snap.
The veterans—Sosam and Jeongjin—lay with their upper bodies draped over stripped saddles, rolling only their eyes.
They had no intention of moving.
Even speaking felt like work.
That was how it always was after a fight.
“I’ll do it.”
Soun got up and began moving.
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In each unit, the younger-looking ones started hanging cauldrons as well.
Once the fire caught, the soldiers who had been sprawled like corpses began gathering around the flames one by one.
Fire was simply better.
And the thought of eating food cooked over actual heat—after days—made them buoyant.
They had been shivering for so long that the moment they saw a blaze, their minds loosened without asking permission.
Fire did not only give warmth.
Just being near it made everything feel safer.
Food would cook.
At night it would throw light.
A lit fire meant a center.
Warmth, a full belly, and one honest sleep—those alone could make you happy in life along the frontier (塞下).
Soun moved among the men, pulling out canteens made of leather and animal gut and pouring water into the pot.
Usually someone would hand over a canteen.
But Sosam only twisted his body slightly and gestured for Soun to take it himself.
Jeongjin smacked Sosam on the head and pulled the canteen out for him, passing it to Soun.
Even after three or four canteens, it wasn’t much water.
Soun went around again and gathered more.
As he kept collecting, pouring, returning—returning, collecting, pouring—the fire weakened.
A couple men, including Jeonghyeon, finally came out and tended it.
Once something begins, someone will always come to help.
When the pot was filled and the fire was steady, Gyeongpil called Sosam.
“Special ration’s over there.
Today’s a special meal.
Go receive it.”
He pointed to a tent set a bit away from where the First Unit was gathered.
Normally, on a long-range ambush, you weren’t supposed to put up tents.
But a small shelter had been raised—just enough to catch a roof.
It looked temporary and unstable, like a gust could lift it off the earth.
Sosam couldn’t refuse an order.
He bent at the waist and rose slowly.
Maybe standing up alone felt like losing, because he started kicking the men beside him.
“Up!”
As if it wasn’t fair for him to be the only one moving, he kicked at legs and ribs, forcing others to rise too.
Sosam could only shout at his own squad.
But he was tired, so he kicked whoever was nearest.
As the soldiers dragged themselves up, he herded three of them and trudged back, lips stuck out in a sulk.
“Why is it always me?
That bastard thinks I’m his pawn (卒).”
Jeongjin snapped back at once.
“Right!
You are a pawn (卒)!
A pawn—black as soot!”
“Why are you doing this too!
Out of the whole First Unit, why me—why, damn it!”
“Because you’re cute.”
They grumbled as they went, three men in tow, toward the special-ration tent.
When they arrived, Gyeongpil’s eyes went wide.
“Holy—what is this!”
A thick slab of pork.
Not jerky.
Not powdered grain from years ago.
“What is this—hah!
Heh heh heh.”
“Looks like we hit the jackpot.”
The supply sub-officer frowned.
“You Baekryong, right?”
“Yes.”
Sosam slapped his fist to his chest in an extra, unnecessary salute—making it thump loudly—and stood straight.
If they were giving him meat, who cared about formalities?
Gratitude rose on its own.
“Yes.
Baekryong First Unit, First Squad Leader Sosam.”
“Yeah. This is yours.
I’m feeling generous. Take one more chunk.”
“Thank you.”
The meat had already been divided into several big portions.
With the three men, they split the load and carried it.
Five mouths stretched into wide, stupid grins.
Frontier life could be happy over something this small.
“Hee hee hee!
Meat!
Meat—hah hah!”
Sosam—who hadn’t so much as twitched a finger earlier—started doing a little dance.
He had energy again.
Now Soun didn’t need to step forward at all.
Everyone saw the meat and their eyes went round.
They swarmed the fire, fed it, boiled the pork, stirred in grain flour they couldn’t even name.
They had expected: water, dried meat, flour—some thin survival mush.
Instead, they’d struck gold.
Nobody had to be told.
Men shoved to the front, built the fire higher, sliced meat into the pot.
Soun—moving with clumsy hands—felt bodies press in from all sides.
He quietly eased backward through the crush.
This was time that no longer needed him.