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’ll take my punishment。”
“Listen 。 。 。 listen closely；” Lamjav said。 “To follow our custom； you 。 。 。 you must drink as many cups as I say。 I misspoke myself once and was outdrunk by a journalist who knew both Mongol and Han customs。 This time I’m going to make sure you taste defeat。” He poured a cup and； in halfway decent Chinese； intoned； “Meadowlarks fl y in pairs； two cups from a single wing。”
Yang Ke blanched。 “Four wings times two cups； ah！ That’s eight cups！ How about one cup from each wing？”
“If you don’t play by the rules；” Lamjav replied； “I’ll make it three； I mean 。 。 。 three cups from a single wing。”
The crowd of hunters； Chen Zhen included； shouted in unison； “Drink！ You must drink！”
Seeing no way out； Yang belted down eight cups； one after the other。 The old man laughed。 “Trying to trick a friend out here gets you into trouble every time；” he said。
Chen and Yang took skewers of cooked meat from the old man and； with bloody grease dripping down their chins； ate with gusto。
“Papa；” Chen said； “this is the first time I’ve eaten wolf food； and it’s the best thing I’ve eaten in my life； the best meat I’ve ever tasted。 Now I know why so many emperors and their sons were avid hunters。 Taizong of the Tang； China’s greatest emperor； loved to hunt。 His son； his heir； used to e to the grassland with his Turkish bodyguards to ride and hunt。 He even set up a grassland…style tent in the palace courtyard； where； like you； he slaughtered sheep and ate； slicing the meat off the bones with his own knife。 For him； life on the grassland was better than being emperor。 All he wanted was to hunt with his Turkish bodyguards under his own Turkish wolf flag； to live like a Turk on the grassland。
Eventually； he lost his claim
