The rich, savory aroma of roasting meat drifted through the small earthen courtyard, carrying the scent of crushed peppercorns, wild garlic, and scorched pork fat into the cool night air.
A sturdy iron spit rested across two notched stones over a bed of glowing oak coals, turning slowly as Han Ping basted a thick haunch of mountain boar with a seasoned honey glaze.
Fat dripped steadily into the embers, releasing miniature flares of orange light that illuminated the three figures gathered around the warmth.
"Turn the crank, little Yue, nice and steady," Han Ping said, his round face gleaming in the firelight as he sprinkled coarse salt over the crackling skin. "If you rush the turn, the fat burns on the outside while the meat stays tough near the bone. Patience is the secret to good meat
