tremendous person. He was nearly as large as Ho Lan, the giant, who, one day when stretching, burned his hand on the hot red sun. Surely no one could ask for more proof that Ching Chung was quite large. And how the man could eat. He worked hard, from crow of cock till the owl said "Time for bed." And how he could eat. Four roast ducks at a sitting . . . how he could eat. But his voice was so powerful that it often shook the pots from Cheng Chang's stove. Then there was nothing to eat.
Ching Chung frequently complimeted Cheng Chang upon his so glorious cookery. He would say to Cheng Chang: "Cheng Chang, this roast duck is simply tou ming. If I were king and you my cook, I would make you Governor of Kwang Ting, where the best ducks grow." And Cheng Chang would say: "To the Gracious Master I offer my no-account thanks. I sorrow that my terrible cooking is not better." Or, again, Ching Chung would say: "Cheng Chang, this exquisite roast duck has infused me with new strength. One more morsel, or maybe two,
