Reborn in 1982, the prodigal son returns

Night came,

Su Wanqing sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), staring at the words on the manuscript paper with a slight frown. It was a newly written essay that she was not satisfied with.

The writing was either pretentious or childish. She thought of Lin Nuo's "The Sad Little Wangzhuang" and was unconvinced.

At that moment, Lin Nuo came in from outside, his cotton-padded coat carrying the chill of the night breeze. He took off his coat, hung it behind the door, and sat down next to her.

He took out two yuan from his pocket:

"Teacher Su, look, my payment for the article has arrived, and it's been published in the county newspaper."

Su Wanqing's voice was muffled:

"I've been writing for days and haven't managed to write a single article. You, on the other hand, just wrote something and it was published."

Lin Nuo could hear the sourness in her tone; she sounded like a wronged child. He couldn't help but laugh.

"Teacher Su, are you jealous of me?"

Su Wanqing raised her head, glared at him, and looked like a cat with its fur standing on end.

"Who's jealous of you? I'm just... not convinced."

"You're not convinced?"

Lin Nuo turned around and looked at her with a smile:

"So what do you want?"

Su Wanqing bit her lip and raised her chin slightly:

"Let's take another gamble. Next time, I'm sure I can write something better than you."

Lin Nuo was stunned for a moment, then, realizing what he meant, he leaned closer, looking mischievous:

"What are we betting on?"

Su Wanqing knew exactly what he wanted to say.

She lost "very badly" last time, and her lips were swollen the next day.

Thinking of this, the tips of her ears turned red instantly:

"...What do you think?"

Lin Nuole was overjoyed.

"Of course, whoever wins gets to decide, Ms. Su. You brought this up yourself. Don't cry later."

Su Wanqing raised her head, her face already flushed, but she refused to back down, her tone stubborn:

"Who's going to cry? You haven't won yet, don't get cocky."

"OK."

Lin Nuo squeezed her hand a little tighter:

"Then it's settled, Ms. Su, you'd better be prepared."

Su Wanqing spat lightly and stopped looking at him.

Lin Nuo was overjoyed—the story of Teacher Su's suffering was about to begin again, and he still had many tricks up his sleeve that he hadn't tried yet.

For the next few days, Lin Nuo waited for Zhang Ba Tou to come to him every day.

The old foreman used to come every few days.

But this time, the old foreman didn't come.

Lin Nuo had a bad feeling and went to Song Village.

Song Village remained the same as before. The old headman's courtyard gate was closed, with an iron lock hanging on the door panel.

Lin Nuo was not quite sure what was going on, so he headed towards Xiahe Village.

Old Zhou was squatting in the yard peeling garlic when he saw Lin Nuo running in, covered in sweat, and he paused for a moment.

"Nuozi? What happened?"

Lin Nuo, panting heavily, recounted how the old foreman hadn't come for several days and that the house was locked.

After listening, Zhou Laoshuan tossed the garlic in his hand into the basin, his tone relaxed:

"Nuozi, don't worry unnecessarily. That old man goes to the mountains like he's going home. He's probably going to see his old buddies. Those old hunters get together every now and then, and it's normal for them to stay for a few days."

"Your Uncle Zhang hates being told what to do. When he wants to come back, he will naturally come back."

Lin Nuo felt a little more at ease after hearing this, but she was still uneasy.

"Uncle Zhou, he didn't even say goodbye before he left..."

"You know what kind of person he is."

Old Zhou patted him on the shoulder:

"Alright, go about your business. If something really happened to him, wouldn't I know? We've known each other for decades."

Lin Nuo nodded and didn't ask any further questions. But he still had a lingering unease in his heart.

In the past, even if the old foreman didn't come to see him when he went out, he would always have someone at the village entrance pass on a message. This time, he didn't say anything, which is unlike him.

Old Zhou turned and went into the main room. After a while, he took out a small cloth bag:

"Nuozi, here's one hundred yuan. I'll also invest in your chicken farming business."

Lin Nuo was stunned for a moment, then quickly waved his hand.

"Uncle Zhou, no need..."

"Take it."

Old Zhou stuffed the cloth bag into his hand and pressed his palm against the back of his hand:

"Da Wu is working for you, so I can't take advantage of him for nothing. You provide the labor, I'll provide the money, it's fair. You take the lion's share of the profits, and Da Wu takes the smaller portion."

Lin Nuo clutched the cloth bag and nodded solemnly.

"Uncle Zhou, thank you. I'll pay you back with interest once I make money raising chickens."

Old Zhou grinned:

"Okay, I'll wait for that day."

As Lin Nuo left Xiahe Village, he could see the chicken coop in his yard from afar.

A small open space was fenced off in front of the chicken coop, allowing the chickens to roam freely.

This bamboo fence is clearly made by my father. That old man is all bark and no bite.

Lin Weiguo was squatting at the entrance of the chicken coop, holding a hammer, nailing the last piece of the baffle.

Lin Nuo walked over and squatted down next to her father:

"Dad, from now on, you and Mom will have to keep an eye on raising chickens. I can't manage it all by myself."

Lin Weiguo paused for a moment. Without looking up, he said in a muffled voice:

"OK."

Lin Weiguo stood up and walked into the house:

"When are the chicks arriving? Let me know in advance so I can clean the feeding troughs thoroughly."

Lin Nuo shouted at the retreating figure:

"The day after tomorrow! I'm going to get it done the day after tomorrow!"

Lin Weiguo grunted in response and quickened his pace as he entered the courtyard.

Zhao Xiuying was carrying a basin of water out of the kitchen. Looking at Lin Weiguo, she turned to Lin Nuo and said:

"Ignore him, he's such a show-off. He's happier than anyone else, but he's putting on airs."

Lin Weiguo heard this in the courtyard, stumbled, and almost lost his balance. He turned around and glared at Zhao Xiuying, but said nothing.

That evening, Lin Nuo was squatting in the yard.

A sudden commotion arose from the east end of the village.

Lin Nuofang walked to the courtyard gate, somewhat curious about what was going on.

Several villagers rushed back from outside the village, their faces ashen.

Lin Nuo stopped a young man who was running fast. He recognized him; he was Li Jun, the second son of Old Li from the east end of the village.

"What's wrong, Junzi?"

Li Jun was panting heavily.

"There was a tiger roaring at the edge of the forest! My goodness, you could hear it from two miles away, it scared me so much my legs went weak! I was gathering firewood when I suddenly heard a roar, it was like thunder!"

An old man next to me chimed in:

"You bet! I thought it was thunder. The roar shook the ground. We haven't seen tigers in years, why are they out this year?"

Another old man squatted against the wall:

"I've lived for sixty years and have only seen a tiger once... These things don't come out easily, and when they do, it means something has happened in the mountains."

Several villagers were talking amongst themselves, their faces filled with fear.

Lin Nuo didn't interrupt. He walked a few steps towards the east end of the village and sure enough, he saw the jeep parked at the village entrance.

Two people walked toward the jeep.

One is tall and the other is short; one is fat and the other is thin.

The short, stout one was wearing a dark jacket. The tall, thin one followed behind, and his gait seemed off.

The two people quickly got into the car.

The jeep sped out of the village, crunching over the gravel road, kicking up a cloud of dust, and disappeared into the twilight.

Lin Nuo was puzzled. Could it be that the tiger's matter had something to do with them?

The next morning, just as dawn was breaking.

Lin Nuo pocketed two hundred yuan, slung an empty basket over his shoulder, and went to town to catch a bus to the county seat. He first went to Han Dechun's place in Beihe Township to buy chicks. Fifty young chickens, one yuan and twenty cents each, for a total of sixty yuan.

The remaining money needs to be used to buy feed and vaccines.

The bus stopped at the town entrance, its diesel engine chugging and the bus shaking slightly. Lin Nuo found a seat by the window and placed the basket at his feet.

The car swayed and wobbled as it moved forward.

The bus stopped one stop ahead. Several people boarded the bus; some were carrying luggage, some were holding children, and two others were carrying other items.

Lin Nuo's eyelids twitched suddenly.

That's them. Two of the guys in the jeep. One short and stout, the other tall and thin.

The short, stout man was carrying a square object covered with an old cloth, so it was impossible to see what was inside.

The tall, thin one followed behind, his face pale.

The driver saw it in the rearview mirror and kindly shouted:

"Comrade, you can tie the stuff to the roof of the car, and squeeze in from below."

The short, stout one didn't reply; he just shook his head.

The driver didn't say much.

The car started moving again. The carriage became quiet, with only the roar of the engine and the sound of the wind outside the window.

Some people were dozing off, while others were staring blankly out the window. An old woman, clutching a bundle, was nodding her head as if she were taking a nap.

Lin Nuo lowered his head, pretending to doze off, his eyes narrowed to slits. His peripheral vision kept glancing at the two people.

The short, stout one leaned closer to the tall, thin one, his voice extremely low, almost a whisper.

But the car was small, and Lin Nuo was close by, and he was listening intently, so he could vaguely make out a few words.

"Damn it, Blind Feng..."

"You brat..."

"The third brother... is dead."

The tall, thin man looked even worse; his voice was strained and trembling.

"If that thing catches up with us, we're finished."

"Shut up."

The short, stout man glared at him, his gaze sharp and piercing, like a knife.

"That's bad enough already, let's talk about it when we get back."

The two stopped talking.

Lin Nuo's heart raced. He recalled the tiger's roar from last night, his hand clutching the wad of cash in his pocket, his palms sweaty.

It seems like this gives me a sense of security, but my right eyelid still twitched several times.

Just then, the car suddenly jolted violently, as if it had tripped over something. The engine sputtered a few times, the car swayed a couple of times, and then slowly came to a stop.

The driver clicked his tongue, slapped the steering wheel, and cursed irritably:

"This lousy car, why is it broken again?"

He opened the car door and jumped out. Lin Nuo turned to the side, pretending to look at the scenery outside the window, but his eyes were fixed on the two people out of the corner of his eye.

The short, fat man's expression changed instantly.

It seems like they're worried about something.

The tall, thin one looked even more strange; he seemed to be trembling all over.

The other passengers in the carriage didn't react much, obviously they were used to it.

Someone yawned, someone stretched, and someone asked, "Master, how long will it take to fix?" There was no response from outside.

These days, the first buses are always being repaired and patched up, and they break down frequently. Everyone's basically gotten used to it.

Lin Nuo lowered her head and turned her face toward the window.

The forest was right next to the road, less than twenty steps from the bus stop. The trees were dense, and the depths of the forest were pitch black; you couldn't see anything.

Lin Nuo was thinking about these things.

Sudden.

A tiger's roar exploded from the mountains and forests.

Lin Nuo's first reaction was a tiger's roar. Although he had never seen a tiger in his previous life, only watched documentaries, this time he heard a tiger's roar.

Suddenly, all the birds in the woods took flight with a "whoosh," including several birds whose names I couldn't identify, forming a dark, dense mass.

The tiger's roar caused an uproar in the carriage.

These days, Siberian tigers are definitely a childhood nightmare.

The old woman screamed, dropping the bundle in her hands to the ground, revealing the clothes and dry food inside. The woman holding the child clung tightly to the baby, who wailed loudly.

A middle-aged man suddenly stood up, slamming his head against the luggage rack. He winced in pain, cursing "Damn it!" his voice trembling.

"Tiger! There really is a tiger!"

"My God, drive faster!"

"Driver! Where's the driver?!"

The driver crawled out from under the front of the car, his face as white as paper. He was still clutching the crank handle. He scrambled back, climbed onto the driver's seat, and quickly closed the door.

He turned the key, and the engine sputtered a few times but wouldn't start.

He hadn't fixed it yet, and he ran in as soon as he heard the tiger's roar.

Sweat dripped from the driver's forehead, his lips trembled, and his voice became distorted.

"Damn it... I can't hit it..."

The short, fat man's face was as white as a corpse, and his hand reached for his backpack.

The tall, thin one hugged his knees, curled up into a ball, and whispered:

"It's coming...it's coming...we're finished..."

Perhaps the tiger's roar was too close.

This caused chaos in the train carriage. Someone tried to open the door to escape, but was stopped by others.

"There are tigers outside! Going down there is suicide!"

Everyone was urging the driver to "try again," and some people cried out. The driver tried his best to start the engine, but it just wouldn't start.

Lin Nuo's heart was pounding.

His eyes were fixed on the view outside the window. Sunlight streamed in from the eastern ridge, illuminating the roadside bushes. Lin Nuo could see the branches of the bushes swaying slightly, and he could see something behind them.

Striped, Siberian tiger.

The carriage was eerily quiet. The only sounds were the engine's creaking and the old woman's suppressed sobs.

The short, stout one suddenly moved. He bent down sharply and pulled the thing out from under the seat. A corner of the old cloth slipped down, revealing a section of dark iron pipe—a hunting rifle. They really did have a gun.

The tall, thin one looked up at him, his eyes red: "Are you crazy? You can't hit it!"

The short, stout man ignored him, sticking the gun barrel out of the car window crack and speaking in a low voice:

"We have to fight even if we can't hit them. We can't just wait to die."

Lin Nuo sat in the back, watching all of this. His heart pounded in his chest, but he didn't move. His hand quietly rested on his musket.

Another tiger roared, and even the timid passengers started to cry. The Siberian tiger, a top predator, exerted immense pressure.

Lin Nuo pressed his hand to his chest. He was trying his best to calm down. The old foreman had said that if you encounter a tiger in the mountains, don't be afraid, just look it in the eyes and back away.

Lin Nuo didn't understand what was going on. Why would the tiger follow the bus on its own? Wouldn't it be better to stay in the deep mountains and forests? This didn't make sense.

Unless, there's something on the bus that attracts it.