Reborn in 1982, the prodigal son returns

Frozen tofu on the 25th day of the twelfth lunar month.

The sky was just beginning to lighten.

Lin Nuo squatted under the window of the west room, tearing apart old paper.

The newspaper pasted on the window frame was last year's paper, already yellowed. He used his fingernails to pick at the curled edges and tore it off bit by bit. Once the newspaper dried, it became as brittle as potato chips.

"hiss--"

Lin Nuo withdrew his hand and glanced at his right index finger. The nail was split in the middle, revealing a strip of pink flesh, from which a bead of blood slowly seeped out, congealing into a small droplet in the cold air. He put his finger in his mouth, tasting the metallic rust on his tongue.

The door to the west room opened, and Su Wanqing stood behind it, holding a pair of scissors and a piece of sandpaper.

She handed over the items without saying a word.

Lin Nuo took it, and as she let go, their fingers touched again. This time, Su Wanqing didn't pull back—or rather, she pulled back halfway and stopped.

The door wasn't closed properly.

A slit was left, less than two fingers wide. From the outside, one could see the light inside—the dim, flickering glow of a kerosene lamp.

Lin Nuo tore the old newspapers clean and sanded the dust off the window frame. The sandpaper was too fine, making sanding difficult and painful on his fingers, but the sanded areas were indeed smooth.

Next, cut the newspaper, prepare the paste, and paste it on the windows.

Lin Weiguo came over while they were pasting paper on the windows.

He was wearing a black cotton-padded jacket with the collar turned up, his hands tucked into his sleeves, and his neck hunched. He was holding a bowl of porridge in his hands. The bowl was made of coarse porcelain, and the words "Serve the People" were printed in red on the inside of the bowl, the paint of which had almost completely worn off.

He stood under the eaves, took a sip of porridge, his breath coming in a sharp gasp from the heat, and then asked:

"Did you go to the county yesterday and ask if you found them?"

Lin Weiguo didn't sleep well last night. The bags under his eyes were deeper than usual, and his complexion was poor, ashen, the same color as the clouds on the horizon.

Lin Nuo pasted the last sheet of newspaper on, pressing it from the middle outwards with his palm to expel any air bubbles. He then applied paste to the edges of the paper and stuck it neatly to the window frame.

"I asked. Uncle Liu from the supply and marketing cooperative said that raising rabbits is too risky. If rabbit plague strikes, the whole litter will be wiped out. Several households in Xiahe Village lost everything last year."

He didn't turn around.

Lin Weiguo didn't say anything, and took another sip of porridge.

Lin Nuo hesitated for a moment, but still didn't mention the fake fertilizer.

"The third brother... he might have been fooled too."

他 说:

"He's seen a lot in the county, but he's never actually done this before; he's only heard about it from others. It's not his fault."

This was a clever way of putting it. It neither defended Lin Jian nor kicked him when he was down. He replaced "deceived" with "fooled," and "intentionally" with "never raised him." Lin Weiguo, at least, wouldn't feel like he was putting down the third brother.

Lin Weiguo hummed in agreement.

Without saying anything more, he stood there and drank his porridge. After taking a few steps, he stopped and looked back at the newly pasted window paper in the west room.

"It's not badly burned."

He said.

Then he picked up the bowl and went into the main room. The curtain fell behind him and swayed twice.

Zhao Xiuying heard it from the kitchen.

She peeked out and glanced at Lin Nuo. There was a hint of relief in her eyes, and a hint of surprise—relief that her son was finally willing to work, and surprise that he was actually doing a pretty good job.

She pulled her head back, and the sound of the spatula hitting the iron pot rang out again, much lighter than before.

We ate lunch in silence.

The lighting in the main room was poor. On the table were stewed cabbage with glass noodles, pickled radish, and dark-colored steamed buns. The cabbage was stewed until very soft, and the glass noodles were so slippery that they couldn't be picked up with chopsticks. The pickled radish was shredded and tossed with sesame oil; it was the most presentable dish on the table.

That's always been the case at home; you can't earn much by farming.

Lin Weiguo picked up a piece of cabbage with his chopsticks, chewed it twice, and said:

"Let's talk about the third son after the New Year."

Zhao Xiuying glanced at Lin Nuo.

That look made it clear: your dad has given in, so stop being stubborn.

Lin Nuo didn't reply and lowered his head to drink his porridge.

It would be fine if we didn't have to raise rabbits.

The main room remained quiet for a while.

Lin Nuo put down the bowl.

The bottom of the bowl hit the table with a dull thud.

"I'm going into the mountains this afternoon."

Zhao Xiuying looked up at him:

"Why go into the mountains? It's freezing cold. The mountain paths are all frozen and very slippery. Last year, Old Zhang's second son fell on the back mountain and broke his leg, lying in bed for three months."

"Get something."

"What is it?"

"Blindly groping for mice."

Zhao Xiuying's chopsticks stopped in mid-air.

Lin Weiguo also raised his head, his brows furrowed, and stared at Lin Nuo.

"Are you crazy? Digging for mice in the dead of winter? Those things aren't worth anything, why bother? Besides, the ground is frozen solid, a pickaxe will only leave a white mark, what can you possibly dig up?"

"I'll go take a look."

Lin Weiguo was about to say something when Zhao Xiuying pulled him back.

She placed her hand on Lin Weiguo's arm and pressed down on it. The couple exchanged glances.

Lin Weiguo swallowed the words that were about to come out, picked up the bowl, and drank the remaining half bowl of porridge in one gulp.

Lin Nuo didn't say anything more. He got up and went to the kitchen to get a pickaxe and a basket. Then he slung the basket over his shoulder, carried the pickaxe on his shoulder, and went out of the yard.

……

Old Wang was squatting at his doorstep, smoking his pipe. He was wearing a dusty cotton-padded jacket, the front of which was covered with more than a dozen holes from cigarette ash.

When he saw Lin Nuo dressed like this, he forgot to smoke.

"Nuozi? What are you doing?"

"Going into the mountains. Just catching a few random mice."

Wang Lao Er paused for three seconds, then grinned.

"What did you say? Digging for mice in the dead of winter? Are you out of your mind? Those things aren't worth much, only a few cents a pound? Two cents? Three cents? Why bother?"

Lin Nuo didn't stop walking, and said without turning his head:

"I'm just idling around anyway."

Wang Lao Er shook his head from behind and said to the person walking over next to him, "That person next to me is Li San. He just came back from town and is carrying two jin of pork."

"That second son of Lin Weiguo is really hopeless. He doesn't live a good life, and now he's digging for wild mice. Even dogs wouldn't eat that stuff. My dog ​​won't even sniff it."

Li San switched the pork to his other hand, glanced at Lin Nuo's retreating figure, and pursed his lips:

"It's their choice, what's it to you? He's not your son anyway."

"I'm just worried about his father."

Wang Lao Er relit the tobacco pipe:

"I have three sons. The eldest is honest and hardworking, the youngest works in the county, but this second one is useless. He doesn't farm, he doesn't do any work, and even his own wife dislikes him. What can he possibly do?"

At that moment, several women were talking at the village entrance, preparing to go to the town market. They wore headscarves of various colors—red, blue, and gray—and carried baskets filled with eggs or dried mushrooms, which they planned to exchange for New Year's goods in town.

When they saw Lin Nuo walking over, they all lowered their voices.

But the whispers of rural women can actually be heard from ten meters away.

They weren't afraid of being overheard.

"Isn't that the second son of the Lin family? What's he doing carrying a pickaxe?"

"Who knows? This man is probably no good. Su Wanqing is such a good girl, she must have been blind to marry him. She's literate and beautiful, the best in our village, how could she have married such a man?"

"That's right. I heard they're sleeping in separate rooms now. I saw her come out of the west room this morning, and he came out of the east room, each going their own way. She'll leave sooner or later. You can't keep a wife like that."

"Good riddance. He can find someone else. At least Lin Weiguo won't have to worry about him."

Lin Nuo heard it.

He paused for a moment.

He had heard these words countless times in his past life.

But things are different now; he wants to make sure his family has a better life.

Only then can we completely shut these meddlesome women up.

The mountain roads were difficult to travel after the snow.

Lin Nuo was very careful, making sure each step was firmly planted before moving on to the next. He would leave a dent in the snow with his foot, then shift his weight onto the other foot before taking another step forward. This was the trick to walking on mountain paths: never rush.

The sunny slope behind the mountain.

Lin Nuo found the location of Xiangyangpo based on his memory—go north from the village entrance, cross two ridges, and you'll see a pine forest. To the right of the pine forest is a dry ditch. Follow the dry ditch uphill, and you'll reach the bottom of the ditch, which is Xiangyangpo.

But the terrain changed after the snow.

The hillside was completely covered in snow, making it impossible to distinguish between gullies and slopes. The pine trees all looked pretty much the same, one after another. He stood at the bottom of the slope, looked around, and then took a few more steps uphill, but still couldn't tell which one was which.

Lin Nuo wandered around in the snow for more than half an hour.

I almost gave up.

In his past life, he was always like this, always saying "I'll talk about it tomorrow" and "No rush, no rush." ​​But tomorrow after tomorrow, there were so many tomorrows. Only when Su Wanqing lay in the hospital bed did he realize that there was no tomorrow.

Thinking of Su Wanqing, Lin Nuo gritted her teeth and took a few more steps up.

Then I saw it, a crooked tree. The trunk was leaning to one side, that was it.

In his past life, that person had said, "It's right there, under the stump behind that crooked pine tree." The man's surname was Zhang, his given name was Zhang Degui, and he was from the next village. He said it while drinking. Nobody took it seriously at the time, but Lin Nuo remembered it.

He walked around the crooked pine tree, behind which was a gentle slope with a tree stump among the bushes. This was the place.

Lin Nuo put the basket aside, squatted down, and searched around on the ground. There were several small mounds of earth around the tree stump, arched up, without snow on them—not that there was no snow, but the snow had been pushed aside, revealing the dry soil underneath.

It really does.

hole.

The entrance to the earth sheep's burrow.

The ground sheep, scientifically known as the mountain mole rat, digs burrows underground and pushes soil to the surface, creating these small mounds.

Lin Nuo took a few stones and blocked up several nearby mounds of earth.

This is cutting off their escape route. The earth sheep digs tunnels underground, creating a network that leads in all directions. If you don't block the other entrances, it will escape from somewhere else, and you won't be able to find it even if you dig until dark.

Holding the pickaxe in his hand, he poked at the ground next to the tree stump.

The soil was frozen solid.

One swing of the pickaxe only left a white mark, as if it had struck a rock.

Undeterred, Lin Nuo raised the pickaxe, spat into his palm, and rubbed it. Then, gripping the pickaxe tightly, he dug down with all his might.

A "click" sound.

A crack appeared in the frozen soil, extending from the pickaxe blade to both sides like a gaping mouth. The crack was about a finger's width, revealing that the soil underneath was a different color—the frozen soil on top was grayish-white, while the soil below was wet.

He dug, one stroke at a time.

I dug it a dozen times.

When the pickaxe struck again, the sound changed. It wasn't the crisp "clang" anymore; it was a muffled "plop," like digging into something hollow.

A piece of frozen soil, about the size of a bowl, broke off and fell into the hole below with a muffled thud.

The hole below collapsed.

Lin Nuo's heart sank.

Did they bury the sheep to death?

Dead animals are definitely less valuable than live ones—when wild game dies, except for large catches, the supply and marketing cooperatives will lower the price. A live one might fetch five yuan, while a dead one might only get two yuan.

He carefully removed the loose soil bit by bit with his hands.

His fingers were frozen red, and his fingernails were full of mud. There were ice shards in the loose soil, which pierced his fingernails, making him gasp in pain. But he didn't stop, digging away the soil handful by handful.

They dug for a long time but couldn't find it.

Lin Nuo's heart sank. Could it have already run away? Although the entrance to the cave was blocked, the earth sheep could dig a new hole in just a few minutes. If it had escaped before he could block the entrance, then all his work for the past half day would have been for nothing.

Grit your teeth and keep digging.

He pulled his arm out of the hole; the back of his hand was covered in mud, and blood seeped from under his fingernails. He dug down with two more pickaxes, widening the opening, and then continued digging with his hands.

The more you dig, the softer the soil becomes.

The soil on top was frozen, while the soil below was wet, getting wetter as you went down. At the very bottom, the soil was almost runny and sticky, clinging to your fingers and impossible to shake off.

In stock.

Absolutely in stock.

This damp soil has just been turned over by the earthworms; it's fresh and has a fishy smell. If it were an old burrow, the soil would be dry and hard. This indicates that the earthworms are nearby.

He dug away the last handful of soil.

My finger touched something furry.

Live.

The furry thing moved and shrank back into the hole. Lin Nuo's fingers followed, reaching forward until his fingertips touched a warm body—warm, completely different from the cold soil.

He carefully cleared away the clods of earth around him, revealing a hole. Inside the hole, several grayish-brown creatures were curled up together, furry and round.

One, two, three...

Five.

One male and one female, with three offspring.

The female was larger, about the size of a fist, with darker fur and a few white hairs on her back. The male was also quite large, but slightly thinner than the female, with yellowish fur.

The baby lamb was tiny, only the size of an egg, its eyes still closed. It nestled under its mother's belly, its mouth tucked in as if searching for milk.

Lin Nuo's hands were trembling.

He's really lucky.

It's breeding season, and the whole litter is still together. These goats usually live separately, each with their own burrow, only coming together during the breeding season. After the breeding season, you can only catch one at most.

He reacted quickly and grabbed the bull sheep by the scruff of its neck.

The goat opened its mouth and bit down. Its teeth were long, with two protruding, yellowish incisors that looked like two small shovels. But Lin Nuo was grabbing the back of its neck. The goat turned its head but couldn't reach it. Its four short legs kicked wildly in the air, its sharp claws scratching at the air.

This thing bites really hard. Someone in their past life was bitten by a goat; the goat bit through their finger, exposing the bone, and it swelled up for half a month.

He put the ram into the basket and then went to catch the ewes. The ewes were protective of their young and difficult to catch; they huddled at the back of their burrow, shielding their three calves behind them, baring their teeth and squealing at him. The squeals were not loud, just "squeak squeak squeak," like mice, but rougher than mice.

Lin Nuo reached in, and the ewe bit his finger.

He grunted, but didn't pull his hand away.

It hurt. It really hurt. His teeth pierced his skin like two needles, and his fingertips went numb instantly. But he gritted his teeth, reached in with his other hand, grabbed the ewe by the scruff of her neck, and pulled her out of the hole.

The blood dripping from his finger onto the snow was a glaringly red.

He put the ewe in the basket and then reached for the three calves. The calves were easy to catch, they didn't bite, but they were slippery, their fur was smooth and hadn't fully grown in yet, and it took him two tries to get a firm grip on them.

Five sheep huddled together in the basket.

The ewes sheltered their foals beneath them, while the rams huddled in a corner, their beards trembling and their beady black eyes watching the outside world warily.

Lin Nuo picked up the basket and looked at it. The bottom of the basket was lined with dry hay, which he had gathered from under the pine trees on the way here; the hay was yellowish-brown and soft. He put the sheep inside and then covered it with an old cloth.

He lifted the basket; it was heavy, which made him feel much more at ease. He then placed two twigs on the opening of the basket to prevent the goat from jumping out. However, this creature wasn't very good at jumping; its legs were too short, and it couldn't jump very high, far inferior to a rabbit.

In my past life, Zhang Degui dug up this litter of sheep and sold it for six yuan.

Six yuan was not a small amount of money at the time; it was enough to buy six catties of pork. The people who dug it up were happy for several days and told everyone they met about it.

But Lin Nuo knew that the value of the sheep bone was far more than six yuan.

This creature, scientifically known as the mountain mole rat, has bones with high medicinal value. In the 1970s, some people used it as a substitute for tiger bone. What was the price of tiger bone? It was calculated by the gram. After it was officially recognized in the 1980s, the price skyrocketed. A few years later, a pound of sheep bones could sell for 280 yuan.

Of course, it can't be sold for that price now.

But it can't be satisfied with just six yuan.

When Lin Nuo returned to the village entrance, the sun was already setting.

Wang Lao Er was still squatting at the door.

The tobacco pipe had been replaced with a new one, the tobacco burning a bright red. Two more people, Li San and Zhao Dana, were now nearby.

The three were chatting when they saw Lin Nuo walking over from the foot of the mountain.

Wang Lao Er peeked out.

"Did you find something?"

"Um."

"What the heck?"

"Blindly groping for mice."

Wang Lao Er stood up, his knee cracking with a "crack." He walked over, lifted the cloth, and peeked inside. Five wild sheep were curled up in the basket.

Wang Lao Er put the cloth back on and smacked his lips.

"You actually found it? This thing is hard to dig; the hole is deep and there are many branching paths. How did you find it?"

"Just randomly touched it."

Wang Lao Er looked him up and down and shook his head.

"What's the use of this thing? It's worthless. What's the point of all this trouble? You're freezing like a lamb in the dead of winter, just for a few random mice?"

Li San, who was standing nearby, leaned over, glanced at the basket, then straightened up and said with a smile:

"Nuozi, are you planning to sell this at the supply and marketing cooperative? Let me tell you, they don't accept this stuff. They wouldn't even take it for free. Last time someone took a basket of it, and they didn't even glance at it."

Zhao Dana chimed in, holding his teacup, taking a sip, letting the tea swirl in his mouth, and then swallowing.

"The supply and marketing cooperative wants pheasants and rabbits, or at the very least a few sparrows. Sparrows can be fried and eaten. Who wants your random mouse? Do you really not know the market price or what? This stuff is neither edible nor usable."

Lin Nuo didn't speak; he knew the value of sheep bones. He knew what price they would fetch in a few years—two hundred and eighty yuan per catty, the price of tiger bones.

Even if he can't sell them for that much now, he has other options. He can raise them himself, grow them up, kill them, collect the bones, dry them, and sell them when the market improves.

This thing is easy to raise; it eats grass roots and tree bark, so it doesn't require much food. You can just build a shed and a few nests in the corner of your yard, and you're good to go.

Laugh, laugh.

Now that you know this thing can be sold for money, let's see if you can still find it.

He ignored him and quickened his pace to go home.

By the time I pushed open the courtyard gate, it was already dusk.

Zhao Xiuying came out from the kitchen to greet them.

She was wearing a dusty gray apron, covered in flour, and her hands and fingernails were also covered in flour. She was holding a rolling pin with a piece of dough stuck to it, probably rolling out noodles.

She glanced at the basket:

"Did you really find it?"

Lin Nuo put the basket on the ground and lifted the cloth.

Zhao Xiuying came closer to take a look—five ground sheep huddled together.

Zhao Xiuying's brows were furrowed deeply, forming a deep frown.

"You can't sell this thing for money, so why are you going through all this trouble? It's the dead of winter, and the snow on the mountain is so deep. What if you slip and fall?"

"able."

"How many can you sell?"

"I'll go to town and ask tomorrow. Uncle Liu said the herbal medicine station buys this. Sheep bone is a medicinal herb and can be used as a substitute for tiger bone."

Zhao Xiuying was skeptical, her brows furrowing even more, but she didn't say anything.

She couldn't understand what her son had been doing lately. He'd stopped gambling, stopped drinking, and was now actively looking for work, even going into the mountains to dig for wild sheep. He was completely different from the carefree loafer he used to be.

Digging for food, well, at least it's better than playing cards.

Playing cards means losing money, but even if you're bad at digging for sheep, you won't lose money; at most, you'll just waste some effort.

"Alright, alright, come inside and warm up."

she says:

"Your shoes are soaked. Change them. There's hot water on the stove; I'll make you a basin of water to soak your feet in a bit."

She turned and went back to the kitchen.

Su Wanqing came out of the west room.

She was wearing a dark blue cotton-padded jacket. She walked up to the basket and glanced down at it.

Five sheep huddled together.

Su Wanqing's face turned pale, and she took half a step back.

Seeing her expression, Lin Nuo recalled their past life, when the two of them rented a house in the south, an old and dilapidated house in an urban village. A mouse got into the house, making rustling noises in the middle of the night. Su Wanqing was so scared that she dared not sleep and sat huddled in the corner of the bed all night.

The next day, he borrowed money from his coworkers, bought rat poison, and sprinkled it in the corner of the wall. The rats died, and when she saw the rats' corpses while cleaning, her face turned pale for the entire afternoon.

It was then that he realized Su Wanqing was afraid of this kind of thing.

"Don't be afraid."

Lin Nuo said in a very soft voice:

"I am here."

He casually covered her with the cloth, blocking her view.

Su Wanqing didn't say anything, turned around and went back into the house.

After a while, she came out carrying a bowl of hot water.

The bowl was white porcelain, with a chipped rim, and it was handed to Lin Nuo.

Lin Nuo took it and took a sip.

It was hot, but in the dead of winter, the hot water warmed me from my throat all the way down to my stomach, making me feel warm all over.

"Drink slowly,"

Su Wanqing said:

"hot."

The voice was still clear and cold, but something else had changed.

Lin Nuo, holding the bowl, glanced at her.

He lowered his head and took another sip.

This time I drank slowly, taking small sips.

After a while, Lin Nuo found an old wooden box, moved the sheep from the basket into it, and then surrounded the four corners of the box with bricks. The bricks were picked up from the base of the yard wall; they were half-finished and covered in cement residue. He stacked the bricks tightly against the inside of the box.

This thing bites wood.

The ground sheep has sharp teeth. If it bites through the box and escapes in the middle of the night, you won't be able to catch it.

He planned in his mind: I'll go to the town's herbal medicine station tomorrow to ask about the price. If the price is right, I'll sell it; if not, I'll keep it for now. This thing is easy to raise; it eats grass roots and tree bark, so it doesn't require much food.