Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

Grandpa grinned, revealing his few remaining teeth, and smiled silently. He put down his work, propped himself up on his knees, and nodded repeatedly, "Good, good, it's good that you're back!"

Aunt wiped her hands on her apron and hurried over, her eyes reddening. "Chenzi! You child! Why didn't you send a message! Come in quickly! Come in quickly!" she said, helping Wei Chen push his bicycle into the yard.

Uncle Wei Changsheng came out of the house upon hearing the sound. He was tall, but his back was slightly hunched, and his face was etched with the weathered look of a farmer and the deep worry he was feeling at that moment.

Upon seeing Wei Chen, his tightly furrowed brows finally relaxed a little, revealing a smile: "Chenzi! You're back! You must be tired from the journey!" He patted Wei Chen's shoulder forcefully, feeling the solid bones beneath his shoulders, and his smile became more gratified.

Wei Chen helped his grandmother into the house and sat her down. He then took the ten pounds of flour from the bamboo basket and gently placed it on the old wooden table in front of her. The snow-white flour, in the dim earthen house, was like a handful of precious moonlight, instantly attracting everyone's attention.

"Grandma, keep some flour for you and Grandpa. You can use it to make some noodles or something; it'll make them softer." Wei Chen's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable warmth.

Grandma stared at the blindingly white sack of flour, her lips trembling as she tried to say something, but in the end, it all turned into a long sigh. Her withered hands rubbed the sack, and tears finally streamed down her face. "You child... this... how much money did this cost... it's so hard for you out there..."

She complained with heartache, knowing how precious all that white flour was. This refined grain was a true lifesaver for the elderly couple with their poor teeth and weak stomachs.

"Grandma, please accept it. I'm better off in the city than at home," Wei Chen gently comforted her.

Uncle Wei Changsheng looked at the bag of flour with a complex expression, happy for his parents but also feeling a heavy pressure. He called out, "Don't stand there, sit down. Fengzi's mother, go check the stove and make a lot tonight." He winked at Wei Chen and lowered his voice, "The village... sigh, this year has been so hard."

As evening fell, Uncle Wei Laishun and his eldest son Wei Feng returned from the fields. Uncle Wei was even thinner, with high cheekbones, sunken eyes, and a faltering gait. Wei Feng, a strong laborer, also had a sallow complexion.

Dinner was served at two small square tables. The men sat at one table, while Grandma, Aunt, and several teenagers squeezed around the other small table.

Under the dim light, several rare "hard dishes" were laid out on the table: a bowl of glistening, fragrant cured pork stir-fried with dried green beans, a plate of golden scrambled eggs, a bowl of mixed flour cornbread, and a bowl of thin, watery vegetable porridge. The salty aroma of the cured pork permeated the air, making the children stare longingly, their mouths watering.

"Try it," Grandma picked up her chopsticks and first put a large piece of oily cured meat on Wei Chen's plate, her eyes full of affection. "This meat was specially brought over by your master, Old Zhao, a few days ago. He knew you were thinking about home and couldn't bear to eat it yourself, so he insisted on cutting off such a big piece to send over. That stubborn old man, he didn't say it, but he was really thinking about you."

Wei Chen felt a surge of warmth in his heart as he looked at the trembling piece of cured pork, half fat and half lean, in the bowl. He could almost see his master, Zhao Gensheng's, silent yet resolute face. He picked up the meat and solemnly put it in his mouth. The salty, rich fat melted on his tongue, carrying the aroma of the mountains and the smoke of cooking fires—it was his master's taste.

Uncle Wei Changsheng and Uncle Wei Laishun each poured half a bowl of cheap sweet potato wine in front of them. After drinking the wine, their tightly furrowed brows seemed to relax slightly, and they started talking.

"Sigh, Chenzi, you saw it when you came back," Uncle sighed heavily, his rough fingers tapping the table unconsciously. "This year's harvest is bizarre! There was a drought right at the beginning of spring, the ground was so cracked you could fit a fist in it! The wheat harvested in summer was shriveled up like sparrow droppings, less than half of what we had in previous years! The grain tax... the grain tax is a hard task, we have to grit our teeth and deliver it! After we deliver the grain tax, the team's warehouse will be almost empty."

He picked up his wine bowl and took a big gulp. The pungent smell of the wine couldn't mask the bitterness in his voice. "Right now, every household is tightening their belts. The wild vegetable porridge is so thin you can see your reflection in it. Even so, they're just barely surviving on two meals a day. The adults are alright, they can endure the hunger, but the children... sigh, they cry at night from hunger. It's heartbreaking to hear them!" He shook his head, his wrinkles deepening, like deep ravines etched by a knife.

Uncle Wei Laishun chewed on a dried bean in silence, his voice hoarse with resentment: "That's right! In previous years, we could at least rely on mountain produce to supplement our income, but this year? The mountains have been practically stripped bare! Tree bark, grass roots, everything edible has been plucked clean! Forget wild animals, you can't even find a rabbit's fur! People who are starving are more ruthless than wolves! Going into the mountains? Without real skills, you're just delivering food to the King of Hell!" He glanced at the bulging canvas backpack Wei Chen had placed in the corner and the long, narrow object wrapped tightly in a tattered burlap sack, his eyes filled with complex emotions—envy and deep worry.

Wei Feng, young and impetuous, couldn't help but interject, his voice filled with suppressed resentment: "Dad, Third Uncle, you didn't see it! A couple of days ago, they found wild boar cubs that had starved to death near the old forest behind the mountain! Skin and bones! The adults? They're long gone! This life is unbearable!" He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white.

Listening to his relatives' stories and seeing their sallow, gaunt faces, Wei Chen felt as if an invisible hand was tightly gripping his heart, causing him both a dull ache and a heavy pain. He put down his chopsticks and spoke in a low, clear voice, "Uncle, Third Uncle, Brother Feng, I believe what you're saying. Things aren't much better in the city..."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the astonished faces of the crowd. "The factory organized us to help out at the neighborhood relief station. It was packed with refugees who had fled the famine, adults and children, all so thin they were just skin and bones. The worst off were the children, who had edema, their bellies swollen and shiny like big balls, their eyes so swollen they couldn't open them... They lay there, barely clinging to life."

The room fell silent instantly, save for the faint crackling of the kerosene lamp wick. Grandma and Auntie stopped eating, and the children, seemingly understanding the heavy atmosphere, dared not look at the meat dishes with envy.

"Director Wang at the station said," Wei Chen's voice carried a heavy, suppressed tone, "that what we lack most right now isn't the gruel to fill our stomachs, but oil and water! It's the kind of meat that can nourish the body and save lives! Without oil and water, those children... won't last long."

He raised his head, his gaze hardening, and looked at his uncle. "I came back this time for two reasons. First, to see Grandpa and Grandma and you all. Second, I wanted to go into the mountains to find my master and a few old hunters I used to know, to see if they had any meat left, or if I could find some company to try my luck. We need to get some meat to take back in an emergency!"

"Go into the mountains?!" Uncle Wei Changsheng abruptly put down his wine bowl, his eyes wide open. "Chenzi! Are you crazy?! What's the state of the mountains now? Didn't you hear what your brother Feng said? Even the wild boar cubs have starved to death! It's a place where no offspring can survive! Going in is just courting death!" His voice rose with excitement and worry, carrying an undeniable opposition.

"Yes, Chenzi!" Uncle San hurriedly tried to dissuade him, his face scrunched up. "Your master, Old Zhao, is an old hand at this! How long has it been since he sent any decent game to the village? At most, he'll get some pheasants and rabbits, not even enough for himself! You're young and strong, but the mountains aren't just short of live animals now, there are even more unscrupulous people! Take my advice, don't go! It's too risky!"

Despite the anxious gazes of his uncle and third uncle, Wei Chen remained unusually calm. He picked up a cornbread made from mixed flour, broke it open, and chewed it slowly. The rough, gritty texture actually made him feel more at ease.

"Uncle, Third Uncle, I understand what you're saying." He swallowed the cornbread, his voice not loud, but with a rock-solid steadiness. "But I know what I'm doing. I won't go too deep. I'll just wander around the familiar mountain ridges that my father and I used to walk along, and visit my master while I'm at it."

If we don't hit anything, we'll just consider it a stroll. If we do run into any trouble, I've got my weapons with me, so I'll know what to do." He patted the hard outline beneath the bulging fabric of his shirt.

His words were half-true, half-false, yet carried an undeniable resolve. The uncle opened his mouth, looking into Wei Chen's deep, stubborn eyes—eyes almost identical to his brother's in his youth—before finally letting out a long, heavy sigh filled with endless worry, echoing in the dim room. He knew this nephew as well as he knew his own brother's temperament; once he made up his mind, nothing could change it.

"Sigh...you..." The uncle pounded his thigh hard, said nothing more, and picked up the half bowl of cheap wine, drinking it all in one gulp, as if trying to swallow all his worries and helplessness.

The next day, just as dawn was breaking, a thin layer of gray mist still shrouded the sleeping mountain village. Wei Chen had already packed up, carrying the canvas bag containing rope, a short knife, a water bottle, and dry rations, with a gun wrapped in thick cloth bulging at his waist. He silently left the courtyard, his figure quickly disappearing into the vast, misty mountains behind the village, soaked in the morning fog and the chill of late autumn.

The mountain path was rugged and steep, covered with gravel and slippery decaying leaves. Wei Chen walked steadily, his eyes scanning the surroundings like a hawk's.

Just as his eldest and third uncles said, this mountain forest, which he once knew so well, now exudes a desolate and lifeless atmosphere. Squirrels and tits, which used to be everywhere, are now nowhere to be found.

The path once trodden by wild beasts is now covered by overgrown thorns and fallen branches. The air is thick with the smell of decaying plants and the stench of earth, but the wild, restless energy that belongs to the mountains and forests is nowhere to be found.

He carefully searched several bushes and crevices in the rocks where he remembered small prey could easily hide, but found only a few clumps of dried rabbit droppings from who-knows-when.