Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

On the fourth day, he even risked sneaking into a shantytown in the south of the city under the pretense of "inspecting secondhand goods" in broad daylight. The shantytown was being demolished in preparation for the construction of new factories.

Beneath several dilapidated houses that were long abandoned and on the verge of collapse, he used his spiritual power to "see" two small iron boxes that had been hastily buried.

When the night was deep and quiet, he sneaked in again and easily dug it out. Inside were neatly stacked "small yellow croakers" (a type of gold coin) and dozens of rolls of Yuan Shikai and Sun Yat-sen silver dollars wrapped in oiled paper. He also reaped a certain amount of gold and several hundred silver dollars.

Deep within a half-demolished alleyway in Dongcheng District, left only as ruins due to road widening, he discovered several scrolls of calligraphy and paintings wrapped in waterproof kraft paper and a small bag of pearls the size of longans hidden in the rubble of a dry well. He had acquired several scrolls of calligraphy and paintings and a bag of pearls.

Under the shrine of an abandoned, supposedly haunted side hall of a dilapidated temple near the city wall, a hidden compartment was discovered. Inside were several heavy brocade bags, all filled with various unset gemstones—rubies, sapphires, emeralds, cat's-eyes… A bag of gemstones was acquired.

In just one week of frantic and efficient "sweeping," the hunter's cabin's huge underground warehouse gained: over 320 jin of gold, adding to the 1600 jin from the first time, totaling nearly 2000 jin; over 500 jin of silver, adding to the previous 500 jin, totaling over 1000 jin; and various jewels, jade, antiques, etc., filling five large wooden crates, and more than a dozen scrolls of calligraphy and paintings.

Wealth swelled like a snowball. The initial, suffocating shock had long since numbed him. When Wei Chen casually tossed the last bag of rough gemstones into the large box specifically for storing jewelry and miscellaneous items, looking at the mountains of gold and silver shimmering with a cold luster under the soft light, and at the priceless yet dusty treasures and paintings, a vast, indescribable emptiness and weariness overwhelmed him like a tidal wave.

There was no ecstatic joy as I had expected, only a deep numbness and... a touch of absurdity.

He slowly walked to the boxes filled with gold bars and picked up a heavy one. It was cold, hard, and heavy. He then picked up a piece of pigeon-blood red gemstone, which refracted a mesmerizing fire under the light.

Priceless. But at this moment, in his hands, they seemed no different in essence from a beautiful pebble in the forest at the hunter's cabin—both were objects, both were "things".

"What am I doing?" Wei Chen muttered to himself, his voice sounding particularly clear and desolate in the empty warehouse.

"Like a tireless mole, digging in the dark... just to move these things from one underground to another?" He looked at his hands, which were rough and covered in mud from days of digging and moving.

The enormous warehouse was piled high with wealth, gleaming with gold and precious stones, yet eerily silent, save for the sound of his own breathing. There was no joy in sharing, no means of using it—at least not openly and generously at the moment—only a cold, heavy sense of possession.

A strong sense of alertness suddenly struck him! The brief moment of clarity he had experienced at the hunter's hut a few days ago was now magnified countless times.

"Lost... Wei Chen, you're lost." He stared at the pile of cold wealth, as if judging himself. "These are windfalls, dust of the times, unclaimed possessions left by our predecessors. Obtaining them was luck, a byproduct of ability. But they shouldn't be goals, much less shackles!"

He recalled the scenes he had witnessed in Beijing during the day: the anxiety on the faces of housewives queuing to buy grain, the excited faces of workers by the blast furnace, their faces blackened by smoke, and the old people in the alleys fanning themselves while listening to opera... This was real life, with warmth, struggle, and hope.

He possessed the extraordinary ability to change his own circumstances, yet he almost succumbed to the frenzy of underground gold mining and became a slave driven by gold.

"That's enough." Wei Chen gently placed the gold bricks and gems back in their original places, his movements no longer showing the excitement of before, but only a sense of relief and calm.

He looked at this enormous wealth, enough to drive anyone mad, and his eyes cleared. "This is more than enough. More than you could spend in several lifetimes. It's here; it's my foundation, but it's not the whole meaning of my life."

He turned away from the gold bricks and jewels, his gaze fixed on the stairs leading from the warehouse to the hunter's lodge on the next level. There were warm rooms, clear mountain springs, and the tranquility and vitality of the forest. That was his true home and haven.

"It's time to stop," Wei Chen said softly, as if making a solemn decision. He took one last look around the underground space, which was filled with astonishing wealth yet was incredibly empty and desolate, and then took a step forward, resolutely stepping onto the upward stairs.

A week has passed, and it's Monday morning again. The meeting room with its mottled walls at the Hongxing Steel Rolling Mill is filled with smoke.

The team leader's voice was hoarse, as if scorched by smoke and fire, mixed with an undeniable excitement, jumping back and forth between the slogans of "exceeding the quarterly target" and "making new contributions to the Great Leap Forward in steel production."

Wei Chen sat by the window, seemingly focused, but his gaze occasionally drifted out. From the direction of the blast furnace area, several thick columns of black smoke pierced the leaden-gray sky, and even from this distance, the air was still filled with a faint, pungent smell of sulfur mixed with rust.

Closer to the wall outside the window, several newly built blast furnaces stood on the factory's open space. Workers were taking turns adding rusty scrap metal, scavenged from who-knows-where, into them. The furnace fire reflected on their soot-covered, tense faces. Slogans plastered on the walls were glaringly red: "One day equals twenty years; surpassing Britain and catching up with America will definitely be achieved!"

The weekly meeting was coming to an end. The team leader closed his folder and announced the meeting was over, and the ear-piercing sound of chair legs scraping against the concrete floor filled the air.

Wei Chen immediately got up to leave. Last week's almost frantic underground treasure hunt had emptied six hidden corners, and the huge haul filled the underground warehouse of this other world, but it had also drained a certain sense of novelty from his mind. At this moment, he just wanted to find a place to quietly "digest" it.

Just as he squeezed out of the conference room door, a calm voice came from the side: "Wei Chen, wait a moment."

Wei Chen paused and turned around. It was Yi Zhonghai, an old man from the courtyard house.

Yi Zhonghai was wearing the dark blue overalls commonly seen in steel rolling mills, faded slightly from washing, but crisply starched. He had a square face, and his eyes revealed a seriousness unique to this era, a mixture of responsibility and a certain other aspect. He walked up to Wei Chen, carrying a faint smell of machine oil and lingering cigarette smoke from the conference room.

"Uncle, you were looking for me?" Wei Chen asked politely, though he had a vague idea of ​​what was going on. Last week, he had been elusive, and the courtyard was almost deserted.

Yi Zhonghai nodded, his voice not loud, but clearly penetrating the noise of the departing crowd in the corridor: "Wei Chen, I looked for you several times last week but couldn't find you. It's like this, our neighborhood is responding to the national call for a nationwide steelmaking campaign, and our courtyard house can't fall behind."

The neighborhood committee also built a "mud basket" (a makeshift steelmaking furnace) on the open space east of the Drum Tower. He paused, as if emphasizing the importance of the matter, "All residents, regardless of gender or age, as long as they are able to move, must participate in voluntary labor."

For those without formal employment, the neighborhood committee arranged shifts for them, Monday through Saturday, rotating by area. For those of us with formal jobs, the neighborhood committee and the factory coordinated and arranged shifts; you must work three hours every Tuesday and Thursday after your regular job! And on Sundays, everyone is required to be there!

His gaze fell on Wei Chen's face, scrutinizing him: "The work schedule started last Tuesday, but you weren't there, and we couldn't notify you. You must participate in this week's shifts. This is a political task, a major event supporting national construction, and we can't be careless." Yi Zhonghai's tone became more forceful, conveying an air of undeniable authority.

Wei Chen understood immediately, and his face immediately put on just the right amount of enthusiasm and determination: "Oh, old man, I'm so sorry! Last week the factory sent me to several places to contact suppliers. I was constantly on the go."

"Don't worry! Everyone has a responsibility to the nation's steel industry! To catch up with and surpass Britain and the United States, our worker brothers must be at the forefront! I promise to attend on time this week and I won't let you down!" He patted his chest, his voice booming, looking every bit the enthusiastic activist.

A satisfied look appeared on Yi Zhonghai's serious face as he nodded: "Hmm, it's good that you have this awareness. Your shifts are arranged: Tuesday and Thursday evenings, report to the open space east of Gulou at 6:30 sharp, and work until 9:30."

"All day Sunday, from 7 a.m. to 5 p.m.," he said succinctly, then added, "Bring your water bottle; it's dusty and hot when you're working." With that, he said no more and turned to merge into the dispersing crowd.

Watching Yi Zhonghai's straight figure disappear around the corner of the corridor, Wei Chen's "excitement" slowly faded, and his brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. Three days a week, after get off work and all of Sunday, he had to spend his time beside the dusty earthen stove…

His time was completely taken up. He subconsciously rubbed the wallet in his pocket, the thick feel inside bringing a sense of comfort. Fortunately, last week's "harvest" was substantial enough that he could temporarily put aside the pressure of purchasing tasks, and no one at the factory was pressuring him.

"Oh well, I'll just treat it as a life experience," Wei Chen muttered to himself, then thought, "But I need to go home first. I was so busy being a 'groundhog' last week that I haven't been home for several days. Mom must be worried."

He pushed his bicycle out of the heavy iron gate of the steel rolling mill. The afternoon sun was scorching, and the air was filled with the familiar smell of industrial dust.

Instead of leaving directly, he pedaled his bicycle and skillfully turned into a relatively bustling street near Dongsi. Along the roadside, a long queue stretched in front of a shop with a sign that read "State-Owned Fourth Food Store," mostly filled with housewives carrying baskets or nets. A rich aroma of noodles wafted from inside.