Fishing and Hunting 82, Starting with Three Sisters Who Overprotect Their Brothers

It was completely dark by now.

The cool evening breeze of late June rustled through the wild grass.

The graves were scattered about, varying in height and size, and most of them had no tombstones. They were all dark and quiet, so quiet that you could hear each other's heartbeats, which was strangely eerie.

Lang Qiuping, who had already reached for the axe at his waist, swallowed hard and asked in a strained voice, "Brother Shanzi, what brings you here?"

Growing up in the countryside, who hasn't heard all sorts of strange tales?

Even with his boldness, he felt a chill run down his spine at that moment.

Because the place is remote and no one comes here, wild animals naturally gather here. I was so focused on looking at the pheasant tracks that I didn't even look up.

Zhang Wenshan remained silent, raised his hand and pressed down on Lang Qiuping's arm, signaling him to be quiet, and slowly backed away.

He hadn't seen clearly what that fleeting thing was.

Logically speaking, since the snake repellent was applied and the other party's body shape didn't resemble a wild boar or wolf, there shouldn't be any danger.

But what if...

Zhang Wenshan cautiously retreated, but just then, he heard rustling sounds coming from the grass, and he could vaguely see something moving.

Lang Qiuping's heart tightened, and the hairs on his body stood on end instantly.

He swiftly drew his axe and, instead of retreating, advanced: "Brother Shanzi, you go first."

"Don't be impulsive," Zhang Wenshan whispered, stroking the heavy metal stun gun in his hand, his thumb finding the switch and gently pushing it forward.

The beam of light trembled and swayed as it streamed out from the glass lamp head.

The bright center and the dim surroundings did not lessen the fear; instead, they stretched the shadows of the surrounding graves and weeds long, adding to the eerie atmosphere.

Fortunately, the beam of light also locked onto that figure.

The other vehicle stopped on a half-collapsed grave mound. It had a slender body, glossy yellow fur, and stood upright on its two hind legs.

Its two paws were tucked into its chest like human hands.

A pair of small, round eyes gleamed green in the darkness, staring intently at them without moving.

"Weasel." Zhang Wenshan breathed a sigh of relief, his nerves no longer tense.

This thing isn't very lethal.

"Weasel!" Lang Qiuping tensed up instantly, his voice becoming shrill, and he almost sat down on the ground.

Zhang Wenshan reacted quickly, helping the person up and pulling them to the back.

For him, the weasel was nothing, but for the people of rural Northeast China in the 1980s, it was the most legendary of the Five Immortals.

The various supernatural tales surrounding weasels are widely circulated, and some even consider them somewhat sinister.

It can communicate with spirits, bewitch people, and hold grudges... It's truly frightening to encounter it at this time and place.

Some things are better left unthought.

Zhang Wenshan wasn't afraid at first, but as he thought about it, all sorts of stories involuntarily flooded his mind, and before he knew it, his neck felt a chill.

Fortunately, the weasel didn't make a move.

They watched each other until they disappeared from sight.

"Oh my god! That scared me to death!"

As soon as he stepped out of the cemetery, Lang Qiuping could no longer hold on and collapsed to the ground with a thud.

"Brother Shanzi, let's not go out tomorrow. Huang Daxian holds a grudge; he'll definitely take revenge on us."

"No..." Zhang Wenshan was about to say that we shouldn't be superstitious, but the words that came out were, "We didn't offend the Weasel spirit. We caught a pheasant with our trap, so consider it an offering. Why hold a grudge?"

"Yeah, that's true." Lang Qiuping's tension immediately eased, and he scratched his head, saying, "How about we add a couple more?"

"If you can't finish eating at Wong Tai Sin, let's go home!"

Zhang Wenshan glanced at the spot where the weasel had been, and lost the will to continue setting traps.

Heaven knows how many weasels are around. Setting more traps is just providing food for them. We need to find another place.

As for dealing with the weasels...

He wasn't afraid of breaking taboos, nor was he afraid of other people's strange looks, but not his family.

When I got back to the village, my family was already asleep.

He tiptoed back to his hut, sat cross-legged on the kang (a heated brick bed), and took out the money he had earned during this time by the light of the flashlight.

The paper, pens, and coins were piled up together, making it very troublesome to count them.

But who would complain about the hassle of counting money?

"Five cents, two dimes, three dollars..."

Zhang Wenshan separated the banknotes and coins, and arranged them neatly according to their face value.

"Seventy-four, not bad."

He counted three times patiently, and after confirming that he was right, a slight smile appeared on his lips.

In 1982, this was no small sum; it was close to two months' wages for a worker. In a good year, it could be exchanged for more than 700 catties of grain. In the countryside, any family with two or three hundred yuan in savings was considered wealthy.

"Unfortunately, it will soon be nothing."

With the distribution of land and the opening up of the economy, people were able to independently control their grain and agricultural products.

Soon more and more people will be doing business, taking on side jobs, and the bolder ones will be running transportation or opening workshops...

Who knows, there might be a family with ten thousand yuan next year.

If you try to get a permit or certificate for thirty yuan later, forget about it.

"Let's talk about it after the crackdown is over."

Zhang Wenshan took a deep breath, suppressed his urge to cause trouble, put the money into his pocket, and prepared to exchange it for larger bills in town the next day.

You can't just hand over pennies when you need someone's help.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but he drifted off to sleep, and in his hazy state, the earthen bed beneath him turned into a soft mattress.

The dusty mud floor has been replaced by shiny ceramic tiles, and the dilapidated mud houses have been transformed into brick and tile houses.

He had heating, a stove... everything was provided, and then he got married.

Just as he reached out to lift the red veil, a furious roar suddenly erupted in his ears.

"I...your ancestors for eight generations."

The voice sounded familiar; it seemed to be Mrs. Wang.

Zhang Wenshan suddenly woke up, the angry shouts in his ears becoming even clearer.

"You filthy-hearted, rotten-necked bastard, you gave birth to a son without an anus, why are you trying to instigate my daughter-in-law when you can't even beat Zhang Wenshan yourself?"

The commotion outside grew increasingly chaotic, so Zhang Wenshan hastily threw on some clothes and rushed out.

As soon as I arrived at the gate, I saw that the yard was in complete chaos.

Old Mrs. Wang brandished her cane and stabbed Li Yuegang, whose face was bruised and swollen, while shouting, "I won't even bother to tell you about your family's petty squabbles."

Li Yuegang's face turned ashen, and he did not retaliate.

His wife, Sun Xiaoqin, immediately objected, baring her teeth and brandishing her claws as she pounced on him, yelling, "You old bastard, how dare you hit my man!"

"Oh dear, that's so unfair!"

Two women, one old and one young, started fighting, and the people standing around them all took two steps back, looking on with amusement.

Zhang Wenshan looked at his family and asked, "What's going on?"

"Old Li and his wife instigated others to ask you for money for the snakes," Xu Xiulian said, rubbing her head with a worried expression. "Old Mrs. Wang, please speak up for me."

"She's changed her ways. Normally she would definitely be clamoring for a share of the money," Zhang Fengxia asked curiously.

Money power is at work!

Zhang Wenshan smiled without saying a word, turned around and went back into the house to get a cornbread, took a bite, leaned against the door frame, and leisurely watched the show.

In rural areas, fighting and cursing require professionals.