Rebirth in 1972: Redemption in Changbai Mountain

The main reason is that Zhou Rui earns far too much.

Although the money was earned by hunting in the mountains, some people won't listen to what you say. Having too many valuables at home is also a sin.

"No, he only knows that my surname is Zhou, but he doesn't know my given name or which production brigade I'm from."

"Besides, he saw me today but didn't say a word."

The kerosene lamp wick suddenly popped, and a drop of lamp oil splashed onto Lin Qiuyue's hand, burning her so much that she recoiled.

Zhou Rui took Lin Qiuyue's hand, blew on the back of her hand, and then hugged her in his arms.

"Trust me, everything will be alright."

In the middle of the night, Zhou Rui, carrying a basket on his back, pedaled his bicycle quickly against the cold wind.

There was some food and two bottles of good wine in the basket.

Seeing Old Man Lang at the market today, he knew that Old Man Lang must have run out of food.

This time, Zhou Rui wasn't after any antiques; he just wanted to save the old man's life.

The car was parked in a remote spot, and Zhou Rui didn't even leave the door, instead climbing onto the wall like a cat.

After looking around, he found that no one was watching him.

He silently jumped into the yard and strode into the house.

Zhou Rui pushed open the half-closed door. The door panel was hanging crookedly on the hinge on one side, and the floor was covered with broken tiles.

Zhou Rui looked up, and starlight fell from above.

It seems that the group of people with red armbands searched even the rooftop of Old Man Lang's house to find his valuables.

Zhou Rui walked inside, stepping on the broken tiles, passing overturned tables and chairs that had fallen to the ground.

Suddenly, a faint groan came from the inner room.

Zhou Rui stepped forward and, through the empty doorway, saw a figure lying on a wooden plank, next to a large, torn kang (a heated brick bed).

"You've arrived."

Zhou Rui squatted down and found a few old clothes on the ground to put under the back of Old Man Lang's head.

"Old Lang, how are you?"

"What did you bring?" Old Man Lang didn't answer Zhou Rui's question, but instead stared intently at the basket on Zhou Rui's back.

"Rice, fish, and two bottles of wine."

"Help me up and give me a couple of sips of wine." Old Man Lang's voice was a little louder, making it clearer to Zhou Rui.

Zhou Rui put the basket on the ground: "I'll go cook you some fish porridge. It'll be even better with a side dish."

"No...no need." Old Man Lang reached out to stop him, his withered hands devoid of the little bit of flesh he had gained in the past few days.

"The stove has been completely removed, so we can't cook anything."

"Besides...cough cough...besides, I'm not going to make it through the night. I just want to have a few ounces of good wine before I die."

Old Man Lang spoke haltingly, but his expression was still fairly clear.

Zhou Rui's hand suddenly stopped; a bamboo splinter from the basket on his back had pierced his finger, drawing a drop of blood.

He didn't reply, but instead took out a kerosene lighter from his pocket.

The faint flame flickered, illuminating Old Man Lang's face, which was covered in bruises.

The scab at the corner of his mouth cracked, and the oozing blood stuck the white beard on his chin together in strands.

A large, dark brown bloodstain had seeped onto the lower back of his cotton-padded jacket, sticking stiffly to his skin.

"Don't talk nonsense." Zhou Rui blew out the fire, his voice low but carrying the deep, resolute quality typical of people from the mountains.

"I still have half a ginseng root left from the mountain I dug up last week. I soaked it in alcohol, and drinking it will keep me alive."

He bent down and helped Old Man Lang up, then sat him against the wall.

He then took out two sheets of dry oil paper from the bottom of the basket and spread them on the ground.

First, he took out the two unopened bottles of liquor, and then he pulled out half a smoked pig leg wrapped in oil paper.

Zhou Rui took out a knife and sliced ​​the pig's leg into thin slices. The slices landed on the oil paper, but no aroma wafted from them.

Old Man Lang reached out to grab the wine bottle, but his withered fingers trembled so much that he could no longer hold it.

Zhou Rui took the wine bottle from his hand, then stuffed two pieces of meat into his hand, and got up to find two relatively intact rice bowls outside.

Zhou Rui unscrewed the bottle cap, and the clear liquid filled two bowls. A refreshing aroma of wine instantly filled the dusty room.

He brought the wine to Old Man Lang's lips, watching as the wine trickled down the old man's chapped lips. Old Man Lang choked and coughed twice, blood and foam mixed with the wine dripping from the corner of his mouth.

He smiled, a very faint wrinkle appearing on his wrinkled face: "Good wine... even better than the jar I drank when I got married."

Zhou Rui didn't reply. He picked up his bowl and gulped it down in one go, a surge of anger rising in his stomach.

"Back then, my family was considered a wealthy family in this area. We had eaten all kinds of food and drunk all kinds of wine."

"Later the policy changed, and our family's livelihood was confiscated, and all our money was taken away."

"My family members are either dead or scattered, leaving only me, an old man, squatting in this dilapidated house."

He glanced up at the hole in the roof that let in starlight, his gaze drifting far away, as if passing through the mess in the courtyard and returning to the deep courtyard filled with the aroma of wine decades ago.

Zhou Rui didn't urge him, and fed him another small sip of wine. The wine slid down his throat, and Old Man Lang seemed to catch his breath a little better.

"Those people knew my family was well-off, so they ransacked my house three times, and even sifted the soil in my kang (heated brick bed) three or four times."

Old Man Lang coughed twice, and blood splattered onto the oilcloth, but he didn't care at all.

"Young man, everyone thinks that I've endured these past ten years because I'm afraid of dying, but that's not true."

"I'm waiting for someone."

Zhou Rui looked up, surprised, at Old Man Lang: "Waiting for whom?"

"Everyone thought my wife died young and my two sons hanged themselves, leaving me as a lonely old man."

A faint tremor escaped Old Man Lang's voice, "Actually, my eldest son left with the troops back then and never came back."

Zhou Rui's heart sank. Those soldiers who left in those years were either buried on the battlefield or went to the other side of the strait. To ever set foot on their homeland again was harder than climbing to heaven.

"I've been guarding this dilapidated courtyard for over a decade, and wave after wave of raiders have come to confiscate my property."

I gritted my teeth and didn't utter a single word, just in case he suddenly came back one day and I wouldn't even be able to find a house I recognized.

Old Man Lang's withered fingers drew a crooked line on the muddy ground. Suddenly, he gripped Zhou Rui's wrist tightly, gathering all his remaining strength in his fingertips.

"I'm not only waiting for him, but also for someone I can trust to hand over what I've kept hidden for half my life."

Beneath the ruined Taoist temple outside the city, there is an old well that never dries up, and some of their family's wealth is hidden in a secret passage beneath the well.

Large yellow croakers, jewelry, and several boxes of antiques and jade.

Consider those large yellow croakers as payment for your trip today.

"As for the rest, you can give them to my son yourself when he comes back."

Just as Zhou Rui was about to nod in agreement, the sound of leather shoes stepping on the bluestone slabs suddenly came from the alley entrance, moving step by step toward the courtyard gate, getting closer and closer.

Zhou Rui tensed up instantly, his hand silently reaching for the dagger tucked into his waistband, the coolness of the blade seeping into his skin through the coarse cloth.

The footsteps stopped at the courtyard gate for a few seconds, the wooden door was shaken, a couple of curses drifted over, and then gradually faded into the alley.

Zhou Rui breathed a sigh of relief and turned his head, only to see Old Man Lang's head tilted to the side, his eyes half-open, looking in the direction of the courtyard gate.

The half-sliced ​​smoked meat in my hand fell onto the muddy ground, and the heat in my nose had long since dissipated.

The wind blew in through the broken window, swirling up the scraps of paper scattered on the floor.

Zhou Rui sat on the cold, muddy ground, still clutching a half-empty bowl of wine in his hand. The aroma of the wine mingled with the smell of dust, making it heavy and suffocating in the cold night.