Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

Hearing Wei Chen's words, and weighing the heavy, greasy piece of meat in her hand, Third Aunt finally accepted it with a beaming smile, muttering, "Oh dear, you child... you've gone to too much trouble! Well, Third Aunt will shamelessly accept it! Wei Guo, Wei Min, hurry up and thank your brother Chen!"

The two boys immediately shouted at the top of their lungs, "Thank you, Brother Chenzi!" Their eyes were still glued to the piece of meat, as if they could already smell the rich aroma of stewing meat in the pot.

Wei Chen smiled and patted his two younger cousins ​​on the shoulders: "Study hard and listen to your parents!" Amidst the enthusiastic pleas of his third uncle and aunt to stay, he shouldered his basket, bid farewell, and left. Behind him came the sound of his third aunt excitedly planning to "make meat dumplings tonight" and the two boys' barely suppressed cheers.

After leaving his third uncle's house, Wei Chen walked through most of the village and headed towards the old house in the center of the village—the place where his grandfather Wei Shoutian, grandmother Wang, and his uncle Wei Changsheng's family lived.

The old house is noticeably more imposing than the other houses around it, with its blue bricks and gray tiles bearing the marks of time. The courtyard walls are also higher, showing the small glory that the Wei family once had.

As soon as the heavy, peeling paint of the courtyard gate was pushed open, a hoarse yet powerful voice rang out: "Who is it? Is it young Chen?"

Grandpa Wei Shoutian, dressed in an old cotton-padded jacket that had been washed until it was faded, was pacing around in the yard with his hands behind his back, habitually picking at a few plump wheat seeds in his hand. Although he was over fifty years old, his back was still straight and his eyes were sharp, a spirit honed by years of working in the fields.

"Grandpa, it's me!" Wei Chen replied quickly.

"Oh my! It's really my good grandson!" Grandma Wang heard the voice and came out of the main room by lifting the curtain. Her wrinkled face instantly broke into a smile. She took a few shaky steps forward and grabbed Wei Chen's hand. His hands were rough and warm, with the slight trembling that was unique to the elderly.

"Quick, come inside! It's chilly outside! Grandma will get you some sugar water!" Without another word, she pulled Wei Chen into the house.

The main room was dimly lit but clean and tidy. There was a heavy eight-immortal table, several well-worn armchairs, and an old-fashioned long table against the wall with simple ancestral tablets on it. The air was filled with the faint scent of incense and candles, as well as the unique aroma of the old man's house, a mixture of mugwort and old wood.

Grandma pulled Wei Chen to sit down on a chair, then turned to get the sugar jar on top of the cabinet, which was the most precious item in the house for entertaining guests.

"Chenzi is here?" Uncle Wei Changsheng's voice came from the inner room, hoarse from just waking up. He came out wearing an old cotton-padded coat, his face bearing the marks of a farmer's years of hardship, but his eyes were steady. He was a highly respected "capable person" in the village and the actual head of the Wei family.

[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name: 20 ...

"Uncle." Wei Chen stood up.

"Sit down, sit down!" Uncle waved his hand and sat down opposite Wei Chen. Grandma carefully placed a bowl of steaming sweet soup in front of Wei Chen, her cloudy eyes full of love: "Drink some, it's sweet and will warm you up."

Wei Chen picked up the bowl, the warm sweetness sliding down his throat. Under the earnest gaze of his grandparents and the gentle look of his uncle, he recounted in detail how he had secured a job at the steel rolling mill, become a level nine purchasing officer, and earned a fixed monthly income of thirty yuan.

"Good! Good!" Grandpa Wei Shoutian slapped his thigh hard, his fingers that were twisting wheat seeds stopped, and his face was full of undisguised pride. "My grandson Wei Shoutian is successful! He's got a government job! And it's a big factory in Beijing! He's brought honor to our ancestors!" His voice was loud and clear, and a few grains of dust fell from the roof beams.

"Purchaser? That's a great job!" Uncle Wei Changsheng smiled with satisfaction, his eyes filled with approval. "You need to be quick-witted, have a sharp tongue, be able to hunt, and understand human relationships. Chenzi, this job suits you! Thirty yuan a month is a decent income in the city. Do a good job! We'll keep all the things our village needs to replace for you; we won't give them to any other purchasing agents."

When Wei Chen mentioned that he had bought a small courtyard in the city and started renovating it, his grandfather and uncle praised him repeatedly.

"You did the right thing!" Uncle Wei Changsheng nodded heavily, his expression serious. "Mancang left early, and you've matured early, which is a good thing! If the policy allows it and you have the ability, you should seize the opportunity to buy a house! It's the foundation for settling down! Wait? When will that happen? You might not even get a chance! Having your own place makes you feel at ease!" His words were firm and full of the wisdom and pragmatism of someone who had been through it all.

After discussing Wei Chen's matter, the conversation naturally turned to the big event that was about to happen in the village—establishing a collective canteen.

The smile on my uncle's face faded slightly, his brows furrowed, and his fingers tapped unconsciously on the table: "...The commune is pressing hard, telling every village to get it done as soon as possible, saying it's 'running into communism'... But 'free meals' and 'eat your fill' sound like good things, but where will the food come from? We'll just be eating away at our reserves!"

His voice was low, tinged with a barely perceptible worry. As a village cadre, he had a deeper understanding than the ordinary villagers, knowing the extent of the grain reserves in the warehouse.

Wei Chen's heart skipped a beat; this was his chance to subtly offer a hint. He put down his bowl of sweet soup, carefully choosing his words: "Uncle, you're right. I've heard that in other places, things started off just as well, with plenty of white flour buns. But life has to be a long-term process... Our village-run business is an inevitable trend, so we definitely have to do it. However, shouldn't we... have some guidelines? For example, be more careful with our spending, and not be too extravagant? Or... think of a way to have some backup plans, like storing more coarse grains and dried sweet potatoes in the warehouse, just in case... we encounter some unfavorable years?" He didn't use the harsh word "famine," but the meaning was clear.

A glint of light flashed in Grandpa Wei Shoutian's cloudy eyes. He stopped twisting the wheat seeds, looked deeply at Wei Chen, and nodded slightly without saying a word.

Uncle Wei Changsheng fell into a brief silence, his fingers tapping the table more rapidly, clearly deep in thought about Wei Chen's words. The main room was quiet for a moment, save for the faint crackling of the firewood burning in the stove.

Knowing that the conversation had reached this point and it was not appropriate to discuss it further, Wei Chen changed the subject. He got up and took out a prepared oil paper package from his basket, which contained two catties of pork. Then he pulled out a heavy coarse cloth bag from the corner of the basket, which contained about ten catties of high-quality white flour.

"Grandpa, Grandma, Uncle, please keep this meat and flour for yourself." Wei Chen put the food on the table. "We changed jobs for the two big wild boars we had, and the factory bought the smaller ones. I exchanged them for some grain coupons and meat coupons to improve our family's life. This flour is for Grandpa and Grandma to make some noodle soup in the morning, it's good for their stomachs."

"Oh dear! You child! Why did you take so much again!" Grandma Wang looked at the dazzlingly white flour, slapping her thigh with heartache. "This white flour is so precious! Keep it for you to eat in the city! What do we old folks eat anyway!"

Grandpa and Uncle also declined repeatedly, but Wei Chen was adamant: "It's convenient for me in the city, and besides, it's only right that I show you respect. I still need to deliver some to my master, so I won't stay any longer."

"Yes, yes, yes! We should go! We should go and thank your master properly!" Grandpa Wei Shoutian said immediately, his face full of sincere gratitude. "Your master is a great benefactor to our family! He played a big role in your success this time! As for that wild boar... Brother Zhao played a big role!" In their simple understanding, the ferocious king of the forest could only be the work of the old hunter Zhao Tieshou.

"Yes, I understand." Wei Chen nodded in agreement, bid farewell to his reluctant grandparents and his pensive uncle, picked up his basket again, and headed toward the familiar ridge behind the village.

The mountain road was rugged, and the vegetation was growing thicker.

The closer they got to the master craftsman's dwelling at the mountaintop, the crisper the air became, carrying the primal scents of pine resin and earth. In the distance, the rhythmic scraping of a sharp blade against leather could be heard. Turning past a dense pine forest, Wei Chen spotted that familiar figure.

On a flat boulder at the edge of the cliff, Master Zhao Gensheng sat cross-legged. His hair and beard were all white, but he was vigorous and his body was as lean as iron.

At this moment, his back was slightly hunched, and his calloused, knuckle-thick hands held a skinning knife as thin as a willow leaf and gleaming coldly with unusual stability.

The blade was pressed tightly against the lining of a gray-black wolf skin covered with dark red scabs, and the wrist moved steadily and powerfully, making a soft "scratching" sound.

Each scrape precisely removes a thin layer of grease and fascia from the skin, the movements so skillful they're like breathing, carrying an almost artistic rhythm.

At his feet lay several wolf pelts, mostly processed, the heavy stench of blood and the distinctive odor of wild beasts filling the chilly air.

"Master," Wei Chen stepped forward and greeted him respectfully.

Zhao Gensheng didn't even raise his head, his hands continuing their work without pause, only letting out a soft "hmm" through his nose as a response. Only after meticulously scraping away the last bit of fascia from the skin in his hand did he slowly put down the knife, carefully wiping the blade with a damp coarse cloth before finally looking up at Wei Chen. Those eyes remained as sharp as a hawk's, seemingly capable of piercing the heart.

"You're here? Put your things down." His voice was hoarse and low, like sandpaper rubbing.

Wei Chen put down the basket as instructed, took out two catties of pork wrapped in oil paper, and deliberately placed another coarse cloth bag containing ten catties of white flour in a conspicuous place: "Master, here's some pork and white flour for you to keep."

Zhao Gensheng's gaze swept over the pork, then paused for a moment on the white noodles.

Although he was an experienced hunter who spent his life among wild animals in the mountains and forests and had no shortage of meat, this kind of domestic pork, with its perfect balance of fat and lean and excellent appearance, was still a rare find in the mountains. As for the fine white flour, it was even more precious.