Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

Hu Songnian, who had been listening the whole time, couldn't help but pat Wei Chen on the shoulder, his tone a mix of surprise and admiration: "Good lad! You've really got it! Those two beasts yesterday took me almost half a month to run! Alright, now you can relax! But don't just sit around idle, keep running around and get familiar with the environment!"

"Yes, Master Hu, I've got it!" Wei Chen thanked him sincerely. Today, from the sweltering heat of his work to the unexpected "abundance" in the finance department, he had learned a great deal, gaining a deeper understanding of this era and his job.

Stepping out of the finance department, it was already completely dark outside. The streetlights in the factory area were gradually turning on, and under their dim yellow glow, workers continued to come and go, the sounds of bicycle bells and laughter drifting in the summer night air. The shadows of the blast furnaces and chimneys in the factory area appeared particularly large in the night, with a few sparks of welding occasionally flashing high above.

"Alright, Wei Chen, I need to get home right now. I'm covered in sweat, my bones feel like they're about to fall apart!" Hu Songnian pushed the bike, stretching his aching back. "You should go back to your dorm and get some rest too. You've had a tiring day."

"Okay, Mr. Hu, take care!" Wei Chen watched Hu Songnian merge into the flow of people leaving get off work, his figure quickly disappearing into the dim light.

He didn't go back to the dormitory immediately. With over sixty yuan in his pocket, and the sweat and dust from the day still clinging to his body, and more importantly, he didn't want to return to that small, crowded dormitory filled with the smell of sweat and snoring so early. On a whim, he put the sixty yuan into his game backpack, where it was the safest place.

Wei Chen pushed his bicycle and slowly walked out of the heavy gate of the steel rolling mill with the flow of people. Just a wall away, the summer night scene of Beijing unfolded before his eyes.

The main road in front of the factory was still bustling, but it had a more languid feel than during the day. The state-run restaurants along the road were brightly lit, their windows fogged up, and figures moved about inside, with the sounds of clinking dishes and muffled laughter drifting out.

Several food stalls were set up at the entrance, and under the dim light of the carbide lamps, vendors were enthusiastically calling out: "Iced mung bean soup! Three cents a bowl to beat the heat!" "Sesame flatbread! Hot!" The air was filled with a mixture of food, sweat, dust, and the faint scent of locust blossoms.

After work, the workers went home in twos and threes. Some hurried home, while others gathered around the stalls, spending a few cents to drink a bowl of cold soup and eat a sesame seed cake, enjoying a rare moment of relaxation during the day.

Wei Chen pushed the cart aimlessly along the quiet streets and alleys. The light from the streetlights was dappled and fragmented by the dense sycamore leaves on both sides, and the cicadas continued their tireless chirping in the night.

Occasionally, an old man in a white vest, fanning himself with a palm-leaf fan, would sit on a small stool at the entrance of the alley, enjoying the cool air, while a radio played Peking Opera or revolutionary songs. Women in floral t-shirts would wash clothes by the tap, chatting quietly about everyday matters. Shirtless teenagers would chase and play under the streetlights, their laughter ringing out. The whole city was enveloped in a slow-paced and genuine atmosphere of everyday life.

He passed by a small, state-run restaurant with a sign that read "Red Star Snack Shop." Inside, it was bustling with people and filled with the enticing aroma of stir-fried dishes.

Wei Chen rubbed his rumbling stomach. He didn't want to go back to the hunter's cabin to cook for himself anymore. Now that his work was basically stable and he had completed most of his tasks for the month, he had money and time, so why not enjoy himself?

So Wei Chen locked his bicycle and went inside. The space inside wasn't large, with seven or eight greasy square tables, filled with diners in work clothes, sweating profusely. The ceiling fan overhead futilely stirred the stuffy air.

He walked to the greasy counter and looked up at the small blackboard on the wall with the menu written in chalk: Shredded pork stir-fried pancake: 2 liang of grain coupons, 18 cents; Vegetarian stir-fried pancake: 2 liang of grain coupons, 8 cents; Egg drop soup: 5 cents; Bottled beer: 15 cents a bowl.

"Comrade, what would you like to eat?" A middle-aged woman wearing a white apron and covered in sweat asked without looking up from behind the counter.

"One serving of stir-fried pork with pancakes and a bowl of egg drop soup." Wei Chen handed over two ounces of grain coupons and three mao and three fen (one mao and eighteen fen plus five fen).

"Wait here!" The woman took the money, tore off a small receipt, threw it to Wei Chen, and yelled at the kitchen, "One meat-fried pancake! One bowl of egg drop soup!"

Wei Chen found an empty seat in a corner. After waiting for about ten minutes, a young man, also wearing an apron, came over with a large enamel plate and a bowl of soup, slamming it onto the table. Forget about poor service; it was already a small favor that they even brought it to him. Usually, he had to go to the window to get his food himself. These days, everyone is part of the working class; no one is inferior to anyone else!

The fried pancakes were glistening with oil, and the shredded meat was so sparse as to be almost negligible; it was mainly bean sprouts and shredded cabbage, but the aroma was irresistible. The egg drop soup was simply boiled water with a few egg drop pieces tossed in, topped with a few scallions and drops of oil.

Wei Chen picked up his chopsticks and slowly ate the simple food. The taste wasn't particularly good, and it was quite oily and salty, but it was warm and comforting.

All around him were the loud laughter and chatter of workers, the slurping of noodles, and the clinking of enamel mugs. As he ate, he quietly observed, experiencing this authentic slice of life from ordinary workers in Beijing in the 1950s. Having achieved financial freedom in the 1950s, he sat here with an unusually peaceful state of mind, even a touch of detached curiosity.

After finishing his meal and leaving the bustling snack shop, the cool summer night breeze finally brought a touch of refreshment. Wei Chen pushed his cart, continuing his journey through the alleyways. He deliberately avoided the main roads, choosing instead narrower, darker alleys with fewer pedestrians. The streetlights grew increasingly sparse, and the shadows of the sycamore trees deepened.

Finally, he turned into a dead end. At the end of the alley were piles of abandoned bricks and debris. There were no streetlights, only a faint light coming from the main road in the distance. After confirming that no one was around, Wei Chen made a mental decision.

The scene before me blurred and distorted instantly. The humid, sultry air of the summer night alley, the distant, indistinct sounds of the city, and the buzzing of mosquitoes vanished in an instant. In their place came absolute tranquility and an indescribable freshness.

The next second, he was standing in the familiar, modern living room of the "Hunter's Lodge." Soft overhead lights automatically turned on, and the air conditioner blew out a cool, pleasant breeze, instantly dispelling the lingering heat and sweat. Outside the window, the space presented the same unchanging, tranquil forest scene, like a game loading screen.

Wei Chen let out a long, thorough sigh of relief, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He casually leaned his bicycle against the clean wall, took off his sweat-soaked and stiff work vest and threw it into the fully automatic washing machine in the corner. Barefoot, he stepped onto the cool, smooth wooden floor and walked towards the spacious, comfortable, and fully equipped modern kitchen.

He opened the refrigerator, took out a bottle of chilled soda, and the cold touch of the glass bottle invigorated him. He had bought it a few days ago. The Hunter's Lodge was fully furnished with modern furniture and appliances, but it didn't have any food or drink to eat or drink, so Wei Chen would wander around Beijing whenever he had free time, buying whatever he could find and putting it inside.

I opened the bottle cap with a soft "hiss," tilted my head back, and took a big gulp. The cool, bubbly, sweet water slid down my throat, dispelling the last trace of fatigue and heat, bringing an indescribable, almost luxurious sense of satisfaction.

He walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the vibrant forest outside that seemed both illusory and real. Wei Chen wondered what kind of existence the game world truly was. He had pondered this question many times, trying various methods to ask and probe, but to no avail. However, overall, it was a good thing for him, the foundation upon which he could stand in this world. Moreover, it had bestowed upon him a cultivation technique like the "Nine Heavens Sun-Shooting Technique," a practice found only in mythology. What more could he ask for?

Looking at the cash balance in my backpack, I realized I'd accumulated 1911 yuan. For someone like me with connections, making money is easy; the challenge is making that money honest and allowing me to live comfortably in this era. Now that I have a job, and a relaxed one at that—a purchasing agent—everything is solved.

In the rare quiet, Wei Chen thought about many things. He thought of Granny Wang clutching a few eggs under the scorching sun, Hu Songnian's exhausted figure drenched in sweat, Sister Liu from the finance department clattering on her abacus, and the bland, watery food in the canteen's big pot...

The stark contrast between reality and space, the ease with which the mission was "unexpectedly" completed, and the purchasing funds in his arms all point in the same direction—he must, and is fully capable, make good use of this space and do something within the framework of the rules.

The lights in the "Hunter's Lodge" were warm and tranquil. Wei Chen tilted his head back and finished the last sip of his soda, then precisely tossed the bottle into the corner trash can—the trash can here had an automatic system. He turned and walked lightly toward his bedroom on the second floor. Tomorrow would be a brand new day.