After spring arrived, branches put forth buds, and the desolate grass turned green. The pale, bleached world finally brimmed with vitality. The sun shone warmly all day long, and from time to time, a rain shower would pass. Li Cunxin and the others shed their layers of fur and wore the clothes from their original world, feeling much lighter and unencumbered.
The beacon fire was still lit every day, but as winter turned to spring, not a single soul appeared. Li Cunxin, who had gone four years without seeing a living person, had never really held much hope of attracting anyone so quickly. But Xia Qing, Yunxiu, and the others were quite disappointed. Among them, Zhao Penglai was the most disheartened.
Li Cunxin, however, carried on as usual. Beside the original earthen enclosure, she had built a stone platform base, filling it with dirt every day, planning to construct a high platform. Eventually, she’d build a tall frame on the platform to hold a roaring bonfire so the smoke would rise even higher and drift even farther.
This year, there were significantly more people, and the appetites of the two grown men were considerable. No one knew if more people would still arrive.
If she only planted just over one acre of fields this year, even with a good harvest, it wouldn’t be enough to feed so many. She needed to clear more paddy fields.
Thinking about clearing new land, she figured since she was going to do it, she might as well go big. She’d also open up some higher fields and eventually plant cotton.
After the land clearing, she would have to start cotton seedling cultivation. Immediately after that came harvesting the wheat, planting the cotton, raising rice seedlings, and transplanting them.
They only had these few days of relative leisure. The scattered free moments during the farming rush would each have their own duties assigned. From then until June, they would all be busy—nothing like winter, when they huddled indoors all day.
Before the heavy work began, Li Cunxin naturally wanted everyone to have a good meal.
The litter of rabbit kits she had been raising had grown considerably. Some of the rabbits were already entering heat. Yan Baiyu said the rabbits were sexually mature but not yet fully grown; they needed more time before they could be bred. Early mating was risky.
Li Cunxin picked the fattest one from the rabbit hutch, pinched its ears, and carried it into the kitchen. She handed it to Yunxiu. “Do it in.”
“Huh?” Yunxiu took the rabbit. “Didn’t Sister Baiyu say the rabbits weren’t full-grown yet?”
“They’re close enough. A few days won’t matter. We’re clearing new land today; everyone needs to eat well. Stew this, or… do whatever you think is best. Also, fry one of those smoked fish Zhao Penglai brought back. Look around for whatever else you can make.”
The rabbit struggled in Yunxiu’s arms, kicking her with its hind legs. Yunxiu grabbed its ears and held it at arm’s length. “Alright.”
She called Xu Yin over to help. Xu Yin slaughtered the rabbit, drained the blood, and skinned it, then handed it whole over to Yunxiu.
While chopping the rabbit on the cutting board, Yunxiu sighed at the rabbit head. “If it weren’t for the lack of spices, I’d make you into a spicy rabbit head, no question.”
The kitchen’s seasonings had originally been only salt and ginger. When Xia Qing returned to her camp, she discovered the spices they had once collected were still there and brought them all back.
Thus, the kitchen’s spices now included cinnamon bark, bay leaves, Sichuan peppercorn, and star anise. These not only removed any gaminess or fishiness but could also add layers of flavor.
Yunxiu sliced the spring bamboo shoots. After blanching the rabbit meat, she heated oil, sauteed the spices until fragrant, then added the rabbit meat and bamboo shoots and stir-fried them briefly. She transferred everything to a clay pot. Without soy sauce or sugar to add color, the dish always looked somewhat imperfect.
Yunxiu sighed with regret, keenly aware of her own insatiability. Not long ago, she had been freezing, starving, so hungry her vision went dark, thinking anything would do, even bran. Now, she was already craving sugar, soy sauce, and cooking wine.
Yunxiu added a little water to the clay pot, set it on a low fire to simmer, and cleared the wok to fry the fish.
The smoked fish was a big, fatty carp. When Yunxiu cut it into pieces and fried them in the pan, she barely added any oil; the fish itself sizzled and released a fragrant, crisp oil. The strong aroma drifted everywhere, in front of the house and behind it.
Xu Yin and Yan Baiyu, drawing water by the pond, both caught the scent. Yan Baiyu smiled lightly. “Having fish today?”
Xu Yin’s throat tightened, his stomach contracting. The tantalizing smell rapidly consumed his last reserves of energy, making him painfully hungry. “Let’s head back soon. I think the meal is almost ready.”
Li Cunxin grabbed a few handfuls of dry straw, twisted them into two ropes, and wrapped them around the edges of the clay pot, intending to carry the whole pot to the dining table.
The pot lid had already been lifted. White steam billowed out. The aroma of the meat, mixed with a hint of spices, shot straight into her nostrils. The edges of her tongue tingled, and she unconsciously began to salivate. She had cooked rabbit before—how come it never smelled this good?
The heat of the scalding pot seeped through the dry straw to her palms. The calluses on her hands fought off the burn. She held the pot steadily, watching her step.
She didn’t immediately notice anything unusual around her. Only when something felt off in her peripheral vision did she look up.
The person standing in front of the courtyard seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, silent as a ghost.
Li Cunxin blinked, confirming she wasn’t hallucinating, that she wasn’t mistaken. There really was someone standing in front of the yard.
Li Cunxin glanced sidelong at the pillar-thick white smoke rising into the sky from the earthen enclosure. Had someone really found their way here following the smoke signal?!
Li Cunxin’s stunned, frozen expression thawed. Her brows lifted high, and her smiling eyes curved into crescents, full of starlight. “You…” She was overcome with surprise, her mind blanking, unsure how to greet the person before her.
The person’s eyes were narrowed to slits, his gaze unfocused. Yet within those vacant eyes burned a terrifying, stubborn fixation, fixed on the pot in Li Cunxin’s hands. He seemed caught between desperate craving and deep wariness. His body staggered forward two steps, then swayed backward. After fumbling at his waist for a while, he pulled out a small knife sharpened to a keen edge, its material resembling jade.
He clutched one end of the knife tightly, pointing the other at Li Cunxin. He edged closer, hesitant, testing. His eyes never left the pot in her hands, only occasionally, very grudgingly, flicking to stare at Li Cunxin’s face. “Give me… the pot. Give it to me.”
His voice was faint and weak, utterly drained.
Li Cunxin froze, then broke into a smile. “You’re trying to rob me?” She was completely unafraid, knowing this man could pose no threat to her whatsoever. Instead, she found it somewhat novel.
Li Cunxin sized the man up, but upon fully registering his appearance, she fell silent.
He looked like a famine refugee who had barely escaped death. His T-shirt and shorts were in tatters. His feet, in flip-flops, were either frostbitten or wounded.
His eyes were sunken black hollows. His body was swollen with edema, puffed up as if inflated. The mud—or something equally filthy—caked on his exposed arms made his original skin tone unrecognizable.
The light in this man’s eyes was gone. He was like a walking corpse, responding only to food.
His face, twisted—whether in sorrow or fury—had contorted into a hideous mask. He clutched the knife, pacing in place.
Likely, his primal instinct warred with the remnants of his humanity. Just as hunger was about to overwhelm everything, just as he seemed ready to lunge and grab, a large hand clamped down on his shoulder, pressing him immobile like the weight of Five Finger Mountain.
Xu Yin pinned his shoulder, looking down at him from above, and gave a cold snort. “Just who are you trying to rob?”
The man strained to look around. Yunxiu was leaning out of the kitchen, knife in hand. Beside Yan Baiyu, a Gray Wolf bared its teeth and snarled at him. Zhao Penglai stood there, gripping an axe, while Xia Qing, clutching a half-chiseled wooden stick, hurried over with a confused look.
Robbery? It wasn’t clear who would be robbing whom.
The man felt the fingers on his shoulder—burning hot, hard as iron. They clamped down like tongs, causing him pain, impossible to break free.
Li Cunxin carried the pot into the main hall and called out, “The meal’s ready! Everyone come and eat.”
They all put away the knives, axes, clubs, and sticks, and went to the kitchen to wash hands and fill bowls.
The man watched as the group left one by one, paying him no more attention than a wisp of a ghost.
He didn’t know why, but suddenly a wave of grief surged in him. His body gave out, collapsing to his knees. As if in a brief return of strength before death, he found the energy to wail loudly.
“Brother, just stab me to death.” He wrapped his arms around Xu Yin’s leg. “I’m begging you, just stab me to death.”
He tried to force the knife into Xu Yin’s hand. Tears and snot streamed down his face as he cried out hoarsely, “I can’t do it myself. Please, I’m begging you, I beg you! What the hell is this place?! I can’t survive, I just can’t go on!”
Xu Yin glanced back at the house, then lowered his head and patted the man’s shoulder. A rare hint of a smile touched his face. “Though armed robbery is an unforgivable crime, I’ll grant you a full belly before you die. Come.”
Xu Yin grabbed the man by the arm, lifting him like a chick, and dragged him to the kitchen. He fetched a basin of water and told him to wash his hands.
Those crow-claw-like arms and hands scrubbed off a basinful of mud.
Xu Yin filled two bowls with rice. Yu Muyang had starved too long; he couldn’t eat or drink heavily right now. Xu Yin didn’t give him too much. He pulled the dazed, stupefied man—who was staring fixedly at the white rice—into the main room and sat him down next to Zhao Penglai.
Li Cunxin handed him the chopsticks. Zhao Penglai pressed them into the man’s hand.
Xu Yin said to Li Cunxin, “Asked his name earlier. Said it’s Yu Muyang.”
Yu Muyang stared at that bowl of rice in a stupor for a while, as if he wanted to devour the clay bowl itself. He buried his face in it, wolfing it down, not even using the chopsticks properly.
Yunxiu wrinkled her nose and eyes, afraid he’d choke himself to death. “Eat slower! No one’s fighting you for it.”
She reached out to take the bowl from him. Yu Muyang clutched it to his chest like a mother protecting her young. Yunxiu sighed, picked up the wooden ladle from the pot, and scooped a ladleful of broth toward him. Only then did he slowly extend his bowl to receive it.
Turning the rice into a watery mush, Yu Muyang ate even faster, sucking it down like congee. The man who had just moments ago eyed the rabbit stew so ravenously now seemed afraid to pick up any of the dishes.
Li Cunxin said, “Uncle Xu, Penglai, you two help him get some food.”
One man piled meat onto his bowl, the other vegetables.
Yu Muyang swallowed whatever landed in his bowl, whole without discrimination. The bowl was empty in the blink of an eye. He used his chopsticks to scrape the bottom into his mouth. As he set the bowl down, he suddenly coughed twice.
It sounded like something was stuck in his throat, as if he were trying to clear it.
Yan Baiyu looked up.
Yu Muyang clutched his chest, seeming unable to catch his breath. He shot to his feet.
Everyone stared in alarm.
Yu Muyang’s neck swelled thickly. His sallow face flushed crimson, then rapidly purpled. His eyes bulged. He looked to be in extreme distress, hopping in place, a frightening sight.
Yan Baiyu rose abruptly. “He’s choking. Uncle Xu!”
Xu Yin looked at Yan Baiyu. She instructed, “Get behind him and wrap your arms around him.”
Xu Yin followed her direction, embracing Yu Muyang from behind.
“Make a fist with one hand. Press the thumb-side of the fist against the spot halfway between his navel and his ribs. Place your other hand over the fist. Press inward and upward, firmly, repeatedly.”
Xu Yin performed the maneuver twice as instructed. A foreign object flew out of Yu Muyang’s mouth. His coughing afterward sounded much more normal, and his complexion slowly returned to normal.
Xu Yin saw the bone, speckled with rice grains, on the ground and cursed, “Swallowing bones whole—you really have a death wish.”
But Yu Muyang had collapsed to the ground, staring at the thing he’d coughed up. He began crying again, wailing for his parents, saying brokenly, “My last bowl of rice, my last bite. I’m still destined to die a starving ghost. Even what I eat has to come back out.”
The people at the table exchanged glances. They didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and their hearts ached with him.
Li Cunxin said, “It’s just a few grains of rice and a bone. Is it worth crying this hard? We’re not going to take your life. But you’ve been starving too long. Eating like that, you’ll stuff yourself to death.”
Xu Yin went to the kitchen and scooped another bowl for Yu Muyang, hauling him up from the floor. “Though we won’t kill you, you’ll still face a few years in the dark, doing hard labor.”
Yu Muyang clutched the bowl and asked miserably, “Will meals be provided?”
Li Cunxin bared her teeth in a grin. “Yes!”
