Volume One, Chapter 12: Playing Nonsense

Boom—

“Did I scare you?” he asked, standing outside the shed. A droplet of water slid down his cheek, but he paid it no mind. He unfolded the plastic sheet, offering her one end with his long, elegant fingers.

Jiang Yingli took it, and he led the way, holding the other end as they walked to the side. The plastic sheet was about ten meters long and one and a half meters wide. It covered twenty centimeters over the roof, and the rest draped down, sheltering the entire cowshed. The man moved quickly and efficiently, finishing the task in no time.

Seeing her bedraggled appearance, Yuan Yanzhou frowned. “Why don’t you stay at a villager’s house tonight?”

“No need, this is fine,” Jiang Yingli replied, pulling out a square handkerchief and handing it to him, gesturing to the droplets on his face. “Wipe them off.”

He took the handkerchief and dried his face. In the cold rain of the night, his ears grew unexpectedly warm.

“What brings you here?” Jiang Yingli’s tone was as usual, but deep in her eyes, Yuan Yanzhou caught a flicker of wariness.

He lowered his gaze, folding the handkerchief with care. “There’s a heavy downpour. This cowshed wasn’t properly sealed to begin with. You’re our village’s educated youth—I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.”

Noting that his expression betrayed nothing, Jiang Yingli withdrew her gaze. “Thank you, Captain Zhou. You should go back now – it’s late, and if people see us alone together, it will hurt my reputation.”

She dismissed him without a trace of courtesy, then went straight inside and closed the bamboo gate.

This Zhou Mo left her with an uneasy feeling—his actions seemed overly deliberate. A female educated youth had just arrived in the countryside; even if he wished to bring her a plastic sheet, couldn’t he have brought another villager or asked an auntie to help? Unless he, too, was sent by the people behind Jiang Jinguo, harboring some ulterior motive!

As his footsteps faded into the rain, Jiang Yingli slipped into her hidden space. If she went to sleep this soaked, she’d only catch a cold by morning.

Her foot landed on something soft and slightly raised.

“What the—”

A sudden squeak—A little beast darted out from under her foot, nearly making her fall flat. It circled around her, and she scolded, “Why do you keep hiding under my feet all day?”

The little beast couldn’t understand her words, but her tone was enough. Its tail drooped dejectedly as it slunk behind the little hill, looking downright crestfallen.

Jiang Yingli felt a twinge of guilt, but the next second she realized—the entry point to this space was fixed. The little beast had done it on purpose!

“Hey! Were you waiting for me here?”

A cheerful squeak in response—it scampered over, picked up a pigeon in its mouth, and placed it at her feet, nuzzling her calf to curry favor.

She crouched to examine the dead pigeon—its feathers were soaked with saliva, and it had died from a broken neck. She remembered these pigeons were ones she’d collected from Gu Man’s wedding, where two hundred wild pigeons were to be released to celebrate. But the pigeons were wild, and Jiang Yingli happened to enjoy pigeon soup.

“What’s this? Where are the rest of the pigeons?”

The little beast’s tail flew up as it led her to the side. Following it, Jiang Yingli stared at the empty pigeon cage and the feathers strewn on the ground, stunned.

How many days had it been? And didn’t this mutant beast only eat the flesh of other mutant beasts? Otherwise, she wouldn’t have stockpiled so many exotic mutant carcasses here.

“Do you want to eat this?” Jiang Yingli worried it wouldn’t understand, so she lifted the pigeon to her face, pretending to take a bite, puffing out her cheeks as if chewing.

Excited squeaks—the little beast leaped up, snatched the pigeon back, and with a flurry of claws, stripped it clean. In a flash, it sneezed, scattering the feathers, then nudged the pigeon toward her with its nose, all three eyes fixed intently on her.

“…You want me to eat it?”

A determined squeak confirmed it. Jiang Yingli scratched its chin and, as a reward, stuffed the pigeon into its mouth. Truly, a beast raised by her own hand—it had a conscience!

But she overlooked the fact that out of two hundred pigeons, the little beast left her only one.

The little beast rolled onto its back, exposing its pale belly and rumbling contentedly under her palm. Jiang Yingli’s heart softened. She’d have to hunt more wild prey in the mountains for it; with such an appetite, who knew how much it would need to grow up?

When it finished eating, Jiang Yingli had it heat a bucket of water for a comfortable bath before heading out to sleep.

The next morning, the air still carried a lingering trace of rain.

Jiang Yingli openly munched on a white steamed bun at the assembly, drawing envious glances from every villager. After the meeting, she collected her farm tools and followed Uncle Ding up the mountain, handing him a bun. “Uncle Ding, have one. I made too many this morning.”

He waved her off. White buns were a treat, but he wasn’t starving; he didn’t need anyone’s charity.

“Xiao Jiang, can you even set up a stove in your place? Be careful with the firewood—don’t burn the shed down. Otherwise, Xiaohua will have no place to stay.”

Jiang Yingli paused as she reached for another bun. She’d thought he was concerned about her, but it turned out he was worried about the cow. Still, Uncle Ding had reminded her—without a stove in the cowshed, it would be too conspicuous if she kept eating freshly cooked meals every day.

“Alright, I’ll build the stove outside.”

At noon, while Uncle Ding went down the mountain for lunch, Jiang Yingli tied Xiaohua under a tree and headed into the woods—to find food for the little beast.

In her hands gleamed a wooden recurve bow with a lustrous sheen, but a closer look revealed this was no ordinary wood. The bow was crafted from the bones of a fire-type mutant beast, kin to her own little creature. It possessed extraordinary power and felt warm to the touch.

Jiang Yingli moved like a wraith through the waist-high wild grass, her gaze fixed on a brown pheasant pecking at the ground. She raised the bow, drew the string, aimed slightly above and to the right.

Whizz!

The arrow punched through the pheasant’s chest and pinned it to the ground, the fletching quivering violently. A smile broke across her face. She retrieved the heavy bird—nearly five pounds—and stowed it in her space after cleaning it with a handful of grass. She continued her hunt, her confidence growing. If her strength fully returned, she could shoot straight through a wild boar’s skull with a single arrow! Then the little beast would never go hungry.

In two hours, Jiang Yingli had bagged two pheasants and a hare. Her arms ached pleasantly as she put away her bow and arrows and hurried back along the path.

Just as she emerged from the thicket, she ran into Uncle Ding.

He was picking lice off Xiaohua. Seeing her return, he said nothing, only pointed to a vine gourd water jug by the ridge.

“Water.”

Next to it were two chipped porcelain bowls. Jiang Yingli poured herself a cup and drank; the warm water was blissfully soothing. She’d forgotten her thirst while hunting.

“Come on, Xiaohua. We should be done with this acre today!” The mountain plots totaled less than five acres. Yesterday, she’d been slow her first time out, but today she’d caught up. They could finish by seven or eight in the evening.

“How many work points did you get yesterday?” Uncle Ding asked as he led the cow.

“I think… six,” Jiang Yingli replied, setting her bowl down and harnessing the plow to Xiaohua.

Uncle Ding muttered, “You should’ve gotten full points. That Zhou Mo is always making a mess of things.”