The Old Man Who Guards the Mountain, Ordinary Days Part 1

In the northwest corner of the forestry farm, several drafty wooden cabins stood solitary in the snow. The cold wind drilled in through the cracks in the boards, bringing with it a bone-piercing chill. This was the men’s latrine; the women’s was several dozen meters away, separated by a wooden fence scrawled with old slogans. The sky was just beginning to brighten, and the surroundings were so quiet that only the sound of the wind could be heard. Freshly felled timber was piled on the pristine white snow, and the nearby vegetable patch that had been cleared from the wilderness was likewise covered tightly. It was already late autumn, yet this sudden snowfall had frozen the world rock-hard.

"Brother Qin, what do you want to do when the farm assigns duties later?"

Inside the latrine, Wu Kui stuck his pale, bare butt out, facing the cold wind rising from the pit, his face red from holding it in. Even as he strained, he didn't forget to make small talk. Qin Youming squatted down over a latrine pit, his own stomach churning like a turbulent sea—mostly likely the fault of that box of lukewarm pork rib soup from last night. Now, with the cold air rushing in, he felt even worse.

"Can we actually choose for ourselves?" Qin Youming asked, furrowing his brow.

"What's the big deal? It's not like when the movement first started. Back then, they emphasized hard struggle and endurance; nowadays, they emphasize making the best use of people and talents. You definitely have to pick what you're good at. But now that it's cold, logging is out of the question. Aside from farming, there's digging manure for compost, chopping firewood, and carrying water. If we get a few heavy snowstorms, we might even have to go down."

"Go down?"

"My older brother was sent down to the countryside in the Northeast back in the day. He said that out of the four seasons, only spring and summer are bearable here. If you run into a mountain blizzard that seals off the peaks, the educated youths all have to go down the mountain. But it's not like the old days now. Back then, they lived in tents and slept on the ground. It's not like us—we all have heated kangs. Roads have been opened up outside, too, so we'll probably stay in the mountains, which is perfect for reading."

Wu Kui was a chatterbox who couldn't stop once he opened his mouth. He paused briefly, then continued, "Besides, while it's not fully winter yet, they'll definitely call for people to patrol the mountains, hunt, and fight off the winter scarcity. We'll have to carry guns to patrol the surrounding forests—both to protect the forestry farm and to drive away wild beasts. We can hunt some game and gather mountain produce while we're at it. Besides, we can't eat cornmeal mush and corn buns every day. Aside from what we grow ourselves, we have to hunt for our food."

Hearing that he could carry a gun, Qin Youming immediately perked up. With a father who was an expert in firearms, how could his son not understand guns? He had long since grown tired of the slingshot in his luggage. However, before he could ask for details, Wu Kui suddenly changed the subject. He seemed to have thought of something happy and gave a silly grin. "Heh, we could also organize some cultural activities and put on a show with the female educated youths. You don't know, I even brought an accordion. In this ice world, in these years of hard struggle, I long for a heartfelt, sincere, and beautiful... uh..."

At the end of his sentence, Wu Kui clenched his hands, mustered his strength, and turned blue in the face, but he just couldn't get it out. In contrast, Qin Youming beside him released like a flood, making a splashing racket beneath his butt that was nothing short of cataclysmic. With the cold wind biting his flesh from below, he finished with his legs weak and his vision swimming. When the two of them walked out trembling, the sky was nearly fully bright. On the way back, Qin Youming glanced at the clearing again, but he didn't see the black-clad old man. When they reached the dormitory, they saw two identical young men carrying buckets, scrubbing the urine stains inside. Standing next to them was a militia platoon leader.

"Where have you two been?"

The militia brother looked to be in his early thirties, with thick brows and big eyes, a ring of stubble just emerging on his lips, and a weather-beaten, dark complexion. His large hands were covered in calluses. Wu Kui was shy and introverted; he had been able to let loose while chatting earlier, but now his lips fluttered as he couldn't come up with a reply for a long while. Qin Youming said, "Upset stomach, using the latrine."

The militia leader nodded, then looked at the Yu Wen and Yu Wu brothers. With a dark face, he criticized them, "Others know to find a latrine, but you two just had to pee in the buckets. If you're so capable, why don't you pee on the kang head? Everything in this room was left by the old predecessors. If you don't cherish it, there are plenty of people who do. Since you like peeing so much, starting today, the men's latrine is yours to clean, and the manure is yours to empty."

Yu Wen and Yu Wu looked miserable, on the verge of tears.

"And the rest of you, hurry up and wash up. When you're done, go to the forestry farm canteen and assemble."

The militia leader left without looking back. Yu Wen, carrying the bucket, sighed, "Damn, I didn't expect my fiery passion for going to the countryside to be extinguished by a single piss. It's over. From now on, I'll smell like piss and shit. How am I supposed to talk to those female educated youths?"

Qin Youming had no mind to pay attention to these brothers; he was still thinking about the guns. Hearing that they had to assemble at the canteen, he washed up briskly and headed straight for the canteen. When he arrived, there weren't many people inside. Tables and chairs were arranged in the center, and large pots and stoves were set up in the corner. Garlic heads, along with some dried mushrooms, wood ear fungus, and wild vegetables, hung on the wall. Since they had to be self-sufficient, they would definitely have to cook their own meals. Qin Youming looked around idly. His gaze shifted, and through a window covered in cobwebs, he discovered a small, empty clearing behind the canteen. This clearing was different from the forestry farm; it looked like a place for raising livestock. A flock of hens could be seen hopping around on the snow, and the smell of pig manure drifted from not far away. At the edge of the clearing stood a row of old, dilapidated earthen houses, faintly emitting cooking smoke. Someone actually lived in a place like this. Was it where the militia members stayed? That didn't seem right either. The few militia members guarding the forestry farm were all on the east side, and they were villagers from the settlement down the mountain. Aside from the guards, the others stayed at the foot of the mountain and only came up when delivering supplies.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Strange, really strange!"

The more Qin Youming looked, the more peculiar it seemed. You have to understand, this wasn't some urban district. It was the hinterland of the northern forests, a forestry farm surrounded by primeval forest on all sides. Predatory beasts were bound to appear—bears, wolves, leopards, lynxes, tigers—you could run into any of them. Yet he saw these hens, each one rounder than the last, with nests full of eggs. They had clearly been raised for quite some time. On closer inspection, there were quite a few, about a dozen or so.

"Hmm?"

Suddenly, Qin Youming saw a girl of fifteen or sixteen walk out of the earthen house. She was dressed like a huntress, carrying an old hunting rifle on her back, a hunting knife at her waist, and holding a basket in her hand. She was picking up eggs with great enthusiasm. Just as Qin Youming was watching intently, an old face with knife-like eyes and an eagle's

"Kid, dare to look blindly again, and I'll gouge your eyes out." The old man's tone was ice-cold, with a look that kept strangers at bay. This person was unmistakably that black-clad old man who had been boxing. Qin Youming took a deep breath and hurriedly retreated several steps without saying a word. Just then, Wu Kui's voice came from behind, "Brother Qin, why did you walk so fast? I couldn't even catch up to you."

Qin Youming looked back and saw that quite a few educated youths had arrived one after another. He took another deep look at that window before blending into the group. Before long, the previous militia platoon leader also entered. There were no long speeches; once everyone was present, the man first introduced himself as Yang Dapao, then very efficiently assigned the various tasks to the educated youths. The male educated youths were responsible for felling and transporting timber, as well as planting trees, chopping firewood, taming donkeys, and other physical labor. The female educated youths were responsible for carrying water, cooking, milling rice, hulling grain, and tending the vegetable garden. In short, they had to be self-reliant and self-sufficient. But what made Qin Youming happy was that, just as Wu Kui had said, the militia platoon leader wanted to select two educated youths to guard the tree farm, and they would even be issued guns. This was mainly because the weather had turned cold unusually early this year, so they needed to stock up on food for winter in advance. With guns, in their spare time, they could not only hunt in the mountains but also go knock down pine nuts; otherwise, once the heavy snow sealed the mountains, they wouldn't be able to enter. Hearing that they had to roam the mountains in such freezing weather, the group of educated youths looked at each other, all wide-eyed and dumbfounded.

"Me."

Qin Youming couldn't wait any longer. He was already quite conspicuous due to his height and build, and now that he had volunteered, shouting slogans about fearing no harsh cold and fighting heaven and earth, he immediately won the militia platoon leader's appreciation.

"Me too."

Surprisingly, someone also stepped out from the female educated youths. This female educated youth was tall and slender; looking at her, she didn't appear frail in the slightest, but rather had a spirited and capable air. Seeing that no one else stepped forward, the militia platoon leader called only the two of them to a clearing in the tree farm to test their marksmanship. But looking at the Hanyang 88 that had been placed in his hands, the excitement in Qin Youming's eyes vanished instantly without a trace. He weighed it, tested the feel slightly, and then looked at the marks of knife cuts and fire burns on it; it was clearly an old object that had seen many years, perhaps even older than the combined age of his parents, and the rifling inside was nearly worn away.

"Is this a gun or a fire poker? It's probably not even as good as my own slingshot."

Qin Youming grumbled inwardly, but seeing that female educated youth loading bullets with great familiarity, how could he admit defeat? He began his movements as well. Only at the militia platoon leader's signal did the two of them pull the bolts, and then with two "bangs," their bullets hit a wooden stake simultaneously, raising a cloud of wood chips. The platoon leader laughed cheerfully, "Not bad."

However, they couldn't take the guns just yet. After waiting a while, two people arrived from outside the tree farm, one old and one young. They were both villagers from the foot of the mountain, and expert hunters. The old man was dressed like a hunter, sporting a goat's beard and carrying a local-made hunting rifle on his back. A pouch and a copper gourd were tied at his waist, containing gunpowder and iron shot. As for the younger one, she was a girl of fifteen or sixteen, wearing a hunting knife at her waist and also carrying a local-made rifle in her hand. Following behind her was a large, sleek wolf dog—it was actually that little girl who had been picking up eggs earlier. The militia platoon leader instructed, "For the next half month, you two will follow them to get familiar with the surroundings of the tree farm. Each time you go into the mountains, you're only allowed to collect five bullets from me. After firing, the casings must be brought back for verification. If you lose one bullet, work points will be deducted."

After explaining everything, the platoon leader assigned them to the two villagers. Once everyone had made breakfast, drunk a bowl of corn grit porridge, and eaten two steamed buns, the female educated youths left with the girl, while Qin Youming, carrying the broken gun on his back, followed the old man toward the other side. From this point on, the young man's life of going to the countryside and settling in the village could be said to have begun.

...

...

...

"Uncle Xie, are there really wild beasts in these mountains?"

Qin Youming followed behind the old man, looking around this way and that, then glancing in all directions. The old man's name was Xie Lao San. Don't let his thin, small frame fool you; his movements were incredibly agile, and his eyesight was astonishing. In just this short while, he had already taken two pheasants and a wild hare.

Xie Lao San said without turning his head, "That's not to scare you. Once winter sets in, the wild beasts in these mountains become active. Someone might be right in front of your eyes one second, and gone the next. By the time they're found, their heart and liver have already been dug out by the beasts."

Qin Youming was responsible for collecting the game and assisting behind him, "Hey, Uncle Xie, I saw an open space behind the mess hall. Do you know the origin of the person inside there?"

Xie Lao San first shook his head, but the words he spoke next gave Qin Youming a fright, "That person has been there ever since I can remember. Everyone used to call him the Old Mountain Guardian. Some years ago, the branch secretary saw that he was all alone, so he gave the old man a name and registered him under Shuang'er's family. But that man refused to go down the mountain no matter what, staying at the tree farm all the time. Only that girl, Shuang'er, would visit him occasionally."

Qin Youming said in surprise, "Uncle Xie, you must be fifty or sixty, right?"

Xie Lao San replied, "Sixty-eight."

Qin Youming was filled with astonishment, "In that case, the person behind the mess hall must be at least eighty or ninety."

Xie Lao San then said mysteriously, "More than that. Even back then, that person already looked to be in his thirties or forties. In my estimation, he is at least over a hundred years old now."

Qin Youming swallowed hard with difficulty, "You guys never tried to find out his background?"

Xie Lao San gave him a meaningful look, "For him to be safe and sound in this deep mountain and old forest all alone, do you think he's ordinary? Years ago, Shuang'er's father was bitten to death by a Manchurian tiger while walking in the mountains. As a result, within half a month, that tiger was found in a river gully. Guess how it died?"

Before Qin Youming could respond, the old man said in a hoarse voice, "It was slapped to death by a human hand. I heard there was even a palm print left on its forehead."

Hearing this sentence, Qin Youming instantly felt a chill run down his spine, and his skin broke out in goosebumps. Xie Lao San continued, "Have you ever heard a saying?"

Qin Youming looked up. He saw the old man say with deep emotion, "People say there are no true Buddhas in the world, but when a true Buddha is right before your eyes, how could the mortal naked eye perceive it? And in those places where ordinary people cannot see, there lies another world of this earth... Where there are heaven and earth, there are naturally true Buddhas."

For some unknown reason, meeting the old man's gaze and hearing those obscure and mysterious words, Qin Youming said as if possessed by some spirit, "Martial arts!"

Martial

The two fell silent, each seemingly harboring their own thoughts, wandering the mountains until three or four in the afternoon. By then, the sun had risen and the snow melted; though the vast, dense forests still retained a faint trace of green, it could not hide their withering. The two made a sizable haul; even Qin Youming bagged two hares, though not with a gun but with his own slingshot—nine hits out of ten shots, drawing repeated praise from Xie Lao-san. In the blink of an eye, more than half a month passed. Deep autumn set in, and the vegetation across the mountain grew increasingly withered. Life at the forestry farm was dull, monotonous, and harsh. As the weather grew increasingly frigid, although it had not snowed, frost formed in the mornings and evenings.