The next day, before the roosters in the coop had crowed, Fan Jing rose early.
He got up even earlier than usual when heading into the mountains, catching Chen Shi, who was preparing breakfast on schedule, off guard.
“It’s still drizzling outside. Why are you up so early? I haven’t even put the rice in the pot yet.”
Fan Jing said, “I’m not eating breakfast.”
Seeing him quickly gather his things and prepare to leave, Chen Shi said, “Why the rush? It’s raining, and it’s not even light out yet. It’d be safer to eat breakfast and head up the mountain once it’s brighter.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
With that, he slung his basket onto his back, ready to grab his rain gear and head out.
At that moment, a conical hat was handed to him.
Fan Jing looked up and saw Kang He standing before him, already awake at some point.
His brow furrowed slightly.
Seeing Fan Jing’s expression, Kang He thought he was being sneaky.
Did Fan Jing think he was a child who could be left behind while still asleep?
“What’s Kang He up to, getting up so early?”
“He wants to go to the mountain.”
Fan Jing calmly took the hat and said to Chen Shi, hoping she’d dissuade Kang He.
To his surprise, Chen Shi was delighted.
“It’s good for Kang He to go with you. Two people can look out for each other.”
Fan Jing’s frown deepened.
“What can he do up there?”
“He’s got good hands and feet—what can’t he do?” Chen Shi replied.
“There’s not much work at home right now. Even if he just gathers some firewood in the mountains, that’s helpful. When you come down, you can bring it back. Autumn’s nearly over, and winter’s coming. Every household needs more firewood, and the village has already picked clean the outer hills. Firewood’s hard to come by.”
She added, “You’ll be gone in the mountains for days. Can you leave him behind? If someone from the village comes to check on the son-in-law, how’s he supposed to handle it alone?”
Hearing this, Fan Jing saw Kang He smiling at him.
With a helpless sigh, he set the basket down.
In the end, he ate breakfast at home and waited until the sky was fully bright before heading up the mountain.
The autumn rain was cold, and both carried baskets on their backs.
Fan Jing’s basket held provisions, while Kang He’s carried a tightly rolled blanket, a change of clothes, and daily necessities.
When they reached the mountain, the rain grew heavier, and the temperature was noticeably lower than in the village.
The wind, mixed with rain, chilled their legs through their trousers.
After trekking through the mountains for about an hour, Kang He spotted a wooden cabin through the gray, misty rain.
They quickened their pace in unison, slipping into the cabin just before another gust of cold wind hit.
The mountain cabin wasn’t large but had a small courtyard surrounded by sturdy logs driven into the ground.
Opening the door revealed a single, open room.
By the wall was a small bed made of wooden planks, barely big enough for one person.
In the center sat a chipped, worn clay pot on a simple stone-and-mud stove, with a few jars nearby.
Aside from these, there were some crude hunting tools: a broken bow, snapped arrows, dried wild hemp—things crafted from mountain materials.
Nothing was worth even a single copper coin.
Items like knives or hoes, anything with a bit of iron, were brought up temporarily by Fan Jing.
This place was merely a shelter from the wind and rain.
Kang He surveyed the cabin while removing his dripping hat and raincoat.
The household had two sets of raincoats: one used daily by Fan’s father, the other by Fan Jing in the mountains.
Since both were heading up, Fan Jing gave his raincoat to Kang He.
Kang He’s clothes stayed dry under the raincoat, but Fan Jing, wearing only a waterproof animal hide over his chest and abdomen, had damp sleeves.
Seeing this, Kang He set down his things and started a fire by the stove.
The cold, damp wood took nearly a quarter-hour to catch.
“Fire’s going.”
Kang He noticed Fan Jing rummaging around the cabin, not coming to warm his clothes or shake off the chill.
The mountain already felt like winter, and even inside the cabin, it was cold.
They hadn’t spoken much on the way up, too focused on the trek through the rain.
Kang He wondered if Fan Jing was annoyed because he’d insisted on coming along.
Fan Jing didn’t respond.
He brought out some wooden planks and spread them on the floor opposite the small bed, topping them with dry grass.
Kang He realized he was making a bed.
It dawned on him, and he scratched his nose, a bit embarrassed.
Though he knew this place had “brothers” who, like women, could marry and bear children, he wasn’t experienced with such matters.
Fan Jing didn’t act like the delicate “brother-husbands” he’d seen elsewhere, so he’d overlooked it.
Kang He scratched his face.
He’d insisted on coming to the mountain to explore ways to make money, as the Fan household was crowded and inconvenient for such plans.
He’d been so focused on getting here that he hadn’t considered how a lone man and a “brother” would manage in the mountains.
Before he could overthink it, Fan Jing efficiently set up a small bed.
He pulled a coarse grain bun from his basket, grabbed a longbow, and prepared to head out.
“…Going out?” Kang He snapped back to attention.
Fan Jing nodded, putting on his still-wet hat.
Kang He hurriedly pointed outside, indicating the heavy rain.
Fan Jing, however, wasn’t fazed.
Rainy days were inconvenient, but wet-furred animals like rabbits or pheasants were slower, making them easier to hunt.
Besides, he’d set new traps before coming down the mountain and needed to check them.
Fan Jing didn’t explain much—it was too complicated, and Kang He wouldn’t understand.
It was like talking to himself.
He pointed at the door latch, signaling Kang He to lock it while he was gone.
Seeing Fan Jing’s determination to leave, Kang He stood to follow.
But Fan Jing snatched his hat, gave him a stern look, and stepped into the rain alone, vanishing quickly.
Standing at the cabin door, Kang He saw the thick, misty rain in the forest.
Beyond ten meters, it was a blur.
The rain fell in large drops, pattering loudly, making it cold and hard to navigate.
For anyone but a seasoned mountain man, a few turns could leave you lost.
In this cold autumn rain, even if you avoided dangerous beasts, you’d lose warmth and half your life.
Even in the cabin, with Fan Jing gone, the already quiet space felt colder, filled only with the sound of wind rustling leaves and rain.
The fire on the stove was the only source of warmth and comfort.
In this remote mountain corner, where the sky was hidden, the silence was eerie.
Kang He wasn’t afraid to be alone, but he felt the hardship of mountain life more keenly.
Hearing about it was one thing; seeing and feeling it was another.
Beyond the hardship, he couldn’t help but admire Fan Jing for surviving alone in the mountains.
That admiration came with a sense of kinship.
Kang He had known tough times, scraping by young, tasting the world’s coldness.
But at least he only had to feed himself.
Fan Jing was different.
He had a family to support.
Even in this rainy weather, he couldn’t slack off.
Without money, the household would be in chaos, and they’d go hungry.
Though Kang He had only been with the Fan family for two days, he could see their struggles.
The only meal with meat was the lunch on the day he arrived.
Other meals were thin porridge with pickled vegetables or coarse sorghum buns that scratched the throat.
Compared to the Kang household, the Fan family’s life was harder.
At Kang’s, the porridge was thick, the buns were white flour, and meat appeared every three days.
Kang’s grandfather, a cook, occasionally brought a big bowl of good meat.
The difference was clear.
Kang He’s feelings were complex.
Whether in ancient times, now, or the future, for the poorest folk, earning money for a decent life was never easy.
With nothing else to do, he busied himself cleaning the cabin thoroughly, even clearing cobwebs from the walls.
He took out some rice, figuring Fan Jing wouldn’t return for lunch but would be back by evening.
He thought about exploring nearby for wild vegetables if the rain let up.
But after cleaning the cabin inside and out, the rain didn’t ease.
Opening the door, the wind felt colder, the fog thicker, and the sky darker—not night, but late.
Looking around, Fan Jing still hadn’t returned.
Kang He grew worried.
Even seasoned hunters could slip up.
He shouted for Fan Jing in his clumsy local dialect, but only the rain answered.
Unable to wait, he grabbed a stone club for protection, put on his hat, locked the door, and ventured out.
The forest floor, thick with rotting leaves soaked by a day’s rain, turned to muddy pits with each step.
Kang He followed footprints, cleverly marking trees to avoid getting lost.
After walking for who knows how long without finding Fan Jing, he shouted again.
“Pfft!”
A flock of startled birds flew from the branches.
“Chirp!”
Kang He looked up, spotting a bold, colorful bird hopping down, quite a sight.
Before he could identify it, his foot slipped, and he fell with a thud.
Heart pounding, he grabbed nearby plants to stop himself from sliding further down the slope.
The rain-soaked, mossy ground was slick, and despite his efforts, he couldn’t climb up.
Struggling, he parted the dense ferns underfoot, revealing a dark, bottomless void below.
The flat-looking ferns had seemed like solid ground, suggesting a short drop at worst.
But their broad, overlapping leaves hid a steep drop.
Kang He broke into a cold sweat.
If he fell, the sound of his landing might take ages to echo back.
He scrambled upward, but the plants couldn’t hold his weight and were uprooted with a snap.
As his body began to slide, a hand suddenly grabbed his.
Looking up, he saw Fan Jing, hat askew, gripping him tightly.
In that moment, Kang He felt he’d escaped death.
Without time to wonder how Fan Jing found him, he climbed up with his help.
Looking up, the rain felt heavier.
Water ran red down his hand, and he thought the rain had stung his eyes.
Then he saw the red water was blood, flowing from Fan Jing’s arm, pierced by a hidden stake in the leaves on the slope.
Kang He was stunned.
Such a pull could ruin an arm!
Forgetting everything else, he shouted, “Fan Jing, let go!”