“Are you alright?”
The hunter, drenched in cold sweat, looked up to see the enraged bear not attacking him further.
Instead, it staggered on all fours and fled in panic.
As shocked as he was, he let out a heavy sigh and turned to the young man who had appeared out of nowhere.
The newcomer was no shorter than him, but his face looked to be only seventeen or eighteen, with a fearless look in his eyes.
The hunter, who hadn’t spoken much in a long time and had just narrowly escaped death, finally opened his mouth to thank his savior, his voice hoarse: “I’m fine. Thank you.”
Cao Wen turned around and saw that the older man’s shoulder had a chunk of his clothing torn off by the bear, with faint bloodstains showing just how dangerous the situation had been.
Since no one was hurt, everyone relaxed.
Cao Wen waved his hand.
“How did you scare it off?”
The hunter was surprised.
No matter what he had done, he couldn’t drive that bear away, yet this young man had come and frightened it off just like that.
In response, Cao Wen spread his hand, releasing a strong sour orange scent into the air.
The two unripe oranges he had were now completely squashed in his palm.
Earlier, he had used the orange juice to target the bear’s eyes while it was about to attack.
Bears are highly sensitive to smell, and their eyes are vulnerable—startled by both, it had naturally run away.
The bearded man gave Cao Wen a deep look—he hadn’t expected this young man to be so brave and clever.
He bent down to pick up the two pheasants on the ground.
“That bear is cunning. It saw me set traps and kept watch on them to steal my prey. Several times it snatched the game I caught. Today I happened to run into it—it was tailing me again, hoping to steal more.”
Although hunting deep in the mountains is easier than in the outskirts, game isn’t like wild vegetables you can just dig up.
Game animals have legs—it’s not easy to catch them.
The few pheasants and boars he had managed to catch were all taken by the bear.
How was he supposed to survive like that?
Running into the bear this time had made him furious.
After a brief exchange, the hunter led Cao Wen to his residence.
Although he lived deep in the mountains and relied on hunting, rarely interacting with others and speaking little, he felt it was only right to invite the man who saved his life for a drink of water at least.
Cao Wen was unfamiliar with the mountains, and didn’t mind resting at the hunter’s place—it would also be a good opportunity to learn more about the terrain.
After walking for about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, they came upon a sunny clearing with a small wooden house.
Cao Wen saw that the cabin was small—only half the size of his family’s thatched house—but it had a sturdy wooden fence forming a solid courtyard.
The hunter opened the door, and then picked up a heavy wooden beam to bar it tightly behind them—just in case any wild animals tried to sneak in.
As Cao Wen looked around the surroundings, the hunter brought over a bowl of warm water.
Not only that, he brought a clay basin full of torn-up chunks of meat—chicken and pork all mixed together.
This was meat from hunted animals that didn’t look good enough to sell.
Alone in the mountains, with no one to help with chores, the hunter just made do with whatever was convenient.
Perhaps he had left the clay basin in the pot to warm while out.
The stove still had embers, so it was warm when served.
“It’s noon. Eat something.”
The rich smell of meat made Cao Wen’s empty body respond with hunger—he hadn’t craved anything like this in a long time.
He took the bowl of water without hesitation—they were all men, no need for polite formalities.
He picked up his chopsticks and put a piece of meat in his mouth.
He hadn’t had a drop of water since morning, then wandered around town and climbed a mountain—he was starving.
The meat was prepared simply—chopped into chunks, salted, and boiled. It was coarse and solid.
Each bite was just salty, without any spices to mask the natural gamey flavor.
But for someone who couldn’t even afford to fill their belly, being able to eat meat was already a rare luxury.
“You came here to hunt?”
After eating more than half the basin of meat in silence, the hunter finally asked.
“Just wandering. Seeing if there’s a way to make a living.”
Cao Wen replied honestly, then added jokingly,
“Still, hunting is better—you get a pot of meat.”
The hunter shook his head: “You’re trading your life for this. After one meal, who knows if you’ll live for the next?”
Cao Wen understood.
Tenant farmers had it hard, but hunters didn’t have it any easier.
“You want to be a hunter?”
Cao Wen raised an eyebrow.
“Can I?”
The hunter said frankly,
“You’ve got decent skills and a bold heart—you’ve got the makings of a hunter. But being a hunter isn’t something you can just do because you hit a dead end.”
With a piece of meat on the bone between his teeth, he suddenly stood up and walked to the wooden wall.
He pulled aside a curtain hanging there, and immediately, all kinds of hunting tools were revealed: long knives, sickles, axes, bows and arrows, animal traps…
The cold gleam of metal in the room glinted with a silver light, declaring their value.
“Without these tools, you can’t catch a thing with bare hands.”
“I used to farm at the foot of the mountain too, but I had to sell my land to buy these tools.”
Nowadays, the imperial court tightly controlled salt and iron.
Just one sickle cost over a hundred coins.
Many tenant farmers couldn’t even afford the most basic tools.
Some families were still using stone hoes.
A single iron tool in a poor household could be passed down and used for three generations.
Cao Wen understood the hunter was telling the truth.
Even if one had the right temperament for the mountains—able to endure the solitude—the cost of acquiring these tools was a steep barrier, unaffordable for the average person.
Seeing Cao Wen silent, the hunter added sincerely,
“Not all of these are mine. Quite a few were left behind by my master.”
“You saved my life today. If you really want to go into this trade, I can take you on as my apprentice.”
Cao Wen raised his eyebrows.
He had spent the whole day looking for work and hit wall after wall—this was the first opportunity that looked like a real path forward.
But before he could give a definite answer, the hunter asked,
“Are you married?”
Hearing this, Cao Wen thought of the woman at home—mute, but gentle and virtuous.
His sharp gaze flickered for a moment.
Somewhat awkward, he replied,
“I suppose…I am.”
The hunter gave him a surprised look.
Seeing his hesitation and vague tone, he figured the man might not be too happy with his marriage.
But he didn’t pry into others’ family matters and simply said: “I’ll say it straight. If you’re married, it’s not too suitable to be a hunter. This job doesn’t allow for much time at home.”
“You’re still young, likely newly married. Are you willing to leave your wife behind?”
Cao Wen let out a long breath—it wasn’t really about whether he was willing.
Truth be told, he’d rather avoid her.
But the hunter had a point.
This kind of work meant long periods away in the mountains.
He and Suo Manyan (his wife) were still newlyweds—he couldn’t just abandon her at home to manage the fields and deal with the landlords while he hid away in the forest.
It’s human nature to want to escape—but taking responsibility is what a man must do.
“I need to think it over seriously.”
“My family are tenant farmers. We rely on landlords to survive. And our master isn’t a kind one. Right now, I…”
Cao Wen paused briefly, then continued,
“I’m married. Just trying to find another way out.”
He briefly explained his attempts to look for work in town earlier that day and asked,
“Big brother, do you know of any other ways to make a living?”
“Being a tenant farmer really is tough. In town or even in the city, they rarely hire people from tenant households. Even if they do, the wages are slashed by half. And that’s the best case. If you run into a crooked merchant, they might not pay you at all.”
The hunter had seen plenty of this back in the village.
Tenant farmers would take unpaid wage disputes to court, but the merchants had already bribed the officials.
The tenant would not only lose the case, but their landlord would find out they’d gone out seeking work—and might even refuse to rent land to them anymore.
Understanding Cao Wen’s dilemma, the hunter said earnestly,
“There are some ways in the mountains, besides hunting. You can gather wild goods—use them yourself or sell them at the market. You don’t have to live in the forest full-time like a hunter.”
“But good mountain goods aren’t easy to find. You’ll have to go deep into the forest—dangerous cliffs and terrain—it’s risking your life either way.”
“Mountain goods? Like what?”
“Things like goji berries, medicinal herbs, wild vegetables and fruits—different stuff in different seasons. You can earn a little, but it’s hard work.”
Cao Wen nodded knowingly.
“What’s the difference? Isn’t it the same under the landlord’s thumb?”
The hunter nodded.
“Fair enough. I go around a lot to set traps. If I spot something useful, I’ll let you know—you can go collect it yourself.”
Cao Wen was pleased, and raised his bowl.
“Water instead of wine—thanks!”
The hunter smiled and raised his own bowl to clink with his.
“Don’t thank me just yet. I’ll only tell you where the goods are. Most of those places are dangerous. It’s still up to you to get them.”
Cao Wen laughed,
“That’s a lot better than handing them to me on a plate.”
That afternoon, the forest was dim and cool.
It wasn’t the peak of summer yet, so there was no need to nap midday.
Now that he had a plan, Cao Wen didn’t rest.
He went out to search for mountain goods that same afternoon.
First, since he was already in the mountains, he couldn’t waste the trip.
Second, if he sat around, there’d be nothing for dinner.
Having eaten his fill, he had energy to work.
The hunter lent him a bamboo basket with a coil of long hemp rope inside—for climbing down cliffs or trees.
He also gave him a long sickle for cutting paths and self-defense.
The hunter pointed him eastward, where there was a small hill with a few wild cherry trees.
Not long ago, when the cherries were ripe, lots of birds flocked there to feed.
The hunter had set traps there and made a good catch.
But he had gone too often, and now the birds had learned to avoid the area.
By now, cherries were mostly out of season on the market.
But in the deep mountains, where it was cooler, the seasons lagged behind.
With luck, Cao Wen might still pick some late cherries.
Sometimes, the first or last harvests sell better—when something floods the market, prices drop.
The two parted ways outside the door, and Cao Wen, now with a blade in hand, felt a bit more at ease.
He hacked his way through the tall grass that came up to his calves, carving out a narrow path as he went with his sickle.
About half an hour later, he found the place the hunter had described.
It was higher than the surrounding area and got more sun.
Even the afternoon sunlight was visible from there.
Cao Wen didn’t even have time to scratch at his mosquito-bitten legs—he craned his neck to look for the cherry trees the hunter mentioned.
Amidst the tangled forest, there were indeed a few cherry trees with wide-spread branches.
It was already the Dragon Boat Festival, so cherries were definitely out of season.
The ground was littered with rotting fruit that had fallen—now decomposed into mush, densely strewn with bare pits.
At least it proved the trees had borne a good harvest earlier this year.
There were only a few cherries still visible on the tree, scattered sparsely beneath the leaves.
Cao Wen estimated that if he picked carefully, there would still be a few catties’ worth.
He quickly set down his basket, secured the sickle firmly at his waist, and pulled out a leaf that resembled a lotus leaf—actually a sweet potato leaf—from his basket before climbing the tree.
The wild cherries were very small, only about the size of a pinky fingertip.
They tasted slightly sour and astringent.
It took more than a dozen of them to make a small handful.
Cao Wen didn’t have many tools.
Once the sweet potato leaf was half full, he came back down and placed the fruit carefully into the basket lined with banana leaves, then climbed up again to repeat the process.
As he leapt up and down, he really did look like a nimble monkey.
The forest was quiet, birds and beasts pecking at food, and time passed quickly…
By the time Xuduo Yan returned from the sacrificial ceremony, the sky was already filled with clouds glowing with evening light.
He dragged his sore and exhausted body step by step toward home, feeling so weak that he was starting to break out in cold sweat.
Today, all the heaviest work seemed to have been pushed onto him.
That was one thing—but even the sacrificial meal that the tenant farmers were entitled to at noon, he missed out on because he was too busy working.
How could he not know that this was all because Cao Wen had offended the master of the household?
They knew he was now part of the Cao family, so they deliberately made him suffer as a scapegoat.
Xuduo Yan was angry.
Though he wasn’t the type to take such things to heart—for people like him, when had they ever had the right to be angry at their masters?
Not being beaten was already considered lucky.
Still, being treated like this, he wasn’t made of stone—his mood inevitably soured a little.
Fortunately, at least the sacrifices were over now.
He quickened his pace.
When he got home, he saw that the fence gate was latched from the outside—surprisingly, the injured man had gone out again.