Chapter 16: I’ve never wanted to know a person’s past so much.

As night fell, a shadowy figure stealthily made their way to the only source of light in the mountain.

The figure hid behind a tree as thick as a waist, craning their neck to peer out.

However, the small courtyard outside the wooden cabin was built high to keep out wild animals, and no matter how they tried, they couldn’t see inside.

Moonlight filtered through the trees, casting light on the person’s face, briefly illuminating a scar under their eye.

It was Sun Dasheng, the man Van Jing had scolded earlier that day.

“Damn it, what kind of delicious smell is this!” Sun Dasheng clung to the tree, a mountain breeze failing to blow away his stench but carrying the aroma of food from the cabin.

He swallowed hard several times, plotting how to get into the cabin.

Suddenly, the courtyard gate creaked, as if someone had come out.

In the darkness, it was hard to see who it was, but it seemed they were undressing.

Moments later, the sound of splashing water echoed.

Sun Dasheng perked up, thinking Van Jing was bold enough to bathe outside at night, despite claiming to be on guard.

He crouched by the tree, listening intently, reluctant to leave, assuming the person had finished washing and gone back inside.

Quietly, he stood and crept toward the wall, following the sound of the wind.

“Brother Jing, are you waiting out here for me? You smell so good! Let me have a good sniff!” Seizing the moment, Sun Dasheng lunged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around the shirtless figure.

His weathered face flushed with excitement.

“What tasty food did you make tonight? It’s getting cold with the autumn wind—let me come in and eat with you! Your arm’s hurt, so let me take good care of… ouch!”

Before he could finish his crude words, Sun Dasheng was kicked hard, tumbling into the dry leaves on the ground.

The force was so great it felt like his insides had been crushed.

Clutching his stomach, he groaned in pain.

“Where did this filthy old bastard come from? Are you so desperate you’ve lost your mind?”

Though Kang He only vaguely understood the situation, he knew what was happening and felt disgusted, as if a slimy toad had jumped onto him.

He yanked Sun Dasheng up from the ground and slapped him twice, hard.

“Like smells, do you? I’ll let you have a good whiff!”

“Ahh!” Sun Dasheng screamed, only now realizing the person bathing was a sturdy man.

His face paled with fear.

Hearing the man speak in standard Mandarin, he pleaded in the same tongue, “Hero, spare me! Spare me!”

Van Jing, who had been warming himself by the fire inside, heard the commotion and rushed out with a firewood axe.

He saw Kang He, shirtless, pinning someone down.

When he recognized the man as Sun Dasheng, his brows furrowed, and his voice turned sharp.

“Sun Dasheng, what are you doing here?”

“What else? This filthy old bastard thought you were alone and came to harass you!” Kang He, recalling the vile words and actions aimed at Van Jing, felt a surge of anger and landed a few more punches on Sun Dasheng.

“Brother Jing, save me! His fists are like sandbags—I’ll be beaten to death!” Sun Dasheng wailed.

“You told me to come find you tonight. How was I to know there was another man in your house?”

“You old bastard, still spouting nonsense! Look at your pathetic hide!” Kang He, unmoved by the pleas, grew angrier hearing Sun Dasheng slander Van Jing.

“Take a good look, you old lech—I’m Van Jing’s man. If you dare come after him again, I’ll twist your neck off!”

The dull thuds of fists on flesh followed, beating Sun Dasheng until he could barely cry out.

Van Jing, seeing that Kang He hadn’t believed Sun Dasheng’s lies and hearing his bold declaration, was momentarily stunned.

He had always thought Kang He was cheerful and talkative, but never imagined he could be so fierce in a fight. Fearing a death at his doorstep, he stepped forward to stop Kang He.

“Let him go. Don’t kill him at my door.”

“You’re too kind to this old bastard. If you let him off, he’ll think you’re soft on him. If I don’t make him hurt today, he’ll come back to bother you!” Kang He protested.

“I won’t dare! I won’t dare!” Sun Dasheng, dizzy from the beating and feeling blood in his nose, realized his lies had backfired, only enraging them further.

“I won’t bother Brother Jing again!”

“Who told you to come here?” Kang He demanded.

“It was my own lustful heart. I came on my own—it’s not Brother Jing’s fault! Ouch…”

Only then did Kang He, half-pulled by Van Jing, get off Sun Dasheng, though his anger lingered.

The thought of the old lecher spying on someone bathing, imagining it was Van Jing, fueled his rage.

He grabbed a ladle of leftover bathwater from the bucket and splashed it on Sun Dasheng before letting him go.

Sun Dasheng barely escaped with his life, never imagining Van Jing’s house hid such a fierce protector.

As he fled, he didn’t dare breathe too loudly, fearing pursuit.

Back in the cabin, Kang He calmed slightly, but when he glanced at Van Jing, he saw little expression on his face.

Unable to hold back, he asked, “Who’s that old bastard?”

“A hunter from the village,” Van Jing replied.

Kang He waited for more, but Van Jing’s flat response and lack of elaboration left him unsatisfied.

“What kind of hunter is so vile, doing such lowlife things?”

Van Jing hadn’t expected Sun Dasheng to sneak over at night.

Though the man was sneaky, he’d never dared come to the cabin before.

Seeing Kang He bathing outside, as cautious as if guarding against a thief, made Van Jing feel like he was more dangerous than the wild animals.

If he hadn’t gone outside, Sun Dasheng wouldn’t have mistaken him, yet Kang He was still fuming.

Feeling a bit displeased, Van Jing said, “Hunters are all that vile.”

Kang He, hearing this, snapped, “If that’s the case, why didn’t you, a hunter, pounce on me and hold me tight?”

Van Jing was speechless.

After a long pause, he said, “Who told you to bathe outside?”

“I didn’t want to make a muddy mess in the courtyard,” Kang He replied.

“Let it be muddy then. Aren’t you afraid of ghosts out there?” Van Jing said.

Kang He snorted.

“Ghosts? You mean lecherous ghosts?”

Van Jing didn’t know how to argue further.

Glancing at Kang He, he saw him shirtless, wearing only thigh-length shorts soaked from the bath, clinging to his body.

In the dark, it hadn’t been clear, but now, with the candlelight and the fire in the stove, the room was brightly lit.

Van Jing’s ears turned red, and he looked away.

Both were a bit upset, but Kang He noticed Van Jing’s unease.

Glancing down at himself, he flushed with embarrassment and hurried to his small bed to dry off and dress.

After a while, Kang He returned. Van Jing sat on a stool by the stove, back to his usual calm self.

Noticing Kang He’s red knuckles, he asked, “Is your hand okay?”

Kang He flexed his hand—it was a bit numb but fine.

Hearing Van Jing’s concern warmed him, easing his earlier frustration.

Sitting beside Van Jing, he softened his tone.

“I didn’t mean anything by it. I just wanted to know who that old bastard was. I’m worried about you, but you won’t say more. If he’s got those kinds of thoughts and didn’t get his way this time, he’ll try again. Some men are no good—you can’t just brush this off because you’re not frail like others.”

“If that old bastard tries to bully you, I’ll deal with him!”

Van Jing fell silent for a long time.

“His name’s Sun Dasheng, the village head’s distant nephew.”

Two years ago, Sun Dasheng, a half-baked hunter, had fled to the mountains after causing trouble in the city, fearing retribution.

Everyone knew the mountains were dangerous, so the village head brought gifts to Van Jing’s family, asking him to look out for his nephew.

Van Jing’s father valued reputation, and the village head was a powerful figure.

Who would dare refuse such a request?

At first, Van Jing did help, but Sun Dasheng was not only dishonest but harbored filthy intentions.

When Van Jing rebuffed him, Sun Dasheng complained to his uncle, claiming Van Jing bullied him as a newcomer.

The village head, no paragon of justice, made life difficult for Van Jing’s family.

Emboldened by his uncle’s support, Sun Dasheng often harassed Van Jing, even boasting that his uncle would arrange a marriage with Van Jing’s family.

Van Jing felt disgusted, like a maggot was crawling on him, but he didn’t know how to handle such a lowlife.

He hadn’t wanted to share this, but Kang He’s persistence prompted him to reveal some details.

“He’s afraid of me and wouldn’t dare come easily. Don’t worry,” he added, his tone flat, as if reassuring himself.

Kang He, learning Sun Dasheng’s background, was furious but also pained.

He hadn’t realized how tough things were for Van Jing.

“If he’s so afraid, why’d he come tonight?” Seeing Van Jing’s injured arm, he recalled Sun Dasheng’s words and understood why.

Guilt washed over him.

“It’s my fault,” Kang He said, shaking his head. He’d caused Van Jing so much trouble.

Even if it wasn’t his fault directly, if Van Jing hadn’t been injured because of him, Sun Dasheng would still have come, preying on Van Jing’s vulnerability.

At the root, Sun Dasheng was the problem, exploiting Van Jing’s straightforward nature.

Feeling deep sympathy, Kang He said earnestly, “Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you. If that old bastard dares come again, he won’t get off as easily as tonight.”

Van Jing’s brows tightened.

“Don’t be afraid”

He hadn’t heard those words in years.

Most people feared him.

In the world of trades, hunters were rare, and a young man like Van Jing was even rarer.

People often viewed such outliers with prejudice, like how matchmakers were typically women, not men.

When the old hunter died, Van Jing, his only apprentice, took over hunting in these mountains.

But other hunters, dismissive of his youth, encroached on his territory, setting traps and trying to drive him out.

At just over ten years old, Van Jing couldn’t compete with them.

At home, his father was silent, his mother sighed, and the family had no means to seek justice.

Poor and without connections, who would show them respect?

In those chaotic times, with wars and heavy taxes, life was hard.

Few had enough rice to cook.

A hunted animal, even if unsold, could feed the family.

Van Jing knew he couldn’t abandon the forest, for his family’s sake and the old hunter’s legacy.

With no help from his family, he relied on himself.

As a teenager, he hunted down a one-eyed black bear that had killed several people, barely surviving to drag its body to his territory’s boundary and skinning it.

The other hunters, awed by his prowess, stopped encroaching, and peace was restored.

Van Jing nearly died and took half a year to recover, but after that, no one dared challenge him.

He felt there was nothing left to fear.

He hadn’t deeply considered whether he feared Sun Dasheng.

Perhaps he did, but years in the mountains, facing countless dangers, had numbed him.

This incident didn’t stand out.

He didn’t want to think about what might have happened if Kang He hadn’t been there, with his injured arm and Sun Dasheng breaking in.

He didn’t dare imagine, just as he didn’t dwell on what might happen if a wild boar turned on him or he fell off a cliff chasing a deer.

Fear solved nothing, and no one would solve it for him.

Van Jing wasn’t one to dwell on the past or talk much.

But once he started, he got lost in it.

Without responding to Kang He, he stood abruptly.

“Kang He, I’m going to sleep.”

He walked to his small bed.

Kang He, seeing Van Jing avoid the topic, frowned.

He wanted to call out but, seeing Van Jing’s unsteady steps, his throat felt blocked, and he couldn’t speak.

Through the curtain, the firelight outlined Van Jing’s slender figure.

Kang He stood outside, watching the quiet, fragile silhouette, feeling an unfamiliar pang in his chest, stronger than when Van Jing had injured his arm saving him.

In the middle of the night, a light rain fell.

The sound wasn’t loud, but the late autumn chill deepened.

Kang He lay on his small bed, unable to sleep, thinking of the man behind the curtain—a gourd with a small mouth, hard to open, but a big belly hiding many things.

Van Jing kept so much inside, reluctant to share, yet every piece was heavy.

By dawn, Kang He, sleepless, reached a conclusion: he’d never wanted so badly to understand someone’s past or protect someone so fiercely.