Chapter 47: Hunting injuries

After the start of summer, the forests grew lush and green, and Fan Jing and Kang He both began living on the Mountain for long stretches.

The village was sweltering with heat waves, but in the forested Mountain, it was noticeably cool.

At home, Kang He couldn’t stand to wear a shirt, but in the Mountain, he had to wear long-sleeved clothes—partly because it was cooler up there, but also because, though the Mountain was refreshing, the mosquitoes were absolutely fierce.

Inside the Wooden Cabin, he’d been taught to install a layer of mosquito netting over the windows, and even that patched-together bed was covered with a Mosquito Net.

All day long, Kang He would burn dried Incense Mugwort in a basin.

The herbal smoke drifted through the air and did help repel mosquitoes somewhat, but it soaked into his clothes and skin as well. Whenever he went out hunting, he’d carry a faint scent of Incense Mugwort with him.

“There’s nothing in this Wooden Cabin for repelling mosquitoes, everything here is something I came up with. The mosquitoes in this Mountain are as big as your pinky finger, flying around like a net. Back then, how did you keep the mosquitoes away?”
Kang He weaved two swatters out of bamboo strips and would smack at the Mosquitoes whenever he saw them.

The mosquitoes were so fierce that the two of them didn’t dare do anything outside the bed. One day, the two were in the middle of things, but the bed was too small to stretch out, so they tumbled out of the Mosquito Net, bare-chested.

In no time at all, a mosquito landed on Fan Jing’s lower back, and Kang He couldn’t resist giving it a smack.

He really was just trying to kill the mosquito, but he missed it, only producing a crisp smack. Fan Jing got angry and didn’t let him touch him for days.

Kang He grew to hate mosquitoes with a passion.

Fan Jing answered, “Thick skin and tough flesh, they can’t bite through.”

Kang He snorted, “Then where did all those welts on your arm come from, one after another? Clearly, you’re just living rough, not that your skin is any tougher.”

Fan Jing said nothing, but Kang He had hit the nail on the head. He’d always gotten by with whatever was on hand, never put much effort into keeping the mosquitoes away.

If they wanted to bite, let them bite. He didn’t believe they could suck him dry.

But Kang He wouldn’t accept that nonsense. Even if mosquitoes couldn’t drain all your blood, the itching was unbearable.

He pulled Fan Jing’s arm, rolled up the sleeve, and rubbed on some Mosquito Repellent Water steeped with herbs.

“I picked some mint, soaked it with syrup, and made two gourds of Mint Sweetwater with cold boiled water. I buried them in the River Creek to chill. We’ll fetch them later, they’ll be refreshingly cool. Tonight, we’ll steam a smoked salty fish to go with it.”

Fan Jing agreed. Ever since he’d had a bout of toothache, he hadn’t eaten sweets as recklessly as before.

Kang He also stopped buying Winter Melon Preserves for him, keeping a closer eye, and only made snacks that weren’t so sweet.

The two of them napped for the length of an incense stick in the Wooden Cabin, and after their bodies were rested, they packed up their things and went out to wander the Mountain, stopping by the river to fetch the Mint Sweetwater.

Kang He, looking the part, slung a Bow over his shoulder and walked with Fan Jing.

That Bow looked impressive on his tall and slender frame, but it was all for show and not much use—purely for scaring people.

Even with a good teacher, he hadn’t improved much.

Fan Jing teased him, saying that if he went home and hunted in the chicken and duck pens, maybe he could get lucky.

The Wild Game in the Mountain were all as crafty as foxes. By the time Kang He spotted them and got his Bow ready, they’d long since disappeared into their dens.

But even though he complained, Fan Jing still handed him a Bow to use—and it was a brand-new one.

Kang He held the Bow in one hand, walking beside Fan Jing, drawing the string and pretending to nock an Arrow and aim.

He was having a great time when suddenly Fan Jing grabbed his hand.

“What’s wrong?”

Kang He’s brows drew together and he stopped right away.

Fan Jing nodded his chin toward the front, lightened his footsteps, and deftly drew an Arrow from behind his waist.

Kang He looked in the direction Fan Jing indicated, seeing only a thicket of dense shrubs. Just as he was wondering what was there, there was a sharp rustle—a Bamboo Arrow shot through the air.

“Ao!”

A piercing scream rang out, and a Mountain Boar weighing nearly a hundred jin burst from the shrubs.

Fan Jing had already hit it, but the Arrow struck high on its hind leg, not a vital spot.

The Mountain Boar wasn’t stupid—it bolted through the thicket.

Fan Jing, unwilling to let his prey escape, chased after it into the shrubs.

Kang He wasn’t new to the Mountain, and thought himself experienced, but he hadn’t noticed a Mountain Boar hiding in those bushes. He had no idea how Fan Jing had spotted it so precisely.

There was no time to think about it now—he grabbed his knife and followed.

The shrubs weren’t tall, but the vines and weeds made it hard to chase game. Luckily, Kang He hadn’t run far before he heard a few more Arrows whistle through the air—each Bamboo Arrow landing solidly in the Mountain Boar.

After taking several of Fan Jing’s Arrows, the Mountain Boar couldn’t run anymore and collapsed.

Kang He finally let out a breath of relief.

He watched as Fan Jing slowly lowered his Bow in the distance, the wind fluttering his robe, and thought he looked especially heroic.

Kang He grinned, delighted, wanting to go see the Mountain Boar up close.

Fan Jing, hearing his words, smiled slightly and turned to look at him—just one glance, “Kang He, watch out!”

Kang He froze at the warning, instinctively turning around—only to see that at some point, a massive Mountain Boar had appeared behind him!

Its two thick, hard tusks were as big as thumbs, standing tall on either side of its black snout.

This was clearly an old Mountain Boar, much larger than the previous one.

The moment it realized it had been spotted, it pawed the ground twice and charged straight at them.

Even the wind carried its brute force—if it hit, even if you didn’t break a bone, you’d be torn open.

Kang He quickly bolted to dodge, and Fan Jing panicked as well.

He aimed at the Mountain Boar and let an Arrow fly, hoping to kill it, but it struck a little below the neck, on the back.

It didn’t kill the beast—just made it angrier and even more ferocious. It charged straight at Kang He.

Kang He felt the world spin for a moment—he didn’t know if it was because he’d tumbled into the dark undergrowth, or if he’d been knocked dizzy. His vision blurred as he rolled several times through the shrubs.

There wasn’t a slope here, so it wasn’t the terrain that sent him rolling—it was the Mountain Boar, snorting and grunting, ramming him over and over.

Fan Jing saw Kang He get rammed into the dense shrubs by the Mountain Boar, his whole body disappearing into the thicket, the boar vanishing after him.

For a moment, Fan Jing felt as if all the blood in his body had frozen.

With Kang He and the Mountain Boar tangled up together, he didn’t dare shoot again. The chance to accurately judge had vanished the moment he missed the vital spot and enraged the beast.

If he missed again, the consequences wouldn’t be as simple as just startling the Mountain Boar.

He leaped over the vines and weeds, following the path of crushed grass and tangled vines—a long, winding trail, splattered with blood.

Fan Jing’s mind had never been so blank, nor his hands and feet so cold.

It wasn’t until he saw Kang He, half his face covered in blood and still swinging his knife at the Mountain Boar, wedged in the branches, that he finally felt a spark of hope.

Fan Jing came up from behind and brought his knife down—striking the Mountain Boar, which Kang He had already weakened to the point of collapse, killing it instantly.

“Thank goodness for these shrubs. If I hadn’t squeezed in here, that thing would’ve ripped off a chunk of my flesh. Even if it didn’t bite, its tusks could’ve snapped my bones.”

Kang He, seeing the Mountain Boar couldn’t get up again, finally relaxed his tensed nerves. He took several deep, shaky breaths, feeling the stench of blood all over him. “This thing isn’t even as big as the pig we slaughtered at home last New Year, but its strength is something else.”

He rambled on for a while, but Fan Jing didn’t say a word, just silently hacked away at the tangled branches to get him out.

Kang He crawled out slowly, but felt a throbbing pain in his right arm.

He thought Fan Jing was so calm even in such danger—no wonder he was the guy who’d killed a Bear.

But then he felt a bit miffed—he’d thought Fan Jing would be worried sick about him, maybe even cry after such a close call.

But as he crawled out of the branches, ready to put on a pitiful act, he noticed Fan Jing’s hand—reaching out to pull his left hand—was trembling.

Kang He was stunned.

He’d never seen Fan Jing’s left hand, the one that held the Bow most steadily, shake like this.

For a moment, Kang He swallowed the words on his lips.

He softened his voice, “I’m fine.”

Fan Jing said nothing, just kept pulling him out of the shrubs.

Kang He noticed something was off in his mood, so he reached out and grasped Fan Jing’s hand behind his back.

But Fan Jing’s hand was still trembling fiercely in his palm. He might have been trying to control it, but he simply couldn’t.

Seeing this, Kang He quickly hugged him, gently patting his back to comfort him, “Don’t be afraid, it’s all right.”

Fan Jing seemed a bit dazed, his eyes unfocused, his chest heaving.

Kang He frowned tightly, holding him for a long time before Fan Jing finally calmed down and hurried to take him home.

By the time the two of them dragged the two Mountain Boars home, it was already getting dark.

After a warm bath, Kang He wore only a pair of shorts, having washed off the grime and blood, and finally saw how many injuries he’d actually gotten.

His arms and legs were covered in scrapes, some deep, some shallow—maybe from the vines and roots, maybe from the Mountain Boar’s tusks.

Even his left cheek had a cut as long as his pinky.

Fortunately, there was medicine in the Wooden Cabin. When he tried to grab the medicine box, he realized his right hand had no strength left at all.

Fan Jing wouldn’t let him move, telling him to lie on the bed while he applied the medicine.

Since the accident, Fan Jing hadn’t said a word all afternoon.

Lying flat, Kang He watched as Fan Jing applied Herbal Ointment to his wounds, and said,
“Why aren’t you talking? Is it because I got hurt on my face and I’m not as handsome as before? Or do you think I’m too clumsy, couldn’t handle the Mountain Boar, and caused you trouble?”

Fan Jing’s brows twitched. As his fingertips traced each of Kang He’s wounds, his guilt deepened with every scar.

Now, hearing Kang He say this, he felt an indescribable ache.

“If my aim had been true, you wouldn’t be hurt.
… I shouldn’t have taken you into those shrubs, shouldn’t have gone so far from you, I shouldn’t…”

Kang He quickly grabbed Fan Jing’s hand:
“Idiot, you can blame me for being clumsy, for dragging you down, but you shouldn’t blame yourself. Even if I’d died today, it wouldn’t be your fault. You know that—living in these Mountains, accidents are common.”

Fan Jing pressed his lips together, his eyes growing hot.

He shook his head, “No… you can’t…”

Realizing his words weren’t helping and Fan Jing’s emotions were getting out of hand, Kang He immediately hugged him to soothe him.

“It’s all right, it’s all right, I shouldn’t have said that.

It’s over now. See, I’m fine. I’ll be more careful from now on—this won’t happen again.”

Fan Jing said nothing, but his heart was heavy with suppressed emotion.

That night, his sleep was restless, full of dreams.

He dreamt of Mountain Boars charging at him from all directions, eyes red and jaws wide, ready to tear him apart. He tried to shoot, but the Arrows landed on Kang He instead.

He dreamt again of Kang He covered in blood, wanting to run to hold him, but unable to move, forced to watch him fall before his eyes…

Fan Jing had never been so terrified. He broke free from the dream, suddenly waking.

The Wooden Cabin was silent, only the sound of the night wind outside. He was drenched in sweat.

For a moment, Fan Jing couldn’t tell dream from reality, nor where he was.

It wasn’t until he felt the arm wrapped around his waist tighten—sensing his anxiety—that he finally came back to himself.

In the faint firelight, he saw Kang He sleeping peacefully beside him. Though his right arm hurt and he couldn’t move, he still used his left arm to hold him close.

Fan Jing watched Kang He for a long time. Without a word, he gently shifted closer, nestling into his embrace.

Kang He smelled faintly of Incense Mugwort and Herbal Ointment. Breathing it in, Fan Jing felt much calmer, and finally drifted back to sleep.