I seized the moment to add one more thing. "There's something I wanted to trouble you with. I'd like to collect some mountain goods from around the village. Wood ear, mushrooms, pine nuts, walnuts. I can pay in cash or trade chicken, duck, goose eggs, whatever. So I can ship some home to the county and let my family know I'm doing okay."
"That little thing, leave it to me." The old man agreed readily. "The postal delivery guy comes around once every half month. By my count, he ought to be here in another three, four days. When he comes, I'll holler around the village, have the folks bring out all their mountain goods, and you pick whatever you like to trade for."
He clasped his hands behind his back, stuck his big pipe in his belt and puffed away, pff, pff, striding off toward the production team with steady steps, still muttering about how he needed to call a meeting quick and lock down the reservoir and terrace plans.
Donkey watched him go, a look of pure envy on his face, and scratched his head. "Chunzhu, buddy, you're really something. Even Grandpa's looking at you different now. When I get home I'm going to crack down on my two boys, make them study hard, so someday they can be as capable as you."
I laughed and waved him off. "You all give me too much credit. Whether it pans out or not, it's going to take the whole village pulling together. All right, enough of that." I turned my tone lightening. "Weather's good. Let's hurry up the mountain. We bag something, us brothers can have ourselves a good drink."
"You got it!" everyone chorused, slinging their guns over their backs. And off we went, chatting and laughing toward the big mountain behind the village.
On the way, Donkey rubbed his cold, reddened hands and filled me in on the lay of the land. "This ain't your ordinary hill. It's a spur off the Changbai range. Thirty li south and you hit the outer forest zone. More wild game than you can count."
Then his face went serious and he tapped the gun in my hand. "Buddy, don't go thinking a gun in your grip means you're all set. These homemade guns only do any good up close. Get a little farther and the round just drifts off nowhere. The forest is the animals' turf. They hide out in the brush and jump you out of nowhere. You won't even have time to react. Remember two rules. One, never go it alone. Got to stick together as a group. Two, got to bring dogs."
He glanced at the four big dogs at his side, looking pleased with himself. "These four Hanwang hounds of mine. Sharp noses, fast, and they work as a team. Long as we don't run smack into something truly fierce, with them around, nothing too bad's going to happen."
I nodded along. Everything he said was straight truth. The Northeast used to be vast and rich, live off the mountains and eat off the mountains. But life these days wasn't like it used to be, and the game had thinned out. Just bagging one halfway decent animal took some real doing.
The Red Flag production team was built up on a mountaintop. The villagers had carved into the mountain and built their houses inside its belly. Warm in winter, cool in summer. My place even had a hot spring piped in, so it stayed toasty without even firing up the kang. One of the few comforts I had out here in this remote mountain village.
We crossed a ridge and climbed another peak, and the sight in front of us stopped everybody in their tracks.
"Whoa. Oh my god, this is way too gorgeous."
The whole mountainside of big trees was hung with snow-white rime frost, glittering ice crystals studding every branch like pear blossoms in full bloom. Off in the distance a black-brown volcano towered up, and the hot spring area at its foot steamed with white mist, wrapping the whole forest in it. From far off it looked like a fairyland up in the clouds. Dreamlike. Unreal.
"All my life, first time I've seen scenery this beautiful," I said, and I meant it.
But Donkey just laughed and waved a hand. "This is nothing. Wait till summer. The whole mountain's green, birds singing, flowers blooming. That's something. And there's way more game too. I'll take you to pick wild strawberries and wild hawthorns. All you can eat."
The words had barely left his mouth. Flap, flap, flap. A gray-brown pheasant burst up off a nearby tree, wings beating as it flew toward the far mountains.
That bird was easily a foot long. Looked nice and meaty.
"Catch it! Stew up a whole pot with some hazel mushrooms and glass noodles, wash it down with a little liquor. Quick, don't let it get away!"
Donkey reacted fastest, snatching up his gun and giving chase. "That bird's got good thick meat. We catch it, we get a treat."
The whole gang roared and took off after it. In an instant the snowfield was chaos. Chickens flying, dogs barking, everybody huffing and puffing.
That pheasant was quick. One second up a tree, the next diving into the bushes, dodging and weaving, slippery as anything. Homemade guns couldn't hit anything airborne, so the guys just ditched the guns and ran it down on foot, chasing that pheasant till it was worn ragged.
The snow was ankle deep. Running through it was brutal, and pretty soon the big guys were gasping, collars soaked with sweat. But that pheasant was fading too, flying lower and lower, skimming the snow toward the bottom of the hill, barely able to flap its wings anymore.
I kept my eyes locked on it, watched the gap close, and something clicked. I bent down and scooped up a fist-sized chunk of frozen dirt, took a deep breath, and the second it slowed, I whipped it out.
Whack. The dirt clod nailed the pheasant right in the head. The bird let out a squawk, wobbled, then dropped straight into the snow, flapped twice, and went still.
"Holy — Chunzhu, buddy, that's insane!"
The whole bunch just stood there gaping. Dummy's eyes went wide as saucers. "Oh my god, that aim is unreal. We used to chuck dirt clods at pheasants and miss nine out of ten. Never once seen anybody nail it first try like that."
Donkey clapped me on the shoulder, roaring with laughter. "Buddy, you've been holding out on us. With you around, we're definitely coming home loaded today."
I scratched my head and gave a shy little smile. "Luck. Pure luck. Just a wild guess that happened to land."
Dummy ran over, hefted the pheasant, and tied it to his waist, tickled pink. "Man, that's a good two, three pounds. Stew this up back home and it'll hit the spot."
We rested a bit, then the group headed south. Donkey glanced at the bird. "One's not going to feed six guys. We finally made it up the mountain. Got to bag more. Grab a couple of rabbits, a roe deer, bring something back for the old folks and kids at home to try too."
As we walked, his face went serious, and he dropped his voice, warning me about the ways of the mountains again. "Worst thing in these woods ain't tigers or black bears. It's wild boar. Those things love wallowing in the mud pits by the crater, so they wear a crust of dried mud. Harder than sheet iron. Homemade guns can't punch through it at all. Only your double-barrel scattergun's got enough power. You really run into one, all you can do is aim for the soft spots. The eyes, the mouth, the neck. One-shot kill. Otherwise it slams into you and it'll send us all flying."
He paused, his voice going lower still. "But the scariest of all is the biao. Old saying goes, one biao can take on three tigers. This thing's got a tiger's strength, a leopard's speed, and it's craftier than either. Back in the day, our team ran into one. Six guys, four guns, three dogs. We fired and only caught it in the hind leg. It went berserk, came charging in, one lunge, snatched a guy off our team and dragged him off. Never saw him again."
Donkey shook his head, still shaken by it. "You really run into a biao, don't fight. Don't shoot. Run as fast as your legs will carry you. Staying alive is what matters."
I locked that away in my head, all the easiness gone from my face. This wasn't scaremongering. It was hard-won experience, paid for with lives. Out here in these deep mountains, one slip and you pay with your own.