"Hey, everybody, slow down. That patch giving off white steam, that's exactly the hot spring we're after."
Donkey had sharp eyes. He strode over to the spring's edge and dipped a hand in. "Ssss." He yanked it back with a laugh. "Man, it's really hot. No wonder this one spot's different in all this ice and snow."
Everyone crowded around. All around was blank white. But right there at the spring's edge, a few scattered clumps of lush green plants were growing, radiating life in the cold wind. A jarring contrast against the mountain full of ice and snow.
Iron Post patted my back. "First time seeing this, huh, Chunzhu? Don't get all worked up. Every household on our team's got a hot spring room. There's one hidden right at the base of the cliff behind your place."
But my eyes stayed nailed to those clumps of green. And an idea suddenly slammed into my head.
"We've already got hot springs, and it's this warm here. Why not build some greenhouses?" I turned around, my voice picking up urgency. "Dead of winter, nothing will grow out in the fields. But with a greenhouse, run a channel of hot spring water under the floor and inside stays warm all the time. No matter how cold it gets out there, how hard it snows, inside you can still grow greens, radishes, cucumbers. More than enough to eat ourselves, and the extra we can haul to the supply co-op and sell, bring in some income for the team."
The lively hot spring bank went dead quiet all at once. The guys looked at each other, totally lost.
Iron Post scratched his head and asked in a small, sheepish voice, "Chunzhu, what exactly is a greenhouse? We've never heard that word in our whole lives."
I smiled, pointed at those clumps of green, and patiently explained. "Put simply, it's a big warm shed with hot spring water piped through it."
Greenhouses had only just started catching on in the cities these past couple of years. Plenty of folks even in the county town hadn't seen one, never mind way out here in the deep mountains.
Once they got it, everyone's eyes lit up. Rock smacked his hands together. "Oh my god. Educated folks really do think quick. We've been sitting on this great hot spring, and all we ever knew was warming up and washing clothes. What a waste." He rubbed his hands together, eager. "Soon as we finish hunting and get back, I'm the first one telling my grandpa about this. He's a senior elder on the team. His word carries weight. If we can really grow winter vegetables, our village will have one more way to get by."
Iron Post threw out an arm, his voice bold. "All right, first things first. Let's get the job done. Bag some good game today, call it a welcome for Chunzhu. And here's to life getting better and better off these greenhouses down the road."
"You got it!" everyone chorused.
Past the hot spring, everything turned back into ice and snow. After walking a good half hour, Donkey suddenly turned around with a mysterious grin. "Chunzhu, let me ask you something. This trip up the mountain, why is everybody carrying a spear besides their gun?"
I looked at the gear on their waists. Oak shafts, iron spearheads glinting cold. I just figured they were an extra weapon for backup.
"See, that's what you don't know." Donkey looked pleased with himself. "Dead of winter, black bears and brown bears are all hibernating. Look under those dead pines, in the collapsed cracks in the ground, in the tucked-away caves, chances are there's a black bear asleep in there. But they sleep heavy and they spook easy, and once they wake up they're vicious. A hunting rifle might not even hold them back. That's when the spear earns its keep. While it's still out, you creep up quiet, drive the spear into a vital spot. Safe and clean. Works better than firing a shot."
It clicked for me, but a chill went through me too. In my past life, all these were state protected animals. Never mind hunting them, you'd be on the hook for so much as touching one. First time in these deep mountains, and only now did I feel the full weight of those two words: staying alive.
But strangely, the guys walked wearily for over an hour, and never mind rabbits or pheasants, we didn't even spot a squirrel.
Rock scratched his head, a little deflated. "Weird. Usually walk this far and we run into something. How come there's nothing today?"
"That's just hunting for you. Good luck and you're loaded in no time. Bad luck and you walk all day empty-handed." Donkey waved it off. "There's a cave up ahead. It's where us hunters, the game wardens, and the militia patrols all stop to rest. Let's duck in, warm up, eat some dry rations. Maybe there'll be game up ahead after."
The cave was tucked behind dense woods, its mouth buried under thick snow. You'd never spot it without a close look. Donkey kicked the snow clear and ducked in first.
The second I stepped inside, my eyes went wide. I'd figured a deep mountain cave would be dark, damp and a mess. But this one was clean and tidy. A good two hundred-plus square feet, mouth facing the sun, bitter wind outside, and inside it was noticeably warm and dry. In a corner of the cave stood two dry grass plank beds, a small iron pot beside them, a few sets of bowls and chopsticks, a water bucket, and half a wall stacked neat with dried firewood.
Donkey got a fire going, the flames whooshing up and lighting the whole cave. He lit a cigarette and said slowly, "The stuff in this cave, the few production teams around here all chipped in for it. Hunting, patrolling, gathering mountain goods, when you're tired or cold, you come here to rest." He pointed at a small cloth sack in the corner. "There's a few pounds of cornmeal and dried sweet potato in there for emergencies too."
His face turned serious. "Remember this. You use the firewood, the grain, the bowls here, you make sure to restock soon as you're back. Someday the mountain gets snowed in and somebody's trapped here counting on this to live, and the stuff's gone. That's how people die."
Everyone nodded. I quietly filed it away too. These farming folks might not have much schooling, but they've got the most basic sense of right and wrong, and that's the rarest thing of all.
Warming up by the fire, the cold slowly bled off. Donkey poured everyone a bowl of hot water. Cupping mine, I suddenly thought of home and asked, "Donkey, these mountain pheasants and rabbits, if I shipped them to the county for my family, would they go bad on the way?"
I honestly had no clue. No delivery services this era. Everything went by rail, and from here to the county was at least ten days, half a month. Fresh meat would for sure spoil in transit.
Dummy was a straight shooter, and the second he heard it, he waved a hand. "Don't ship meat. Wrap it however you want, it'll still rot. You want to send something home? Ship coupons instead. We bag mountain goods, take them to the black market fair at the foot of the mountain, trade them for national grain coupons. That stuff works anywhere. Your family holds those, they can trade for grain, for flour. Way more reliable than shipping meat."
I nodded and couldn't help sighing. "You're right. You guys don't know. Back in the county, grain's actually enough to get by on. It's the meat that's dead scarce. Somebody with a job gets three taels of meat coupons a month. Old folks and kids only two. Can't even get fresh meat once a month. Want to buy more? Your only option is the black market. But they're cracking down hard now. Get caught and it's not just the meat confiscated, you get hauled up and struggle-sessioned. Who's going to risk that?"
Everyone looked sympathetic, sighing along. Grain was tight for them in the mountains too. But at least they had wild game and mountain goods, so they weren't shackled to meat coupons like the county folks.
Donkey patted my shoulder. "Don't get all down about it. Bag plenty today. Keep some for yourself to enjoy, trade the rest for grain coupons and ship them home."
I nodded with a smile, my heart warm. We barely knew each other yet, but this plain, simple kindness, somehow it gave me a little taste of home.