Chapter 147

Chapter 147

The group stopped beneath a mountain shaped like a chicken's head.

This mountain, named "Chicken Head Mountain," lived up to its name, sure enough. From afar, it looked like a rooster standing tall on the peak, with three rows of trees, some tall, some short, on the summit forming its comb, and a sharp rock sticking out as its beak. It was a big landmark right on the border between Xinping County and Wuling County.

Everyone halted and set about the three things you gotta do when you stop to rest on the run: sending folks out to scout around, sweeping leaves, shooing snakes and bugs, and digging shitters and putting up lean-tos.

Once these were done, each family found a good spot to lay out straw mats and got on with the next three chores: Zhao Sandi took the kids out to find water, the women scooped out rice and flour to get cooking ready, and the men dug pits for stoves and fixed up the carts.

This meal had to be hearty, with some grease if possible. Old Man Zhao had given the word: the chickens they'd tied to the baskets and ropes back in the village, too stubborn to kill, should all be killed now. The ones already hung on the carts to dry into jerky should also be fixed up and eaten—don't hold onto 'em; they won't keep.

"Don't be stingy," Old Man Zhao said. "If you keep 'em any longer, they might end up in someone else's belly. Fix your men a good meal. They've lost a lot of meat on this trip; their faces are practically hanging off their bones. One look and they look like easy marks, can't scare nobody. I won't hide it—Xinping's peaceful 'cause there's hardly anyone there, just refugees like us who don't want trouble. Wuling's different. Whether it's heaven's blessing or just that it's got lots of mountains and few folks, even though it borders Xinping, the earthquake hit the other two counties the worst. Heaven sneezes and aims its breath somewhere else, blowing different air out each nostril—this side didn't hear of any big disasters."

A town can have rain in one village and sun in another, folks opening umbrellas going into one village and closing 'em leaving the next—such strange things happen. Heaven's just that unreasonable. With a wave of its hand, it can flatten a whole area; with a blink, it can spare another. The remote village of Wanxia, not far from Xinping, had most of its houses collapse, while neighboring Wuling barely got hit. Pisses you off, don't it?

Qingxuan Temple got shaved down to a lone peak like a radish, while Chicken Head Mountain's "comb" stayed put. What's more, the closer they got to Wuling, the smoother the road got. The chasms and sinkholes they'd dodged all the way seemed like a distant dream.

At dusk, under that indigo sky before night fell, wisps of cooking smoke curled up, and the smell of food swept through a big stretch of woods. Except for Old Zhao's family, who'd been sneaking meat the whole way, the other families, starved for grease, stood hungry by their stoves, drooling and wiping their mouths over and over.

Stewed chicken, braised bacon, stir-fried meat slices—even the tightest families brought out a big slab of bacon. The patient ones sliced it thin so everyone could grab a couple extra pieces. The impatient ones cut it thick and chunky, ate it just the same—a mouthful of bursting grease was the real joy, the way meat oughta be eaten.

Da Luo Bo's family ate meat too. The mother and her two boys hovered around the stove. Lv Xiuhong braised a whole slab of bacon, cut thick, the fat cooked clear. When it was done, she took out a clean little bowl, filled it halfway with the meat, and handed it to her oldest son to deliver to Old Zhao's folks.

If it weren't for Aunt Wang's quiet help along the way, she wouldn't have made it this far with her boys. No matter how tough she was, even ready to swing a cleaver when pushed to the edge, her heavy load and weaker body often left her feeling helpless.

She was held back by her own frail body, but she was grateful. Whenever she had a chance to repay a kindness, she didn't let it slip by. A few slices of bacon were nothing; if it weren't for her son's weakness and her not wanting to burden others on the road, she wouldn't have hesitated to give it all to Old Zhao's folks.

Whether she ate or not, it didn't matter.

"Set the bowl down and go. If Old Lady Wang calls you, run faster, don't look back," Lv Xiuhong told her son, gently touching his head, smiling warm. "Come back quick; your ma and brother are waiting for you to eat meat."

"Okay." Da Luo Bo grinned, holding the bowl in one hand and balancing the lid with the other as he trotted toward Old Zhao's place.

When he got there, he saw Dagouzi sprinting back to his own spot, while Zhao Shanao's grandson was also walking over with a bowl. The three kids looked at each other. Dagouzi, still remembering Da Luo Bo's threat to rat him out over the straw, snorted coldly, said nothing, and turned to run off.

"Da Luo Bo, you're bringing food too?" Zhao Shanao's grandson carried a small basin of chicken soup, covered with a wooden lid to keep out dust and leaves, and invited him to walk together. "What's your family eating tonight? We stewed chicken soup. My grandpa said we gotta eat well and perk up. Even if we can't put meat back on our bones, we need sharp eyes so outsiders don't see us as easy marks just 'cause we look starved and dazed."

"We're eating bacon." In the village, the two hadn't talked much. The village elder's grandson liked to play with other village elders' grandsons. He wasn't part of Zhao Xiaowu's crew or Zhou Datou's gang; he spent his days working with his family, well-behaved and known as an obedient kid.

"Oh, smells good," Zhao Shanao's grandson said dryly.

Da Luo Bo hummed in response, holding the bowl. Though not as fragrant as the chicken soup, his family's bacon was still decent—it wouldn't embarrass them as a gift.

Tonight, Old Zhao's family was braising venison, mainly 'cause Zhao Xiaobao insisted on having it. She was dying for it. Anyone who had to watch the venison hanging on both sides of the donkey cart, clanging against it as the donkey trotted, would find it impossible to resist. It seemed to silently taunt her: "Come eat me, come eat me—I'm right in front of you, why aren't you eating me? Your stomach not up to it?"

The silent mockery was relentless.

Zhao Xiaobao felt she was definitely up to it. She'd never eaten venison before, even though her dad and brothers looked grim, warning that venison was heavy stuff and might make their noses bleed in this heat.

"How'll we know if it makes our noses bleed without trying?" Zhao Xiaobao argued, hands on her hips, and the whole family scrambled to keep up.

After all, her reasoning was solid. Old Man Zhao admitted he was convinced. He'd never eaten venison either—it was a rare treat, especially for men. There were some things you couldn't say to kids, but the wandering glances somehow carried a hint of lecherousness.

Wang Shi couldn't stand to look at him. She wished she could poke the fire tongs into his eyes, scolding him away from their daughter: "Half a foot in the coffin, and what're you thinking? You're ugly enough as it is. Wipe that look off your face. If you were dragged to court, they wouldn't even need to question you—they'd convict you on the spot."

"I think I'm still pretty handsome," Old Man Zhao said, touching his face, totally crushed by his wife's words. "Your eyesight bad?"

"Yeah," Wang Shi said dismissively, not even glancing at him as she tended the pot. "If my eyesight were good, would I have ended up with you?"

"..."

When Da Luo Bo and Zhao Shanao's grandson arrived, the old couple was bickering. Nearby, Zhu Shi and her sisters-in-law were covering their mouths, shoulders shaking with laughter. The aroma from their cooking was so strong it could knock someone out—the difference in seasoning was obvious.

Da Luo Bo held his breath, afraid to inhale too deep and use up all their meat's smell. He walked over, set the bowl on a stone stool, and said with a red face, "Aunt Xiaobao, my family had bacon tonight. My ma told me to bring you some. I've brought it, so I'm off." He didn't dare speak to Old Lady Wang, only to Zhao Xiaobao, who'd been kind to him. After speaking, he set the bowl down and ran off without waiting for a reply.

"Grandpa Zhao, my family had chicken soup tonight. My grandpa told me to bring you some. It's not much, just a token. Hope you don't mind." Zhao Shanao's grandson was clearly bolder than Da Luo Bo, speaking proper and endearing.

Before they could refuse, he also set down the basin, ears red, and stumbled back with stiff, awkward steps.

Before dinner was served, Old Zhao's temporary table was already covered with several bowls holding all sorts of stuff—common things like bacon, sausages, smoked chicken, and smoked fish. Now, there was also half a basin of chicken soup, with big chunks of meat visible even without a ladle, including a chicken leg. All were tokens of goodwill from the villagers.

Their own venison wasn't ready yet, but the table was already full enough to eat.

"Once the venison's done, ladle a bowl for each of them," Wang Shi decided. "They've shown us kindness; turning it down would be rude. Keep it all."

"Alright." Zhu Shi nodded, fetching their own bowls to transfer the food.

With the stars filling the night sky, Old Zhao's family finally sat down to eat.

After sending bowls of venison to each household, the rest wasn't portioned into basins. The whole family gathered around the pot to eat. Tonight, they had steamed rice, freshly harvested from the fields before the exodus. For others, it was fine, but those used to the divine land's fine grains had grown picky. Some even regretted that the venison couldn't be paired with the divine land's rice—what a waste.

Only Qing Xuan and the tiger cub, holding big earthen bowls as large as their faces, ate with rice grains stuck to their mouths, heads down, shoveling food in. Delicious—just delicious.

Wang Shi, doting on the cat and dog, had set aside two pieces of meat before seasoning, cutting them into small bits and mixing them with half a ladle of the original venison broth over rice. The cat and dog ate with tongues hanging out, their affection for Wang Shi clearly surpassing that for Qing Xuan and Zhao Xiaobao.

Eating with a crowd was lively. Even those who lost their appetite in the summer heat couldn't help but keep stuffing meat into their mouths, watching the young men around them reach into the pot over and over, sweating buckets, the smell of sweat strong.

Qing Xuan had never eaten like this in his life. So this was how fragrant rice could be, how delicious meat tasted.

In this unfamiliar forest of Chicken Head Mountain, he tasted his first bit of earthly life.

The family ate until their bellies were round. Zhao Xiaobao, copying her dad and oldest brother, loosened her belt and waddled around the forest to digest.

The men on night duty crouched by the fire, sharp eyes fixed on the cart area, ready to grab their axes and sickles at the slightest stir.

Chicken Head Mountain was not quiet at night. Two groups had already slipped into Wuling under cover of darkness.

The rich, overpowering smell of meat also drew outsiders' attention, but they made no wrong moves. They lifted their curtains to glance over, then turned their horses and left without a second look.

Old Man Zhao sent his grandson to call the village elders. The old men, either waiting on purpose or too restless to sleep, came as soon as they were called.

"Da Gen," Zhao Shanao greeted, smiling at the little tagalong Zhao Xiaobao. His wrinkled, orange-peel face gained two more furrows, filled with the dust and weariness of time.

Li Laiyin and two other village elders sat down slowly, bracing themselves with their hands, and said with a laugh, "Haven't eaten so much meat in a while; I'm a bit stuffed. Walked around the forest a few times and still feel full."

Old Man Zhao laughed and scolded, "Look at you, so unused to good fortune. I ate two big bowls and feel great—I could still eat more."

"Can't compare, can't compare," Zhou Fugui said, patting his belly and laughing. "But it's really tasty. So this is the venison that men crave? No wonder it sells for a high price. The flavor—no matter how carefully you fix up domestic pork, it can't match it."

After chatting about the evening's meal, the old men all wore expressions of great satisfaction. It was all thanks to Da Gen's generosity. When they sent meat, they hadn't expected him to return the favor. But he was a man of courtesy, giving and taking without counting costs.

"Starting tomorrow, we gotta change how we travel," Old Man Zhao said, moving from food to serious matters. After much thought, for safety's sake and to make sure everyone was protected, the current way of each family fending for itself had to change. "Wuling's unstable. Passing through villages costs money, bandits demand grain. Our whole families depend on these few things to survive. Whether it's money or grain, we can't afford to lose it—and we can't bear to lose it."

The road ahead was long. They couldn't get stuck in Wuling. Otherwise, even if they got out, without money or grain, they'd still die. With their stuff, they were just refugees; without it, they'd become vagrants.

Bandits were once vagrants. The ones who raided their village, killing and burning, were also former vagrants. Though the two might seem alike, the difference was huge. The former still had a shred of conscience; the latter had lost it completely, willing to do anything to survive.

"How do you want to arrange it? We'll follow your lead," Zhao Shanao said, chewing on his dry, tobacco-less pipe for the sake of habit.

"We ain't got the sharpest minds, we don't think much, and we don't see far. Da Gen, you tell us what to do, and we'll do it," Li Laiyin said.

The other two village elders kept quiet, only nodding to show they shared the same thoughts.

"Da Shan takes the lead, San Di holds the rear, and the same men stay in the middle—that stays unchanged. The group can't fall apart. To avoid stragglers or losing people, we need to build walls on all sides, like you're building a house," Old Man Zhao said. "The rest needs to change. We'll add more walls, put the women and kids inside, while we men walk on the outside."

Simply put, the men would use their bodies to shield the women and children in the safest circle. That way, whether in a fight or fending off outsiders, they'd be safer.

Similarly, if trouble came, the men on the outside might be the first to go down.

When every family just looked out for themselves, they'd just run for themselves when trouble hit, maybe helping someone nearby. If all the men were sent outside, they wouldn't be able to watch over their own families in a crisis.

Take a big family like Li Da He's—with two sons, three grandsons, and two granddaughters—even if Li Da He, Man Cang, and Man Liang went outside, Feng Shi would still have her daughter-in-law, grandchildren, and others nearby, so it wouldn't feel as bad.

But take Zhao Quan's family—his folks are dead, and he's only got a frail wife and a lame son. If he were sent outside, could his wife handle him being gone? Could Zhao Quan rest easy about them?

When you're away from home, the only thing keeping folks going was having family close by. When tired or unable to go on, just looking at the person next to you made you feel like you could keep going. The human heart is fragile; it needs something to cling to.

Splitting up couples or breaking up families—they wouldn't like that.

Old Man Zhao had thought long and hard before making this decision. He didn't want a chaotic mess when fighting bandits—people running around like chickens with their heads cut off, stepping on each other, bumping into one another, only caring about their own folks, ignoring everyone else.

Not that it's wrong—people are partial, and he himself was partial. But given his position, he hoped everyone would be more united. When everyone's just trying to survive, where's the real comfort?

"Becoming one rope" wasn't just talk; they truly had to become one rope, able to protect everyone in trouble.

Put bluntly, you gotta treat other folks' parents like your own, other folks' kids like your own, and fight to protect them. Only then, when your own mom or dad's in trouble, would others not stand by coldly.

"Since we're all walking together, we need to make the most of our numbers," Old Man Zhao said, holding his dozing daughter in his arms. "One rope, one person pulls with one strength; ten people pull with another; a hundred people pull, and anything in the way gets cleared out."

"No matter how much I explain, folks might not get it or care," he said. "So let's skip the talk and just get things done. At first, it'll be uncomfortable and unfamiliar, but when trouble comes and they see the benefits, they'll get it on their own."

What he said, even Zhao Shanao and the others might not fully grasp. Their horizons limited their thinking; they only thought walking together was enough—more people meant more intimidation. The two earlier examples, one of lining up for water and the other of the Shi Family, were proof enough that the whole village fleeing together was the best choice.

No one dared bully them, outsiders didn't dare eye their carts, and some even came with gifts, begging to join them—something they'd never dreamed of before.

But now Da Gen said walking together wasn't enough; they had to turn a pile of loose sand into a real rope. In calm times, it would be a protective rope around parents and children; in danger, it could become a rope to strangle threats.

The village elders could clearly feel that as they neared Wu Ling, Da Gen had grown much tenser. The whole village's lives rested on his shoulders; all they could do was obey and try not to hold him back.

Zhao Shanao nodded. "Don't worry about this. We'll spread the word tomorrow morning. It's a good thing. Even if some are uneasy at first, they'll come around when they see it only benefits them."

Li Laiyin nodded, frowning. "If anyone complains, it'll be the families with many strong laborers, like Da Gen's or Da He's, whose men are all out protecting others. If anyone's ungrateful or can't see the situation, Da Gen, don't get involved—we'll handle it."

Old Man Zhao nodded. He really didn't want to waste energy on this. Let the old folks take on more tasks, so they wouldn't sit around overthinking, becoming useless and wasting food.

"Let me know if anything comes up. Xiao Bao's asleep, so I'm heading back," he said, standing with his daughter in his arms.

"Alright."