Chapter 258

Chapter 258

In the woodshed, a headless corpse lay on the ground.

Zhao Dashan frowned deeply, his hands busy wrapping the head in a piece of rag. He couldn't help but mutter in confusion, "What do we need the head for? Such an unlucky thing, and we're taking it away, even putting it in Xiaobao's sacred place. What if it scares her? Dad, what were you thinking..."

"Do you know what a fugitive is?" Old Man Zhao stood at the door, his white-and-black beard fluttering in the wind, his weathered face solemn. He had faintly heard a tiger's roar earlier—very distant and vast, yet muffled and deep. "This one’s face is on the yamen’s wanted poster, with his features drawn out—a wanted fugitive. How many lives do you think he's taken to be on the run? This head is worth a lot of money, but I don't know if he's a fugitive from Liangjun Prefecture or Yanlin Prefecture."

Zhao Dashan understood now—his dad was after the bounty money, squeezing every last bit of value out of the fugitive!

"Dad, you've got some nerve," he said, full of admiration. He’d been wrapping it, then unwrapped it, grabbed the hair, and strode briskly into the yard, deciding to freeze it overnight so the face stays intact, so the authorities can’t deny it later.

"And you've got some nerve too," Old Man Zhao muttered, watching.

Zhao Ertian chuckled quietly beside them. He casually picked up a bamboo rake leaning against the wall, raked some pine needles and fallen leaves over the bloodstains, and piled up debris around the head area to make it look like a complete corpse.

Seeing them cleaning up the scene, Qing Xuan simply dragged Zhao Xiaobao into the kitchen.

He looked around carefully, then grabbed a ladder placed behind the firewood pile, climbed up to the loft, and tossed down an empty basket. He began cutting down the smoked meat hanging on the wall.

Zhao Xiaobao looked up, her eyes lighting up with every piece he threw.

"Brother Qingxuan, that's a lot of meat!"

"Not much at all." Qing Xuan cut off a piece and tossed it perfectly into the basket, scoffing disdainfully. "If I lived here, I’d cover every wall with it—even the beams over the stove would be packed."

This fugitive was worthless, laughably stupid.

He fell for a mountain peddler’s lie and gave up everything. Since when are there peddlers deep in dangerous mountains? Even if there were, they’d be locals bringing goods down to sell. Merchants chase profits—they’re shrewd. They might offer a safe place for unregistered hunters to trade, but they’d never risk their lives going into the mountains to buy.

The more experienced the hunter, the less they’d buy that flimsy lie. Only a fugitive, with no roots and a shady background, unfamiliar with the mountain conditions, would fall for such nonsense.

"There are a few bags of grain up here. Move aside, I’m tossing these down." He casually lifted a sack of grain.

Zhao Xiaobao obediently retreated to the kitchen door and peeked outside, seeing the old woman hunched over, shrinking her neck, speaking to her father.

...

"So you were all brought here?"

Though he had guessed as much, hearing the confirmation still made Old Man Zhao feel that killing that beast was too kind.

He was a man who valued family deeply, and he loathed anyone who destroyed families—wishing they could be sliced into a thousand pieces.

"I was caught collecting firewood," she said, her heart aching with regret every time she thought of that day. If only I hadn’t gone out that day... "Girls from the mountain villages went missing every so often. I always kept my granddaughters locked at home; even washing clothes, we'd bring water back to our own yard. We took every precaution..."

She lowered her head, feeling ashamed and absurd. "Who’d think that animal would even go after an old woman like me?"

She had thought of escaping, but every time he left, he'd tie her hands and feet with hemp rope. The heavy gate felt like an unbreakable cage. Day after day of torment, she gave up.

Even after they brought in another girl and she got a bit of freedom, holding a knife to fix food, she never thought of running.

The deep mountains were dangerous; listening to wolves howl every night, she was terrified out of her wits, she lost all courage to go home.

"You and the girl in the room—both of you are from a village at the foot of the mountain?" Old Man Zhao asked again.

Knowing he’d heard the earlier racket, the old woman didn't dare hide anything. "We're from the same village."

Thinking of the villagers saying a girl had gone missing before the new year, Old Man Zhao couldn't help glancing at the window, which was cracked open, and lowered his voice. "Is there a fish pond at the entrance of your village?"

The old woman jolted; forgetting her fear, she shot a quick look at him.

This old man had said from the start that he wasn't a bad person and told her not to be afraid. How could she not be afraid, especially when she saw two sturdy men in the woodshed—she nearly passed out from fright, wondering where they had come from.

Two men appearing out of nowhere, a body lying still on the floor—she knew exactly what went down. She didn’t dare ask, let alone scream. She answered whatever he asked, not daring to lie.

She was afraid they were fugitives too, scared she’d escaped a wolf den only to land in a tiger’s den.

Seeing her panicked eyes and genuine fear, worried he’d scare her sick, Old Man Zhao had to reassure her again. "Don't be afraid. I told you we're not bad people. Have you ever seen crooks causing trouble with a kid around? We came into the mountains to hunt. As for why we ended up here, I won't go into that. In short, if you truly are villagers from the foot of the mountain, you’ll come down the mountain with us and go home."

At the word "home," tears streamed from the old woman's eyes. "How can I still go home? How can I go back..."

"Why can't you?" Old Man Zhao frowned sternly. "Being alive is the biggest blessing. If you can go home, your folks and kids will just be thrilled."

At that, she cried even harder, finally convinced they weren’t bad men. She wiped her tears, first shaking her head, then nodding. "The fish pond at the village entrance—that's my maiden home. It's been decades since I married out; my parents died long ago, and I'm no longer from that village."

Old Man Zhao was taken aback.

"The girl in the room and I—our village is on the mountain behind my maiden home. There are two apricot trees planted in front of the village. Outsiders call it Double Apricot Village." The old woman looked at Old Man Zhao and the others with a hint of understanding. She knew that the road near her maiden home often saw merchant caravans—the only place in the area where unfamiliar faces appeared. "You’re passing through, right? Why are you still on the road in this weather, even going into the mountains? That’s dangerous."

Old Man Zhao smiled without answering, just sighed silently. Looks like there really is more than one fugitive hiding out in these mountains.

He couldn’t tell if he felt regret or pity. Every life is precious—no matter which village a girl’s from, she’s her parents’ pride and joy.

"Tell me about the grain in this yard..."

The oil lamp in the main room burned all night.

At dawn, the snow continued to fall, and the kitchen was piled high with supplies.

The old woman said when she was first brought up, the fugitive was holed up in a rough cave. He killed the yard owner and took the place.

The original owner had dug a cellar behind the house, but the fugitive had squandered the stored food. Around the new year, he frequently went down the mountain, not only kidnapping a young girl but also bringing back half a sack of grain each time. He was indeed somewhat skilled, a good hunter—last year he had killed two wild boars, and though he ate most of them, some meat and leftover grain remained.

Maybe to guard against her, aside from the grain on the kitchen loft, the rest was hidden in the cellar. The old woman didn't know its exact location; she just pointed in the direction. Zhao Dashan and his brother went around the back, and soon they had carried all the grain back.

All together: polished rice, unhusked grain, some beans, mountain products, winter vegetables—about a dozen sacks in total.

There was meat filling most of a basket, a jar of lard, some poor-quality coarse salt, a few quilts and winter clothes, and a pile of miscellaneous furs of varying quality, stacked to the brim.

After packing everything up, they prepared to head down the mountain.

The old woman went into the room to dress the girl properly, wrapping her tightly, and helped her out of bed.

The girl let herself be handled, silent.

Seeing her like this, the old woman could only console her in a low voice. "You need to think positively. Going back is better than staying in the mountains. If the villagers gossip, let them. If you can't stand hearing it, shout back. It's just skin—we common folk don't value that too much. Take good care of your health. Have your parents find you a kind family—whether they're lame, blind, or a widower. Marry and have a couple of kids. As time passes, who will remember these old, rotten matters?"

"Second Aunt." The girl spoke, tears streaming uncontrollably. "Tell me the truth—how did I end up being caught in the mountains? Did you have anything to do with it?"

"What nonsense are you talking?" The old woman withdrew her supporting hand, her wooden face looking gloomy under her drooping eyelids. "Why else? Because you're young, because I'm old."

"I was caught at Jiaslope!" The girl suddenly lashed out, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her frail body trembling uncontrollably. "That path is only known to villagers—no outsider could find it!"

"He was waiting there in advance. He was waiting there!" The girl glared at her, face covered in tears. "He didn't even hesitate at the fork—he knew the way. He knew how to take the path to our village! Who told him? Huh? Who told him?!"

She had been afraid to think about it, but after each torment, Second Aunt would help her wash, apply medicine, change clothes, comfort her—again and again. From initial fear and helplessness to gratitude, now she finally understood.

She had used me as a scapegoat!

She was older and couldn't get pregnant anymore. She couldn't bear the torment, so she helped that animal nab a fertile woman!

She was that young, fertile one!

"You told me to hold on, said my parents were still waiting for me at home, told me not to seek death under any circumstances! I wanted to die, you stopped me—you were simply afraid I would die!" She collapsed on the edge of the bed, pounding the bed and screaming hoarsely.

The old servant woman anxiously glanced outside and rushed over to clap her hand over her mouth: "What the hell are you blabbering about! I've been feeding you and cleaning up after you day in and day out—have I done something wrong? Without me, could you have survived? We're about to go back, what's gotten into you!"

"Get out, get out! Get out—"

"Don't touch me! Don't touch me!!"

The room was filled with crashing sounds, screams, yells, and banging. Home was within reach, yet it brought even more despair.

Old Man Zhao reached out to cover his daughter's ears. He gazed at the drifting snowflakes and let out a long sigh.

"This damn world, huh..."