Chapter 17: Which Village Is Confucius From?

The woods in the back hills were deep and thick with grass, the overlapping peaks stretching beyond sight.

Villagers said fierce beasts and snakes lived in the mountains. Usually, people dared venture only around the edges. They said a bewildering haze lay deeper inside, and anyone who entered would never find their way out.

Qiao Ran didn’t dare venture in rashly. With the hunting gun on her back, she wandered along the edge of the forest, marking trees with a stone every so often.

There was a rustle, and a gray wild rabbit darted onto a small mound. Raising its front paws, it looked around.

“Your mom doesn’t need to save you dinner, and neither does mine,” Qiao Ran muttered, taking the homemade gun off her shoulder.

The design of such a gun might date back to the Ming dynasty. It was heavy, with a short range and limited power. None of that posed much difficulty for Qiao Ran. She’d been a tomboy since childhood and loved tinkering with guns. Her elders served in the military and government, and they’d taken her to a shooting range when she was eight.

She steadied the gun and aimed at the rabbit. A few seconds later, a bang rang out, and the unlucky creature lay in a pool of blood.

They’d have meat again tonight.

Pleased, she was about to put away the gun when her ear twitched at a faint sound behind her.

“Who’s there?” She spun around, the dark muzzle pointing at the man behind her.

His sketchbook and pencil fell from his hands. He raised both arms. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not a bad person.”

Seeing his trembling legs, Qiao Ran sneered. “You’re the one who’s afraid.”

“I’m Cheng Fangyuan, an educated youth assigned to the village.” He pointed down at his fallen sketchbook. “I came to the hills to sketch from life and accidentally disturbed you. I mean no harm.”

He was tall and thin, with a scholarly air. Even if he were a bad person, he probably couldn’t beat her.

Qiao Ran lowered the gun and turned to collect her rabbit.

Fangyuan breathed a sigh of relief, discreetly wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and picked up his sketchbook and pencil. Then he hurried after her.

“You’re a very good shot,” he said sincerely.

“Nothing special. Third-best in the world,” Qiao Ran boasted without changing expression.

“Have you trained?”

“What’s it to you?”

Fangyuan rubbed his nose awkwardly. The woman didn’t seem easy to get along with.

Qiao Ran picked up the thoroughly dead rabbit and was about to go farther into the woods when he caught her arm.

“If you go deeper, you might not find your way out. Don’t go in any farther.”

She lowered her eyes to the hand on her arm. It was fair and thin, the fingers somewhat crooked and misshapen, probably from long farm work. It wasn’t as pretty as her handsome young man’s hand.

Her glance passed over the sketchbook he held. On it was the outline of a woman holding a gun, seen from behind, though it was only a simple sketch.

“Is that supposed to be me?” she asked.

Caught out, Fangyuan scratched his head. “I… I’m not very good.”

“Mm.” Qiao Ran nodded. “It doesn’t look like me. I’m not that thin.”

Fangyuan was speechless. Did she have to be so honest? Talking to her was awkward.

The last trace of sunset vanished, and darkness settled completely.

At home, Xia Xiaoqi couldn’t lie still any longer. She slowly climbed off the kang and searched the room for something to light her way.

In 1978, Geshi Village had no electricity. At night people used kerosene lamps or candles.

Xiaoqi found a box of matches in a drawer. She intended to light a torch outside and go into the back hills to look for Qiao Ran.

As soon as she stepped out of the courtyard, she came face-to-face with Qiao Ran returning with the rabbit.

“Why are you back so late?”

“Why did you come out?”

They asked each other at the same time.

“I came to find you,” Xiaoqi said with a petulant little pout. “Do you know how worried I was when you didn’t come back?”

“I knew you cared about me most.” Delighted, Qiao Ran put an arm around her shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go roast rabbit for our princess.”

They had barely entered the courtyard when Liu Chunhua heard them and came out of the east room.

“Qiao Ni, didn’t I tell you to cook? Where the hell did you go?”

Qiao Ran handed the rabbit to Xiaoqi and went to gather firewood by the wall. “Mom, speaking is an art. You should study it sometime. We all open our mouths to talk, so why is it that nobody likes hearing what you say?”

“Now you’re lecturing me?” Chunhua’s booming voice was deafening in the quiet country night.

“Confucius said that among three people walking together, there’s always someone who can teach me. What’s wrong with pointing out what you’ve done wrong?”

“Confucius?” Chunhua asked. “Which village is he from?”

Determined not to show her teeth when she laughed, Xiaoqi covered her mouth and doubled over.

Chunhua glared at her. “What are you laughing at?”

“I’m laughing because you’re so cute.” Xiaoqi’s almond eyes curved into crescents. “Mom, you’re adorable.”

Now that was a new sort of compliment for Liu Chunhua.

When she was young, people occasionally praised her looks. After she married, they praised her skill at running a household. Later, when her husband ran off and she raised four children alone, they called her capable.

In more than forty years of life, this was the first time anyone had called her cute.

She felt pleased and embarrassed, unsure how to show either feeling. At last she put on a stern face and glared at Xiaoqi. “You little brat, no respect for your elders.”

Qiao Ran watched the exchange with a smile.

They could gradually become part of this family and be accepted by these strangers as themselves, instead of pretending to be the original owners to preserve the household’s unhealthy harmony.

That was exactly what Qiao Ran hoped for.

She stacked the firewood in the courtyard. “Mom, call Hongna and the others out. We’re roasting rabbit.”

Beside her, Xiaoqi tapped her fingertips together. “Bunnies are so cute. Can we add extra cumin and chili powder?”

Cumin was out of the question. They wouldn’t find a single grain even if they searched the whole village. But there were plenty of chilies: two strings had been hung in the courtyard to dry a couple of days earlier.

Hearing there was roast rabbit, Lu Hongna and Lu Hongli climbed out of bed with the two children, dressed, and came into the courtyard.

“Do we really get meat?” Four-year-old Xiaoling could scarcely believe it.

Poor child. She reminded Xiaoqi of children left behind in impoverished mountain villages.

By comparison, Xiaoqi had recently eaten roast chicken, gone to a restaurant with her friend, and eaten well in the hospital too. She was much luckier.

Pretty, kindhearted, sweet-talking Xiaoqi, the children’s younger maternal uncle’s wife, pinched Xiaoling’s cheek. “You can have a rabbit leg. The meat on the legs is tasty.”

“Thank you, Second Aunt!” Xiaoling bounced with happiness.

Three-year-old Xiaohu tugged Xiaoqi’s sleeve. “Second Aunt, Xiaohu wants a leg too,” he said in his baby voice.

“All right,” Xiaoqi agreed at once. “One for you, one for your sister, one for me, and one for Elder Aunt.”

Elder Aunt, Qiao Ran, was married to the children’s older maternal uncle. A fine allocation.

Nothing left for Liu Chunhua and her two daughters.