Chapter Thirty-Six: Teased

After struggling for ages without catching a single one, how did these little rascals manage to catch so many?

“Iron Egg, Iron Pillar, Second Sister, come over here for a moment.”

Iron Egg still looked the same, his bare shoulders tanned dark by the sun, with two obvious streaks of dried snot across his face.

“What is it, Brother Han?”

“Where did you catch these sparrows? And how?”

“Sparrows? You mean the house birds, right? There’s a nest under Second Sister’s eaves, and we stuffed up the hole and pulled them all out.”

Han Li…

“Any still alive? Give me two, I’ll trade you some candy.”

“Brother Han, you want to eat roasted sparrow too? No need to trade, I’ll give you two.”

“I’m not raising them to eat.”

“Can’t keep them alive, you know. Two days tops before they kick the bucket.”

“I’ll keep them for two days, then eat them after.”

“Let me know when you’re ready to eat, I’ll roast them for you. Everyone says my roasted sparrow tastes the best.”

This was the first time Han Li realized Iron Pillar was such a chatterbox. If he were a bit older, he could rival the Monk Tang himself.

Han Li grabbed a handful of hard candy and handed it to Iron Pillar so he could share it among the children.

He picked out two lively sparrows from the cloth bag. The kids had done a decent job; the sparrows’ wings and legs were tied.

“All right, you kids should head home early too.”

Just as he was about to leave, Iron Pillar spoke up again.

“Brother Han, whenever you want sparrow, just call me. I’m not only good at pulling them out, I can catch them too. Next time, you won’t need to give me candy.”

Han Li agreed with a smile. Perhaps this was the warmth of the Northeast—so open-hearted that even the children were generous.

When he got home, Hao Hongmei had already finished plastering the walls and left.

Han Li held the two sparrows, recalling the basics of beast-taming, and gently began to exert his skill.

Soon, the sparrows that had been struggling calmed down, and Han Li could sense their fear and growing closeness.

He untied them. The two sparrows flew around the room, then landed nearby, tilting their heads to watch him.

“Come to my hand.”

Han Li stretched out his hand and called. The sparrows immediately flew onto his palm.

He stared, bewildered at the pair in his hand. Was that it? No incense, no chanting, no blood rituals?

Excited, Han Li directed the sparrows to fly about the room: first mimicking bombers, then fighter planes.

When he’d had enough, the sparrows were nearly exhausted. He poured out some broken rice for them.

“You can make your home here, but not in my room—and no pooping inside.”

“Just keep an eye out for fruit trees and track the movements of pheasants and wild rabbits.”

After he’d spoken, Han Li shooed the sparrows outside and retrieved the stones he’d processed from his spatial storage.

First, he took out the stamps he’d hidden, wrapping them tightly in oil paper, then several layers of newspaper. He enlarged the hole he’d carved previously.

He lined the surrounding pit walls snugly with stones, ensuring no rats could damage the contents.

Dried grass and stone powder guarded the stamps at the center; as long as he replaced them regularly, moisture wouldn’t be a problem.

Only after all this did Han Li finally relax. Now he began building a worktable beside the stove.

He fetched mud from the yard for mortar, then stacked the stones he’d brought home, layer by layer.

Finally, he laid a wooden board on top, making a decent worktable. Now he could chop vegetables without kneeling on the floor or the kang.

Only then did Han Li light the fire and start cooking.

After eating, he exercised briefly in the yard to stretch his muscles and aid digestion.

Then Han Li remembered he needed to make another trip to the mountains to bring back a few tree trunks thick as thighs.

He hadn’t neglected his physical training recently, but lacked a partner to help practice his endurance—his ability to withstand blows.

Without training endurance, even the best boxer is only half-baked. If you meet a peer and take a punch that knocks the wind out of you, the consequences speak for themselves.

With no one to help, he had to invent alternatives.

For example: he could stand several tree trunks upright and strike them daily to train his body.

Not ideal, but at least his ability to withstand blows wouldn’t degrade.

But doing this meant he’d need more herbs and a wider variety, or his body would suffer internal injuries.

He also needed to reclaim the vegetable plot in the yard, and search for stones by the river and in the mountains.

He wanted to pave the floor inside and lay a path from the gate to the front door.

The old courtyard’s ground was solid, but his new one would be mud whenever it rained or snowed if left as it was.

Han Li bathed in hot water and adjusted the lantern to its brightest setting.

He sprawled on the kang and read the Red Treasure Book for a while. Laughter and chatter echoed from the neighboring courtyard.

A hot bath had set them all giggling and playing, though they lacked a proper referee.

The next morning, Han Li woke up before the village bell sounded, without needing any reminder.

He scooped water from the large jar into the pot and lit the kerosene stove with practiced ease.

He stretched his muscles in the yard, then washed his face and brushed his teeth.

When the water boiled, he chopped up a tomato and added it, then mixed in some flour dumplings.

He salted it, served it in a bowl, and added a few drops of fragrant oil—thus, a steaming bowl of tomato dumpling soup was ready.

After breakfast, he filled the kettle. Only then did the village bell ring.

Han Li strolled toward the grain drying field, surprised to find many villagers already gathered and chatting.

“Comrade Han, you’re up early today! Didn’t sleep well last night, thinking about marrying a wife?”

“That’s right. We heard you brought back a lot from the county yesterday. Are you really planning to settle in our Shanghe Village?”

Han Li forced a smile. These aunties’ tongues were too sharp—if he’d known, he wouldn’t have come so early.

“Aunt Zhang, Aunt Zhao, I’m only sixteen. If I married now, my mother would break my legs.”

“And the stuff I bought yesterday was just a water jar and a few pickle jars.”

“Those are daily necessities—I have to prepare for the days after the snow falls.”

“Sixteen’s nothing! Plenty here became fathers at sixteen. If you brought home a grandson, your mother would be over the moon.”

“That’s right, Comrade Han. If you fancy any girl, let us know—we’ll ask around for you. With your conditions, you could have your pick.”