After a night’s sleep, apart from being a bit hungry, Qin Ziheng felt much more comfortable in body, his head no longer muddled and heavy, so he ought to be able to go somewhere farther. He didn’t want to eat unripe persimmons, so he smiled, brows and eyes softening, and bent down to Mao Xiaoshu’s eye level, asking him like a very kind elder brother, “Yesterday I made a trap over in the bamboo grove. I don’t know whether it caught anything. Come take a look with me first, and if there’s nothing, we’ll go find wild fruit together. All right?”
Mao Xiaoshu didn’t understand what a trap was. The way the beasts hunted actually relied on the animal instincts, lie in wait, spring out, bite. That was the Tiger and Leopard clans, those two took the lead in a hunt, while beasts of the other races played support, striking the prey from the side with sticks or spears.
This was the most common way the tribe hunted. Even as a demi-beast, Mao Xiaoshu knew hunting was done this way, as for a “trap,” he had no idea. But hearing Qin Ziheng say he’d come along, he was happy, unwilling even to walk properly, bouncing and skipping instead, his little curls streaming in the wind, as if he had boundless energy.
Qin Ziheng suddenly felt a bit envious of him. If it were him, an empty cave, this meal with no next in sight, he certainly couldn’t have smiled, and probably wouldn’t have slept soundly at night. But Mao Xiaoshu, whether from a good outlook or because of his mind, found everything tasty and, at sleep, could pass right out the moment he shut his eyes, even more impressive than the sow Grandpa used to raise, so much that Qin Ziheng found it almost outrageous.
The bamboo grove was silent, only the rustle of footsteps. In the morning the woods held a heavy mist. As Mao Xiaoshu walked, he suddenly clutched his forehead and cried out. A pheasant still crouched in its nest, startled, went clucking and dashing deep into the woods.
Qin Ziheng wiped the dew off Mao Xiaoshu’s forehead and led him on toward the trap. While still far off, he heard fowl calling, coming from the trap.
There was a catch!
Qin Ziheng breathed a sigh of relief.
Mao Xiaoshu trotted along at his heels, very well-behaved. He hadn’t made out any particular sound, only felt the Cluck-Cluck Beasts over here were extra noisy. At the trap his eyes suddenly lit up, through the gaps in the bamboo board, sharp-eyed, he saw several Cluck-Cluck Beasts caught in the pit.
“It’s Cluck-Cluck Beasts.” His eyes went round with delight.
On the way over Qin Ziheng had pulled up plenty of grass vine. Mao Xiaoshu bounced with joy, bouncing several times before obediently lying at the edge of the trap and grabbing them out one by one, he grabbed, Qin Ziheng tied. Pecked though he was, Mao Xiaoshu felt no pain, on the contrary his heart was warm, his pulse racing up and down, so excited his cheeks were hot.
This was all meat, with meat, no need to go hungry. Grabbing out eight in a row, Mao Xiaoshu lifted the bamboo board and poked his head in to look. The pit was empty, nothing but a few fallen feathers, and he said, a bit crestfallen, “Qin Ziheng, there aren’t any more Cluck-Cluck Beasts.”
Qin Ziheng nodded.
Eight was already beyond expectation, he honestly hadn’t thought he’d catch any, and had only meant to try his luck. As a child there had been pheasants in the hills around the village too, but those pheasants were very clever, the villagers set snares and dug pits and could hardly catch any. People learned from a setback and grew wiser, beasts, by and large, were the same.
But the beasts of the Beast World didn’t dig traps and rarely hunted Cluck-Cluck Beasts, so seeing the earthworms scattered over the trap, the Cluck-Cluck Beasts naturally had no wariness or caution.
Qin Ziheng hefted a pheasant in his hand, not too heavy, only a bit over two catties each, much smaller than a modern pheasant. Eight would be enough for several…
Catching out of the corner of his eye Mao Xiaoshu swallowing and staring fixedly at the pheasant in his hand, Qin Ziheng suddenly recalled the scene last time, Mao Xiaoshu hoisting the big pot, gulping down a pot and a half of soup and still wanting more. Qin Ziheng thought again: eight should be enough to eat for one day… probably!
Once the fowl were tied up, Qin Ziheng didn’t rush back but told Mao Xiaoshu to fetch the bone knife from home. Since the trap worked, they’d dig a few more.
Mao Xiaoshu ran fast, vanishing in a streak. Qin Ziheng had just chosen the spots to dig when Mao Xiaoshu came back. At the trap he saw the Cluck-Cluck Beasts still there, but Qin Ziheng nowhere in sight. He looked left and right and still didn’t see him, and his face went instantly white. Anxious, he called out, “Qin Ziheng, Qin Ziheng…”
There was even a sob in his voice.
Qin Ziheng heard it from a distance, and his heart lurched, thinking something had happened. He hurried toward the trap. Mao Xiaoshu was wiping tears with the back of his hand, looking left and right, like a child abandoned in the street trying to find a trace of someone in a vast sea of people, crying and calling, “Qin Ziheng, Qin Ziheng…”
Qin Ziheng started, his steps faltering, an indescribable feeling in his chest, sour and stinging, swelling until it was hard to bear.
The moment Mao Xiaoshu saw him he broke into a run toward him. “Qin Ziheng.” He rushed to Qin Ziheng’s side and gripped his arm tightly with both hands, as if he were a life-saving straw, his very anchor.
Seeing him holding his arm so tightly, Qin Ziheng asked, “Why are you crying?”
“You were gone,” Mao Xiaoshu said, aggrieved.
For a moment Qin Ziheng couldn’t speak. Mao Xiaoshu’s reaction was so strong, by rights they hadn’t known each other long, only two and a half days when it came down to it, and shouldn’t be “close” to this degree. How long must he have gone without company, how deeply must he crave it, to panic like this the instant Qin Ziheng was out of sight?
Qin Ziheng was silent a long while, then sighed and wiped Mao Xiaoshu’s tears. Seeing his eyes red and a string of snot running down, topped off by that mop of messy hair, he looked rather pitiful, and inexplicably a bit funny.
“I’m not leaving. I just went to find a spot. Don’t overthink it. Be good, and when we’re done I’ll cook you chicken to eat when we get back, all right?” Bending down, Qin Ziheng coaxed him softly, and after wrestling with himself several times, still wiped his nose for him.
The snot was very runny, thankfully not yellow, but the slick feel of it was rather beyond words. There was no water in the grove, so Qin Ziheng wiped it on a bamboo and rubbed a good while before he stopped.
The moment Mao Xiaoshu heard there was food, he stopped crying and broke into a carefree smile again. “Okay, Xiaoshu will help, eat meat later.”
Traps couldn’t be dug just anywhere, they had to go where the pheasants often appeared to catch anything.
Qin Ziheng found six spots in all, cut two bamboos and whittled them to points, then took Mao Xiaoshu to dig. Mao Xiaoshu wanted to bring the Cluck-Cluck Beasts along too, but Qin Ziheng said, “No need, leave them here. No other beasts come here, so they won’t be lost. We’re only digging nearby, when we’re done we’ll take them back.”
“Okay.” Very obediently Mao Xiaoshu set the Cluck-Cluck fowl down.
Qin Ziheng chose spots where the soil was fairly soft, but digging with a stick was inconvenient after all. Mao Xiaoshu dug a while and then stopped. Before Qin Ziheng could ask whether he was tired, he transformed with a whoosh into his original form. Qin Ziheng was silent a moment, he watched Mao Xiaoshu carry his hide garment aside in his mouth, and then, like a mouse burrowing a hole, dig frantically with his two paws.
Small as he was, fluffy and round and clumsy-looking, his digging speed would make even an excavator turn tail and give way. Watching, Qin Ziheng was struck silent again.
Mao Xiaoshu really was a formidable digger. Qin Ziheng pointed out several spots for him to dig, explaining clearly how deep and wide to make them, while he himself went to cut bamboo, planning to weave a few more boards. Busy at it until nearly noon, the six traps were finally dug.
Qin Ziheng then took Mao Xiaoshu to the river to dig earthworms. The Beast World’s earthworms were bigger than modern ones, thick as chopsticks. Having grown up in the village, Qin Ziheng wasn’t afraid of such things, but grabbing them bare-handed was something he couldn’t quite bring himself to do. Mao Xiaoshu wasn’t afraid at all and grabbed them with gusto, filling six whole lengths of bamboo before Qin Ziheng said that was enough. Then he took the bone knife and chopped the earthworms into small pieces.
Mao Xiaoshu watched him, baffled.
Not the least bothered, Qin Ziheng explained with a smile, “Chopped up, the earthworms won’t burrow back into the soil.” Otherwise, scattered whole over the trap, they’d probably all “run off” before long.
Mao Xiaoshu half understood, and followed Qin Ziheng back into the grove. Once the bait was scattered, Qin Ziheng and Mao Xiaoshu took the fowl and headed home.
It was very hot by now, the sun blazing fit to roast, like an oven. Qin Ziheng’s back was nearly soaked through. He looked up, about twelve o’clock, the temperature probably above thirty-seven or eight degrees. Mao Xiaoshu was drenched in sweat, cradling the pheasants, so hungry he couldn’t even bounce, docile the whole way.
Qin Ziheng was starving too, his limbs showing signs of weakness. The moment he got back to the cave he lit the fire. The firewood stove was still there. After cooking the meat soup yesterday, Mao Xiaoshu had run to Mao Xiaohe’s and hauled back two big wooden stumps to stuff into the stove. Big stumps, unsplit, weren’t easy to light, but stuff two into a stove that already had fire and they’d slowly catch, burning through a whole night without being spent. The next day, to make fire, you’d stuff in some small twigs or dry leaves, blow a couple of times, and it would flare right up.
That was how the Fluffy Tribe kept their fire alive, and Mao Xiaoshu knew it too. The big stumps stuffed in yesterday were still burning now, steadily giving off smoke. Qin Ziheng put some dry bamboo leaves into the stove and blew a couple of times, the smoke grew thicker, and before long the bamboo leaves caught fire.
Mao Xiaoshu, in high spirits, cradled a pheasant and sat by the stove at the cave mouth and started plucking feathers.
The fowl squawked pitifully, struggling terribly. Qin Ziheng’s brow twitched, and he “snatched” the bird from Mao Xiaoshu’s hands.
Mao Xiaoshu looked up at him and, a bit anxious, reached for the fowl in his hand. He was very hungry and wanted meat.
Qin Ziheng didn’t say much, he shoved the pot into Mao Xiaoshu’s arms and told him to go fetch some water. Mao Xiaoshu was a little unhappy, he was very hungry and wanted meat, not to fetch water. He pressed his lips together and didn’t budge, still gazing longingly at the fowl in Qin Ziheng’s hand.
Qin Ziheng knew how to manage him. Rubbing his fluffy head, he said, “Be good.”
Obediently Mao Xiaoshu took the pot and left, in high spirits, not the least reluctant anymore.
Qin Ziheng said he was being good, hehe!
Watching his happy retreating back, Qin Ziheng gave two low chuckles.
This little dummy, so easy to coax!