The nickname "Zhe Le Tian" was probably derived from the saying about a monk holding an umbrella—meaning unrestrained and lawless. Folk rumors suggested that in his early years as a monk, he once saved a Yellow Great Immortal, and thus he was protected by a Yellow Weasel his entire life, making him untouchable. This was naturally a rumor; in reality, not only had he never saved a Yellow Weasel, but he had actually harmed quite a few.
When the bandit suppression squad pursued him, the snow in the mountains had fallen early, and the weather was bitterly cold. They finally found Zhe Le Tian's corpse in a snowdrift. He had hanged himself from a crooked tree, and opposite his body, a Little Yellow Weasel was also hanging. Its manner of death was identical to his: tied with a small rope loop around its neck. Both the man and the weasel had their tongues sticking out, eyes open, frozen stiff.
Fatty put on a show, describing it vividly, mimicking a hanged ghost with its tongue out, which startled Yanzi so much her eyes went wide. I, however, remained unmoved because I had heard Fatty tell this story countless times. Moreover, Zhe Le Tian's death was too bizarre. If he had hanged himself in desperation to escape the people's judgment, it would be understandable, but the Little Yellow Weasel hanging opposite him was too strange. Zhe Le Tian was merely a Bandit; what qualifications did he have? He wasn't the Emperor of the Late Ming Dynasty; did that weasel want to be a burial sacrifice eunuch for him?
Yanzi didn't see it that way. She was very convinced by what Fatty said because there were many similar legends in the area. The legend stated that the Yellow Great Immortal only protected one generation. Whoever saved the Yellow Great Immortal, perhaps by helping it evade a calamity, would receive the Yellow Great Immortal's protection. Whatever they desired, the Yellow Weasels would steal for them, ensuring they never wanted for food or clothing their entire lives. However, once that person's lifespan ended, their descendants would suffer the Yellow Great Immortal's wrath. Everything stolen for the person previously would be emptied out, and that wasn't all; finally, a Little Yellow Weasel would be sent to trade lives with the descendants of that family. Yanzi believed that the bandit leader Zhe Le Tian probably met his end because his ancestor had been protected by the Yellow Great Immortal.
Before Liberation, such things happened in the Village. There was a man named Xu Er Hei whose previous generation had been protected by the Yellow Great Immortal. One year, when Xu Er Hei's father was about to die, many Yellow Weasels gathered around Xu Er Hei's door at night, seemingly discussing how to harm the Xu family in a few days. The Yellow Weasels were truly bullying too much, so Xu Er Hei became ruthless and set up a trap designed to eliminate descendants at his doorway. In one night, he trapped over twenty Yellow Weasels, adults and young combined. Down the mountain, the Japanese were laying railway tracks. It was the deepest part of winter when even dripping water froze into ice. Xu Er Hei slit the backbones of these Yellow Weasels one by one and pressed them, all alive and bloody, onto the rails. The hot blood from the weasels' backs instantly froze onto the steel, and no matter how hard they struggled, they could not break free. Xu Er Hei thus froze a string of Yellow Weasels on the railway. When the train came at dawn, it crushed all twenty-plus Yellow Weasels into meat patties.
This action brought disaster. At night, the entire mountain area surrounding the Village echoed with the ghostly wails of the Weasels, so loud they stunned the hunting dogs in the Village. As dawn broke, some people saw a dense mass of Yellow Weasels darting into the forest. Then, someone discovered that Xu Er Hei had hanged himself, his manner of death exactly matching the fate of the bandit leader in the story Fatty told.
Therefore, the three of us discussing these folk legends in the Forest Farm cabin was somewhat inappropriate. However, our Forest Farm was high up, far from the central authority, and there were no outsiders. We only talked about romance and not about current affairs; it was much more relaxed and comfortable than the world outside the mountain.
Yanzi asked me to tell her some news too. It was dark and cold outside, and it felt so comfortable sitting on the heated brick bed chatting. But I hadn't left the mountain for several months, so I had no news. I had already told all the old stories. So, I said to her and Fatty, "It's strange today; why is everything you two talk about Yellow Weasels? Isn't the ridge on Tuan Shanzi called the Yellow Weasel Grave? That's where the Yellow Weasels gather, and it's not far from here. I've been sent to the countryside to work and live here for several months, but I've never been to Tuan Shanzi. I think we shouldn't just talk; let's be self-reliant and secure enough food and clothing. How about we go up the mountain tonight, set a few rope loops, and catch a few live Weasels to play with?"
Fatty was overjoyed at the suggestion. In the mountains, there was no better pastime than trapping weasels and trapping foxes. He immediately jumped up: "Kid, that's a great idea! Although it's not past Lesser Snow yet, so the Yellow Weasels aren't worth much, taking them to the Supply and Marketing Cooperative should definitely get us two catties of Fruit Candy. How long has it been since we had any sweets? If I don't eat sugar soon, I might forget whether it tastes spicy or salty! Talking without doing is fake skill, and only doing without talking is foolish skill. Talking and doing together is the best skill. Let's take practical action right now..." As he spoke, he puffed out his belly and sprang off the heated brick bed, casually pulling his Dog fur hat onto his head, ready to set out to trap Yellow Weasels.
Yanzi quickly stopped us, saying, "No going, no going! Why are you two trying to mess around again? The Branch Secretary specifically instructed us not to engage in liberalism and stirring up trouble, but to guard the Forest Farm properly, the three of us."
I secretly chuckled to myself. The Old Branch Secretary in the Village was an official of no consequence; did I really have to obey what he said? My father's title was many times greater than the Village Branch Secretary's, and I didn't even listen to him. I listen to no one. Life in the mountains is so monotonous; I finally came up with something fun, how could I easily give up? But I couldn't say this out loud. I said, "Don't look down on the Yellow Weasel just because it's small; it still has fur and a bit of meat."
Yanzi listened, confused. While adding fuel to the fire might be appropriate, the Human Bear on Tuan Shanzi was not someone to be provoked lightly. Local Hunters lacked modern weaponry; they had three primitive methods for hunting. The first was setting traps, including snares and clamps, specifically to capture cunning and fast-moving beasts like foxes and Yellow Weasels, which hunting dogs couldn't handle, requiring strategy instead. Secondly was pursuit and biting by hunting dogs, which were best at catching wild rabbits. The third was the fire-gun trap, where the Hunting Rifle firing lead shot was the most basic weapon. It was muzzle-loaded: first, black powder, then wadding, followed by the lead ball, which was forcefully compressed with an iron rod. The percussion cap held the projectile in place so it wouldn't slide out of the barrel, and then the firing cap was set to discharge. The slow loading speed and short range were fatal flaws, though it was suitable for shooting roe deer, water deer, and wild boar.