In the morning, Liu Shuhuai woke to find a rabbit beside him, still warm—it had died not long ago.
He remembered hearing a cat’s cry, then drinking some water—sweet and refreshing, his body feeling comfortable. Had the gods sent someone to save him?
“Huai Ge’er, are you dead or not? If not, get up now!” At his aunt’s words, he instinctively trembled and immediately hid the rabbit.
He planned to take it with him to eat later when he went to gather firewood after they left.
“Coming.”
“I told you he was fine. Making a fuss over nothing—his life is tough as nails,” Liu Yao Zong said disdainfully. His teacher said he had hope of passing the Tongsheng exam next year. Once he became a Xiucai, no one would dare criticize him; they would all fawn over him.
His teacher assured him that if he passed the Tongsheng exam, he would recommend him to the county academy, where the dean was his mentor.
The village teacher was a Xiucai named Liang Chang-Heng. Having failed the imperial exams multiple times, with no family savings and already reaching the age of knowing fate, he became the village tutor.
This was arranged after the village head pleaded with him. Families with savings sent their children to study, hoping they would “become dragons.” The village tuition fee was five taels of silver per year, and no one knew how many times higher it was in the county.
Both Liu Yao Zong and Liu Quan could attend the private school.
An ordinary commoner’s daily income was about 100 wen.
Liu Shuhuai hurriedly prepared breakfast, after which he had to stand behind the table—unworthy of sitting at it.
Grandmother Liu handed him a sweet potato no larger than her palm and thin as a twig. “Go gather more firewood. We don’t keep useless people here.”
“Yes.”
Liu Shuhuai placed the rabbit at the bottom of his basket, covering it with grass until it was completely hidden.
He didn’t even have a bed—just a plank he had found himself, padded with some grass and a thin, tattered quilt that felt like it would tear with too much force.
“Oh, Huai Ge’er, heading up the mountain to gather firewood?”
“Yes, Aunt Wang, are you off to buy medicine again?” Liu Shuhuai looked into Aunt Wang’s weary eyes, feeling a pang of sympathy. She sometimes helped him out.
Over a decade ago, Aunt Wang’s husband joined a village hunting party and encountered a bear. Only five men returned, severely injured. Her husband’s leg never healed properly. The village then forbade anyone from entering the Great Black Mountain.
Lately, since nothing had happened, some poor, starving folks—including him—sneaked into the outskirts to gather firewood or dig for wild vegetables. The village head turned a blind eye.
“Aunt Wang, I’ll be on my way then.”
“Alright, go ahead.” Aunt Wang slowly made her way toward the county town, looking as if she might collapse at any moment. She had a son, hardworking but unmarried—decent families’ Ge’ers and daughters were unwilling to marry into such hardship.
After Aunt Wang replied, Liu Shuhuai set off for Green Bamboo Mountain, named for its abundant bamboo. Few people went there since it had little firewood and no wild vegetables.
Fortunately, he had found a spot with plenty of firewood. If he wanted to eat meat secretly, he dared not go where others frequented.
Liu Shuhuai quickly gathered the firewood and hurried to a spot by the river. He neatly skinned the rabbit—the hide could be used for clothing, small but warm, sewn into his clothes. After cleaning out the entrails, he roasted the rabbit.
Soon, a savory aroma filled the air. Liu Shuhuai tore off a leg and took a fierce bite. “So hot, but so delicious—it’s really good!”
After finishing the rabbit, he took a bath. There was a type of medicinal herb that, when chewed and spat out, would mask the smell of having eaten meat. It tasted quite sweet.
Carrying his basket on his back, he returned home and placed it in his house. Then he went to gather pigweed, fed the pigs and chickens, swept the yard, and cooked dinner.
He could only listen as a group of people returned home, chatting and laughing merrily. He had never been able to blend in. Was he envious? Perhaps.
“Grandma, dinner is ready,” Liu Shuhuai said as he set the bowls and chopsticks on the table.
“Hmm, later you’ll come with us to the fields,” the words sounded more like a command.
“Alright,” Liu Shuhuai didn’t resist. After all, he wasn’t foolish—he too wanted to establish his own household and be independent. But as a Ge’er, he couldn’t protect himself, and anything he said would be useless unless they themselves brought up the idea of splitting the family.
In this era, Ge’er and women were permitted to remain unmarried or to establish separate households. Although since the law was enacted, no Ge’er or woman had ever proposed it.
If one were to establish a separate household, they would still be required to support their parents until they married (unless they severed ties, in which case they wouldn’t have to provide for their parents). (If the parents passed away, then whoever raised you would be the one you supported.) However, the bride price must still be given to the woman’s parents, even if the family was split.
Severing family ties also required the man to pay one tael of silver—this was a fixed rule, neither more nor less. It had to be done in the presence of the clan elders and the village chief. Afterward, when marrying, they would not attend, since the ties had been severed.
If one had the money, they could pay the one tael of silver at the time of severing ties, and then no further payments would be required.
At night, Liu Shuhuai lay quietly in bed, as if waiting for something.
“Meow~”
Liu Shuhuai’s eyes immediately lit up. He gently opened the window.
Under the moonlight, the black cat’s glossy fur shimmered with a metallic sheen, like a knight of the night—mysterious yet dignified.
Its body was primarily covered in black fur, with some white fur on its back. The contrast between black and white was striking and beautiful. The cat’s small, delicate face…
The cat was holding a pheasant in its mouth, which was larger than the cat itself.
“Was it you last night?” After the cat entered the room, Liu Shuhuai gently closed the window and turned to look at the cat.
“Meow.” It’s me. He Xunzhou placed the pheasant in his mouth on the ground—the pheasant was dead.
“Were you sent to me by the gods? Just for me?” Liu Shuhuai tried to hold the black cat, and He Xunzhou didn’t resist.
“Meow~” There are no gods here.
Liu Shuhuai buried his face in the cat’s belly, breathing in the scent of the little cat in his arms. He Xunzhou’s cat body stiffened at first, then gradually relaxed.
“You were sent to me by the gods. How wonderful—finally, I have you to keep me company.” Liu Shuhuai’s voice trembled slightly, as if he had finally waited for someone to save him.
“Have you had an owner before?” Liu Shuhuai asked sincerely. He Xunzhou shook his head reflexively, and Liu Shuhuai happily hugged him.
“You’re mine now.”
He Xunzhou was afraid Liu Shuhuai would think he understood human speech, so his fur bristled. But Liu Shuhuai seemed to have forgotten about it.
“Thank you for the rabbit and the pheasant. I really like them. Can you sleep with me? Even though this place isn’t nice at all,” Liu Shuhuai’s voice grew softer.
“Meow.” I’ll sleep with you. As he spoke, he nodded again.
Liu Shuhuai smiled, his face dark but revealing bright white teeth. It wasn’t a handsome sight, but He Xunzhou liked it and wanted him to stay happy forever.
Liu Shuhuai set the pheasant aside, planning to share it with him the next morning. “Are you hungry now?”
He Xunzhou shook his head.
Liu Shuhuai held the cat and lay down.
“My name is Liu Shuhuai, and you?”
“Meow meow meow.” He Xunzhou, my name is He Xunzhou.
“Then I’ll call you Big Black. Big Black, shall we have roast chicken together tomorrow morning?”
Liu Shuhuai slowly closed his eyes. How wonderful—he was being kept by a cat, and he would keep the cat too, fattening him up. Although the cat was already plump, he felt confident.
“Meow.” He Xunzhou let out a soft meow, somewhat resigned. Big Black it is, then. Well, I’ll eat with you.
Wah, can I finally eat cooked food now?
In the morning, Liu Shuhuai instinctively woke up early and immediately looked at the kitten in his arms, but he was gone.
Did he leave? He couldn’t have—he promised me. Could he be secretly following me? After all, if the Liu family discovered him, they would bully him, and he might even die.