Li held the little girl’s soft, chubby hand, finding it hard to believe that those branches as thick as her own wrist had been snapped so effortlessly by this tiny child.
Jiayin lifted her round chin and said proudly, “I’ve always been this strong. My mother even says I’ll grow up to be a little bully, and no one will dare to mess with me!”
Li thought to herself, That really wasn’t a compliment. Your mother was probably worrying that no one would dare to marry you in the future…
Thanks to Jiayin’s help, they now had enough firewood, so they stopped gathering more.
They lit a fire on the ground between the four trees, spreading the flames out as much as possible to increase the heat and dry the area so they could sleep there at night.
Fang Youwei made several trips, cutting down dozens of branches, each about seven or eight feet long and as thick as a wrist. On one trip, he even brought back a pheasant with vibrant feathers!
Fang Zhiyuan’s eyes lit up, and he dashed over to his father. “Dad! You caught a pheasant! Great, we’ll have chicken for dinner!”
Li walked over with Jiayin, took the pheasant from her husband, and asked, “How should we cook this chicken? How about stewing it with some coarse grain pancakes on top?”
Fang Youwei set down the branches he had carried on his shoulder and said to Li, “Whatever you say, dear. You’re an excellent cook—everything you make tastes good.”
Li shot him a playful glare. “What nonsense are you talking about? The kids are listening!” She looked down to see Jiayin blinking at her with her big, expressive eyes. Her face turned bright red as she muttered, “I’ll go prepare the chicken,” and quickly walked off.
Fang Youwei chuckled at the scene and waved at Jiayin. “Come on, let’s go wash your little hands. Once your aunt finishes with the chicken, I’ll use those beautiful feathers to make you a shuttlecock to play with.”
Jiayin’s attention was immediately captured. “What’s a shuttlecock? Is it fun?”
“It’s fun. You tie some feathers together with a copper coin at the bottom. Once it’s done, your big brother Dazhuang will teach you how to play.” Fang Youwei took her small hand, and they walked to the nearest puddle. He splashed water to wash her hands and dried them with the inner layer of his own clothing.
He led Jiayin back to Fang Zhiyuan and said, “All clean now. You’re still little, so you don’t need to work. Go play with your brother. We’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”
Then he went back to building the shelter for the night.
He removed the small twigs from the thicker, longer branches and laid them horizontally across the forks of the four trees at about head height, tying them securely with hemp rope to form a square frame. Then he wove the remaining branches onto the frame like a basket, creating a simple roof.
Fang Youwei then cut thinner branches and wove them the same way on three sides to form simple walls, smearing a layer of yellow mud on the outside for insulation. Although it was summer, the temperature difference between day and night was significant, and it got quite cold in the evening.
Jiayin and Fang Zhiyuan stood nearby, watching with great interest. Fang Youwei wouldn’t let them help, afraid they might hurt themselves on the sharp twigs.
Still, he explained each step as he worked, describing how things were made and what purpose they served. Both children listened intently.
Old Madam Yang had already set up the pot nearby. The stove was simple—just a shallow trench dug in the ground with gentle slopes on both sides. The pot sat directly on top, with space underneath for the fire.
Water was already boiling in the pot, drawn from the small puddle and left to settle until it looked clear.
Li returned with the prepared pheasant in a wooden basin. The chicken had already been chopped into small pieces and was promptly dropped into the pot to blanch.
Because the branches were slightly damp, thick smoke billowed up, making Old Madam Yang and Li wipe their eyes as they cooked.
Seeing this, Jiayin tilted her head and thought for a moment. She picked up a small branch and tried to extract the moisture from it. Soon, the branch became very dry, but she felt dizzy and her vision blurred. It wasn’t working. Jiayin sighed. There was no spiritual energy here, and her powers wouldn’t manifest.
By then, the pheasant was simmering in the pot, and the coarse grain pancakes had been placed on top. Only Li remained to tend the fire.
Old Madam Yang went over to move the firewood inside the shelter, trying to dry the ground as much as possible.
Fang Youwei had already finished applying the yellow mud. Thanks to the recent rain, the mud was readily available, saving him a lot of effort.
He washed his hands and headed back into the forest. He didn’t return until sunset, this time bringing back a wild rabbit and a tree stump.