CHAPTER 18: CHAPTER 17: DEEP IN THE MOUNTAINS

Before dawn, Qin Yao got up.

She boiled a full pot of water, stored it in a bamboo tube, and cooked ten taros the size of a child’s fist. She packed these into a bag woven with grass ropes and began to prepare her gear.

She poured more than half of the salt from the jar into a small bamboo tube and stuffed the flint into her pocket to carry with her.

A ten-meter-long bundle of grass rope was coiled up and fastened to her side; the bow and arrow were slung on her back; the handle of the short knife was re-wrapped with fabric strips. She held the knife in one hand and carried water and food in the other, extinguishing the fire in the stove.

With everything ready, she walked toward the northern mountains as the sky revealed the white belly of dawn.

As soon as she left, the door of the side room gently opened.

Da Lang and Second Lang held their younger siblings, watching the gray silhouette gradually vanish in the thick morning fog, wanting to run after her but forced themselves to hold back.

Their stepmother told them last night she was going to hunt in the mountains, expecting to return in three to five days, at the most seven or eight. She asked them to take care of themselves at home, promising that there would be meat to eat when she returned.

Sanlang and Si Niang were still young; the prospect of meat made them happy without thinking further.

Da Lang, having learned a bit more about the world, understood that hunting wasn’t something just anyone could do. The deep mountains were filled with fierce wild beasts; every winter, villagers dared not let their children go out because starving beasts descended from the mountains to eat people.

It was true; last winter, a girl from a family living in a remote part of the village was taken by wolves. When found, there were only a few fragments of bones left.

During recent brief encounters, Da Lang only vaguely knew his stepmother was stronger than most people, acted swiftly, and had a strong presence.

But he didn’t know if she could handle wild beasts if encountered.

Honestly, compared to this, Da Lang had an even darker thought.

He felt his stepmother was seeking an excuse to leave them—the four burdens—behind and leave alone.

But seeing the hopeful eyes of Second Lang, Sanlang, and Si Niang, he couldn’t bear to express this suspicion.

Perhaps he was just overthinking it.

Knowing Qin Yao’s instructions, at dawn, Liu Bai and Liu Zhong grabbed the reluctant Liu Fei and headed to the third brother’s house, took the leftover wheat seeds, and went to the field with hoes.

Meanwhile, Qin Yao had already reached the periphery of North Mountain.

She first found a sunny spot, sat down to drink water, ate some food, rested briefly, then headed toward the deep forest with full force.

Hunting is a game of chance; with good luck, one returns full-handed.

Without it, coming back empty-handed isn’t unusual.

However, for professional hunters, tracking wild animals is basic skill.

Few people venture into this deep mountain; occasionally, someone hunts for meat delicacies, but only in the outer circle. Deeper territories have no trails, but Qin Yao forged one from her steps there.

She didn’t conceal her movements, her goals clear—to find her base.

Once within the mountain, Qin Yao operated as smoothly as fish in water, the mutated jungle environment parallel to the apocalypse snapped her quickly into hunter mode.

From time to time, the mountain birds and small beasts ran past Qin Yao, who fastened her knife at her waist and took down her bow and arrow.

As birds frightened took flight above her again, she strung an arrow, and with a "whoosh," let loose into the sky!

A bird’s scream was heard, followed by a gray shadow of struggle falling from the trees.

Qin Yao parted the person-height wild grass before her, hurried toward the fallen direction; a gray bird with an arrow in its wing was struggling amidst fallen leaves, wailing.

"Need to work on aim," Qin Yao regrettably pulled out the arrow, picked up the grounded fat gray bird, tied its wings with rope affixing it to her waist, and continued onward.

She walked, utilizing encountered animals and flying birds to regain familiar touch; by nightfall, various nearly dead small animals filled her body.

She captured wild chickens, wild birds, small squirrels, and a nest of rabbits.

That rabbit was truly unexpected; she initially chased a tree-running squirrel when a rabbit head appeared atop a small mound; seeing prey delivered to her doorstep, how could Qin Yao let it go?

Swiftly blocked surrounding rabbit burrows with stones, leaving one entrance, burned damp leaves; suffocating smoke drove all seven rabbits out of their nest—captured alive.

The whole family of rabbits was large; two adults were plump, and five young ones were healthy, their gray fur shining with luster.

Though Qin Yao didn’t favor eating rabbit meat, she loved rabbit fur to make clothes, gloves, neck warmers—warm for winter.

Encumbered with rabbit burden, Qin Yao could only find a sheltered mountain hollow nearby to stop.

Having finished the taros, only a third of the water remained. Thin streams seeped from mountain hollow rock walls; Qin Yao dug a pit with sticks found in the forest, waited for water to accumulate to form a small pool.

Night had overtaken; she lit a campfire, killed the exhausted bird, roasted and ate it.

The day’s labor took a toll; even a bird insufficiently supplemented; Qin Yao then roasted the wild chicken too.

Roasted meat covered in a layer of grease; taking a bite was savory and fragrant; having gone without for long, Qin Yao wolfed down—soon finished off a whole bird and one wild chicken cleanly.

Full, she added wood to the fire, resting to conserve energy.

Mountain day-night temperature swings obliged Qin Yao to cover herself with dry leaves for warmth and camouflage against night-feeding wild beasts.

Nights aren’t advantageous; humans without night vision, dodging is best.

The deep mountain wasn’t quiet; echoes of beasts resound periodically, seemingly near, yet far; Qin Yao’s instincts remained keen, stirring her awake intermittently.

Midnight rain started to drizzle from overhead.

The campfire extinguished; a cold gust made Qin Yao shiver awake swiftly.

Seven tied live rabbits restlessly fretted in the rain.

Afraid they’d draw feeding wild beasts, Qin Yao killed them, snapping necks for intact fur—no matter about meat’s edibility.

Once handled, the rain intensified; the mountain hollow failed amid rainwater assault.

On rainy days, beasts less venture out; Qin Yao braving the rain pursued a cave.

Finally, as dawn emerged, Qin Yao found a grass-hidden natural cave.

Saturated entirely, fatigued and weary, she dared not pause, depositing dead rabbits and sundries in the cave before promptly fetching fallen leaves for drier branches beneath to build a fire.

Fire’s warmth gradually restored her evaporating body heat; only then did Qin Yao survey the cave.

It was a naturally formed cave, with a short narrow entrance requiring stoop to enter—concealment excellent. Had she not caught wind’s oddity passing by, she’d nearly missed it.

The interior was tight, approximately five to six square meters, but height accommodated standing.

Absent animal droppings indicated it wasn’t any creature’s home.

Apart from the small space, it was an ideal base; Qin Yao resolved to stay several days.

After drying her clothes and hair, Qin Yao masked all traces at the entrance, seized brief time for cave rest.