A mountain village boy

  My name is Yang Sicheng, born in 1922 in a small mountain village called Yehu Tuan at the border of Northeast China's Daxing'an Mountains and the Soviet Union. There were many foxes around our village, but adults didn't allow us to hunt them, saying they were fox spirits, and our village name is probably related to foxes.

  The village was very small, with only 8 households, all of whom were hunters and ginseng pickers. It's said that my ancestors had the bloodline of the famous Yang Family General from the Song Dynasty, whether it's true or not I don't know, but when I was just over 3 years old, I started learning the family's traditional martial arts, and by the time I was 8 years old, even the adult hunters in the village were no match for me.

  Mountain people are honest and respectful of the strong, and my father is undoubtedly one of the best hunters, with outstanding martial arts skills and excellent marksmanship. He has a "Hanyang-made" rifle (a Chinese copy of the German Mauser 88, named after the Hanyang Arsenal where it was manufactured, with a caliber of 7.92mm), which he exchanged for a tiger skin and two large ginseng roots, and he treasures it dearly every day.

  But to be honest, the "Hanyang rifle" is much better than the fire guns used by others in the village. On the one hand, it can shoot far and has a large killing range. On the other hand, it shoots accurately. More importantly, after firing a shot, you only need to lightly pull the bolt to shoot again without having to spend a lot of time loading gunpowder.

  Many hunters went hunting for several days, but the harvest was only enough to support their families. However, every time my father went hunting, he had a bountiful harvest, sometimes so much that he needed to make multiple trips to bring it all back. After having "Hanyang-made" (guns), every time my father went hunting, he would take others with him, and the hunted game was divided equally among them. If someone's family was ill and couldn't go hunting, my father would also leave a share for that household. As my father said, "Which family's thatched cottage doesn't have a leaky roof?"

  Because of my dad, everyone in the village likes me and saves the best food for me. Oh, except for a drunkard, although he has tried many times to show his kindness to me, I always stay far away from him because I don't like the pungent smell of alcohol on him.

  The drunkard was a Russian, named Ivan. He seemed to have been a soldier before, but for some reason he came to our village and stayed. I think maybe it's because he could get the game my dad gave him for free. The drunkard didn't like to talk, he was a very silent person, but sometimes his eyes would flash with a fierce glint that made people afraid. The villagers said he had killed someone before, so I naturally kept a distance from him. However, the drunkard was also very considerate and never disturbed others. What's strange is that he never went hunting with others, but often carried a big bag to the small town outside the mountain to exchange for some corn whiskey and a bag of potatoes. Potatoes were the drunkard's staple food, while liquor was his lifeblood.

  Maybe it was because I had been practicing martial arts since I was young and had eaten too much meat from tigers, leopards, wolves, and bears. At the age of 8, my body grew extremely strong, and after taking a deep breath, I could even lift the stone mill at the village entrance. Except for when the mountain was closed due to heavy snow in winter, adults were always busy hunting everywhere. If there were leftover prey, they would either exchange it for grain to store or exchange it for silver coins to prepare for emergencies in winter. By the time the cold winter arrived, we could only eat what we had stored.

  It's deep autumn now, and Father has gone hunting again. I heard that the game around here has been hunted out, so this time the grown-ups have decided to go to a more distant place to try their luck. It seems like they'll be gone for 5 or 6 days.

  Why not take this opportunity to go out and have some fun? The kids in the village, who are about my age, spend their days playing with mud or being officials catching thieves. It's all so meaningless, they can't even beat me, a slight push and they fall over. 7 or 8 of them can't beat me, usually it's me, the "thief", chasing after a big group of "officials" until they're running around like headless chickens. Sigh, what a bore.

  I often hear adults talk about legendary hunting stories, and I've long wanted to go on an adventure in the deep mountains. I excitedly took out the crossbow arrows and hunting knife that my dad had specially made for me. The crossbow was a Zhuge repeating crossbow, which could hold three arrows at once in its quiver. When needed, a light pull of the trigger would shoot out one arrow, and if pulled harder, all three arrows would be shot simultaneously, with great force.

  My arrow shooting is quite accurate, although it hasn't reached the legendary level of piercing a willow leaf at a hundred paces, within the range of crossbow arrows, I can hit whatever I aim for. Hehe, since childhood playing with slingshots, when there's nothing to do, I'd practice my marksmanship on leaves swaying in the branches, after several years, how could I not be accurate?

  That morning, I told my mom that I wanted to go out and have a look around. I didn't dare say that I was going into the mountains, so I just said that I was going to play outside the village. My mom knew that I had decent martial arts skills and since there were no longer any fierce beasts around the village, she felt at ease. She only reminded me to come home early, which I agreed to before running off.

  I've almost run through all the mountains near my village over the years, and today I'm going to explore the legendary Fox Fairy's residence on Tianhu Ridge. Along the winding mountain path, I walked past the deep Shen Tou Gou, climbed over the steep Zao Tai Po, and passed through the long Jin Dao Xia, after a patch of white birch forest, I saw a temple, I knew it was the "Tian Hu Temple" that adults come to worship every spring, but the small road that only comes once a year is still very clear now, it seems as if someone often walks this way, I secretly think it's strange, could there really be a "Fox Fairy"?

  The fox fairy wasn't visible, but what could be seen were the small foxes occasionally darting out from the forest on the mountain top. Their snow-white or fiery red tails drew a beautiful landscape in the grass.