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“The me over here is alive, but the me over there is dead.” Zhang Shuguang’s voice was low, tinged with a deep sorrow that was unmistakable even without straining to listen.

Mang Jiu said nothing, merely watching him.

Zhang Shuguang didn’t need him to respond; he just wanted to find an outlet to vent all the anxiety, panic, helplessness, and sorrow weighing on his heart.

“My mom always says that when I was little, I was in really bad health for two years and was always so withdrawn. She thought I wouldn’t make it, and for a while, she’d even check to see if I was still breathing while I slept.

Don’t let my mom’s usual bossy demeanor fool you—she actually cares deeply about me. She’s always worried I’m not eating or sleeping well. If I told her I was sick, she’d be up for days, constantly worrying about me.

My dad isn’t much of a talker; he’s usually quiet, but he cares deeply for his family. My older brother, who’s a few years older than me, dotes on me and looks after me.

I’m the most carefree one in the family.”

He raised his hand to rub his eyes. After a moment, he added in a low voice, “If I just suddenly disappeared like this, my mom would probably blame herself terribly! I’m really worried about her health, but my dad will surely find a way to comfort her. He understands my mom best—he loves her more than anyone.”

He knew full well that there was truly no possibility of him returning to that world—the world where his loving family was. He was truly dead there; there was no way he could be brought back to life.

He had doubts in his heart, but he didn’t want to dwell on them. Call him content with whatever comes his way, or call him timid and afraid of trouble—the fact that he had woken up in this world was a miracle in itself. Why force anything else?

Zhang Shuguang’s eyes were red-rimmed, yet no tears fell.

Mang Jiu said nothing, but raised his hand to gently touch Zhang Shuguang’s face.

Zhang Shuguang looked up at him and asked, “Actually, even if I hadn’t said I wanted to live with you in the same cave, you would have kept me here anyway, wouldn’t you?”

Until now, he hadn’t been able to figure out why Mang Jiu had agreed to let him stay here. Given Mang Jiu’s personality, this was highly unusual. The people in the tribe had said that Mang Jiu had taken a liking to him and wanted to have children with him, but Zhang Shuguang didn’t really believe it.

Not until Mang Jiu mentioned his resurrection and said he’d seen the cell phone.

Putting the pieces together, the answer was obvious.

This man, who looked so laid-back and had such a good temperament, had been wary of him from the very beginning.

And he was right to be wary. Anyone who found a man who had come back from the dead would be on guard. The fact that Mang Jiu didn’t simply burn him to ashes as a monster was already an act of mercy—let alone that he’d brought him back, provided shelter from the elements, and kept everything about him to himself, never mentioning a word to outsiders.

When Mang Jiu said he’d found him and that he belonged to him, there was likely an unspoken second half to that statement.

It was his responsibility.

The responsibility to ensure the tribe faced no danger. It wasn’t, as others might assume, that he’d taken a fancy to him and wanted to have children with him.

Rather, he was born here; this was where his family and friends were, so he’d chosen to stay.

He was observing him.

Only after confirming that he was not only harmless but could also bring a better life to the tribe did this man—cold on the outside but warm at heart—lay everything bare about himself.

Mang Jiu lowered his hand and gave a soft “hm.”

Zhang Shuguang stared straight at him, saying nothing.

Mang Jiu said in a flat tone, “You’re good. Better than anyone else.”

Zhang Shuguang raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Mang Jiu licked his lips. Under Zhang Shuguang’s gaze, he felt slightly uneasy as he said, “You’ve helped many people survive the snow season without starving to death. You could have said nothing and just eaten your fill, but you spoke up—and even taught them how to preserve meat. You’re very… well, you always thank the people in the tribe and give them meat to eat.”

He scratched his head, looking a bit flustered. “I’m not good with words.” He rarely spoke this much at once; it was a bit of a stretch for him.

Zhang Shuguang reflected on what he had done and said, “I treat everyone equally. Whether they’re Beastmen or Sub-Beastmen, I’ve never looked down on anyone. I’m grateful for their help, so I give them good food in return. I thank them—I’m very polite.”

Mang Jiu nodded. “Hmm.”

“Anything else?” Zhang Shuguang suddenly felt a bit curious—what had caused Mang Jiu to let down his guard toward him?

“You’re kind.” Mang Jiu glanced at the two little cubs inside the giant conch shell. His face remained cold, but his eyes held a hint of warmth. “You know, if they hadn’t been adopted by you and had been sent to the big cave to be raised with the other cubs, they definitely wouldn’t have had enough to eat.”

Zhang Shuguang rolled his eyes. That was stating the obvious!

They were just two newborns; it was a miracle they were even getting meat to eat.

As orphans with no parents—and outsiders at that—it would be strange if they could actually fit in with the other cubs in the Big Cave.

If they really were sent to the Big Cave, they’d definitely get bullied. It might even take a psychological toll on them. Never mind the kittens—the little bird was seriously injured, and it’s anyone’s guess whether she’ll even survive.

It’s just like suddenly adding a dark-haired, dark-eyed child to a group of blond-haired, blue-eyed kids. Children may not have malicious intentions, but they still have their own little schemes; exclusion knows no bounds of age, race, or gender.

“Also,” Mang Jiu suddenly raised a hand to touch his nose and said hoarsely, “You’ve been very good to me.”

Zhang Shuguang froze. “Huh?”

“You’ve prepared lots of good food for me and even helped me clean up the cave.” After saying this, Meng Jiu’s wheat-colored skin flushed slightly in the firelight. “The food you make is delicious—really delicious.”

Zhang Shuguang narrowed his eyes and couldn’t resist teasing, “You’re not blushing, are you?”

“Hm?” Mang Jiu looked at him.

“Never mind,” Zhang Shuguang chuckled and shook his head, silently scolding himself for letting the firelight fool him into seeing shyness on Mang Jiu’s usually expressionless face. “So, in other words, you think I’m a good person—good to you, to the kid, and to everyone else in the tribe—and that’s why you told me my secret?”

“Mm,” Mang Jiu nodded. “I let you stay here—I admit it was so I could keep an eye on you.”

Zhang Shuguang cleared his throat. “I just wanted to find a patron to help me survive.”

They exchanged a glance, and both burst out laughing.

Zhang Shuguang exhaled deeply, leaning back against the mountain wall as his body relaxed, and asked, “So do you still want to live with me now?”

“I do,” Mang Jiu answered without a moment’s hesitation, blurting out the words as soon as the question was asked. “I’ll live with you. I’ll raise the kid with you.”

Zhang Shuguang’s heart, which had been weighed down by longing for his family just moments ago, instantly lightened. He asked with a smile, “What if I find another kid later on?”

“We’ll raise them,” Mang Jiu said. “We can take care of as many as we need to.”

Zhang Shuguang’s eyes crinkled with laughter, his dimples flickering in and out of view. “You’re the one who’s truly honest and kind.” Though he wasn’t a man of many words, usually working in silence without seeking credit or boasting, he had a moral compass in his heart that was fairer than anyone else’s.

Mang Jiu stared at him intently.

Zhang Shuguang suddenly grinned mischievously. “Aren’t you afraid I’m lying to you? What if I’m actually a scoundrel?”

Mang Jiu shook his head and said with certainty, “You wouldn’t.” A beast’s instincts were the most accurate; he wasn’t blind or stupid—how could he possibly fail to tell whether someone was good or evil?

Zhang Shuguang sniffed and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s shake hands.”

Mang Jiu didn’t quite understand, but he reached out and did as he was told.

Their hands clasped together—one sweaty and warm, the other dry and slightly cool.

“Let’s reintroduce ourselves. My name is Zhang Shuguang. I’m twenty-four years old—that’s twenty-four snow seasons, as you guys say,” he grinned. “You seem younger than me, don’t you?”

Mang Jiu nodded. “I’m twenty-one snow seasons old—twenty-one years old.”

“Then from now on, we’re good partners sharing the same cave!” Zhang Shuguang had originally wanted to say “roommates,” but realizing the other might not understand, he chose different wording.

Mang Jiu hummed in response, a faint smile playing on his face.

Building trust begins with that first step toward one another.

With the heavy weight lifted from his heart, Zhang Shuguang slept exceptionally soundly that night. He no longer saw himself as a mere spectator who might leave at any moment, but rather as someone who had claimed a place here and needed to carefully cultivate his life moving forward.

He woke up late that morning—a rare occurrence. He cracked his stiff neck and glared resentfully at the stone pillow he’d been meaning to replace but never had.

“Meow~” Nai Dou arched its back and stretched lazily, then sauntered over to his legs. It rubbed its fluffy, warm body against him, then turned and returned to its nest. Lowering its head, it nudged Tang Dou—who had already opened her eyes—overturning her onto her side.

“Cheep~!” Tang Dou flapped her tiny, flexible wings and tapped Nai Dou on the nose.

“Achoo!” Nai Dou shook his head and sneezed, spraying Tang Dou with a wet mist.

“Cheep-cheep!” Tang Dou chirped several times, flapping her little wings repeatedly.

Zhang Shuguang found the scene amusing. He raised one hand to massage his aching neck while using the other to grab a short-haired cloth to wipe Tang Dou down. “Nai Dou, take your little sister outside the den to do her business.”

Nai Dou meowed softly and nudged Tang Dou playfully with the tip of her nose.

“Cheep cheep!” Tang Dou raised a tiny wing and pushed against her furry snout.

Zhang Shuguang placed Tang Dou on top of Nai Dou’s head and warned, “Be careful—don’t drop your little sister.”

Nai Dou meowed softly, leaping down from the stone slab bed. Tang Dou wobbled on his head for a moment before flapping her wings and regaining her balance.

Watching the two cubs leave the cave, Zhang Shuguang turned his head toward the stone slab bed belonging to Mang Jiu and found it empty.

He stood up, shook out his arms and kicked his legs, put on his leather vest, and stepped out in his straw sandals.

Mang Jiu sat at the edge of the cliff, sorting the pile of rubble left over from digging the cave yesterday into piles by size.

“It’ll still come loose like this,” Zhang Shuguang said, using half a bamboo segment as a toothbrush cup. He found a twig, stripped off some bark, dipped it in sea salt, and brushed his teeth. “Bring back some mud to use as a binder.”

“Like that glue?” Mang Jiu turned to look at him. “Mud will crack once it dries.”

Zhang Shuguang rinsed his mouth and spat the water into a wooden basin nearby. “Ordinary mud won’t work. We can try the silt from the ditch.” 

He recalled seeing something like this somewhere before—some riverbed silt was sticky, and since it contained plenty of nutrients, it could be used for farming. The silt from the ditch should work too; it’s all silt, so the difference shouldn’t be that great, right?

Mang Jiu now had what could only be called unconditional trust in him; if Zhang Shuguang said the silt from the ditch was edible, he’d believe it.

Zhang Shuguang was amused by the serious, earnest expression on his face and turned to pour him a cup of water.

He kept the thinnest joint at the top of the bamboo and the thickest one at the bottom. Since the bamboo was long enough, cutting it in half would make a perfect cup, while the thick end could hold hot water, oil, or salt.

“Here, have some water.” He handed him the cup. “Drinking a glass of water when you wake up in the morning helps with bowel movements and aids digestion.” His eyes kept darting over Mang Jiu’s belly, and he couldn’t help but say, “Eating too much at once isn’t good for your health. You know, next time you go out hunting, don’t eat so much all at once. I heard you got so stuffed you couldn’t turn back into human form.”

Mang Jiu paused mid-sip and retorted coldly, “Who said that?”

Zhang Shuguang didn’t seem to care as he ratted him out, “The chief, he said you couldn’t turn back into human form if you ate too much, which is why you didn’t come back with Xiong Hui when he returned with the hunt last time.”

Mang Jiu ground his back molars fiercely.

Zhang Shuguang turned to start cooking and asked him, “What do you want to eat?”

“Anything’s fine.” Mang Jiu set down his water cup, glanced at the nearly completed stone wall, and asked casually, “Are we still working on this?”

“Let’s not. We’ll go dig up some mud by the ditch later. I also want to go collect some duck eggs.” Zhang Shuguang ran his hand over the half of the giant boar beast’s hide he’d coated with glue last night and found it had already dried. He tried peeling it off—it came away easily.

“Peel off this glue, then scrub the hide with water. Do it a couple more times.”

Mang Jiu nodded, stood up, and brushed the dirt off his hands. “Alright.”

Zhang Shuguang didn’t want to eat hog beast meat first thing in the morning, but aside from that, they only had fish. He thought for a moment, then turned to ask Mang Jiu, “How about fish soup?”

“Sure, you decide.” Mang Jiu carefully peeled off the dried glue, moving with great care.

Zhang Shuguang picked out three fish. These had only been hung out to dry for one night and weren’t particularly dry yet; the ones dried earlier were already somewhat hard to the touch. If left to dry for a few more days until completely hardened, they could be put away.

He hadn’t actually realized that the local climate was so ideal for drying things. The few hours of midday sunshine were truly excellent, though he could already foresee how hot the summer would be.

While soaking the fish, he took the opportunity to turn over the bamboo shoots that were drying. He took two potatoes, peeled them, then cut them into small chunks and set them aside to add to the fish soup later.

“Yesterday, Hua and the Shaman asked me to bring you some fruit back; I put it on the table.” Mang Jiu looked up at him.

Zhang Shuguang found the fruit by the stove, picked it up, and examined it. Two pale yellow fruits, about the size of a fist, with regular vertical stripes. He had a hunch, but this size didn’t match any variety he recognized.

He sliced open the yellow fruit with a bone knife; inside were numerous creamy-yellow seeds.

“Pumpkin!”

“What?” Mang Jiu said upon seeing the cut fruit, “The Shaman told me to bring that back.”

Zhang Shuguang rinsed them under water, then chopped them up and scattered them over the potatoes. “This is a pumpkin,” he explained. “I’ll have to ask the Shaman where he found it.” His face lit up with delight. “This can be stored for a while, though not as long as potatoes.” He truly hadn’t expected to discover a pumpkin—though compared to the ones he knew, this one was much smaller and the color was different.

Mang Jiu got up, walked over, picked it up, and examined it closely. “It must have been picked from the Wild Plains. There are all kinds of fruits there.”

“Is it far away?” He set the pumpkin seeds aside. “Do people from the tribe go there often to pick fruit?”

“Not too far, but I don’t go there often.” Mang Jiu went back to continue peeling the dried sap.

The sap was quite sticky; after peeling it off, a lot of hair was left clinging to it.

“You don’t need to be so careful—just tear off a big piece at a time.” Zhang Shuguang couldn’t help but offer a reminder when he saw how much effort Mang Jiu was putting into it.

Mang Jiu hummed in acknowledgment, then began pulling the dried sap down with more force.

With a tearing sound, a large chunk of dried sap came off. Zhang Shuguang flinched; the dense cluster of hair strands clinging to it gave him goosebumps all over his arm.

“It works pretty well,” Mang Jiu said. “You go ahead and do your thing; I’ll handle this myself.”

Zhang Shuguang quickly turned away to cook. He rubbed his arm and shuddered again. “I didn’t realize I had trypophobia. That’s so gross.”

Mang Jiu gave a low chuckle, looking quite pleased.

The two of them were clearly getting along much more easily and comfortably than before. As the fish soup simmered in the pot, he rolled up the scattered bamboo strips on the ground, tied them with vines, and carried them into the cave to place them on the top shelf of the scale-plank rack.

Last night, Mang Jiu had embedded all eight remaining scales into the cave wall, leaving two meters in length and one meter in width exposed. He had installed a total of three rows along the left-hand wall of the cave.

The cave had originally been about six meters long and five meters wide. Last night, Xiong Hong helped widen and lengthen it, so now the width had become the length and the length had become the width—the entire interior was at least twice as large.

“I didn’t notice it last night, but looking at it now, it feels a bit too big, doesn’t it?” Zhang Shuguang stood at the entrance, gazing into the empty, echoing interior.

Mang Jiu tore off the last bit of dry glue, stood up to fetch a basin of water to wash the hides, and, upon hearing him mutter, glanced inside as well. “Once you finish making your things, it’ll be filled up.”

Zhang Shuguang thought about what he planned to build next. His eyes swept the cave twice, then he picked up a twig and began sketching on the ground. Soon, a simple, scaled-down version of a four-bedroom, one-living-room layout appeared.

“Take a look. How does this look?”

“It’s fine,” Mang Jiu nodded. “What are you going to use to partition it off?”

Zhang Shuguang thought for a moment and said, “Never mind, we’ll talk about it another time. The cave looks pretty spacious right now. If we partition it off, it’ll feel cramped, and it’ll be hard to move around.” He suddenly remembered the story about Mang Er transforming into his beast form to hibernate. If he put up partitions in the cave, what if one day Mang Jiu also wanted to hibernate? He wouldn’t have anywhere to curl up.

Although he’d never seen Mang Jiu’s beast form, he couldn’t forget that coiled snake skin.

Mang Jiu said nothing and turned to fetch water.

Zhang Shuguang coiled the remaining vines into bundles and placed them on the top shelf alongside the bamboo strips.

He planned to store tools on the top shelf to prevent the little ones from getting hit by them while they were running around.

The middle layer held finished goods—dried vegetables, fish, and meat—within easy reach, and since they weren’t pressed against anything above or below, they wouldn’t get damp so easily.

The bottom layer held some containers that weren’t easily broken; for now, there were only a few wooden basins and several bamboo tubes of various sizes. The stone wall next to the stove was empty, so he planned to stretch a few ropes there to hang things later.

After a simple breakfast, the two of them picked up the stone buckets and headed toward the stream on the back mountain.

Zhang Shuguang was particularly surprised to ask where these two stone buckets had come from, and Mang Jiu replied that he’d taken them from the entrance to Xi San’s cave.

“Xi San’s cave entrance? Didn’t you say hello to Sister Fei first?” Just taking someone else’s stuff like that didn’t seem quite right, did it?

Mang Jiu replied, “I dug these up myself. Fei took them to use and didn’t give them back to me.”

Zhang Shuguang blinked, “Then she’s in the wrong. Borrowing and returning makes borrowing easy again; she can’t just borrow and never return them.” After saying that, the two buckets looked strangely familiar to him. Suddenly, he realized—wasn’t his sea salt boiled right in these very buckets?

“How can you use a ‘meritorious servant’ to hold mud!”

Mang Jiu looked at him in bewilderment as he suddenly lost his mind. “What ‘meritorious servant’?”

Zhang Shuguang chuckled. “These two buckets were used to boil seawater before.” He was just being a bit cheeky.

The two of them walked over to the experimental plot. Zhang Shuguang reached down and felt the ground; it was a bit damp, not like it had been left untouched for a day. “I guess A-Si came over this morning to water it.”

“Do you have to water it every day?” Mang Jiu asked curiously.

Zhang Shuguang shook his head. “Actually, I don’t know. This is my first time growing vegetables on my own. I used to watch my mom do it, but she never managed to keep them alive.” He gave a wry smile.

“Let’s go,” Mang Jiu said. He wasn’t one to try to talk him out of it, so he simply gestured for him to head toward the ditch.

As they walked, Zhang Shuguang said, “Help me remember a few things. I’m afraid I’ll forget with all the running around.”

Mang Jiu turned to look at him.

Zhang Shuguang raised his hand and began listing, “No matter what, I have to make a soft pillow today! This afternoon, find some time to hang up the cured meat to air-dry, make pork skin jelly, and weave a bamboo basket.”

“Anything else?” Mang Jiu looked at him. “What can I do?”

“We’ll see when the time comes. I don’t know what you can do yet.” Zhang Shuguang spread his hands. “Come on, let’s go. First, we’ll dig up some mud to dry in the sun, then head over to that grassy area to collect duck eggs!”

“Why do we need to dry the mud?” Mang Jiu was like a child full of questions, curious about everything.

“To see if it cracks when it dries. If it cracks, we can’t use it. If the cracks aren’t too big, we can make do with them. If it doesn’t crack, it’s fine.” Zhang Shuguang explained, then paused to add, “Actually, I’m not entirely sure myself. Let’s just give it a try.”

The ditch was right in front of them. Zhang Shuguang hurried over but didn’t see the flock of swimming ducks.

He guessed the ducks had been scared yesterday and hadn’t come today.

He was about to kick off his straw sandals and jump into the ditch when Mang Jiu reached out and grabbed his arm. “There are rocks.”

Zhang Shuguang nodded with a smile and walked down the slope.

The icy water made him shiver reflexively. His feet sank into the mud, and he wiggled his toes.

The last time he’d gone into the water to catch ducks, he’d focused all his attention on the ducks and hadn’t noticed the condition of the mud at the bottom of the ditch. Now, feeling it, he found it was very fine, with a sticky texture that clung to his feet.

“Give me the stone scoop,” he reached out and said to Mang Jiu, “You don’t need to come down.”

Mang Jiu pulled back the step he’d already taken, retrieved the stone scoop from the stone bucket, and handed it to him.

Zhang Shuguang bent down and scooped up a large handful, finding it offered significant resistance.

The dark brown silt was fine and dense, mixed with small pebbles and patches of dark green moss and algae.

He pinched some between his fingers and rubbed it between them, exclaiming with delight, “I think this will work!”

“Hmm, let’s dry some out and give it a try.” Mang Jiu saw a few fish the size of a palm swimming near his feet and asked, “Aren’t you going to catch any fish?”

“No, thanks. The fish in the ditch are too small. I’d rather go catch some in the pond. I saw a lot of snails; I might as well take some of those back,” Zhang Shuguang bent down to pick up two snails and examined them. They were quite large—at least bigger than any he’d eaten before. As he gathered the snails, he explained to Mang Jiu how to cook them. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a tiny creature flailing its claws at him. “A crayfish?”

“Huh?” Mang Jiu was startled by him. “What crayfish?”

Zhang Shuguang was excited. Not afraid of getting pinched, he reached out and grabbed the crayfish by the head, lifting it up for Mang Jiu to see. “This… this crayfish is really huge.”

The biggest crayfish he’d ever eaten before was only about half the length of his palm, but this one—calling it a “crayfish” would be an understatement.

“Come down, come down! Help me catch a few more to take home. I’ll cook them for you later—they’re especially delicious!” Just thinking about the crayfish’s delicious flavor made him drool uncontrollably, so he quickly wiped his mouth. 

“No wonder those ducks like to hang out in this little ditch—there’s plenty of food here.”

Mang Jiu obediently waded into the water. He glanced at the crayfish in Zhang Shuguang’s hand, then turned and scanned the ditch. 

“There are more over there.” He pointed upstream, not far away.

“You go over there, I’ll stay here. Catch some snails too—go for the big ones.” 

Zhang Shuguang didn’t even straighten his back; he’d grab one and toss it onto the bank, moving with lightning speed. Mang Jiu’s haul was even better than his—it could practically be described as a “crayfish sweep.” Zhang Shuguang didn’t stop until his lower back ached. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and climbed out of the ditch.

Only then did he feel the cold. He looked down at his legs, which had turned pale from being soaked in the water, and stamped his feet on the grass. “Come on up. We’ve got enough to eat.”

Mang Jiu leaped onto the bank in a single stride, bent down to gather the pile of wriggling crayfish, and tossed them into the stone bucket.

Zhang Shuguang placed the snails and crayfish into the stone bucket as well, then was pleasantly surprised to discover that after all their hard work, they’d filled the bucket to the brim.

“Wow, we’re in for a real treat. I’ll cook them up as soon as we get back.”

“There’s not much meat on them,” Mang Jiu said with a hint of disdain.

In his view, prey with little meat wasn’t worth the time and effort to catch. If Zhang Shuguang hadn’t clearly shown such a fondness for these crayfish, he certainly wouldn’t have bothered to catch them.

“Before, when you ate, it was just about filling your stomach—you didn’t care about the taste or texture. You’d just swallow it whole as long as it kept you from starving,” Zhang Shuguang said with a click of his tongue. 

“Am I right?” 

Mang Jiu nodded. “Right.”

“What I want to tell you is this: enjoying life starts with food. You never knew how to cook anything good before, so it didn’t matter how you ate. But now that I’m here, I’m going to make sure you eat three satisfying, delicious meals a day.” Zhang Shuguang lifted his chin with a touch of smugness, looking quite proud. 

“I’ll make sure it leaves a lingering flavor on your lips—the kind you’ll never forget.”

He didn’t know where this confidence came from, but he was convinced his cooking would have Mang Jiu hooked. Mang Jiu chuckled at his words and nodded. “Alright.”Zhang Shuguang dumped the mud from the stone spoon onto the ground, glanced up at the sun, then spread the mud out in a thin layer. “Come on, let’s go find some duck eggs.”

“We’ll leave these here?” Mang Jiu pointed at the stone bucket filled with crayfish. “They’ll crawl out.”

Zhang Shuguang thought for a moment, then divided the contents of one bucket into two, making two and a half buckets. “They won’t be able to crawl out now, but I’ll still carry them. Otherwise, if we find the duck eggs, we won’t have anywhere to put them.” Although he was carrying an empty leather bag, duck eggs would easily get crushed inside it, so it was safer to keep them in the buckets.

Mang Jiu hoisted the stone bucket with both hands and said to him, “You lead the way.”

“No need to lead the way. It’s just that patch of grass up ahead. That’s where I found Tang Dou. I wonder how big the Phoenix Bird Clan’s hearts are—they’d dare bring out such a tiny little one to fly, and if it fell to the ground, no one would even look for it.”

“The Phoenix Bird Clan doesn’t migrate this way,” Mang Jiu said. “Our tribe has many giant beasts, so other Beastmen rarely come near us. The Phoenix Bird Clan also avoids us during their migrations.”

Zhang Shuguang frowned. He had been bending down to part the grass in search of duck eggs, but upon hearing this, he turned his head and asked, “Then how did Tang Dou get here? Ying Cao said she fell from a great height.”

Mang Jiu’s gaze fixed on the taut curve of Zhang Shuguang’s leather shorts. His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly, and his voice took on an inexplicable hoarseness. “She might have been captured by another predator.”

Zhang Shuguang pressed his lips together and straightened up. “A bird of prey snatching a cub?”

“Yeah. Before they’ve transformed, beastman cubs basically never leave the tribe’s safe zone. They’d become prey for predators. Even teenagers in their teens within the tribe aren’t allowed to go out alone. If they need to go hunting, an adult beastman has to accompany them.” Mang Jiu was surprised to find that he hadn’t felt awkward at all after saying so much.

Zhang Shuguang noticed it too—Mang Jiu had just spoken a lot!

He leaned in with a delighted look and asked, “Are you tired?”

“?” Mang Jiu looked puzzled. What did he mean, “Are you tired”?

Zhang Shuguang grinned. “You’ve said so much—aren’t you tired?”

Mang Jiu: “……” Shut up!

He noticed that Zhang Shuguang was particularly fond of teasing him today; he seemed to have suddenly become much more lively.

Zhang Shuguang patted his shoulder. “Go look over there.”

Mang Jiu silently followed.

“If Tang Dou was taken away, would the Phoenix Bird Clan come looking for her?” Zhang Shuguang waved his hand and pointed to a grass nest not far away. “Look, there are eggs there!”

“Hmm.” Mang Jiu reached out to take them. “No, if the Phoenix Bird Clan didn’t chase after her back then, they’ve given up on her. They’re a very timid clan.”

Zhang Shuguang sighed. He held the few duck eggs Mang Jiu had brought up to the sunlight, but couldn’t tell if they were four, five, or six. He spread a layer of grass over the small crayfish in the middle and placed the eggs inside. “There should be plenty more eggs around here. Pick up as many as you can. We’ll keep half to hatch ducklings and eat the other half.”

“You want to raise ducks on the back mountain?” Mang Jiu looked around for more duck eggs.

Zhang Shuguang chuckled. “I don’t know if they’ll hatch. But if both the chicken eggs and these duck eggs hatch, we’ll have eggs to eat every day once they’re grown.”

“Why not just catch some adult ducks and raise them directly?” Mang Jiu asked, voicing the obvious.

Zhang Shuguang: “……” If I could catch live ones, would I need to go through all this trouble?

Mang Jiu chuckled and poked him on the cheek. “I’ll go catch a few live ones for you later. Where do you want to raise them?”

Zhang Shuguang glared at him. “As long as they can’t fly, I can fence off a section of the experimental field on the back mountain for the gugu chickens. I’ll just collect the eggs every day. But the ducks need to be let out to swim daily.” After saying this, he slapped his forehead. “I’m such an idiot. I can just come over every day to collect the duck eggs—it’s not that far anyway.”

Mang Jiu: “Have the kids from the tribe come over.”

“No thanks, I don’t have enough snacks to share with the kids.” The kids had gobbled up the oil residue from the last time he rendered lard, and they’d remembered it well. Nai Dou would often wander over to the big wooden basin where the oil was stored, stick his head in to sniff around—it was obvious he was craving that leftover oil residue.

“Once we get home, I’ll render all the fat from the hog beast. Now we have bamboo tubes to store the oil—they’re better than wooden basins. The oil residue makes a great snack for the kids. You didn’t get to try it last time, so have a taste later. It tastes different from the meat.” Zhang Shuguang found another clutch of duck eggs and dumped them all into the stone tub without keeping a single one.

The two of them worked for about another hour, stopping only when the stone tub was full.

“Let’s head back. I’m hungry.” Zhang Shuguang looked at the duck eggs in the stone tub. “I’ll stir-fry some duck eggs later. It’d be nice if we had some scallions, but lemongrass would work too.”

Mang Jiu nodded. Sure, he’d eat whatever they made, and besides, he trusted Zhang Shuguang’s cooking skills.

The two went to check the spot where they’d spread the mud earlier and found that although the mud showed signs of drying, it hadn’t cracked.

Zhang Shuguang rubbed some between his fingers, then looked up at Mang Jiu. “I think it should be fine. Otherwise, should we take some back to try?”

Mang Jiu had no reason to object, but there was one problem: the two of them had taken over the stone tub originally intended for the mud, leaving only the empty leather bag Zhang Shuguang was carrying.

Zhang Shuguang berated himself for being unable to resist a tasty treat and reluctantly opened the leather bag. “Here, I’ll make a sacrifice.”

Mang Jiu chuckled. “Just wash it clean when we get back.”

Zhang Shuguang pouted. Though his face showed his reluctance, he didn’t stop scooping up the mud.

The mud was heavy; once he’d filled the bag, he couldn’t lift it at all.

In the end, Mang Jiu carried a stone bucket in each hand and a leather bag filled with mud on his back.

As for Zhang Shuguang, he wasn’t empty-handed either; he’d gathered a bundle of branches and dry firewood, huffing and puffing as he trailed behind Mang Jiu.

The two returned to the cave, drawing crowds of onlookers along the way.

Since the tribe had been given plenty of meat, the foraging team hadn’t organized any outings these past two days; everyone had finished eating and was sitting in front of the cave chatting idly.

“We’re heading to the back mountain!”

“Shuguang, what delicious dish are you going to make now?”

“You gathered so many eggs—what great luck!”

“Shuguang, could you teach us how to make stewed meat? The aroma when you cook is just amazing!”

“Exactly! My kid complains every day that my meat isn’t tasty and wants to eat yours!”

Zhang Shuguang smiled and said to the Sub-Beastmen, “I’ve been a bit busy these past couple of days. Otherwise, you should ask A-Si to teach you—he learned from me.”

“Great, great! Let’s go find A Si!”

The group strolled off to find A-Si.

Zhang Shuguang let out a sigh of relief and turned to Mang Jiu with a smile. “Why didn’t anyone ask you to come?”

“They’re afraid of me,” Mang Jiu said calmly.

The two arrived at the cave entrance and set their things down. Zhang Shuguang first took out all the duck eggs and placed them in a wooden basin lined with grass, then filled the stone bucket containing the crayfish with water.

“Shuguang, I’m back! I brought you some fish!” Meng Er’s voice echoed up from the mountain path. Zhang Shuguang and Mang Jiu turned around at the same time to see Meng Er appear on the fourth-level platform, carrying several large fish.

Meng Jiu’s face darkened, while Zhang Shuguang beamed with delight.

Fish!

Fresh fish!

He could make some spicy and numbing fish slices, spicy and numbing crayfish, lemongrass-stir-fried duck eggs, and pair them with a potato-shredded wild vegetable and egg drop soup—perfect!

As soon as Meng Er spotted his brother, he dropped the fish in his hands and lunged forward to hug him. “My little brother, it’s been so long!”

Mang Jiu raised his hand to push him away. “Get lost.”