Junk hit the floor, kicking up swirls of dust.

Huo Ling wiped sweat from his brow with his sleeve, bent down to grab a few rotten planks from the ground, and flung them forcefully outside.

On his first day up the mountain, he didn’t rush to enter the woods.

Living here long-term, he hadn’t noticed before, but now that he had a husband and intended to properly settle in the mountains, the courtyard truly looked filthy. Even he couldn’t stand it anymore, so he rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

The mountain property was vast, so the courtyard had been fenced quite generously. He started by tidying up two utility rooms. One served as a wood shed, its interior and exterior walls piled high with firewood—that was manageable. He just needed to sweep away the cobwebs from the rafters and corners and dust the floors.

The other shed proved more troublesome. He’d been too lazy to enter it regularly, tossing whatever he had no immediate use for inside. Now, cleaning it up was a headache.

Take those rotten planks of wood he’d just found—why hadn’t he simply tossed them into the stove to burn?

Then there were the hole-ridden straw cloaks, stacked rotten willow baskets, tangled lengths of hemp rope, and several broken bricks…

Many of these items still held memories for Huo Ling—mostly everyday things from when his parents were still alive.

As he tidied, nostalgia washed over him. By the end, he was covered in dust, and the yard held two new piles of junk.

One pile held items still usable, the other things he wouldn’t miss if discarded. He then lightly swept the cleared mud ground, filled a basin with water, and splashed it over the dust to settle it.

Dager couldn’t figure out what his master was doing. He kept running in and out, getting in the way for a while, before heading off to play in the hills behind the house. By the time Huo Ling had tidied things up, Dager returned, dragging a lifeless forest mouse in his mouth.

“Spit it out.”

Huo Ling had just washed his hands when he saw the mouse’s tail sticking out of the dog’s mouth. He spoke to Dager with disgust, pointing at the ground.

Dager obediently opened its jaws, dropping three dead forest mice in a row. Each was plump and palm-sized, but having been held in its mouth, they were now slobbery and utterly disgusting.

Huo Ling wrinkled his nose, grabbed the mice by their tails, washed them clean, skinned them, skewered them on branches, and tossed them into the stove to roast.

Dager lay panting nearby, its large tail swishing back and forth. Judging by its demeanor, it wasn’t particularly hungry—likely having already gorged itself on raw prey in the mountains and now scavenging a few cooked ones for a snack.

Sometimes being too smart isn’t a good thing for dogs. This one was sharp as a tack, almost like a little brat who knew how to run errands. Even when it came to eating, it had its preferences—raw or cooked.

After Dager finished his snack, Huo Ling also gnawed through the flatbread in his hand. Cleaning the house couldn’t be put off—once he stopped, he’d lose the will to continue. So he pushed through, wielding the feather duster in the afternoon to tidy up the sleeping quarters in the east and west rooms.

The straw mat on the kang bed was worn out. He ran his fingers over it, planning to make a new one when he had time.

Housework he’d once dreaded now filled his day with boundless energy.

Thankfully, his older brother wasn’t around. If he were, he’d surely tease him about this for days.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

Deep within the mountains, towering trees stood like sentinels.

As the faint morning mist lifted, the early-rising Huo Ling surveyed the refreshed courtyard and stroked the Dager’s head with satisfaction.

“Come on, let’s head up the mountain today, you and me.”

With limited time left in the mountains, he packed his climbing gear, intending to explore the less-trodden woods and scale more trees.

He also prepared the hemp rope for setting animal snares, planning to secure them early. While success wasn’t guaranteed, any catch would save money on meat for the banquet.

The art of setting snares was something he’d learned from his father, Old Huo Shuan. The Huo family’s skills in mountain hunting and trapping could be traced back to the patriarch, Old Master Huo Pingyuan.

He was a legendary figure on Bailong Mountain. Even now, when Huo Pingyuan was mentioned, the village elders could still recount stories about him for hours.

“Do you think things were as peaceful back then as they are now? If people had livelihoods down in the valley, why would they climb the mountains to compete with beasts for scraps? Go back three generations—this place was a godforsaken wasteland, ungoverned and untouched. Only refugees who couldn’t survive in the lowlands stopped here, put down roots, built a few huts, and cleared the land to scrape by.”

“But when winter came, and the Tartars across the mountains ran out of grain, they’d cross over to burn villages and raid for food. They’d seize the men as forced laborers, rape the women and gers on the spot, kidnap the pretty ones back with them, or just kill them outright!”

At this point, the old man would often shake his head and sigh deeply for a long while, then take a couple of puffs on his clay pipe.

“Driven to desperation, people fled into the mountains. To intimidate those bandits and deter them from venturing in, Huo Pingyuan—who fancied himself skilled and bold—declared himself an outlaw. He raised a banner as a mountain bandit, though in truth, it was merely a means to secure survival for himself and his fellow villagers. “

Back then, everyone hiding in the mountains—men, women, and children—had to learn martial arts. Even five- or six-year-old children dared to wield large swords.

The mountains offered wild vegetables to dig, wild fruits to gather, and game was everywhere, so meat was never scarce. The only problem was the lack of grain crops. And since people who don’t eat grains and legumes inevitably get headaches and fevers from time to time, medicinal herbs were also in short supply. These had to be obtained by going down the mountain to trade mountain goods.

Later, during several trips down to trade for grain and medicine, they encountered injustices. Old Master Huo led men wielding blades to behead several bullies who abused their power. When the Tartars passed through, they claimed many lives. Their fearsome reputation spread, and increasingly, no one dared provoke them.

Years passed, and finally, the imperial court dispatched a great general who led troops to drive the invaders away. Yet in the years that followed, small bands of bandits still occasionally raided the border. In the end, Old Master Huo perished by the bandits’ blades, never achieving the peaceful retirement he had hoped for.

Fortunately, he left behind a son, ensuring the family line would not die out.

It wasn’t just the Huo family. Many ancestors of the people in Changlin County today had their bones buried in the mountains.

This was also why Changlin County remained sparsely populated for so many years—because in the early days, many died and few were born.

Pulling his thoughts back, Huo Ling gazed at the mountain terrain below, rubbing between his fingers a clump of withered grass and fallen leaves.

The endless northern snows had long since washed everything clean. The tales of his great-grandfather’s youth felt distant to his generation, yet whenever he walked these mountains, those stories inevitably surfaced.

He walked with frequent stops, studying the tracks left by hares, hazel grouse, roe deer, and wild boar across the hillside.

For smaller prey, they set “jump snares”—using supple, slender branches that snapped taut and flung the hare or grouse high into the air once caught, preventing larger predators from snatching the kill.

For larger game, he set snares—ropes stretched between tree stumps over a foot apart. This method worked best in deep winter snow, but now that the snow had melted, the grass-eating roe deer weren’t so foolish.

For catching roe deer, wild deer, or gazelles now, snares were set in dug-out pits. These pits couldn’t be too deep—wild animals with broken legs wouldn’t survive long enough to be carried down the mountain. Without snares, the prey could leap to freedom in their struggle to survive.

Traps, however, were readily available. Huo Ling climbed up and down, setting five snares and three rope traps inside and outside. Only then did he clap his hands and lead Dager to gather kidney grass.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

“Sister-in-law, what are you drying?”

After two days away, Yan Qi had finished sewing a new set of undergarments.

He hung the water-rinsed garments in the courtyard, smoothed them out, then carried the basin back. He saw Ye Suping holding a sack, emptying its contents onto a winnowing basket.

Seeing this, he set down the basin, wiped his hands dry, and went to help. As he spread out the contents, he found them to be nothing but dry, thin grasses. Picking some up to examine, he couldn’t make out what they were.

“This is a medicinal herb that grows on the trees of Bailong Mountain. It’s called kidney grass. Even when the weather turns cold, it doesn’t wither—it just shrinks up. Second always picks a few handfuls whenever he comes across it. I just happened to have a whole sackful ready to sort. He probably forgot about it, so I quickly brought it out to dry. Better to get it out now than have it sitting in the house, only to lose track of it later.”

This sack of Kidney Grass filled an entire winnowing basket. Yan Qi asked curiously, ”Why is it called Kidney Grass?“

Ye Suping glanced around. Seeing that Huo Ying wasn’t nearby, she whispered to Yan Qi, ”This stuff? It’s a tonic. Mostly for men to drink.”

Seeing Yan Qi still seemed confused, Ye Suping bluntly explained, “You get what you eat. Think about it—why would a man want to strengthen his kidneys? To be full of vigor at night, of course!”

With that explanation, Yan Qi couldn’t possibly remain ignorant. His face flushed bright red.

Ye Suping didn’t know whether he and the second son had consummated their marriage yet. As his sister-in-law, it wasn’t her place to ask such things. Seeing his blush, she simply assumed he was newlywed and still shy.

She raised an eyebrow. “But ger don’t drink much of this stuff. They don’t need it.”

Yan Qi suddenly felt the grass in his hands burn. He touched his ears, still unsure what to say. Just then, the courtyard gate was knocked upon.

He felt as if he’d been granted a pardon. “I’ll get it.”

Ye Suping watched him go, smiling and shaking her head. She carried the winnowing basket over to the wooden rack beside it, placing it neatly. Next to it sat another basket filled with dried chilies and preserved vegetables.

Such dried goods, even if thoroughly sun-dried the previous year, still needed to be turned out occasionally to see the light, to rid them of dampness, and to remind her to eat them promptly.

Yan Qi jogged to the door, passing the laundry hanging nearby—newly made white undergarments dripping wet. Spotting the visitor, he exclaimed in surprise, “What brings you here?”

“I’ve had some free time these past few days. My mother-in-law and Changsui both urged me to visit you. So here I am, thick-skinned as ever, coming to familiarize myself with the place.”

Outside the courtyard, Xiao Mingming gave a shy smile. Peering past Yan Qi into the Huo family courtyard, he nervously whispered, “Who’s home?”

Yan Qi took his hand. “Just me, my sister-in-law, and my little niece are home. “

Hearing others were present, Xiao Mingming hesitated to step further in. Yan Qi reassured him, ”My sister-in-law has a wonderful temperament. Just come in with me.”

Ye Suping waited in the courtyard for a few breaths, but no one entered. She took a few steps out and saw the two young men talking at the gate, which troubled her greatly.

Her worry stemmed from Yan Qi’s excessive restraint. Even after staying for several days, he still seemed hesitant to treat this place as his own home, unable to act freely.

She stepped forward to greet them, urging Yan Qi to quickly usher his guest inside to sit.

“There’s nothing going on at home. You two should talk properly.”

After Ye Suping entered to set down a tray of pumpkin seeds for snacking, Yan Qi escorted the visitors in and returned. Only then did Xiao Mingming visibly relax, uncrossing his legs on the kang.

With just the two of them left in the room, they soon sat close together, affectionate and intimate.

Xiao Mingming hadn’t come empty-handed. He’d brought some sweet potato chips sun-dried by the Lin family. He’d left some outside for Ye Suping and Huo Ying to try, and now the rest lay on the kang table.

The two young men each took a strip, nibbling as they talked.

“So you mean, after you and Brother Huo complete the wedding ceremony, you’ll be going up the mountain with him?”

Xiao Mingming said gloomily, “I was hoping to visit you often. But this way, we won’t even see each other twice a month.”

Yan Qi chewed on the sweet potato strip, his cheeks moving rhythmically.

“When I first went home with him, I promised to go into the mountains with him.”

“Aren’t you afraid? These mountains aren’t like the ones back home.”

He’d never let Xiao Mingming go into the mountains. Just the thought of bears roaming the woods would probably keep him awake at night.

Yan Qi decisively bit through the sweet potato strip.

“Nothing to be afraid of. Even if it is scary, could it be worse than the journey we’ve already walked?”

Xiao Mingming paused, then relaxed.

“If you put it that way, it really isn’t much.”

For them, simply being alive, having food to eat, and clothes to wear, was already a blessing. They shouldn’t be picky about how they live their days.

Besides, Bailong Mountain was bountiful. Living here might even be more comfortable than down below.