After spending two nights at the foot of the mountain, Huo Ling and Yan Qi headed back up on the morning of the second day of the new year.

Pushing open the courtyard gate, the scene remained unchanged. Having experienced the descent and ascent, their state of mind differed from when they first arrived. Facing the small courtyard where they had lived for seven or eight days, Yan Qi felt a sense of coming home.

“Home is still the best,” he murmured with emotion. Rolling up his sleeves, his first task was to scrub the large basin where Dager drank.

This basin was made of stone and, being difficult to move, remained in the courtyard. If left unattended for half a day, leaves would float on its surface.

They hadn’t brought anything up from the mountain this time. After settling the empty backpack, Huo Ling said to Yan Qi, “I’ll head into the nearby woods to check the traps I set before descending. If anything’s caught, we’ll have that for lunch today.”

The distance was short, and he hadn’t brought Dager along. He reached the spot in less than a quarter of an hour.

Last time, he’d set three animal snares nearby. Sure enough, one had caught a badger, while the rope on another had been chewed through, letting its prey escape.

He lifted the starving, barely alive badger. Feeling its flesh, he was relieved it hadn’t wasted away too much—enough for a whole pot stew.

Braised badger meat was a dish Huo Ling had prepared many times before. Especially when he caught game in the mountains, his taste for rich flavors led him to braise it in sauce—a savory dish that went wonderfully with rice.

He brought it home to show Yan Qi, who exclaimed in surprise, “It looks different from the badgers back in my hometown.”

He explained that the badgers back home were also called “earth pigs,” with snouts like pigs. Unfamiliar observers might mistake them for wild boar piglets.

“When my father hunted, he often caught earth pigs in autumn. He’d bring them back to render badger oil. After covering our own needs, he could sell the surplus for a good price—a major pre-New Year income.”

But the badger Huo Ling brought had a black snout like a dog’s, though otherwise resembled the local kind. “What a coincidence,” he remarked. “Your badgers are called ‘earth pigs,’ while our old hunters here call them ‘mountain dogs.’ Both yield valuable oil, and their pelts sell well.”

He fetched a basin of water and deftly bled and skinned the badger. The gamey scent of its blood was strong. Dager licked a drop, then wagged its tail, waiting for its share of meat.

“Back in the day, I often cooked stews for myself in the mountains. Today, you can try my cooking.”

Huo Ling prided himself on his cooking skills, though he rarely practiced them. Men from beyond the Great Wall also ventured into the kitchen, each usually mastering one or two signature dishes—unless they were truly devoid of culinary aptitude, like his elder brother, Huo Feng.

“Then I’ll assist you.”

Yan Qi also wanted to sample Huo Ling’s cooking. “Back home, Yingzi told me her uncle’s meals were delicious.”

Huo Ling curved his lips. “Every time I cook, I stew a whole pot of meat. How could meat not be tasty?”

He asked Yan Qi to help search the house for any leftover wine at the bottom of a jar.

“Perfect for mellowing out the gamey taste of this badger meat. Once we finish this batch, we’ll hunt more next time we head down the mountain.”

Wine was always a household staple, not just for drinking. Beyond its use in cooking to reduce gamey flavors, it could also be used to wash severe flesh wounds sustained in the mountains.

In a hunter’s home, liquor was absolutely indispensable.

Yan Qi fetched the wine jar from the house and tested its weight. “There really isn’t much left.”

Huo Ling took it with one hand, swirled it twice, then brought it close to his ear to listen.

“Only about half a jin remains. Pour a cup now, and we’ll finish the rest later.”

The badger meat was blanched in boiling water to remove the gamey smell. After skimming off the scum, it was scooped out and rinsed under cool mountain spring water. It now carried a faint, clean meat aroma, devoid of any unpleasant odor.

Huo Ling poured oil into the pot, tossing in ginger slices, garlic cloves, star anise, and wild Sichuan peppercorns. Though the household seasonings were sparse, these two ingredients sufficed.

He then added the badger meat, stirring it over the heat.

The blanched meat first needed to be stir-fried until all moisture evaporated, then slowly sautéed until golden. Next, water and salt were added, followed by a splash of soy sauce. Once the sauce reduced, it was ready to serve.

While the meat simmered below and rice steamed above, Yan Qi, having no cooking duties, carried a basket to gather wild greens near their home.

A proper meal should have both meat and vegetables; otherwise, eating too much meat alone becomes cloying.

This way of thinking only came after arriving at the Huo household. Back home, with so many mouths to feed, eating meat twice a month was already a luxury.

Dager, following Huo Ling’s orders, stayed glued to his side. When Yan Qi crouched down, he ruffled the dog’s ears.

After gathering a handful of wild mallow, Yan Qi also spotted a clump of wild garlic.

The stems and leaves resembled scallions, while beneath the soil, the roots held tiny, tender white bulbs—each about the size of a single clove of garlic. They grew back home, too, often used in cold salads during the season.

Upon closer inspection, Yan Qi confirmed his identification with delight. He promptly dug up the entire clump and hurried home to show it to Huo Ling.

Truth be told, it had been ages since they last tasted it.

“Wild greens in these mountains truly sprout overnight—a breeze blows, rain falls, and within days, they cover the ground. This wild garlic is perfectly tender now.”

Seeing the small garlic bulbs, Huo Ling felt his own appetite stir.

“I look forward to this every year. It cuts through the richness of meat perfectly. Let’s wash them clean and dip them straight in sauce. I just wonder if you’ll like the taste.”

“I’ll give it a try.”

Yan Qi knew people beyond the pass loved dipping vegetables in sauce. Many greens could be washed and eaten raw. He couldn’t imagine the taste, but he was willing to try. After all, there was a saying: When in Rome, do as the Romans do.

Washing the wild greens was a bit troublesome. First, shake off the surface dirt and mud. Pick off the tougher, older leaves. The rest went into a basin of water to be thoroughly cleaned.

Huo Ling picked two tender sunflower shoots for Dager. He opened his mouth, took one in, chewed twice, and swallowed. But when offered another, he refused.

Early that morning on the mountain, Yan Qi had noticed Dager searching for grass to eat. He guessed the dog wasn’t feeling well. Many people didn’t keep animals like this, so they didn’t know that, just like humans, animals seek out herbs when something’s wrong.

Even so, he touched Dager’s nose. It felt cool and moist, and the dog seemed energetic enough. He figured it couldn’t be anything serious.

When supper was served, Huo Ling picked a piece of meat for Yan Qi, urging him to eat more.

“Badger meat is nourishing. Women around here often eat it during their confinement period.”

“We have that saying back home, too.”

Yan Qi took a bite of the meat, chewing it for a long time before finally swallowing. The badger meat possessed a rich, savory aroma that even pork couldn’t match, yet it wasn’t as greasy as fatty meat.

Paired with the rich, glossy broth simmered by Huo Ling, it was a match made in heaven when mixed with plain rice—enough to make anyone swoon with delight.

Dager got the badger bone with meat still clinging to it, gnawing away with a satisfying crunch.

Joining in the crunching sounds were Huo Ling and Yan Qi, who were eating young garlic shoots. Yan Qi was learning to pick up the vegetables with her hands to dip them in sauce—a freshly fermented sauce bought at the market two days prior, with an extra jar brought back for her brother and sister-in-law.

This season brought wild greens, making sauce a staple. Soon, when the family vegetable patch sprouted seedlings, they could continue enjoying it.

The young garlic had a slight pungency, but if tender enough, a hint of sweetness lingered in the aftertaste.

Huo Ling alternated bites of garlic and meat, occasionally sipping his small cup of wine, feeling he had truly reached a heavenly existence.

Yan Qi caught the faint scent of liquor and knew this bowlful wouldn’t get Huo Ling drunk. Noticing Yan Qi staring at his wine bowl, Huo Ling thought for a moment, picked up a clean chopstick, dipped it in the wine, and held it to Yan Qi’s lips. He raised an eyebrow and grinned, “Since you’ve finished your medicine, you can have a sip.”

Dipping the tip of chopsticks into wine like this was a trick fathers often played on their children. Yan Qi had been tricked by his own father this way as a child, the sting making him stick out his tongue. He hadn’t fallen for it since.

Yet when Huo Ling offered the chopstick now, Yan Qi couldn’t help but extend his tongue to taste it. The familiar sting hit his mouth, making him clamp his lips shut and furrow his brow.

Huo Ling hadn’t expected him to be so gullible and quickly poured water for him to drink.

Yan Qi rinsed his mouth, suppressing the lingering sting on his tongue, and finally exhaled in relief.

“Is it really that potent?”

Huo Ling swallowed a sip of wine in puzzlement. “This jar isn’t even the strongest brew. It can’t compare to the one we bought for the wedding celebration.”

Yan Qi touched his cheek with the back of his hand, feeling the heat spread across his face. It seemed he truly had no stomach for alcohol.

Huo Ling promptly promised never to tease him with liquor again. Yan Qi felt both amused and exasperated—so the man really had been toying with him, like an adult playing with a child. But he was no longer a child.

It was only because they were alone on the mountain, free from the watchful eyes of elders at home. Otherwise, their daily lack of decorum would surely have drawn some scolding.

This small amount of wine shouldn’t have been enough to make one tipsy, yet after the lamps were extinguished that night, Yan Qi still sensed something different about Huo Ling.

The pillow had started at the foot of the bed, but somehow ended up beneath his waist. It kept shifting back and forth. The long strands of hair from the person beside him brushed against his lips, growing damp with each passing moment.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

They had planned to go into the mountains to dig for wild vegetables the next day, but ended up delaying it by a day.

Before leaving, Huo Ling knelt down to secure Yan Qi’s leg wraps, hung the medicine pouches around his neck and waist, and found the ger a small hoe.

For himself, besides the hoe and dagger, he also carried a slingshot.

“Is it for Brother Hou to shoot wild pheasants?”

Yan Qi watched as Huo Ling sorted through pebbles in a small cloth pouch. The man explained that these were pellets for his slingshot.

Most were picked up during their mountain treks—stones he’d deemed suitable and saved.

After loading it, Huo Ling said, “We won’t be heading down the mountain for another ten days or so. Even if we hunted something, it wouldn’t last that long. Let’s wait until two days before we descend. I’ll set a few traps and take the slingshot for a spin, hoping for some luck.”

He’d brought the slingshot today purely to supplement their meals. His husband was too thin—last night, when he held him close, he could still feel the layer of bone beneath the thin skin. He’d thought he’d been gentle, but when he saw the marks left in the morning light, he felt ashamed for a long time.

Given that, how could they not eat meat at every meal to build him up?

He also needed to gather more wild game to trade at the market, buying plenty of white flour. Compared to coarse grains, everyone knew refined grains were far more nourishing.

As he stepped out, Huo Ling called to Dager. The dog instinctively turned his body, nudging Yan Qi’s hand with his head at the courtyard gate.

This was his ritual before every departure—likely bidding farewell to Yan Qi. Yan Qi had once joked that it might be because his hands always carried the scent of food.

Dogs are too clever; they know who their master is close to, and who treats them well.

Seeing this, Huo Ling smiled faintly. “Today, our whole family is going into the mountains.”

Yan Qi met Dager’s large, slightly bewildered dark eyes, turned to close the courtyard gate, and walked about ten steps away. Only then did Dager seem to snap out of it, his tail wagging wildly like a flower in bloom. Running with such excitement, he panted heavily.

With such an exuberant dog leading the way, Huo Ling and Yan Qi couldn’t help but quicken their pace.

Yan Qi kept his eyes on the mountain scenery flanking the path. In the days since arriving, he’d only ventured as far as the mountain stream and spring near their doorstep.

After walking for about the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, they came upon a tall tree whose bark had been completely stripped, revealing its stark white inner wood.

“Can this tree still live?”

From childhood, he’d heard elders say the proverb, “People need their face, trees need their bark.” They all said a tree stripped of its bark could only wait to die. Unable to resist, he reached out to touch it and asked Huo Ling, “Was this done by people, or by wild creatures in the mountains?”

Huo Ling stepped forward and flicked the bark. “It was the bears. When they wake from hibernation, their stomachs are empty. If they can’t find food, they’ll eat anything. This bark was mostly gnawed off by them.”

He added, “Trees stripped like this won’t survive long. Once dead, they become deadwood—either chopped by mountain folk for firewood or left to rot on the ground, becoming mushroom beds.”

At this point, he pulled Yan Qi over to examine another nearby pine tree.

Yan Qi noticed this tree also had a section of bark missing. However, the missing part was neatly square, not very large, and the exposed bark was blackened by smoke. There were also some carved patterns on it.

“This must have been carved by a person.”

If a bear did this, it wouldn’t be just any bear—it’d be a black bear spirit.

Hearing his husband say this, Huo Ling smiled. “Exactly. There’s even a saying for this—they call it an ‘old omen.’”