Chapter 17: Discovering Fertile Land

Compared to the endless plains, the arable land in the Guandong Mountains is exceptionally barren, yet just across a single ridge lies the vast, fertile expanse of the Northeast Plain. The fundamental elements of farming are soil, weather, and water. Crops are not like pine trees or shrubbery, which can thrive simply by taking root. Even the Northeast Plain, which relies entirely on the heavens for its harvest, only yields one crop per year. The Guandong Mountains are crisscrossed with veins of water, and most of the seeds Zhang Tiejun had traded for this time were wheat and potatoes. Potatoes prefer dry conditions and require careful water management during germination; furthermore, farming deep in the old-growth forests of the Guandong Mountains requires not only protection against natural disasters like avalanches and high winds but also defense against wild boars, pheasants, and other wildlife. For Zhang Tiejun, hunting was second nature, but when it came to farming, he found himself momentarily at a loss.

He searched two or three hillsides in a row, only to return empty-handed. Either the soil was too rocky and barren, or it was so waterlogged that a squeeze would wring out moisture. In these disaster-stricken years, the mountain folk had exhausted every possible method to survive, and almost every usable patch of land had already been claimed. He feared he had arrived too late. With this thought, a wave of frustration washed over him. He parked his wheelbarrow on a slope and stared up at the starlit sky, lost in a daze.

"It truly isn't easy to claw a living out of the hands of the Heavens," Zhang Tiejun sighed. "The life of facing the yellow earth with one's back to the sky is hard enough."

Just as he was lamenting, a sharp, piercing "awoo" cry suddenly pierced the air. Instantly alert, Zhang Tiejun gripped his hunting rifle. Unlike most herbivores, the predators of the forest were often nocturnal. If his intuition was correct, the cry belonged to a lynx. Lynx are solitary creatures by nature, preferring to roam alone. Though not large in size, they are capable of bringing down prey as big as roe deer and can even hunt jackals. While he had no desire to interfere with the ways of nature, in the dead of night, a bit of vigilance was never a bad thing.

Suddenly, a shape darted past. A pure white figure stood in stark contrast to the vast darkness of the night. There was a rustling in the grass, and Zhang Tiejun guessed that a pursuer was in close pursuit. Two figures, one after the other, streaked through the brush at incredible speed and emerged onto the hillside. Only then did Zhang Tiejun see clearly that the white figure was a fox—and more importantly, the white fox had a crippled hind leg.

"Little Dunzi."

Zhang Tiejun called out the white fox's name instantly. The fox seemed to understand human speech, hesitating for just a moment. That brief lapse was all the black shadow needed; it lunged and knocked the fox to the ground. Without the cover of the brush, Zhang Tiejun saw the black shadow clearly. It was a lynx, about the size of a small dog, its whiskers twitching upward. Judging by its appearance, the young lynx had likely only just reached maturity. Though the lynx possessed great strength, the white fox kicked out with all its might, forcing the predator back. The two animals separated as quickly as they had engaged, but by then, the lynx had cornered Little Dunzi against a dead end on the slope.

The lynx lowered its body, its arched spine tensing like a bow—the signal before an attack. Little Dunzi bared its teeth, revealing two thick, sharp canines. Yet, in the eyes of the lynx, this fierce display was merely the final struggle of a trapped prey. From their brief skirmish, it was clear that the lynx held the upper hand; a three-inch bloody gash had appeared on Little Dunzi’s crippled leg. It was the instinct of a lynx to identify a prey's weakness and deliver the final blow.

Just as the two animals prepared for a fight to the death, Zhang Tiejun, hiding nearby, raised his old-fashioned flintlock hunting rifle. The deafening roar of the shot and the flash of fire briefly illuminated the dark slope. Due to the darkness and the distance, the shot missed the lynx, but the sudden, violent sound startled it. Instinctively weighing the risks, the lynx decisively abandoned its easy prey.

The white fox tried to flee, but its crippled leg made movement difficult, and the new injury made it even worse. It could only watch as Zhang Tiejun slowly approached. He stooped down, set his old flintlock aside, and tried his best to appear non-threatening. The white fox remained reactive, but when Zhang Tiejun kept calling out "Little Dunzi," it finally relaxed its guard. Some things are hard to explain through science; the intuitive white fox curled up on the ground, letting Zhang Tiejun stroke its fur, whimpering like an injured child. Zhang Tiejun skillfully pulled ointment from his pocket; one who walks by the river often gets their shoes wet, and his rifle and first-aid supplies were items he always carried with him.

He wrapped a thin layer of gauze around the fox’s leg, secured the ointment, and tied it into a neat bow. Although the white fox was clearly in pain throughout the process, it did not scratch or bite Zhang Tiejun once. Finally, when Zhang Tiejun moved to place the fox into his backpack, an unexpected turn occurred: the white fox cast a wary glance at him and hopped back, putting distance between them.

"I'll take you to see Zhao Ningning," Zhang Tiejun suggested tentatively.

Understanding, the white fox shook its head decisively, stepped forward, and tugged at the hem of Zhang Tiejun's trousers.

"You want to take me somewhere?" Zhang Tiejun realized immediately.

The white fox nodded and headed down the slope. Zhang Tiejun set down his wheelbarrow, grabbed his rifle, and followed. The man and the fox walked along a narrow, winding path for over ten minutes until they discovered a small clearing in the forest. In the clearing stood a dozen or so haystacks, each about the height of a calf.

"This is!" Zhang Tiejun, ecstatic, ran to the haystacks and brushed away the thick snow covering them: "Ula grass!"

Ula grass is not rare in the Northeast. Though inedible, it provides excellent insulation and is a vital resource for the poor to survive the harsh winter. With the dead of winter fast approaching, the weather in the Guandong Mountains could turn freezing in an instant. With this Ula grass, one could weave insoles to stuff into cotton boots and survive the harshest days. But what excited Zhang Tiejun even more was not just that; the surrounding trees would greatly buffer the impact of blizzards, its deep mountain location kept it hidden from prying eyes, and there were several water pools nearby. Most importantly, the soil that could sustain Ula grass was fertile enough to grow crops.