The Entire Mountain Is My Hunting Ground

Wang Meilan tucked the note into the small account book. She used her chopsticks to break off a large piece of the omelet, placed it in Zhao Youcai’s bowl, and praised him with a smile, "You handled that beautifully!"

"Of course!" Zhao Youcai picked up the piece of omelet and took a bite, then carefully placed the remainder back in his bowl with his chopsticks. After a few chews, he raised his cup and washed the mouthful down with some liquor. He then glanced at Zhao Jun beside him and said in a louder voice, "Pour your father some more liquor!"

"You got it!" Zhao Jun grinned and quickly took the liquor bottle, refilling Zhao Youcai’s cup.

"Hmph!" Zhao Youcai scoffed. "Once the house is built, you’ll be married and starting your own family. You won’t get a chance to wait on your old man then."

Zhao Jun ignored him and turned to Wang Meilan. "Mom, didn’t you say our whole family would move in together then?"

"Ah," Wang Meilan said. "Your father says a house is better lived-in than left empty. An empty house just falls to ruin. The two of us will stay here with your sister. After she gets married, we’ll..."

"Oh, Mom, don’t listen to Dad," Zhao Jun said, ignoring his father’s darkening expression. He spoke directly to Wang Meilan, "I’ll get married, and then we’ll have children. Don’t you want to look after your grandson?!"

"Well now!" Wang Meilan froze. She turned to Zhao Youcai and slapped his arm. "He’s absolutely right! How could I have forgotten about that!"

In those days, contraception wasn’t widely used. As long as a couple was healthy, they were expected to have a child within a year or two of marriage.

It wasn’t that Wang Meilan had been swayed by some bad advice from Zhao Youcai to consider living separately for a while. But in that moment, when she heard the word "grandson" from Zhao Jun’s lips, she forgot everything else.

Youngest son, eldest grandson—the very heart of a grandmother.

It had to be said that a preference for sons over daughters was still common in the Northeast mountain villages of the time.

Even though Wang Meilan treated her daughter very well, the word "grandson" had an overwhelming effect on her. She slammed her hand on the table and said to Zhao Youcai, "Get on it. Figure out what materials we need. What we can get from others, go and ask for it. What we need to buy, we’ll buy."

"Then, in a few days, go invite Ma Daifu over. You two can have a drink and get the date settled."

With that, Wang Meilan stood up to go look at the calendar.

"Mom, Mom," Zhao Jun said, quickly stopping her. "Let’s eat first. You can figure it all out after dinner."

"Alright!" Wang Meilan agreed. She snatched up her chopsticks and declared, "Let’s eat!"

...

Two and a half months later, on an empty plot about four hundred meters southwest of the Zhao Jun’s family home in Yong’an Village, a wicker fence had been erected. Bricks and tiles were stacked neatly in one corner.

A mountain of sand sat nearby, and bags of cement were stacked high, covered by a canvas tarp.

This was to protect the cement from the frequent summer rains.

This was the site of Zhao Jun’s new home, its walls already standing nearly a meter tall. Next door, on a freshly laid foundation, was the house belonging to Li Baoyu.

Li Baoyu had an older brother. The brother, Li Dayong, and his wife, Jin Xiaomei, had arranged to build this house for Li Baoyu so he could get married. They themselves would remain in the old house with their father, Li Ruhai. This way, each brother would have his own house—perfectly fair.

In return for Li Dayong and his wife caring for Li Ruhai in his old age, all of the family’s land and savings would go to them after he passed away.

Since the couple didn’t plan to live with Li Baoyu, they weren’t building his house to be as large as Zhao Jun’s. Still, even a three-room house was considered top-tier in the village.

Moreover, both new houses were being built with red bricks and red tiles, with cement mortar for all the brickwork. In those days, this was enough to qualify them as mansions.

By then, the spring planting was finished, so there wasn’t much work left to do in the fields. And since the summer sun rose early, the helpers started trickling in from their homes as early as three in the morning.

Because everyone arrived so early, both the Zhao and Li families had to provide them with breakfast and lunch. Once the day’s work was done in the afternoon, everyone went home.

After the houses were completed, they would also have to pay the helpers. Close friends and relatives might not accept the money, though.

But some people were counting on this physical labor to earn a living, and you couldn’t use neighborly sentiment to take advantage of them.

Construction on the Zhao Jun’s family’s house broke ground on July 19th. Nearly twenty people worked on it for five days until the 24th, when it started to rain.

It rained for three consecutive days. The first day wasn’t so bad, just a light drizzle for part of the morning. By the second day, it was impossible to be outside. The downpour continued well past midnight and didn’t let up until two in the afternoon on the 26th.

Under these conditions, work at the construction site obviously had to stop. Zhao Jun, who was skipping his regular job, stayed home and played with knucklebones with his two younger sisters.

Just as he heard the outer door open, Zhao Jun had barely climbed off the heated brick bed when he heard the voice of his maternal uncle, Wang Qiang.

"Sis, is Xiaojun home?"

"He is," Wang Meilan answered, shooting Wang Qiang a glare. "Two days with no work, and you’re already off gambling!" she snapped.

Wang Qiang just grinned sheepishly and said nothing.

Over the past few days of construction on the Zhao Jun’s family’s house, the crew of helpers wasn’t always the same, as most of the adult men in the village were workers at the Forest Farm.

And among all of them, Wang Qiang had been the hardest worker.

A maternal uncle’s role is a significant one. For those five days of construction, Wang Qiang hadn’t even played cards, making his wife, Zhao Ling, wish that the Zhao family could be building a house every single day.

Who would have thought that as soon as the rain started, Wang Qiang would run off to the village shop to gamble again.

"Uncle!" Zhao Jun called out, coming out of the inner room to greet him.

Wang Qiang raised a hand in greeting. "Xiaojun, let me borrow your semi-automatic rifle."