Chapter Fourteen: Selling the Hide

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“Ningning’s mother had joined the bandits and even bore a child; her reputation was ruined overnight. The village could no longer tolerate her, and with no way out, she hanged herself. Poor Ningning—so young, her father dead, her mother gone. The village planned to drive her out,” Zhao Youde began hesitantly, prompting Zhang Tiejun to immediately understand.

“That person was you, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Zhao Youde replied. “Back then, there were rules forbidding abandonment of children. But if a child died deep in the mountains, no one would know.”

“So you saved her?”

“What fault do children have for the mistakes of adults?” Zhao Youde said with dissatisfaction. “I had just received a letter from the army—my son and daughter-in-law were killed by reactionaries during the early liberation period. Ningning gave me hope. I still remember, as I was about to let go, she called me ‘grandpa’ and asked if I didn’t want her.”

As he spoke, tears streamed down Zhao Youde’s face. “Such a good child—how could I not want her? I immediately took her in. The village rejected me, so I moved out to live far away from them.”

“Did she ever learn the truth?” Zhang Tiejun asked.

“Of course she did. One day, she saw an old photo and pointed to it, saying, ‘This is my home.’ I don’t care what others say—she is my granddaughter, forever and always,” Zhao Youde said with pride.

“The elders often say the mountains of Guandong are full of spirits and mountain deities, and that these mountain spirits, having stolen the secrets of heaven, can see into the goodness of a person’s heart,” Zhang Tiejun remarked. “Grandma Hu San Tai liked her and found a younger companion for her.”

Zhao Youde nodded. “You’re right. Xiaodunzi comes back every few days but never enters the house. When I first saw him, he was barely a few pounds. Now, just two years later, he’s about ten or so pounds.”

During their conversation, Zhao Ningning waved goodbye to Xiaodunzi on her side.

“Grandpa, Brother Tiejun, what are you two talking about?”

Facing the radiant Zhao Ningning, Zhang Tiejun changed the subject. “Nothing much, just discussing the safest route to the black market tomorrow.”

“Alright. Ningning, you should get some rest early too,” Zhao Youde patted her shoulder.

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“Got it, Grandpa. Xiaodunzi brought us a crucian carp. I’ll make some fish soup for us to drink on the road tomorrow.”

With that, Zhao Ningning hopped inside.

Zhao Youde was about to leave when Zhang Tiejun called after him. “Grandpa Zhao, there’s something I hope you can help me with. I want to know how to find wolf packs in Guandong Mountain.”

Zhang Tiejun then explained in detail about the wolf pack attacks on the Qiao family’s sheepfold and the purpose of his recent expedition into the mountains.

“I understand. There are no fewer than fifty, maybe a hundred wolf packs in Guandong Mountain. Any one of them could have done this. But each pack has its own territory. When you return, we’ll go up the mountain together and take a look,” Zhao Youde assured him.

With Zhao Youde’s support, Zhang Tiejun felt much more at ease. Though his hunting skills were adequate, Guandong Mountain was vast, and without an experienced elder to guide him, he could easily get into trouble.

Before dawn, Zhang Tiejun and Zhao Ningning set off. It would take more than half a day’s walk from Zhao’s village to Heixiazi Valley. The black market only opened at night—to avoid the remaining bandits’ attention and to allow for a quick escape if necessary.

This arrangement was tacitly accepted by the commune. The mountainous region differed from the plains; traveling through deep forests often required small trains or horse carts, making transportation difficult and bringing along many complications.

Heixiazi Valley was once a gathering place for horse caravans, with roads radiating in all directions. Leaving was as simple as grabbing your goods and heading out.

When Zhang Tiejun and Zhao Ningning arrived, the black market was already in session. Wearing a wolfskin coat, Zhang Tiejun pulled his hat brim low, glancing left and right. The market looked like any rural fair on the plains—everything was for sale.

Without ration tickets and planned economy restrictions, the market was livelier but also reflected growing wealth disparities.

These concerns were not Zhang Tiejun’s priority. His main goal was to trade for seeds and grain.

After wandering the market a while, Zhang Tiejun noticed an unremarkable old man with a ruddy, flushed nose. Unlike the bustling stalls nearby, this one was unusually quiet, marked only by a small, worn wooden sign that read “Buying Skins and Mountain Goods.”

Zhang Tiejun stopped and lowered his voice. “Do you trade?”

“I only buy good stuff. For ordinary things, you’d better look elsewhere,” the old man said, a wisp of white vapor drifting from his mouth, carrying the rich aroma of fine Jilin aged liquor.

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“If the goods are good, it depends if you have the means,” Zhang Tiejun said, removing his backpack and handing it over.

The ruddy-nosed old man half-opened his eyes and scanned the contents briefly. Suddenly alert, his eyes widened as he rummaged through the pack. “You hunted this? I wouldn’t have guessed. You’re young but skilled. The hide is intact. Too bad it’s from an old wolf. The physique is decent, but the fur has aged quite a lot.”

“Twenty jin of cornmeal or fifteen yuan,” Zhang Tiejun stated without hesitation.

The old man was momentarily stunned, his expression complex. “You’re good at business—offering a price right in the middle of the market. Don’t think I’ve seen you before. New here?”

“Well? Will you buy it? If not, I’m taking my pack and leaving now,” Zhang Tiejun said, already reaching for his backpack.

“All right, all right, of course I will,” the old man chuckled. “To prepare a skin this well, that alone beats most people. Fifteen yuan it is.”

Zhang Tiejun waved to indicate payment, but the old man pulled the money back just as he was about to hand it over. “Let’s make a deal. From now on, if you sell skins, come to me first. If they’re all this quality, I’ll buy as many as you have.”

Taking the fifteen yuan, Zhang Tiejun was satisfied with the deal. After checking several stalls selling farming tools, the money was enough to buy a hoe, a shovel, and plenty of sweet potato seeds.

“Why aren’t you selling yours?” Zhang Tiejun asked Zhao Ningning, who stood beside him.

“I don’t know. Grandpa told me to find someone named Han and give him this ginseng,” she replied.

“Your grandfather? Could you be the eldest granddaughter of Old Zhao?” The old man’s eyes suddenly brightened at this.