Game / Mountain Stronghold
"Girl, stop pestering your brother. It's time to go. Put your coat on."
During the New Year, mornings were usually spent visiting close relatives and elders.
In the afternoon, if circumstances allowed, people would visit relatives they saw only a few times a year, whose names their children might not even know.
It kept up the family ties and bonds of the previous generation.
Just as Qing He Miao's mother had sent him to visit his fourth granduncle before.
His aunt, too, had married into the family from a nearby village they knew well.
She had relatives in some of the villages within walking distance.
Seeing his younger female cousin still studying the coin, Qing He Miao said with amusement:
"Go on. It's just an ordinary coin. Keep it as some spending money."
His cousin immediately ran to her parents and hugged her mother. Holding the coin up in one hand, her little face full of excitement, she told them about the amazing thing she had just seen.
His aunt didn't take it seriously. She smiled and chided her:
"You little girl, all you know how to do is give your cousin trouble."
"I do not!"
His cousin protested.
His uncle also smiled and called out to Qing He Miao:
"Xiao Miao, we're heading over first. We'll be back later."
Chapter 49: Game
"Okay, uncle, auntie. Take care on the way."
Qing He Miao answered.
His uncle and aunt helped his cousin put on her scarf and gloves, and the family of three went out, chatting and laughing. They soon disappeared beyond the courtyard gate, where fine snow was falling.
The house grew much quieter at once.
All that remained was the snoring of the relatives on the kang in the inner room and the low sound of the old-fashioned television in the living room.
As for his male cousins, they had long since run off somewhere.
These days, unlike in later years, shops and internet cafés wouldn't be open on the afternoon of New Year's Day.
But some relatives in the village had bought old-fashioned game consoles that could be hooked up to a television, and a few of the older boys had brought laptops.
The boys had gone off to play games on them.
Qing He Miao sat alone on the sofa for a while, feeling the warmth and the boozy air in the room.
Then he stood up and, emboldened by the alcohol, pushed open the door and walked into the courtyard.
At some point, fine snowflakes had begun drifting down again. Heaven and earth were dressed in silver, quiet and cold.
The family's local dogs came trotting over alertly, wagging their tails.
A thin layer of snow covered their backs, and sparkling grains clung to their noses and whiskers. They rubbed affectionately against his legs, leaving damp marks on the cuffs of his padded trousers.
"You lot are lively enough."
Qing He Miao smiled, crouched down, and brushed the snow from their coats.
At the temperature outside, it was no exaggeration to say that water would freeze the moment it was thrown into the air.
A row of icicles of varying lengths hung from the eaves, and frost flowers had formed on the windowpanes. It was impossible to see into the house from outside, while the view from within was a blur of ice crystals.
Now and then, a gust of wind whipped up the powdery snow on the ground and sent it pattering crisply against the windows.
After standing outside for only a short while, even Qing He Miao, with his Qi-strengthened body, felt the cold. His slight tipsiness cleared by a third in an instant.
His thoughts drifted involuntarily to another world.
He rubbed the dogs' heads, and with a slight thought, his Stand, [Red Hot Chili Pepper], quietly activated.
It precisely "snapped" off several long icicles that looked rather dangerous and tossed them into a corner by the courtyard wall.
Back inside, Qing He Miao warmed his slightly chilled hands, dressed properly, and opened a cupboard. He took out two large plastic bags filled with a mixture of loose peanuts, melon seeds, and candy.
These things were sold everywhere in the countryside during the New Year.
Some people bought them by the big bagful to take home.
After a moment's thought, Qing He Miao also picked up the bottle of locally brewed baijiu they had opened at noon but hadn't finished.
Carrying these things, he walked lazily toward the mountain behind the house.
He trudged through snow that covered the tops of his shoes and passed through the bare woods. There was no one around, only the wind and snow sobbing.
With a thought, his figure vanished silently from the spot, as though he had melted into the snowy landscape.
In the world of "The Degenerate," around the Wind Spirit Moon Shadow Temple.
Several large iron pots stood on stone stoves, steaming. What simmered in them was still porridge.
But chopped modern pickles churned in the porridge.
The disaster victims had worked out this improved way of eating it themselves.
It was really just a hodgepodge thrown into a pot.
Salt was a precious commodity here, too.
The pickles added saltiness and counted as a vegetable.
With some unidentified wild greens they occasionally found in the nearby mountains and fields, there was at least a bit of green and a different texture.
Because today was New Year's Day, Qing He Miao had told them they didn't need to work and still provided the usual two meals of porridge.
Not only was it thicker than usual, but, unusually, flecks of oil and minced meat floated on its surface.
That was from a whole piece of meat Qing He Miao had brought over recently.
The air was filled with the mingled aroma of grain and that little bit of meat, irresistibly enticing to the starving people.
To be able to eat a meal like this during the New Year—
In the eyes of the disaster victims crouching or standing nearby, clutching chipped bowls as they waited for the meal,
This young "Daoist Master Qing Miao" was a truly good man, an immortal descended from heaven to save them.
Never mind following him to build a Daoist temple—even if the Daoist master led them in rebellion, they'd do it!
Don't underestimate them. Having lived through troubled times, what hadn't they seen?
When it came to work, they might slack off.
But that wouldn't stop them from putting their heads on the line and doing things that could cost them their heads, all for a bite to eat and a chance to live.
That was the way of the world. What choice did they have?
Just as everyone watched the pot with hungry eyes, waiting for the porridge to boil and getting ready to line up for their food as usual,
The temple gate, still crude despite some preliminary repairs, creaked open from the inside.
Qing He Miao came out carrying his things and greeted the crowd with a smile:
"None of you have eaten yet?"
The disaster victims looked at one another and muttered inwardly:
What kind of question was that, Daoist master? Wasn't it obvious?
But they didn't dare show any discourtesy. A quick-witted disaster victim immediately moved aside, obligingly clearing a spot closer to the fire, and said flatteringly:
"You jest, Daoist master. How could ordinary folk like us compare to someone as accomplished in the Daoist arts as you..."
There was some genuine feeling in those words.
They had hardly ever seen cooking smoke rising from the temple.
They had discussed it among themselves, and if someone hadn't definitely caught Qing He Miao eating and drinking,
They really would have suspected that this Daoist master had achieved the legendary state of living without earthly food.
Hardly anyone had seen where even the grain distributed each day was brought up from.
Quite a few people had nearly come to believe that the Daoist master had conjured it up.
"What do you mean, accomplished in the Daoist arts? I'm just an ordinary person. I've merely had better luck and benefited from being born into an extraordinary family."
Qing He Miao waved a hand.
Without standing on ceremony, he walked over to the spot they had cleared and found a relatively clean, flat stone to sit on.
He set the plastic bags and bottle of liquor by his feet and felt the chill in the air.
Well, winter in Hebei really was warmer than the knife-like winds back home beyond the pass.
No wonder so many people wanted to head south and seize the dragon.
"Today is New Year's Day, and there's nothing to do. Let's have a little fun together for good luck."
He looked around, then pointed to a bare old tree not far away. An old nest, abandoned by some unknown bird, hung alone from its branches. He called out:
"See that bird's nest? Let's play something simple. Starting here, you can't get any closer than where I'm sitting. Whoever can hit that nest with anything at all—
"You don't have to knock it down; just touching it counts—can reach into my bag and grab a handful. There are some little nuts and seeds and candy in here. Whatever you grab is yours."
As he spoke, he patted the plastic bags by his feet.
"If anyone can step back five paces and still hit the nest..."
Seeing interest kindle in some of their eyes, Qing He Miao paused, shook the bottle beside him, and raised the stakes:
"Besides a handful, you'll get a cup of humble liquor to taste! I'll provide the prizes. Anyone interested in trying their luck? Just treat it as a game."
The crowd fell silent for a moment, then a buzz of discussion rose.
Nuts and seeds, candy! And liquor!
For people who rarely had enough to eat all year round, the temptation was simply irresistible.
"I'll do it!"
After a moment's hesitation, men who were bold or confident in their aim soon began stepping forward.
They picked up suitable stones or clods of frozen earth from the ground, stood at the distance Qing He Miao had indicated, and hurled them with all their might at the nest.
Chapter 50: Mountain Stronghold