Kindness

The night passed without incident, save for the cold wind moaning beneath the eaves.

Early the next morning, while the sky was barely light, Fang Yuan was already swinging his blade in the yard.

The sky had cleared after the snow, and the air was bitterly cold. The chopping knife whistled through the air with a deeper, more forceful sound than usual, showing that he had rested well the night before and was brimming with vigor.

In the kitchen, Liu Wanwan had also risen early and gotten busy.

Though the weather was cold, that half side of wild boar meat could not be kept for long and had to be dealt with quickly.

She sliced some of the marbled meat into strips, intending to cure it with salt and the tiny bit of spices they had left, then hang it beneath the eaves to dry into preserved meat.

She cut some lean meat into even smaller chunks, planning to slowly roast them over a low fire into jerky, so it could be kept for a long time,

and so Fang Yuan could take it with him to stave off hunger the next time he went into the mountains.

Just as she was busy, a timid knock came from outside the courtyard gate.

Liu Wanwan wiped her hands and opened the door. Outside stood a sallow, emaciated woman, holding an equally thin and listless child in her arms.

Liu Wanwan vaguely recognized the woman. Her surname seemed to be Zhao; she had married into the western end of the village. If one really stretched it, she and Fang Yuan's family might be related by some utterly distant, eight-poles-apart kinship.

"Wan... Wanwan..." Madam Zhao's voice was weak, her gaze evasive and embarrassed.

"I... I'm truly ashamed to come knocking... The child's father is sick, and there's been no harvest from the fields... At home... at home, we truly can't even lift the lid off the pot.

The child has been crying from hunger... I heard... I heard your family..."

Her gaze drifted uncontrollably toward the strips of meat drying in the yard and the faint scent of meat wafting from the kitchen.

Her throat worked with difficulty. She could not force out the rest of her words, but her meaning could not have been clearer—she had come to borrow some grain, or rather, to beg for something to eat.

Liu Wanwan's heart softened at once. Looking at the child's waxy yellow face, she seemed to see Little Bean Sprout from not long ago.

She instinctively turned back toward Fang Yuan, who was practicing with his blade in the yard.

This household had only gained this bit of food because Fang Yuan had risked his life for it. He was the head of the family; the decision had to be his.

Moreover, Liu Wanwan knew the taste of hunger all too well, and remembered even more deeply how, when their family had been at its hardest,

aside from cold stares and mockery, who had ever truly extended a helping hand?

In these times, kindness was the most extravagant and the most dangerous thing.

Fang Yuan had long noticed the commotion at the gate. He stopped and walked over.

The heat from his blade practice still clung to him as he looked calmly at Madam Zhao and the child in her arms.

Under Fang Yuan's gaze, Madam Zhao grew even more uncomfortable and lowered her head further.

Fang Yuan fell silent for a moment before speaking slowly. His voice was not loud, but it carried an unquestionable finality.

"Sister-in-law Zhao, I'm sorry. What little we have was bought with my life in the mountains. It's only enough to keep us fed; we truly have no strength left to support others. The village head at the entrance may have some relief measures. Go ask there."

He did not lash out at her, but his refusal was crisp and clean, leaving no room for negotiation.

Madam Zhao's eyes reddened. She knew she could not press the matter. Holding her child, she muttered, "Sorry to disturb you," then turned and staggered away, her back bleak and lonely.

Liu Wanwan watched her leave, her heart aching, but said nothing. She merely closed the courtyard gate in silence.

Yet this was only the beginning.

As though they had made an appointment, several more groups came one after another throughout the morning.

There was an old man leaning on a cane, a man claiming the elder in his household was about to die, and even half-grown children carrying empty bowls... Their reasons varied,

but their purpose was the same. They had smelled the meat and wanted a share of the feast.

Fang Yuan stood at the gate and dealt with each group.

His attitude never changed: his tone was not particularly harsh, but his refusals were never dragged out or softened.

He knew that if he relented even once, countless pairs of eyes would fix upon his home, countless hands would reach out,

until this small household, which had only just caught its breath, was dragged down completely.

"Uncle Li, we truly have no surplus grain."

"Brother Wang, sorry, I can't help."

"Child, go home. We have nothing to eat either."

He kept every probe and plea outside the gate.

By noon, no one else came knocking, and the courtyard finally became quiet again.

Fang Yuan swung his blade, yet his mind had never been clearer.

In this world, merely surviving was difficult enough. Excess kindness was not only cheap—it could become a death warrant.

Most people were like Madam Zhao. Though disappointed, they understood that no family had it easy in these times.

After being refused, they merely lowered their dimmed eyes and muttered, "Sorry to disturb you," or simply said nothing at all,

then held their empty bowls, took their children by the hand, and quietly turned away.

Perhaps they would sigh in private and envy the Fang Family's good fortune, but more than that, they felt helpless before their own plight.

But there were always a few who believed others helping them was only natural, and whose faces changed the instant they were refused.

One sharp-faced, monkey-cheeked man had just been saying that the elder in his family was about to starve to death. After Fang Yuan rejected him outright, he immediately planted his hands on his hips,

spat toward the Fang Family's gate, and cursed under his breath.

"Pah! What the hell are they? They get a little food and think they're something special? Heartless bastards, watching people die without lifting a finger! All they know is shutting their door and hogging the food for themselves!

Let's see how long you can keep strutting around! Pah!"

Another old woman, after being turned away, pulled such a long face that it nearly reached the ground.

"What are you so proud of? Didn't you just step in a bit of dog shit and get lucky? Look how full of himself he is! No regard for neighborly affection at all!

He can't even spare a little leftover rice or scraps of meat. His heart is downright vicious! People like that will meet their retribution sooner or later!"

The morning's clamor had only just subsided when even more chaotic, heavy footsteps sounded outside the courtyard gate, mixed with loud, unrestrained voices.

Fang Yuan's hand paused slightly around his knife, and his gaze sharpened as he looked toward the gate.

Liu Wanwan's heart leaped into her throat as well, and she nervously clenched the hem of her clothes.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!" The knocking became rough and impatient, nearly turning into pounding.

Fang Yuan gestured for Liu Wanwan to take Little Bean Sprout inside. Taking a deep breath, he walked to the gate and pulled back the bolt.

Outside stood five or six men led by Heizi!

Every one of them was broad and sturdy, with fierce expressions. Their fur coats still carried the mountain's chill and flecks of freshly fallen snow.

Scarface was among them as well, watching Fang Yuan with sinister eyes.

The villagers who had been turned away earlier and had not yet gone far immediately fled at the sight of this formation. They only dared peek from afar.

Heizi stood at the front. He did not immediately make trouble. First, his hawk-like eyes swept sharply across the courtyard.

His gaze lingered for a moment on the preserved meat hanging beneath the eaves, the Stone Lock used for training in the corner, and the chopping knife in Fang Yuan's hand—a blade clearly not meant for chopping firewood.

If he had only suspected Fang Yuan before, then what he saw now gave him complete certainty. Fang Yuan had picked up the spoils from that wild boar!

He forced a seemingly hearty smile onto his face, though his words carried a probing edge.

"Brother Fang, I heard you went into the mountains a few days ago and came back with quite a haul?"

His tone sounded like casual conversation, but his eyes remained fixed on Fang Yuan's expression.

"These days, for one man to enter the mountains and bring down a big beast—that's real skill! Unlike the brothers in our group.

A few days ago, we chased an alarmed full-grown male wild boar for half the day, but it still got away. It even injured one of our brothers. Damn bad luck!"

He deliberately stressed the words "got away." As he spoke, he carefully watched every trace of reaction on Fang Yuan's face,

trying to find guilt, panic, or any unnatural sign.

This was an old hunter's experience: using words to test the truth of his prey.

Fang Yuan's expression did not ripple in the slightest. He even revealed just the right hint of confusion and mild interest.

"Oh? That happened? Even skilled men like you, Brother Heizi, let the prey get away?

That wild boar must have become a spirit. I only got lucky and picked up a few stupid rabbits. I can't compare to you, Brother Heizi."

Heizi narrowed his eyes, finding no flaw in Fang Yuan's face.

But the suspicion in his heart did not lessen. Instead, Fang Yuan's excessive calm made him even more certain that the wild boar had most likely fallen into Fang Yuan's hands!

From a distance earlier, he had seen Fang Yuan swinging his blade clearly.

Those movements were absolutely not the crude style of a farmer. They carried an indescribable rhythm and explosive force; every stroke was steady and precise,

its strength contained without being displayed... This was not something an ordinary hunter or farmer could train!