Chapter Seven Memories

In his memory, his father would hold a ruler in one hand and a book in the other, his expression stern as he questioned him on his studies. Back then, he was a playful boy; while he could more or less recite the sages’ words after a few readings, there were always some obscure passages he could never quite memorize.

Whenever he stumbled over those difficult lines under his father’s questioning, his father would solemnly raise the ruler and deliver a punishment to his palm. Beside him, a little girl would giggle, reciting the troublesome lines with practiced ease, her tone precise and tinged with pride.

He remembered his father calling her Yunfei.

Yunfei was the beloved granddaughter of the Liu family elder. As the only literate teacher in the village, his father would sometimes be approached by villagers—bearing small sacks of grain—hoping he would teach their children to read. He was happy, too, to return to the village a few days each month to instruct the children in literacy.

Among his father’s few students, Yunfei was the only girl. Due to the deeply entrenched patriarchal traditions of the Great Liang, the preference for sons over daughters was severe. Many poor families, unable to feed baby girls, would abandon them in the wild, and numerous young women were hastily married off before reaching the proper age, just so their families could spare some food and collect a dowry.

For most commoners, education was a rare luxury. Those who could afford it pinned their hopes on their sons, dreaming they might earn academic honors, or at least gain enough literacy to secure work as a shop assistant in the county. That girls might attend school was an idea never entertained.

Thanks to her family’s status in the village, Yunfei had from a young age enjoyed access to resources other children could only dream of. Her remarkable talent also won her the favor of Qi Jun’s father.

The Qi family had only two sons. With time, Qi Jun’s father grew increasingly fond of Yunfei, treating her with a special affection and delight.

Yunfei was always praised by his father, while he was often punished in anger, the contrast between them sharp. His usually strict father would even smile at Yunfei, and so, back then, Qi Jun’s feelings toward her gradually soured with hostility.

He mistakenly believed his father loved Yunfei more than him. In that era of rigid tradition, the notion that educating girls was useless only fueled his jealousy further.

Because of these beliefs, his resentment toward Yunfei grew. He glued her book pages together, hid caterpillars in her satchel, and, worst of all, once shoved her to the roadside on her way home from school, causing a twisted ankle that kept her bedridden for over half a month.

Yunfei understood these childish tricks all too well, yet she never reported him to his father.

All these years had passed; surely Yunfei had long since forgotten, just as he himself had only now recalled his childhood companion when stirred by memory.

“Who would have thought—she seemed so gentle and quiet, but as a child she could be quite the mischief-maker,” Qi Jun mused with a chuckle at the memories.

Returning to himself, he noticed Qi Feng grinning slyly at him, an expression that said, “I know exactly what’s going on.”

“No wonder Yunfei slipped away in such a hurry—brother, did you bully her again?” Qi Feng tossed aside the firewood and shot Qi Jun a knowing look. “It was childish back then, but now…”

“I didn’t! I just…” Qi Jun hurried to defend himself, but found no words. It did seem that his intent gaze had startled the young woman into fleeing.

“By the way, didn’t you say you went to gather firewood to make egg soup? Now you owe Yunfei for this meal.” Not wishing to dwell on the matter, Qi Jun quickly changed the subject.

“I met her on the way out,” Qi Feng replied, his teasing gone. “Yunfei said her grandfather sent her. The elder was worried Aunt Zhao had too much to do, so he asked Yunfei to help look after you.”

“The elder is most considerate!” Qi Jun’s heart softened. Reborn into this unfamiliar world, he was deeply moved by such simple kindness.

Whether it was the elder honoring his father’s memory, or a gesture of goodwill for their alliance against the bandits, Qi Jun felt genuine gratitude.

“Here, have a taste.” Qi Feng carefully ladled a bowl of soup and brought it over.

“It’s all right, I can manage.” Qi Jun took the bowl. The hot broth, made from millet dumplings simmered with wild greens, released a fresh aroma that instantly awakened his appetite.

After days of convalescence, his strength had noticeably returned. Now, the steaming bowl of millet and wild vegetable soup stoked his hunger further, and he finished it in one long draft.

His guilt toward Yunfei deepened. Though those youthful pranks belonged to another self from a different life, the memories lingered and quietly reproached him.

Night fell, and the whole village of East Ridge was swallowed by darkness. Lamp oil was a luxury few could afford; the only light in the village now came from the fire in their ramshackle mountain hut.

Qi Feng had long since fallen into a deep sleep, his snores rising and falling with the flickering firelight.

But Qi Jun remained awake, busying himself by the fire. He grasped a sharp shard of iron, carefully whittling a sturdy stick. Among the firewood Qi Feng had gathered, he found a few pieces of solid wood—perfect for fashioning a spear.

Beyond the village lay a river, not wide, but once lively with waterfowl and fish. Now, after a season of drought, it was nothing but a bed of cracked rocks. Across the river stretched a dense forest, where lucky hunters might sometimes bring back a pheasant or a wild deer.

Most in East Ridge were no hunters. Their lives revolved around a few meager acres, and whatever grain remained after taxes was barely enough to live on.

In his previous life, Qi Jun had led soldiers on missions through wilderness and jungle, hunting wild game to stave off hunger was hardly a challenge. If he wanted to regain his health, a few bowls of wild vegetable soup would never suffice.

Whether any prey remained was uncertain, but he resolved to try his luck. Better that than passively waiting for charity.

He preferred to survive by his own efforts. He had broken out of countless deadly situations before; hardship was no stranger to him, and he was determined not to become a burden to others.

Satisfied with the sharpened spear in his hand, Qi Jun glanced at the fire, now burning low. He stretched his stiff limbs and neck, then lay down to sleep—tomorrow’s hunt would require all his strength.

As the sky began to pale, he woke Qi Feng.

“Brother, it’s not even light out…” Qi Feng sat up, rubbing his sleepy eyes. “Can’t I sleep a bit longer?”

“Do you want to eat meat?” Qi Feng, still sitting on the bed and stretching out his arms and legs, felt every joint stiff from days of rest.

Qi Feng’s eyes lit up at the word “meat.” To him, that was a delicacy reserved for New Year’s, a rare treat indeed.

Yet his excitement soon gave way to doubt. Meat was expensive, and his scholarly brother was still recovering from his injuries—how could he possibly obtain any? He suddenly realized his brother seemed different since returning home.

“That can’t be…” Qi Feng swallowed, the thought of meat making his mouth water, but his gaze grew skeptical.

“Isn’t there wild game on the mountain?” Qi Jun smiled and winked. He’d intended to keep him guessing, but seeing his brother’s slow-witted expression, decided it was best not to let him fret.

“You know how to hunt?” Qi Feng’s face was full of astonishment, utterly incredulous.

“There’s much you don’t know about me. You’ll see.” Qi Jun smiled and headed for the door. The cool morning wind slapped his face, clearing his mind. He drew a deep breath of the air before dawn and shivered slightly.

Though his wounds still ached faintly, as he gazed at the distant mountains through the receding night, his ambition for this unknown world surged within him.

It was midsummer now, and soon the sky would be bright. If all went well, they would not return empty-handed by sunset.

“Cook the rest of the millet dumplings and greens. Bring them with us for the journey,” Qi Jun instructed. Hunting was strenuous work, and he meant to take every bit of food they had, determined to stake everything on this one venture.

“All of it?” Qi Feng hesitated, a little reluctant.

Lifting the lid of the water jar, he sighed. Less than half remained; if they returned empty-handed today, they would spend a hungry night, and tomorrow would require a ten-mile trek to find spring water trickling from the rocks.

“Trust me,” Qi Jun said, offering no further explanation, though he himself was not entirely confident.

Once they were ready, the last traces of night had faded.

Qi Feng led the way with the bundle and spear, Qi Jun following with a staff. Their figures slowly disappeared into the morning mist of the mountain village.