Qi Fang must have inquired in advance about where to sign up for the family support team and what materials were needed—he had everything figured out.
The forestry center was indeed recruiting for the family support team, mainly divided into two categories: the agricultural team and seasonal laborers.
The agricultural team was responsible for a large stretch of land south of the forestry center, roughly six to seven hundred acres, primarily growing vegetables for the canteen and grains to sell to the forestry center’s employees.
After all, the forestry center didn’t have private plots, and since the houses were close together, each family’s vegetable garden was small. The monthly grain rations weren’t always enough, so selling grains to the employees solved both the food shortage and provided income for their families.
The downside was that earnings were meager. Payment was calculated based on work logs only after the produce was sold. Moreover, the forestry center was close to the mountains, and wild animals often came down to ravage the crops. In autumn, they had to take turns guarding the fields (keeping watch before the crops fully matured to prevent theft or damage).
Yan Xue concluded that it was time-consuming with low returns, not much different from rural life back home.
As for seasonal laborers, the work was tougher, mainly handling forestry tasks like clearing and protecting the woods. They earned more than the agricultural team, but jobs weren’t always available.
However, the irregular work schedule meant more free time, making it easier to take on side jobs in the mountains. Most of the forestry center’s old-timers actually preferred this option.
After some thought, Yan Xue decided to take the riskier but potentially more profitable seasonal labor route, given her circumstances.
She had a younger brother to support, and the agricultural team’s income was too limited. She might as well take a chance and go into the mountains with Huang Fengying and the others each year.
Of course, it was only late February, and the family support team wouldn’t have work until March at the earliest. For now, she was just there to register.
The family support team’s captain was a lean man in his forties, surnamed Lin. He seemed to have caught a cold recently, coughing nonstop from the moment Yan Xue entered.
His wife, however, was quite young—around thirty-four or thirty-five—and pretty, with upturned eyes and a smile that greeted everyone warmly.
Upon hearing Yan Xue’s purpose, Captain Lin threw on a coat, climbed down from the kang, and pulled out a ledger from the desk drawer.
Yan Xue showed her household registration and marriage certificate, filled in her details, and Captain Lin, still coughing, told her to wait for news—they’d notify her when work became available.
Captain Lin’s wife personally walked her to the door. “So you’re Qi Fang’s wife! I always wondered what kind of woman could match someone as handsome as him.”
Her tone suggested she already knew Qi Fang and was aware of his marriage—probably because of the scene Yu Yongzhi had caused.
Maintaining her shy newlywed persona, Yan Xue smiled bashfully without saying much. But as she looked up, she unexpectedly locked eyes with Yu Cuiyun, who was just entering.
Yu Cuiyun frowned at the sight of her, but Captain Lin’s wife greeted her warmly first. “What brings you here today?”
Her tone carried both enthusiasm and playful familiarity, indicating they were close.
Yu Cuiyun ignored Yan Xue. “Since you’re on good terms with Master Jia, I thought I’d ask a favor. My Jianjun wants a pair of roller skates. I tried borrowing the blueprint but couldn’t get it, so I was hoping you could check with Master Jia. If anyone’s having him make a pair, maybe he could make one for Jianjun too. You know his shoe size.”
It was unclear whether she was speaking to Captain Lin’s wife or deliberately letting Yan Xue know that she’d find a way to get the skates, blueprint or not.
Captain Lin’s wife agreed readily. “Sure, I’ll check later. But I don’t know if anyone’s ordered any.”
“There must be. Who else would people go to? He’s the only carpenter in the forestry center.”
Yu Cuiyun shot Yan Xue another pointed glance.
Yan Xue wasn’t the least bit upset. Even if the design had been hers, patents weren’t protected in this era—people would copy it sooner or later.
If Yu Cuiyun had the skills, she was welcome to try. But with that attitude, Yan Xue certainly wouldn’t hand over the blueprint.
Her expression unchanged, Yan Xue bid Captain Lin’s wife goodbye with a smile, wrapped her scarf around her neck, and headed to Master Jia’s to check if her item was ready.
It wasn’t a big piece—she’d delivered the blueprint two days ago, so it should be finished by now.
Yan Xue’s indifference made Yu Cuiyun feel like she’d punched cotton, only making herself look foolish. She seethed silently.
And those eyes of Yan Xue’s…
By the time Yan Xue was nearly out of sight, Yu Cuiyun finally remembered. “No wonder she looked familiar—she’s the one who talked to Old Liang that day.”
“Who talked to Little Liang?” Captain Lin’s wife immediately turned to ask.
“That Yan Xue from earlier. She even had the nerve to ask if my Old Liang was sick. You can tell she’s no good.”
“Little Liang knows her?” Captain Lin’s wife was surprised. “She’s only been here a few days.”
“Who knows? Just looking at her makes me sick. What did she want with your Captain Lin…?”
Master Jia’s place wasn’t far from Captain Lin’s. When Yan Xue arrived and asked, her item was indeed ready.
Master Jia was meticulous, having sanded the piece inside and out twice. “If you’re not in a hurry, you can take it home and coat it with varnish.”
He then asked, “What exactly is this thing? Doesn’t look like a stick or a backscratcher.”
“It’s for massage.” After confirming it met her standards, Yan Xue paid the agreed price.
Master Jia accepted the money but eyed the item curiously. “This thing’s for massage? Lately, everyone’s been making weird stuff.”
Yan Xue guessed he was referring to the roller skates. She’d already spotted the half-finished skate frames—soon, the forestry center would be full of them.
She didn’t plan to varnish the massage tool. Not only was it unnecessary, but varnish had a strong odor and wasn’t good for health. Instead, she took it straight to the Liu family.
She arrived at the perfect time—Grandpa Liu was home, feeding the dog in the yard. He smiled when he saw her. “You’re here.”
“Grandpa Liu.” Yan Xue greeted him cheerfully. “Good timing—I brought you something.” She waved the massage tool.
“This thing?” Grandpa Liu already knew about the roller skates she’d given Liu Chuncai. He walked over, hands behind his back, and examined it.
“It’s a massager.” Yan Xue urged him inside. “Try it—I guarantee it’ll feel good. If not, you can demand a refund.”
“You’re not trying to sell it to me, are you? ‘Demand a refund,’” he grumbled but let her lead him inside to sit on the kang’s edge.
The tool Yan Xue had asked Master Jia to make wasn’t complicated—just a dolphin-shaped massager. Without vibration, it relied on rolling beads in the middle.
After a few rolls under Yan Xue’s guidance, Grandpa Liu immediately noticed the difference and took over, rolling it himself.
Huang Fengying watched from the side. “This is great, Xiao Yan. Dad, you’re always complaining about shoulder pain but won’t let anyone help. Now you can do it yourself.”
Grandpa Liu kept a stern face, silent for a while before muttering, “Clothes are too thick.”
“Then take off your padded jacket at night and use it then,” Huang Fengying laughed. She turned to Yan Xue. “Did you see this somewhere before too?”
Yan Xue could only say, "I noticed Grandpa Liu always rubbing his shoulder, especially the side where he carries his gun. I remembered seeing someone use something like this before, so I asked Master Jia to make one for you to try."
She added with a smile, "And don’t be polite with me. Your family has helped us so much and even shared plenty of game with us."
"You already paid for it, so it’s not like you took it for free," Huang Fengying teased her lightly. "In the end, it’s just that you’re thoughtful enough to remember us."
Grandpa Liu had remained silent until the two finished talking, then suddenly asked Yan Xue, "In a couple of days, after the snow falls, I’m going up the mountain to set traps. Do you want to come?"
"Me?" Yan Xue couldn’t hide her surprise.
Even Huang Fengying was taken aback. It wasn’t as if no one in the logging camp had ever admired Grandpa Liu’s skills—many had brought gifts hoping to learn from him, but he had refused them all. Yet now, he was actually inviting Yan Xue along.
What Grandpa Liu appreciated was precisely Yan Xue’s genuine surprise. At the very least, she had only thought of making something useful for him, not with any ulterior motive.
Rubbing his shoulder, Grandpa Liu glanced at her. "Last time we went up the mountain to gather pine cones, didn’t you ask me a lot about hunting?"
Yan Xue had indeed asked. For one thing, Grandpa Liu had been carrying his gun at the time, and she was genuinely curious. For another, she wanted to learn about every possible way to make money in the logging camp—just in case something might work for her.
Grandpa Liu set down the massager. "If you’re coming, go back and prepare what you need. I’ll let you know when we’re ready."
This was truly an unexpected delight. With no work in the family brigade, Yan Xue had little to do. Learning to set traps on the mountain might not bring in money, but at least it could help put food on the table later.
She went back and prepared thin wire and rope as instructed by Grandpa Liu, along with a canteen, dry rations, and the same gear she had used when gathering pine cones.
Grandpa Liu patiently waited a few days until a light snow had fallen over the logging camp before notifying Yan Xue to set out. Huang Fengying, who helped carry Grandpa Liu’s tools, also joined them. "The kids are all in school now, so I told them to bring their own lunch. I’ll tag along and lend Dad a hand."
Setting traps, or "laying loops," mainly involved placing snares—wire or rope nooses—along paths frequently used by game.
As the saying goes, "Rabbits circle the hillside, always returning to their old burrows." This refers to the habit of wild animals sticking to paths they deem safe.
These well-trodden paths naturally left traces, especially after a fresh snowfall in winter. An experienced hunter could tell at a glance what kind of animal had passed by and how long ago.
Summer was trickier. Instead of footprints, hunters relied on droppings, bite marks on plants, and flattened or disturbed grass to track animals.
Not long after entering the mountains, Grandpa Liu spotted signs of wild hares and called to Huang Fengying, "The wire."
Huang Fengying quickly dug it out of her bag and handed it over.
Grandpa Liu took it and, using nearby branches, shaped the wire into a loop—a "pig’s hoof knot"—placing it right in the middle of the rabbit trail. As he worked, he explained to Yan Xue how to identify rabbit tracks.
There was quite a bit of knowledge involved, mainly judging the size of the animal based on the prints to determine the height and size of the snare.
Too large, and it might catch the belly; too small, and the head wouldn’t even fit. If set too high or too low, the snare wouldn’t work at all.
Yan Xue listened attentively as they walked, even trying her hand at making two snares when she spotted what looked like animal tracks.
Whether her judgment on the tracks was accurate remained to be seen, but at least the snares looked well-made. Grandpa Liu stood by with his hands behind his back, offering only minor corrections before nodding. "Not bad."
"That means you did well," Huang Fengying translated for her father-in-law. "When I first followed the old man up the mountain, he never once said I was 'not bad.'"
By the end, they had set plenty of rabbit and pheasant snares. Grandpa Liu even found tracks of roe deer and used branches and rope to set up a spring-pole snare.
This type of snare was meant for larger animals like roe deer or deer. The branch had to be flexible enough that when an animal triggered the mechanism, the rope would tighten around its leg and hoist it into the air.
To lure them in, Grandpa Liu even brushed aside some snow and scattered lichen—a favorite of roe deer—over the snare as bait.
Then it was just a matter of checking the traps the next day. The group headed back, with Yan Xue carefully sketching the different types of snares she’d learned in her notebook.
The following day, Grandpa Liu even brought a dog along to ward off any predators eyeing the trapped game. But their first snare was empty—whatever had been caught had already been eaten by another animal.
The second snare was the same, only scraps remaining. Three or four more yielded similar results.
Grandpa Liu couldn’t help but laugh in frustration. "Are they deliberately waiting for me to leave before scavenging?"
It wasn’t uncommon for trapped game to be stolen by predators, but for it to happen on Yan Xue’s first trip was a bit of a blow to Grandpa Liu’s pride.
Yan Xue, however, wasn’t too bothered by the outcome. "At least you caught something, right? These snares are pretty far apart—maybe it wasn’t just one predator."
Her optimism earned her a glance from Grandpa Liu. "Let’s check yours."
Yan Xue’s results were even more disappointing—two rabbit snares and one pheasant snare, all empty.
Still, she didn’t seem upset, even joking to Grandpa Liu, "See? Your skills are still the best."
"How many years have I been doing this?" Grandpa Liu pointed at the last rabbit snare. "This one looks fine. We’ll check again tomorrow."
Not every snare yielded immediate results, and Yan Xue nodded in understanding.
Grandpa Liu tugged the dog’s leash. "Let’s call it a day. I brought you here to show you how it’s done, but ended up making a fool of myself."
They had already started walking away when they realized Yan Xue hadn’t moved. In fact, she had taken a few steps back.
"Grandpa Liu," she called, staring at a small patch of disturbed snow near the rabbit snare. "Doesn’t this look like roe deer tracks?"
To make sure she wasn’t mistaken, she pulled out her notebook and compared. "They’re split in the middle like cow hooves, but smaller." This was something Grandpa Liu had taught her when setting the spring-pole snare the day before.
Unlike predators with padded paws, hoofed animals like roe deer and deer had hard, cloven hooves.
At first, Grandpa Liu didn’t pay much attention, but after a glance, he immediately crouched down. "You might be right. And there might be more than one."
"A whole herd?" Huang Fengying leaned in for a look. "I don’t remember seeing these yesterday."
Yan Xue thought back carefully. "I don’t remember seeing them either."
"Then they must be fresh," Grandpa Liu said after a closer inspection. He studied the direction the tracks led. "Let’s follow them. They might not be far."
Perhaps their earlier bad luck had run its course, because this time, their pursuit actually led them to something.
A group of deer-like animals, smaller than typical deer, came into view—about seven or eight of them, with tawny fur, short tails, and a tuft of white hair at the base. They were digging through the snow with their hooves, searching for food beneath.
"It's a herd of roe deer," Huang Fengying whispered. "They usually move in groups—one male with two or three females and their young."
As they crept closer, Grandpa Liu raised his hand, signaling Huang Fengying and Yan Xue to stop. He moved forward alone, quietly adjusting his rifle while unleashing the hunting dogs.
A gunshot rang out, and the two eager hounds lunged forward, clamping down on their prey. The rest of the startled deer flared the white fur on their tails and bolted across the snow, their speed almost unbelievable as they vanished dozens of meters away in an instant.
"That fast?" Yan Xue was stunned.
"Roe deer are nicknamed 'snow fliers,'" Huang Fengying said. "They’re incredibly quick and always pick the iciest or slickest paths."
"Doesn’t that make them impossible to catch?"
"Not necessarily. Just watch."
No sooner had Huang Fengying spoken than the fleeing herd suddenly halted, turning back to stare curiously.
"They’re not running anymore?" Yan Xue estimated they’d only covered about half a kilometer—hardly a safe distance.
But instead of continuing their escape, the deer actually started trotting back toward them.
Yan Xue was speechless. "Are these deer suicidal? Why are they coming back?"
"That’s why they’re called ‘dumb roe deer,’" Huang Fengying chuckled. "They’re insanely curious—have to see what’s going on."
Grandpa Liu didn’t comment, just shouldered his rifle and pursued. Soon, another shot echoed, dropping a second deer.
This time, the herd finally grasped the danger and sprinted away, shrinking into distant black specks on the horizon.
"Enough. We won’t catch them now," Grandpa Liu lowered his rifle.
He added to Huang Fengying’s earlier explanation, "If we hadn’t brought the dogs, sometimes they wouldn’t even run after being shot—just stand around watching."
"Then they must breed like crazy, or they’d have been hunted to extinction," Yan Xue remarked.
Huang Fengying burst out laughing and rummaged for a knife in her bag. "Well, since we can’t chase them down, let’s process these."
Noticing Yan Xue’s puzzled look, she explained, "In winter, the mountain air is freezing. If we don’t gut them soon, the insides will spoil and ruin the meat."
Yan Xue hurried to help. They’d bagged four deer—one male, two females, and a fawn. The entrails were fed to the dogs, while the leftovers were hung in a tree as an offering to the Mountain God.
Even with the campaign against old traditions, mountain folk who lived off the land still held certain customs sacred—honoring the Mountain God being chief among them.
For instance, tree stumps left after logging were considered the Mountain God’s altar and couldn’t be sat on. Only fallen logs or rocks were acceptable. Liu Chuncai had taught Yan Xue this during her first trip into the mountains.
Gathering wild ginseng came with even more rules, something Yan Xue had heard about in her past life as a seller of mountain goods.
After gutting the deer, they packed the cavities with snow to cool them quickly, then washed their hands with handfuls of snow.
In the harsh Northeast winters, water was scarce, making snow the most convenient resource.
At home, mopping floors didn’t require a mop—just shovel snow inside and sweep it away, taking all the dust with it. Cooking? Toss snow into a pot, heat it up, add cabbage and frozen tofu, and a meal was ready in minutes.
Older generations, to save effort, would even eat snow directly for hydration, though it ruined their teeth over time. Grandpa Liu was more fastidious, carrying an aluminum canteen and boiling snow over a fire during breaks.
Thanks to these "dumb roe deer," Yan Xue’s group didn’t return empty-handed.
The male, gutted, weighed around fifty or sixty pounds; the females were smaller, and even the fawn yielded thirty pounds. In an era where holiday rations barely provided a pound of meat per person, this haul meant weeks of good living for their families.
Huang Fengying handed Yan Xue one of the females. "Your household’s small, so I won’t give you more."
Before Yan Xue could protest, she added, "These things have parasites under the skin. After skinning, make sure you clean it thoroughly."
Eyeing Yan Xue’s delicate frame and doe-like eyes, she sighed. "Never mind, I’ll handle yours too when we get back."
"Auntie, I’m not that timid," Yan Xue said, amused.
But since Huang Fengying insisted, she didn’t refuse, following the two back to the Liu family home.
"I’m heading up the mountain tomorrow to deliver some meat to Weiguo and his dad. Want to come?" Huang Fengying asked on the way.
Only then did Yan Xue remember she had a husband. "Sure. What time are you leaving?"
If not for Qi Fang, she wouldn’t have married into this logging camp. It wouldn’t be right for him to toil on the mountain while she feasted below.
Back home, Yan Xue first shared a few pounds of venison with neighbor Aunt Guo, thanking her for helping during the wedding.
The rest she cooked for herself—a stir-fry with dried chilies. As she sliced the meat, she noticed how much tenderer it was than wild boar.
The flavor was superior too, reminiscent of venison, lean and delicate. When she opened the door to air out the chili fumes, she caught the excited squeal of Aunt Guo’s grandson next door.
For Qi Fang’s portion, she prepared two dishes: thinly sliced quick-fry and braised ribs.
She packed half a rack into an aluminum lunchbox until it overflowed, then brought it to the Liu house to hitch a ride on the supply train with Huang Fengying.
The train’s cargo car was even smaller than the passenger one, crammed with collective provisions—radishes, cabbage, potatoes freshly dug from the storage cellar.
Feeding hundreds of loggers required staggering amounts of food daily.
At the mountain camp, the logistics team unloaded supplies while Huang Fengying and Yan Xue headed toward the distant roar of machinery.
"Should we really go there?" Yan Xue hesitated. "Last time, Director Yu chewed me out."
"What’s his problem now?" Huang Fengying grumbled.
Remembering that Qi Fang and Yan Xue were outsiders with no local backing, she relented. "Wait here then. I’ll ask when their meal break is."
To reassure her, she added, "Don’t worry, I’ll just shout from a distance."
Yan Xue nodded, finding a sheltered spot to wait. Compared to her last visit, the mountain was even barer, vast stretches now treeless.
She wondered how long it would take to recover after this logging cycle. Rumor had it that by 2000, the Changbai and Greater Khingan ranges would ban all timber harvesting.
Lost in thought, she was startled by a sharp whisper—
"Freeze! There’s a black bear behind you!"
Qi Fang: If I’m eating roe deer, does that count as having meat? Then I’ve beaten Chen Jibei and Ji Duo to it.
Chen Jibei: Heh.
Ji Duo: Heh.
