He is one of the few skilled menders in the village, and he can not only sew clothes but also knows some basic carpentry. His family is slightly better off than most villagers.
"Knock knock knock!"
Zhang Cheng used his fists, which were red from the cold and almost numb, to forcefully pound on the wooden door of the man who sewed trousers.
"Who is it? In the middle of the night!"
The sound of mending trousers, muffled and tinged with sleepiness and impatience, drifted from inside the room.
"It's me, Zhang Cheng."
Upon hearing that it was Zhang Cheng, the sound of him sewing pants revealed a hint of surprise, as well as a subtle sense of caution.
"Er Gouzi? What are you doing here in this snow-covered mountain area? Let me make this clear first, my family doesn't have any spare grain to lend you!"
With a creak, the wooden door opened a crack.
He poked half his head out from behind the sewing machine, his eyes still sleepy, his face full of reluctance.
However, when his gaze fell on Zhang Cheng, especially when he saw the wild boar that was still dripping blood on Zhang Cheng's shoulder, he froze instantly.
His eyes were wide open like copper bells, and his mouth was unconsciously agape, almost big enough to fit a duck egg.
"Wild...wild boar?!"
He started stuttering as he sewed his pants, and all the drowsiness he felt vanished in an instant.
Zhang Cheng ignored his shocked expression and spoke in a calm and direct voice:
"Half a wild boar meat."
"I'll give you two sets of thick cotton-padded jackets and trousers, new ones."
"Add another iron pot."
His voice wasn't loud, but every word was exceptionally clear amidst the howling wind and snow.
He stood there for several seconds, stunned, before he suddenly realized what was happening.
Half a wild boar's head!
In those years of scarcity, especially in the dead of winter when snow blocks the mountains, this stuff is more precious than gold!
"Sure! Sure! No problem!"
Sewing the pants made his face flush with excitement. He nodded repeatedly and quickly opened the door wider, eagerly wanting Zhang Cheng to come inside.
"Old woman! Quick! Quickly bring out those two newly made cotton-padded coats from the closet!"
He turned his head and shouted loudly into the house.
Zhang Cheng did not move his feet, remaining standing in the wind and snow outside the door.
Soon, the woman who sewed trousers came out carrying two brand-new, thick cotton-padded jackets and trousers made of homespun cloth.
Zhang Cheng took one of the sets and spoke again:
"Brother, I need to discuss something with you."
"Could I borrow your old hunting rifle for a few days?"
Upon hearing this, the man who was sewing pants froze with a smile, revealing obvious hesitation.
"Er Gouzi, it's not that I'm stingy, it's just that that gun... it's really too old, the rifling is almost worn down, what if it misfires or explodes..."
Before he could finish speaking, Zhang Cheng immediately raised the stakes:
"And add a wild boar foreleg as well."
Sewing his pants bobbed, his gaze shifting between the plump wild boar meat and Zhang Cheng's calm yet unquestionable eyes, before finally gritting his teeth.
"...Alright! But you'd better use it carefully!"
"If it really explodes, don't blame me!"
Zhang Cheng nodded, which was taken as an agreement.
He took another cotton-padded jacket from the woman who sewed his pants.
Then, he quickly took off the thin, tattered clothes that were barely enough to cover his body and hurriedly put on a brand new cotton-padded jacket and trousers.
The long-awaited warmth instantly enveloped his frozen body, and the comfort made him almost let out a sigh.
Sewing his pants, he turned and went back into the house, quickly bringing out a single-barreled shotgun that looked quite old, and a small cloth bag.
"The gun is here, and... these are all the bullets we have left at home, only eight in total, so use them sparingly."
Zhang Cheng took the hunting rifle, weighed it in his hand, skillfully pulled back the bolt, and inspected the inside of the chamber.
Although it's old, you can tell it's been well maintained.
Without further ado, he drew his machete from his waist and with a few clean "snap" cuts, cleaved the wild boar carcass in two, then chopped off a thick foreleg.
He casually placed half a wild boar meat and a foreleg on the snow in front of the man who sewed pants.
"I've given you the things."
Zhang Cheng hoisted the remaining half of the wild boar meat back onto his shoulder, slung his hunting rifle over his shoulder, secured the bullet pouch to his waist, picked up the iron pot with one hand, and held the remaining new cotton-padded coat with the other.
Thanks.
He left those two words behind, turned around, and walked back into the swirling snow.
Sewing Pants stared blankly as Zhang Cheng's figure disappeared into the thick snow. He then looked down at the pile of wild boar meat on the ground, which was still steaming. He couldn't help but rub his hands together excitedly, his face filled with undisguised elation.
Carrying his heavy harvest, Zhang Cheng braved the wind and snow that seemed to devour everything and walked towards the dilapidated mud hut on the edge of the village.
His steps remained heavy, but a small flame seemed to ignite in his heart.
Although the flames were not strong, they burned steadily and persistently, bringing long-lost warmth and hope.
The wooden door of the mud hut was pushed open, and a biting wind carrying snowflakes rushed in.
The room wasn't much warmer than the outside; it was drafty and as cold as an icebox.
In the corner, a woman huddled on the cold earthen bed, covered only by a thin, patched, tattered quilt, shivering from the cold.
Her hair was dry and disheveled, her face was dirty, and her eyes were dull and empty. She was Zhang Cheng's crazy wife, Shi Yangyang.
Zhang Cheng slammed the half-eaten wild boar meat and the iron pot he was carrying onto the ground with a heavy thud.
He walked to the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) and handed over the brand-new cotton-padded jacket and trousers.
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