Chapter 1715: 1812: Mountain People

Chapter 1715: Chapter 1812: Mountain People

By the stream, there was a large, pebble-covered shallow bank, where a man lay with a deathly pallor, his eyes tightly shut, and even his breathing was exceptionally faint.

The stream water had soaked half of his body, while a few green-shelled crabs crawled around him, with one even climbing onto him.

For several days, the man did not regain consciousness, nor did he die, maintaining his faint breathing, just lying there.

Who knows how many days passed, when an elderly figure and a young girl slowly approached from a distance.

The old man looked about sixty years old, with a dark complexion, wearing a conical hat and a raincoat made of straw. He had a bamboo fishing pole slung over his shoulder and walked somewhat awkwardly, as if his left leg was slightly lame.

The young one was a girl under ten years old, wearing repeatedly patched old clothes, her bare feet kicking small stones as she walked. Her small face was flushed, with her hair tied into two small horn-shaped braids.

The old man looked at his granddaughter’s innocent and cheerful demeanor, and a serene smile appeared on his face.

Suddenly, the girl ran up to the old man in panic and said, “There’s a dead person ahead!”

The old man’s face changed, and he squinted as he looked ahead, indeed seeing a motionless body.

The girl was quite frightened but still peeked curiously at the body from a distance.

“Stay here, I’ll go take a look,” the old man said, placing the bamboo pole aside and carefully walking over.

The girl nodded, though she was curious about the corpse, her fear of the dead kept her from coming closer.

The old man reached the body and found that it was surprisingly young, likely not even twenty. Although the face was pale and terrifying, it was remarkably handsome.

The old man’s face turned somber, feeling a bit of pity. How could such a young and handsome young man die here? Could it be a natural disaster or calamity?

But the old man didn’t dwell on it; after living most of his life, he wasn’t surprised to find people dead in such desolate areas.

“Alas, so young and lost his life, it’s quite pitiful. I’ll bury you so that you can rest in peace and not be devoured by the wolves and tigers on this mountain,” the old man, having a kind heart, decided to dig a pit to bury the young man’s body and set up an unmarked tombstone, as a deed of benevolence.

“Ping’an, come over here,” the old man called to his granddaughter.

The girl, named Ping’an, hesitated but was internally curious to see the dead body, so she approached.

“Wow, this person looks really nice,” Ping’an said in surprise upon seeing the corpse’s face.

The old man chuckled bitterly, “Stop looking, Grandpa is going to bury him.”

“Okay,” Ping’an responded, then helped the old man drag the body to the shore.

The old man picked a spot and began digging with a small hoe tucked in his waist, while little Ping’an, finding it boring, went to the riverbank to catch small fish and shrimp.

After digging for about an hour, the old man finally managed to create a decently shaped pit, sweating profusely.

Though the old man no longer did physical labor, having hunted in the mountains in his younger days, his body was still quite sturdy despite his age.

Wiping off his sweat, the old man muttered a few words of peace for the corpse, nothing more than letting him rest in peace and wish him a swift reincarnation.

Afterwards, he pushed the corpse into the pit and covered it with soil, packing it firmly and even surrounding it with stones, finally placing a relatively smooth stone slab before the small mound.

Having done these, the old man sat by the pit to rest, looking up at the sky with a slight frown.

“It’s going to rain heavily,” he muttered to himself. For an old hunter living in the mountains for many years, he could tell if there would be rain or sunshine just by looking at the sky.

In the mountains, rain wasn’t a good thing, especially when there was thunder, which would scare the mountain beasts into a frenzy, possibly intruding hunters’ homes.

In his youth, his home was invaded a few times by mountain beasts, with his father tragically killed by a thunder-struck blind bear.

The fate of a hunter was such—we hunt all our lives and, in the end, might well die at the claws of these beasts.

The old man watched his granddaughter, who was having a great time by the river, holding two green-shelled crabs in her hands with a beaming smile on her face.

Seeing his granddaughter happy, the old man felt joy. No matter how big the problems were, they couldn’t compare to the joy of his granddaughter.

Having rested enough, the old man picked up the fishing pole and started fishing by the river. Getting old, he seldom ventured deep into the mountains for hunting; it was not only dangerous, but he worried if an accident happened to him there, what would become of his orphaned granddaughter?

Therefore, he often brought Ping’an down to the stream to fish, content to catch whatever enough for the two of them to eat.

“Grandpa, is there a Dragon King in this water?” Ping’an squatted by her grandfather, asking innocently.

The old man was taken aback and then smiled, “The water here is too shallow, it can’t accommodate the Dragon King.”

Ping’an pouted her lips, “Then how big of a river would have a Dragon King?”

The old man pondered, “It would take about ten rivers this size to have one.”

Hearing this, Ping’an’s face was full of amazement, “Is there such a big river?”

The old man laughed, “Of course there is.”

“Have you seen it, Grandpa?” Little Ping’an looked at her grandfather with wide-eyed wonder.

The old man felt a bit embarrassed, scratching his head; he’d hardly ever traveled far, with the furthest being a town over a hundred li away, having never seen any great rivers or waterways.

“Of course Grandpa has seen them,” but, in front of his granddaughter, he still wanted to maintain face.

Little Ping’an giggled, then rested her chin on her hands, looking at the clear stream and softly mumbled, “I also want to see such a big river.”

Though old, the man’s ears were sharp, and hearing his granddaughter’s comment filled him with guilt.

He was just an unambitious, simple old hunter who had muddled through life so far, but did his little granddaughter have to spend her life, too, confined to these impoverished mountains?

He sighed softly, pondering whether to take his granddaughter out to see the world beyond the mountains.

“Let’s go home.”

“Okay.”

····

The night rain poured, and the fresh, desolate grave not far from the stream suddenly stirred.

ps: Third update

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