“Where’s your brother?” the deputy director asked.

Song Wei quickly came up with an excuse. “He had to leave to take care of something.”

The director looked at her skeptically.

“Don’t worry,” Song Wei replied. “With this much wild boar meat, if it wasn’t ours, do you think anyone would just leave it out here unattended?”

True enough. Who would dare to leave such a stash of meat lying around?

But the real question was: how were they supposed to weigh these boars with so few people?

Song Wei rolled up her sleeves. “No problem,” she said, and grabbed the large weighing scale, tying the wild boar onto the hook.

“I’ll lift it,” she said.

The scale had a long beam with a hook on one end and a counterweight on the other. It needed two people to hold the beam horizontally while another adjusted the weights.

Song Wei looked slight, while the director’s son was sturdy.

“Why not let my son do it?” he suggested, concerned she might collapse under the weight.

“Quit stalling. Let’s get it done,” she replied.

If I weren’t worried about scaring you all, I’d lift it myself.

So the deputy director’s son ended up shouldering the beam, his arms shaking slightly under the weight, while Song Wei stood firm as if it was nothing.

“This one’s three hundred and twenty pounds,” they called.

They lowered the scale and moved on to the next boar.

“This one’s four hundred and fifty-two pounds.”

“The two small ones together are ninety-one pounds.”

“I’ll be keeping a few pounds of the meat,” Song Wei announced.

The three men hesitated, looking pained.

“But if you take some, it won’t be whole,” one of them pointed out.

Song Wei almost rolled her eyes. “You’re not planning to take it back without butchering it, are you?”

In any case, she was keeping some. It had taken her considerable effort to catch these boars, and she was determined to get a taste herself.

“Just five pounds,” she insisted.

In the end, after a bit of back-and-forth, she successfully claimed five pounds of lean, wild boar meat for herself.

The meat had been tallied up, with two hundred pounds sold with ration tickets, and the rest without. Song Wei walked away with 712.2 yuan—a tiring but worthwhile haul.

The deputy director had come prepared, handing over the payment and several ration tickets, some of which included the food tickets she needed.

After helping load the boars onto their cart and watching them head back, she took Heidan and began the walk back to Ping’an Village.

It was a bit of a hike—about two hours on foot.

The walk itself wasn’t a problem, but they were both hungry.

“Maybe we should eat something before heading back?”

Heidan’s gaze landed on the meat she was carrying, and he gulped.

Out of the five pounds she’d taken, Song Wei set aside about two pounds for the two of them. They found a spot, made a fire, and started roasting the meat.

They didn’t have much seasonings, and the lean boar meat was a bit tough and gamey, but out here at night, any food was good food. Both Song Wei and Heidan had gone hungry plenty of times, so they didn’t complain.

While the meat roasted, she cracked open the last five walnuts she had and shared them with Heidan.

“You eat, Sister Song. I’m not that hungry,” Heidan said, taking only one walnut. He huddled near the fire, its light illuminating his small, grimy face as he curled up, hands clutching his stomach.

He was hungry, but he had eaten some walnuts before and had enough food in his stomach, so he could bear it.

He was used to this feeling; back at the Lin house, he often went to bed hungry.

“Eat,” Song Wei insisted, passing him another walnut. “I’m saving room for the meat.”

The smell of walnuts lingered in the air, and after hesitating, Heidan looked up at her, smiling shyly.

“Thank you, Sister Song.”

His heart felt warm, though his eyes stung a bit. No one had ever been so kind to him before. He couldn’t help but hope he’d be able to stay by her side.

Thinking of the Lin family, a hint of sadness crept into his heart.

As he nibbled on the walnuts, Song Wei handed him a slice of roasted boar meat. Both of them began eating, blowing on the meat to cool it before taking bites.

The meat had been sliced and skewered for roasting; though it was a bit thick, it cooked through nicely.

Not the best flavor, but neither of them minded.

Their stomachs somewhat full, Song Wei felt tempted to roast the remaining meat, but she decided against it—it seemed wasteful to cook it all at once.

Feeling recharged, she picked up the pace on the walk back. Even the idea of running into a robber didn’t worry her—whoever they encountered, she doubted she’d be the one in danger.

Heidan, though, was struggling to keep up, his small legs working hard to match her stride. Despite his efforts, he was falling behind.

When she finally stopped, he accidentally ran into her leg, bumping his nose.

Heidan rubbed his nose, looking up at her with a goofy smile.

“You goofball,” she teased, tapping his forehead before scooping him up and settling him in the basket on her back.

“If you couldn’t keep up, why didn’t you just say so?”

Heidan curled up in the basket, his wide eyes watching her with admiration. His nose was still a little sore, but now it tingled with warmth.

“I could keep up,” he murmured, placing his small hands on the side of the basket and resting his head against her back.

“Sister Song, why are you so nice to me?” he asked quietly.

With Heidan on her back, Song Wei walked effortlessly. “Am I? I just had you help roast the meat.”

Her tone was light, no fuss or sentiment.

“If you think I’m nice, then keep helping me find food in the mountains. I get seventy percent, you get thirty.”

Heidan sniffled loudly. “You can have it all, Sister Song. I don’t need anything.”

He had no family and no one to look out for him. As long as he could be helpful to Song Wei, he didn’t need anything for himself.

Song Wei laughed. “Right now, you’re too young to hold onto anything, but you can leave it with me. Whenever you need it, just come find me. I may have a big appetite, but I won’t take advantage of a kid.”

After a while, she noticed he’d gone quiet. Glancing over, she saw that he’d fallen asleep, curled up snugly in the basket, leaning against her.

Under the moonlight, Song Wei smiled softly, quickening her pace.

She covered the two-hour walk in just one hour, reaching the education youth quarters to find everyone already asleep.

She brought Heidan into her room, though the kang bed was out of the question—her new bedding was clean, and Heidan was still a bit of a grubby mess. She laid him on a temporary bed she’d set up on the floor.

After putting away her earnings from the day, she soon fell asleep, exhausted.

When morning came, Heidan woke up, startled. Back at the Lin house, this was when his aunt and grandmother would start yelling for him to feed the chickens and gather firewood.

Despite his young age, most of the wood used in the household in the winter came from his little hands.