Chapter 4: Both Chicken Legs Are Yours

“You really can’t keep your hands to yourself!” Meng Ling scolded, both angry and worried.

That’s not something you can just mess around with!

“Ahhh, it hurts!”

The moment Meng Ling touched his hand, she heard his pained cry.

He swore to himself that he’d never act impulsively again—serves him right for poking around for no reason.

Meng Ling grabbed the rope with one hand, bent the bamboo rod down, and quickly freed his trapped fingers.

“Huff… huff…”
She blew on them a few times. Seeing there was no serious problem, she was relieved.

Good thing it was just a small bamboo rod—if it had more tension, the rope could’ve cut into his flesh.

“Still doubting my trap now?”

Meng Ling glared at him and jabbed his forehead hard with a finger.

Meng Shiqiao staggered back a few steps from the jab, almost falling over.

He quickly changed his tone and flattered, “Sis, your trap is amazing! You’re number one in Qingshui Village!”

With that, they moved on to check the second trap. The bamboo rod was sprung but caught nothing. Meng Ling guessed maybe a mouse or another small animal triggered it.

She reset the trap and headed to the next one.

Just a few steps away, they saw something hanging from a bamboo rod in the distance.

“Sis, not a rabbit, but a big rat!” Meng Shiqiao laughed, pointing at the dangling mouse.

“A trap doesn’t have eyes. It can’t tell a rabbit from a rat,” Meng Ling replied, annoyed.
This brat was clearly teasing her.

The fourth trap was a little farther down on a slope. Meng Ling looked and saw something hanging from it—too far to see clearly, but definitely not a rabbit. A rabbit’s tail wasn’t that long.

Meng Shiqiao also saw it and shouted excitedly, “It’s caught! It’s caught!”

Before he even finished, he let out a wild yell and dashed down the slope faster than that rabbit from last time.

“A pheasant!”

“A wild pheasant!”

“A big wild pheasant!”

He shouted from below.

“Bring it up!” Meng Ling had already guessed it was a pheasant.

Meng Shiqiao unhooked the bird and climbed back up, panting heavily.

“Sis, look at this huge pheasant!”

It was a male bird with bright feathers and tail feathers over two feet long, weighing about 2.5 jin—not bad at all.

Meng Ling nodded, pleased with such a catch—finally, they could have some meat.

Meng Shiqiao said, “Sis, since I worked so hard climbing the hill, can I have a drumstick?”

Pheasant drumsticks were tiny—barely more than a mouthful.

Meng Ling smiled meaningfully, “Sure. You did well. You can have both drumsticks.”

Meng Shiqiao didn’t even notice the odd smile on her face—his entire focus was on the drumsticks.

To him, chicken legs were a rare delicacy. The last time he had one was on New Year’s Eve, and he still remembered how it tasted.

“You said it—both legs! Don’t go back on your word!” he confirmed anxiously.

Seeing how happy he got over two little drumsticks, Meng Ling thought to herself: this child really hasn’t seen the world. I need to help broaden his horizons.

“Mm, both are yours.”

He was thrilled with the confirmation.

After a moment, he felt maybe he should leave one for their little sister. Then he thought, if only chickens had five legs…

When they got home, Shen was sitting under the eaves sewing shoe soles, and their little sister was playing with a bamboo horse.

As soon as he stepped in, Meng Shiqiao shouted, “Mom, look what we got!”

Shen paused her sewing and squinted.

“What is that…?”

Before she could finish, he blurted out, “A wild pheasant! We caught it on the mountain. We’re having chicken today!”

She stood up and came closer. “Wow, it really is! Such a big pheasant—where’d you catch it?”

“Big sis’s trap caught it!” he declared proudly.

Shen turned to her daughter, “You caught it, Ling?”

Meng Ling smiled and nodded. “Yeah, over by our slope. We’ll stew it for lunch.”

Shen nodded with a smile. Her daughter was getting more and more capable—used to struggle catching even their own chickens, now she could catch wild ones.

Just then, their neighbor Auntie Zhang passed by and overheard them.

She walked in and said, “Wow, that pheasant’s not small.”

Shen beamed, “Over two jin. Our eldest caught it in the hills.”

When had her daughter learned to catch pheasants? She couldn’t even catch the ones at home without a fuss.

“Well, you’re in for a treat today!” Auntie Zhang said, eyes full of envy as she stared at the bird and swallowed involuntarily.

“My kids wouldn’t have a clue how to do that.”

Shen glanced at her, thinking: your kids never leave the house or do anything besides chores—how would they catch pheasants?

Though she thought it, she said, “Your kids just aren’t as wild as mine. Look at how dirty these two are.”

Then she turned to Meng Ling. “Ling, go get a stool for Auntie Zhang.”

Meng Ling nudged her brother and they went inside.

“No need, I still have chores to do,” Auntie Zhang said, heading back to her yard.

Meng Ling brought the pheasant to the kitchen. It was still warm—clearly freshly caught.

“I’ll help you pluck it!” Meng Shiqiao offered.

Meng Ling turned with a dark face. “Say that again?”

“Uh… I mean, I’ll help you pluck the pheasant,” he quickly corrected, shrinking his neck in fear of a forehead flick.

Meng Ling wasn’t really mad—just teasing. She wouldn’t hold a grudge against a kid.

“I’ll go boil water,” he said, squatting in front of the stove to light a fire.

Meng Ling knew pheasants could be plucked without scalding, same as doves and sparrows. But a quick dip made it easier and kept feathers from flying everywhere.

“Sis, these are the pheasant legs?” Meng Shiqiao asked, pointing at the barely thumb-sized drumsticks.

Suddenly he didn’t feel so eager—barely enough to wedge between his teeth.

Meng Ling chuckled, “What else did you expect?”

Now he realized he’d been tricked—no wonder she gave them up so easily.

He didn’t dare complain, only fanned the flames harder out of frustration.

Meng Ling singed the cleaned bird slightly over the fire to remove any gamey odor.

Shiqiao helped out, and soon the pheasant was ready.

Shen had thought to come help chop the bird, but seeing her daughter’s skilled hands, she gave up the idea.

Meng Ling chopped it into small pieces. The pot was already boiling.

She first parboiled the meat, drained it, stir-fried it briefly, then stewed it in a clay pot.

After about half an hour, the rich aroma filled the kitchen.

Shiqiao, tending the fire, gulped nonstop, nearly drooling. “Sis, it smells amazing—I want a taste!”

As soon as the lid was lifted, his head was almost in the pot.