Chapter 19: Hunting in the Mountains…

Fang Dahai’s desire for the remaining bows wasn’t noticed by others, but Old Luo saw it clearly. He puckered his lips, leaned forward, and even raised his hand as if to say something—but in the end, he said nothing. He merely placed a hand over his chest.

What could he even say? He was the one who brought out the bows. He had also said that if the boy won, he could choose whichever one he liked. Now that the kid had shot so brilliantly and won so beautifully, could he go back on his word? Slap his own face by going back on a promise? If he did that, how would Old Luo show his face in town again? How could he continue to run his shop?

His only hope now was that the boy would pick a suitable bow instead of the most expensive one, so his loss wouldn’t be too big. Ugh—why did he have to show off earlier? Why didn’t he just bring out the cheapest 6-draw bow? Everyone knows that the higher the draw weight, the harder a bow is to make, the better the materials needed, and the more expensive it is. If the kid chose a 7-draw or 8-draw bow, what would he do then? Given the state of his shop, gifting away just one of those could mean working for free for half a year.

The only thing worth feeling thankful for was that, fortunately, he had at least had the sense not to bring out the prized 10-draw bow from storage. If that got picked, even the coffin lid of the old master at home wouldn’t be able to stay shut! That was the best bow his father had ever made in his life, a piece meant to be passed down to descendants.

Thinking about all this, the pain in Old Luo’s heart eased just a little, and he mustered the courage to walk over to Fang Dahai, who was still looking at the bows.

“Um, young man, it’s not that I’m stingy or anything, but you see, a bow’s draw weight doesn’t necessarily mean it’s better. The key is whether it suits you. If it’s too strong to use, it’s just wasted, right? Look, you seem to handle the 6-draw one pretty well—how about choosing that one? I’ll throw in 10 extra arrows for you. What do you say?”

What does he say? He says no way!

Why was Fang Dahai still eyeing the bows? Because after trying each one, he found that although the 7-draw bow was a bit difficult for him to pull right now, and he couldn’t shoot three consecutive arrows like before, it was still usable.

And in a year or two, it might be even easier for him. Why? Because how old was he now? Fourteen. Right in the middle of his growth spurt. As long as nothing went wrong, by the time he turned eighteen, he’d easily be able to handle an 8-draw bow. So which one do you think he should pick now?

“Manager Luo, I understand what you’re saying, but look…”

As Fang Dahai spoke, he picked up the 7-draw bow, nocked an arrow, and let it fly—whoosh—right into the bullseye again, drawing cheers from the surrounding crowd.

Seeing Manager Luo’s face turn pale, Fang Dahai grinned and said:

“I think I’ll go with the 7-draw one. It’s actually more practical for me. After all, I’m still young, and I’m getting stronger every day. The 6-draw might be too light for me within half a year.”

Although Old Luo had mentally prepared himself as he walked over, now that the moment had come, he still felt like his heart was bleeding. He forced out an awkward smile and nodded with difficulty:

“Right, right, the 7-draw is also very good. Made of ironwood—it’ll definitely last a long time.”

There was no need to emphasize the quality—Fang Dahai wasn’t unfamiliar with weaponry. He had already noticed the fine craftsmanship and high price. Honestly, if it weren’t such a fine item, why would he bother putting on this whole performance?

But Old Luo’s pained expression wasn’t wasted. Fang Dahai wasn’t the type to take advantage of people. Seeing the man’s mournful face, he softened a little.

He realized he was getting quite a good deal, and since he wasn’t short on money, he said kindly:

“As for the bow, that’s my prize for winning the bet. But the arrows… I can’t let you give those too. Otherwise, people will say I’m taking undue advantage. How about I buy 30 iron arrows from you—what would the price be?”

Huh? He doesn’t want the arrows for free? And he’s even willing to pay? Old Luo instinctively wanted to quote a high price, but just as he looked up, he saw the crowd around them—and the sly smile on Fang Dahai’s face—so he quickly swallowed the thought.

He had already taken ninety-nine steps—there was no point tripping at the last one and ruining his reputation!

Old Luo gritted his teeth, waved his hand, and said generously:

“We’ve got such a good connection—how could I still charge you full price? Xiao Er, go bring the arrow case from my room. And the leather quiver too. Kid, I’ll be honest—these are all good quality. The quiver’s made of real cowhide. There aren’t many craftsmen who can make these anymore. Add the 30 arrows, and just give me 10 silver coins. Let’s call it a friendly deal.”

Whoa—10 silver coins? Just for 30 arrows? That’s expensive!

The crowd gasped. Many started looking at Old Luo differently, thinking he was trying to rip the boy off after losing.

In the critical moment, it was Fang Dahai who stepped in and spoke fairly. He picked up the leather quiver that the assistant brought over, turned it over to inspect it, then took out one arrow and examined it under the sunlight. After a moment, he nodded and said:

“Manager Luo is honest and fair—this really is excellent craftsmanship. The arrows are well-made and worth the price. Next time I need more, I’ll definitely come back to your shop. This level of skill is probably among the best in the capital area.”

Praise is a win-win—it makes everyone look good. Compared to the customized bows and arrows used by the Embroidered Guards (Jinyiwei), these were inferior, but among the civilian products, they were top-tier. Fang Dahai wasn’t stingy with his compliments. After all, he was the one who got the best end of the deal, right?

Old Luo, after being praised by Fang Dahai, felt his heartache ease quite a bit. The smile on his face didn’t look so forced anymore. In fact, he even found the mood to take advantage of the opportunity—while everyone around was gasping at the high price of the item—to do a little self-promotion.

“That’s right! My great-grandfather was a master craftsman at the Imperial Workshop back in the day. This level of skill has been passed down in our family. Around here, for so many years, this area has been part of the royal hunting grounds. Without real skill and a few tricks up one’s sleeve, how could my shop have lasted this long?”

How much experience did the common folk around them really have? Hearing both buyer and seller praise the product, they naturally nodded along at once, finding it all very convincing. Some who had repaired bows or bought arrows here before even felt a strange sense of pride and began promoting it themselves.

“Say what you want, but Old Luo’s arrows are really well made. The tips are sharp, they last long, and if you do the math, they’re actually more cost-effective than buying cheap junk.”

“My bow was repaired at Old Luo’s shop too. Sure, it cost a bit more, but after the fix, it was just like new. With that kind of craftsmanship, the price is definitely worth it.”

Listening to the crowd’s growing approval, and noticing that even those rich onlookers and nobles who had gathered to watch were now seriously nodding along, Old Luo suddenly felt… maybe he hadn’t lost out at all today!

Whether or not he had lost out, Fang Dahai didn’t care. After buying the bow and arrows, he no longer had the patience to linger with these people. When he left home that morning, he’d told his family he was just making a quick trip back to the old place—it would take no more than two days.

Now, thanks to this bow, he’d already wasted half a day. Considering the travel time, he didn’t have much hunting time left. He needed to make the most of it.

He paid the bill and squeezed his way through the enthusiastic crowd, jogging off in the direction of the Ming Tombs.

As it happened, this was indeed a great season for hunting. Late autumn meant all the animals in the mountains were busy fattening up for winter, so they were especially active.

Fang Dahai took a path that led away from the village at the base of the mountain. He hadn’t even reached halfway up when he started spotting all kinds of animal tracks. And the deeper he went into the woods, the richer the hunting ground became.

Pheasants clucked in the thickets, rabbits darted out from burrows, grass snakes slithered near the underbrush, wild ducks flapped their wings by the streams—wild game was everywhere. With his bow in hand and throwing knives at his waist, how could he return empty-handed?

Just walking and shooting along the way, he already scored quite a haul: three pheasants, five rabbits, two wild ducks. If he liked eating snakes, he could’ve added five or six of those long wriggly things too. The success had him grinning wider than an AK’s barrel—he just couldn’t stop smiling.

During a break, he couldn’t help but joke with himself, estimating how many years of sewing machine work it would take in the modern world to earn all this wild game!

Hmm… hard to calculate exactly. After all, he wasn’t an expert on animal classifications. But he could tell that one pheasant in his basket—with a long tail and beautiful coloring—might actually be a national level 1 protected animal!!! Just that one alone would probably get the sewing machine smoking from overuse. And if you added the green-headed duck… well, no need to worry about a mortgage crisis anymore! Heck, he might go straight from youth to middle age in a prison cell—who needs to buy a house at that point?

Speaking of which… when did the wildlife protection laws get passed again? 1988, right? Probably. After all, when people themselves are starving, who has the luxury to worry about animal protection? Only when folks don’t have to worry about starving can they start to extend compassion to other parts of the food chain.

Feeling surprisingly philosophical, Fang Dahai chuckled again.

He really was being dramatic. Clearly having a great time hunting, yet here he was, thinking about wildlife protection? Wasn’t that a bit hypocritical? Instead of overthinking, he should just focus and aim for something big to bring home.

With food prices rising the way they were, even a small wild boar would fetch a great price. That kind of money could keep the kids at home well-fed and at ease.

Don’t think he didn’t notice—just last night, He Yulan and Dajiang were already calculating how long the family’s grain supply would last. And this was with 500 jin of grain already stocked up! Why were they still so uneasy? Bottom line: he had no income. The family was still in a “sitting and eating the mountain empty” state. But if they could see that their eldest brother could earn money—and enough to cover daily expenses—they’d finally feel secure.

With that thought, Fang Dahai couldn’t sit still. His eyes scanned the forest and the ground again, searching for traces of prey like red deer, Mongolian gazelles, sika deer, roe deer, wild boar—anything he could hunt.

Only…

At the base of a tree ahead, where the grass lined the roots… that dark-colored thing…

Why did it look so familiar?