Chapter 2: The Way to Deal with Wild Boars

“Hey, you can’t play with that!”

Meng Ling quickly stopped her little sister and scooped her up just in time—good thing she was fast, otherwise little Meng Qingqing’s hand would have gotten bitten.

Even though the watersnake wasn’t venomous, the bite would still swell and hurt.

Though Meng Ling wasn’t afraid of the squirmy watersnake, she didn’t exactly want to grab it either—she wasn’t as “brave” as Qingqing. She looked around for a moment and spotted a stick she could use.

Still holding her sister, she cautiously poked at the snake with the stick, trying to flip it out of the bucket. She tried several times without success. She was afraid the snake would slither up the stick toward her, so she didn’t dare get too close and kept nudging at it from a distance. Suddenly, the snake wrapped itself around the stick and started slithering up it.

Terrified, Meng Ling dropped the stick and ran—she looked just as panicked as Meng Shiqiao had earlier.

Seeing this, her brother shouted from afar, “Sis, didn’t you say you weren’t scared?”

Meng Ling, annoyed, replied, “Then you come try!”

Sure, she wasn’t afraid of seeing the snake—but she was afraid of getting bitten.

Fortunately, the snake eventually slithered out of the bucket on its own and swam off into the river.

Meng Ling shouted, “It’s gone! Let’s go home!”

Only then did Meng Shiqiao dare to come closer. The three of them took the fish trap and returned home.

She set the traps out in the yard to dry, then started cleaning the fish.

By noon, Meng Shiqiao was in charge of keeping the fire going under the stove, and the porridge was already steaming.

Meng Ling took out the oil jar and found just a little bit of lard left. Normally they saved it for special occasions—just a tiny bit now and then—but fish without oil was hard to stomach. So, she reluctantly added a tiny amount to grease the pan.

She selected three of the larger crucian carp and dropped them into the hot pan. The oil wasn’t enough to flip the fish, so she didn’t dare move them—they’d fall apart.

Thankfully, green onions, ginger, and garlic were easy to come by. Without them, the fish wouldn’t be edible.

Once the fish were browned, she poured in a ladle of spring water.

“Sssss—!”

Steam burst out of the pan, and the aroma of fish mingled with the steam and smoke, drifting into their noses.

“Hmm, not bad!” Meng Ling sniffed and figured the fish probably turned out well—after all, it was wild-caught.

Meng Shiqiao leaned in and sniffed deeply, practically drooling. “Sis, your fish smells amazing!”

Their mom’s cooking always smelled fishy—nothing like this.

Meng Ling teased him, “Wipe your drool before it falls into the pot.”

She then moved on to steaming the shrimp. Shiqiao, seated by the fire, kept adding wood, his stomach growling all the while.

Seeing that the porridge was nearly ready on the other stove, she told him to stop adding wood.

She opened the lid, added the peeled shrimp, squeezed in a bit of ginger juice, and added a little salt.

“Erwa, go bring lunch to Mom. You can eat once you get back,” she said.

“Okay!” Meng Shiqiao, already tempted beyond endurance, quickly grabbed a bowl and started serving porridge.

Once the food was packed in a basket, Meng Ling warned him, “No sneaking bites on the way!”

He nodded and left the house.

But the moment he was outside, he snuck a shrimp into his mouth, shell and all, chewing it with delight.

“Mmm, delicious!”

One wasn’t enough—he ended up eating several more before stopping himself.

“Can’t eat any more!”

He looked at the dish and saw a big gap. He shook the container a bit to make it look fuller and hurried off to avoid finishing it all on the road.

After dropping off the food, he ran back as fast as he could so he wouldn’t miss his share.

Back home, Meng Ling asked, “You didn’t sneak any food on the way, right?”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t do that.”

He couldn’t meet her eyes—clearly guilty.

Meng Ling poked his forehead. “I knew you’d sneak some. Good thing I made extra.”

Just then, their father Meng Liang came home from the fields and immediately smelled the delicious food.

“Whoa, what smells so good today?”

Normally it was just pickled veggies and radishes—today’s food was something else.

“It’s shrimp! River shrimp, Dad!” Shiqiao said excitedly.

He was starving, but with their dad home, no one dared to pick up their chopsticks yet.

“You little rascal, how are you talking to your dad?” Meng Liang raised a leg to kick him.

Meng Ling quickly intervened. “Wait, Dad!”

“He meant river shrimp, not that you’re blind!”

Phew—Shiqiao nearly got himself kicked just for a misunderstanding.

Meng Liang glared at him. “Speak properly from now on.”

He nodded like a pecking chicken.

Looking at the table, Meng Liang saw a big bowl of bright red shrimp, another of fish soup, and even the porridge looked different today.

Softening, he asked, “Big girl, you two made this?”

It looked good and smelled even better. Since when could his daughter cook like this?

“Yep, we both did. Come wash your hands and eat.”

He thought his hands weren’t even dirty, but did as she said, went outside to wash up, and sat at the table.

He took a sip of porridge—fresh shrimp flavor filled his mouth. After a few bites, he couldn’t stop.

“This is delicious!”

He praised, “This is the best porridge I’ve ever had.”

His daughter had really grown up—he was touched.

Meng Ling was happy too. “Glad you like it. I made extra today.”

“I’m gonna eat three bowls!” Shiqiao chimed in, mouth stuffed full.

Meng Liang couldn’t stop eating either—he just kept nodding while chewing.

Little Qingqing was learning how to peel shrimp from her sister and eating happily.

Seeing her dad eating shrimp without peeling it, Meng Ling said, “Dad, it tastes better if you peel it.”

But Meng Liang waved it off. “Tastes fine this way.”

No wonder she had told him to wash his hands—this kind of delicate stuff wasn’t something a rough man like him was used to.

Shiqiao, too, was crunching away loudly, like a starving wolf.

“If you all like it, I’ll catch more shrimp tomorrow.”

Seeing them eat so happily, Meng Ling smiled. In this world, only food and sincerity couldn’t be let down.

After eating, Shiqiao bragged about their fishing adventure—but he left out the snake part. A little man still needed his dignity.

Meng Ling planned to make two more fish traps, dry some fish, and maybe some shrimp too.

That afternoon, after gathering pig grass, the siblings worked on the traps. Meng Ling stripped the bamboo, Shiqiao wove the pieces—they worked fast together.

Halfway through, they ran low on bamboo. “I’ll go cut a few more,” Meng Ling said, and set off.

The bamboo grove was nearby, and she got there quickly. She chose smaller stalks, chopped them down, and cleared the branches.

While cleaning, she spotted some oval-shaped seeds on the ground, the size of a finger.

“Croton seeds!”

She picked up a few and confirmed they were croton—then a bold idea popped into her head. She filled her pocket with them.

Back home, she spread the croton seeds on a bamboo tray to dry.

Shiqiao joked, “Sis, why so many croton seeds? Are you constipated?”

“You’re the one who’s constipated. I’ve got another use,” Meng Ling huffed.

Croton seeds were a potent laxative—even half a seed could make someone question their life choices.

When he tried to ask more, she had already walked off.

Once the seeds were dry, they kept working on the traps until dusk.

Before heading to the river, Shiqiao poked around the grass with a stick—still nervous about snakes.

By the time they returned home, the croton seeds were fully dry. Meng Ling ground them into powder using a stone mortar, then washed it clean eight times just to be sure.

She carefully packaged the powder, but the moment she stood up, her stomach rumbled. She dashed to the latrine.

“Damn… is this stuff that strong?”

She had only inhaled a bit of the powder in the air, and it already hit her fast—and worst of all, there was no paper, just bamboo sticks. Absolute torture.

Good thing she didn’t breathe in too much, or she might’ve lost all feeling in her legs squatting that long.

The next morning, Meng Ling went to the fields and saw her father sitting groggily under the straw shelter.

Guarding the fields was tiring—any noise meant getting up instantly, or a wild boar could destroy everything.

“Big girl, what are you doing here?” Meng Liang asked, rising.

“Just taking a look,” she replied.

“Wild boars are dangerous. Someone got hurt again last night. Go home, quick,” he said sternly.

Hearing that someone else was injured only made Meng Ling more determined to take down that wild boar—and avenge herself.

But she couldn’t tell her father or he’d forbid her from going, so she nodded and pretended, “Alright, I’ll go back.”

Once out of sight, she took her basket and headed into the hills.

Soon, she spotted wild boar tracks and signs of rooting.

Following the trail into the forest, she found a small pool of water—surrounded by prints. Clearly, it came here often to drink.

“Here it is.”

Meng Ling set down her basket, pulled out some peeled radishes, and sprinkled croton powder on them. The radish’s moisture made the powder stick well.

She dug shallow pits and buried six radishes, three of which had been hollowed out and filled with extra croton powder.

“Let’s see you poop yourself to death!”

It was her first time trying this. She had no idea if it’d work.

Finally, she covered the radishes with a few leaves to make them look freshly grown.

With that done, she went home, fed the pigs and chickens, and collected the fish traps.

That afternoon, with the traps finished, she gave her brother a few instructions and left with a bundle of hemp rope.

At the watering hole, all the radishes were gone—but no sign of the boar.

“Did it really eat them? Or is it just too strong for the croton to work?”