“Brother Long, I think there’s a fallen tree under the snow over there. Let’s start gathering wood here,” panted Tao Daqiang, pointing at a downed tree by a hillside.

“No, let’s keep going a bit further,” Li Long replied, gesturing toward a slope beside the winter den. “That’s a better spot.”

“But there’s no path up ahead. The cart might not make it up the slope,” Daqiang said, hesitating.

“Then we’ll push,” Li Long replied with a grin, glancing at the smoke rising from the den ahead. “A little trouble won’t stop us.”

So, with Li Long pulling from the front and Daqiang pushing from behind, they maneuvered the cart up the gentle slope.

“Alright, this will do,” Li Long said after surveying the area. Then he pointed toward the winter den and added, “Come on, let’s go there for lunch before we start working.”

“Lunch… over there?” Daqiang was surprised. “Will they even let us?”

“Don’t worry—they’re very welcoming,” Li Long reassured him, pointing to the tea and salt they had brought. “Besides, we’re not empty-handed.”

The “winter den” was a seasonal home for herders in the mountains. In summer, they drove their livestock to high mountain pastures, known as summer grazing lands. But in winter, they came to lower elevations, staying in these winter den to graze in the winter pastures. Moving between these areas was called “seasonal migration.”

Most of the herders here were Kazakh. After the new century arrived, the government had organized them and moved them to the foot of the mountain, allocating land and helping them transition from nomadic to settled pastoralism. Li Long’s village even had a few Kazakh families who had settled nearby, so he was familiar with their customs.

The Kazakhs were known for their hospitality. In the past, strangers who approached their yurts would often be greeted with dairy snacks, naan, and tea.

The winter den was typically built by digging into a hillside to form a triangular structure with the mountain as the back wall, reinforced with wood, and then roofed. It housed both livestock and people, and outside, they often piled up large mounds of animal dung.

Li Long planned to return here in spring to haul some of that manure, since he remembered that spring was when the first land distribution would begin. Each person would receive two acres—land that was truly their own.

After unhooking the cart and leading the horse to the camp, two dogs rushed over, barking at Li Long, Daqiang, and the horse.

The door to the winter den opened, and a man around thirty years old stepped out, looking surprised to see them.

“Hello! We’re here to gather wood and were hoping to rest a bit at your camp,” Li Long said, smiling.

The man eyed them cautiously but nodded, calling off the dogs and pointing to a post near the camp.

Li Long understood that this was where he could tie the horse, so he led it over and secured it there. The man brought over a bundle of hay, and the horse immediately started munching.

Satisfied, Li Long noted the man’s own three horses nearby, grazing on hay. Just as he remembered from his past life, the herders here were genuinely welcoming.

The man led them into the den, and as they entered, their eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim light. Once they could see, Li Long noticed a small but cozy room. There was a raised wooden platform with a low table, a small stove burning hotly with a kettle on top, and a woman in her thirties standing nearby, looking at them shyly.

On the platform, an elderly woman was handling some wool, while two young children played with sheep bones, curiously watching the visitors.

Li Long handed the tea and salt to the man, saying, “These are for you.”

Daqiang felt a pang of regret; the tea and salt had cost a few yuan, and they had sesame cakes, a rare treat usually reserved for New Year’s, which could have made a good lunch on their own. But he trusted that Li Long had his reasons.

“Thank you…” The man was surprised and a bit moved by the gifts, glancing at the woman and the elderly lady before accepting them.

Both women smiled warmly, clearly pleased with the gifts.

The man invited Li Long and Daqiang to sit inside on the raised platform. The elderly woman opened a bundle, revealing small pieces of naan, while the woman began preparing milk tea. The man went outside briefly, returning with a dried lamb leg, which he offered them to cut pieces from. He grabbed a knife and was about to head outside.

“No need, really! We’re just here for a quick lunch before heading back to gather wood,” Li Long protested, realizing they were prepared to make a big feast. “This is more than enough.”

The man seemed reluctant, and Li Long had to hold him back to keep him from going outside to slaughter a sheep.

That would be going too far. Although sheep weren’t expensive for the herders, they usually didn’t slaughter them unless necessary.

The elderly woman said something to the man in Kazakh, and he tried to pull away again. Desperate, Li Long looked around and then pointed to something near the stove.

“No need to slaughter a sheep—just give me that instead!” he said.

The man stopped, glancing at the object Li Long had pointed to.

Seeing a chance, Li Long added with a grin, “Just that will do… I could even sell it!”

The object was an antler.

In a few decades, antlers wouldn’t be worth much, as deer farming would become widespread, making antler products common. But at this time, deer farming was still rare, and antlers were valuable.

“Really?” the man asked, a bit unsure.

“Yes! Antlers can sell for one yuan per kilogram,” Li Long said, making up a price. “This will be more than enough.”

The antler had three branches and seemed to weigh two or three kilograms.

The man put the knife down but, after some thought, went outside again. While he was gone, the woman finished preparing the milk tea and handed a cup to Li Long with both hands.

Soon, the man returned with an additional antler. This one was broken and not as heavy or impressive as the first.

“My son, Nassen, found this one in the forest,” the man explained, gesturing to the young boy playing on the platform. “We were planning to use it as firewood.”

As firewood? That would have been such a waste!