Chapter Thirty-Five: Harvest

Following the stream back to the camp, Ning Kang found that the once chaotic clearing had been tidied up until it was spotless. Two large aluminum pots sat on stoves built from hefty stones, where a young man was feeding dry firewood into the roaring flames. By the stream, five men were skinning two mountain goats, while a third goat, its legs bound, bleated incessantly on the grass.

Da Niu spotted Ning Kang’s return and rushed to greet him. “Brother, see how fat these goats are? The lightest one must weigh at least forty-five pounds. We’ll stew one and roast the other—just imagine the aroma!”

Old He, directing a dozen men chopping thick bamboo for shelter, walked over when he saw Ning Kang. “Judging by Old Mo’s smug face, you must have gained plenty, eh?”

“I truly have. I’ve learned things here I never could outside. Brother He, in these few days, you must teach me how to read animal tracks, how to make snares and traps, and how to drive and hunt game. I know nothing of these arts, and if I ever get lost in the mountains, I might starve to death.” Ning Kang grinned as he made his request.

Old He laughed heartily and readily agreed. “You’ve come to the right man! Tomorrow, I’ll take you out. But for identifying herbs, you’ll want Old Mo. Don’t be fooled by his rough exterior—when it comes to trees and plants, none in our Yao village surpass him.”

Da Niu watched Old He walk away and sighed to Ning Kang, “Uncle He’s always been our best hunter. I heard that at eighteen, he escorted some experts from Nanning into the mountains and single-handedly killed a leopard weighing over two hundred pounds. Now, nearly fifty, he’s still so robust—I admire him. Today, he chopped off the dragon’s head; it’ll surely be recorded in the clan’s history! Ah, why was I so foolish not to be the first to strike the dragon’s head? If I had, Xiao Ming would come to me without me chasing her—such a pity!”

Ning Kang admired his honest sworn brother’s straightforward nature and felt regret at having nothing to offer him. After thinking, he asked, “Da Niu, whose skills are greater, yours or Uncle He’s?”

Da Niu paused. “If he can’t bring me down within three minutes, I can beat him. But it’s been so long since we fought, I’m not sure.”

“Well, you’ve often asked how I defeat you. It’s not difficult. If you’re willing, after we set up camp each night, I’ll teach you some techniques. Once you’ve mastered them, Uncle He won’t be your match.” Ning Kang smiled.

“Really? That’s fantastic! I wanted to ask you last night, but the chief said if you didn’t offer, I couldn’t press you—had to follow the rules. I was itching to ask but didn’t dare.” Da Niu grabbed Ning Kang’s hand, bursting with excitement, and hurried to Old Mo, who was sorting herbs, shouting, “Uncle, Ning Kang has agreed to teach me kung fu!”

Old Mo looked at Ning Kang in surprise, then glared at Da Niu and asked, “Did you beg shamelessly?”

“Uncle Mo, listen, Da Niu is my sworn brother, and it’s only natural for me to practice a few moves with him. I brought it up, so please don’t blame him.” Ning Kang knew Yao customs were strict and quickly explained.

Old Mo widened his eyes at Da Niu. “You lucky fool! Make good use of these days to learn, and teach your brother those bird-catching moves. Don’t keep them to yourself.”

Da Niu grinned, doing his best to appear respectful, nodding repeatedly, which amused Ning Kang. Realizing Old Mo was both the village chief and Da Niu’s future father-in-law, Ning Kang understood their subtle dynamic.

Night fell. More than thirty people gathered around a blazing bonfire, indulging in delicious food. The roasted mountain goat on the spit filled the air with a tempting aroma.

Ning Kang had thought goat meat seasoned only with salt wouldn’t taste special, but he now found himself mistaken. Suddenly recalling the herbs and leaves Old Mo had handled, he asked him about them in detail. Old Mo took a handful of leftover herbs and leaves, patiently teaching Ning Kang about these natural spices, often asking him to smell each plant and experience its unique scent. Attentively, Ning Kang inquired about anything he didn’t understand, quickly learning about their growing environments, uses, dosages, and even their medicinal properties. Watching the heap of plants pile ever higher before him, Ning Kang marveled and felt deep admiration and gratitude toward Old Mo.

After eating a large chunk of boiled yam and half a bamboo tube of stewed goat, Ning Kang rubbed his slightly distended belly and exclaimed in satisfaction. The yam had been freshly dug from the mountain, and all bowls and chopsticks were made of bamboo. Only now did Ning Kang realize why Da Niu couldn’t explain the origin of their food—there was so much delicious fare in the mountains he’d lost count.

With the two aluminum pots removed, only the golden roast goat remained, sizzling and dripping fat over the coals. Dinner concluded, everyone opened their flasks and passed them around, drinking heartily. Soon, a deep song arose as five men sat together, singing traditional Yao narrative songs. The simple, melodious voices carried far across the wild hills.

The Yao sing differently from how they speak; in daily conversation, they use local dialects, but their singing preserves the pure, original tongue. Old He explained the lyrics to Ning Kang, telling how the songs began with the Yao Mother and Pan King creating the world, chronicled the two thousand years of hardship and forced migration, and recounted the Yao’s resilience, their resistance against discrimination and slaughter, and the emergence of heroes, singing for nearly an hour.

As Da Niu carved chunks of roast goat with his sharp knife, the chorus rang out again, now much livelier. Seeing everyone smiling at Old He, Ning Kang asked about the song. Old He only chuckled and drank, so Ning Kang turned to Old Mo and finally understood: today, Old He, who’d sat petrified when the snake’s head was chopped off, had become the hero leading warriors to slay the dragon in the song’s praise.

Understanding, Ning Kang waited until the song ended and everyone cheered, then smiled and gave Old He a thumbs-up. Old He pretended not to see, and loudly spoke to everyone in the native dialect. The crowd erupted in applause, all looking at Ning Kang and clapping. Though Ning Kang didn’t know what was said, he guessed it wasn’t any compliment, feeling as though Old He had sold him out.

After clarifying, Ning Kang stood up reluctantly, walked to the open ground, and performed a simple set of Eight Trigrams Boxing, then returned. A burly young man in the crowd called out disapprovingly, “Brother, all you do is dodge—wait for your opponent to tire, then wrestle. That boxing just now was soft and evasive, too. If you don’t dodge, you won’t stand a chance!”

Ning Kang saw everyone looking at him, awaiting his reply. He thought: the Yao respect warriors most, and their men are straightforward and bold. If he didn’t show some real skill, the next few days would be difficult. So Ning Kang strode back to the center, looked around, and declared loudly, “All right, any brother who’s interested, come up for a bout. I won’t dodge—if anyone pushes me back a single step, I lose!”

As soon as Ning Kang finished speaking, the whole place burst into excitement. Five or six bold young men immediately stood up. Old He and Old Mo exchanged glances, reaching a tacit agreement—they too wished to see just how skilled Ning Kang truly was.