Lu Liu had already talked with his brothers: when going on a long trip, there was no need to bring too many clothes. On the road, they barely changed; once in the prefecture and settled, they could wash and change.
For deliveries, they dressed a bit more presentably. Shoes and socks needed to be new, so they didn’t smell.
For travel, straw sandals were best—dusty roads and muddy patches made cloth shoes impractical, and they’d get sweaty feet anyway.
Aside from clothes and footwear, they packed some basic medicine for headaches and fevers.
Since they often hunted, they carried convenient tools and weapons, just in case of bandits. Unlike scholars, who were rarely robbed, merchants were prime targets.
They also carried food and, if possible, a small pot.
Lu Yang rarely lectured on these matters—hunters who spent much time in the mountains knew exactly what to take for food and drink.
Chen Jiu frowned slightly when he heard they would bring weapons but said nothing.
On May 14, Li Feng delivered a batch of game to the county, preparing for the next day’s “wild game” event.
On May 15, Wang Meng, San Miao, and the others came down the mountain. Half a month later than expected, they returned with a big harvest.
The deep mountain hunting grounds were full of game they hadn’t seen in years; even small animals had grown. They entered and stumbled straight into a hunting scene: a pack of wolves hunting two deer, one large, one small.
The human scent on them attracted two wolves. Four men and three hunting dogs confronted the wolves and drove them off. They decided to process the large deer first.
Wolves were pack animals—wounding one could summon the rest. Hunting rules forbade killing fawns, so they let the smaller deer go.
In the deep mountains, game had to be processed and moved quickly to avoid attracting larger predators. They took some deer meat for their safehouse, ate some, and had around eighty jin left to sell. Deer hides and tendons were valuable.
They also got one wolf—difficult to hunt, but its pelt fetched a good price.
With these two prizes, the trip was worthwhile. Meat perishable, so the deer was salted and air-dried. The wolf had chased them down the mountain; it was fresh game.
They quickly delivered the goods to the county. May 15, wild game day, brought these items to Lu Yang’s shop, earning fame in the county.
The locals didn’t eat wolf meat, but having a wolf was enough to show prestige. Deer meat was prized—something ordinary people couldn’t access.
Lu Yang remembered flattering Magistrate Zhang. They didn’t know how to process wolf meat, but wolf pelts were valuable. He sent the entire wolf, meat and pelt, to Zhang, along with five jin of deer meat, hoping for reciprocal favor—books for his son, the top scholar.
He asked about the deer tendons; Wang Meng said, “Da Feng kept them; he said they’d be useful.” Lu Yang didn’t mind.
Back home, Li Feng hosted a banquet, discussing hunting grounds and the mushroom business.
He had already explained the hunting arrangements to Lu Liu. Li Feng would take the brothers back to the deep mountain hunting grounds, assigning Wang Meng as lead to coordinate with Da Qiang, forming a team.
All the mushroom business details had been confirmed with Lu Yang; everything discussed today was final. Those who wanted to work could, those who didn’t weren’t forced.
They all grew up in the mountains and knew mushroom seasons.
At the table, conversation revealed they could hunt in the first half of the year, collect mushrooms in the second, without conflict. Li Feng could remain leader.
Wang Meng said, “No difference then.” San Miao agreed.
They had been together for years; sudden changes felt odd.
Er Jun and Si Hou asked, “You won’t stay in the village anymore?”
Li Feng nodded. “The village is too far from the county. We’ll need a warehouse there. Deliveries to the prefecture will go from the county—convenient. I won’t be in the village often. Hunting grounds are still yours; if I want to go, I’ll join you.”
The hunting grounds had been forged together; he just couldn’t lead all the time. They agreed.
Li Feng left them a fallback plan. “This trip to the prefecture is just helping me. Don’t rush to join. The profits from this batch might only be four or five taels of silver. After dividends, decide if you want in.”
Wang Meng had no objections and was first to pledge support. He poured a bowl of wine to Li Feng.
“I’m definitely joining you. We’ve been brothers for years, rolled in the same blood and mud. We made it into the deep mountains eight years ago; eight years later, we can make it to the prefecture. Let’s do it!” He drank it all.
San Miao also pledged.
His hunting ground bordered dense forest. His family couldn’t accompany him every trip. He first joined Li Feng at fourteen, almost entirely guided by Li Feng and Wang Meng.
Over the years, no one had suffered losses or serious injuries. Mushroom business was just another way to earn; if it failed, there was always hunting.
Er Jun and Si Hou, joining later, were chosen by Li Feng for deep mountain hunts. After years of teamwork, the five were close.
They said, “With things laid out like this, we face no risk. Nothing we can’t do.”
All five filled their cups and toasted: “Let’s do it!”
The five men ate in the small shop; the five husbands ate in the main hall. Chen Guizhi and Shun-ge’er were present.
Chen Jiu helped cook and arrived later. Apart from Lu Liu’s family, others glanced at him more than once. He grew impatient: “Eat already, your food.”
Miao Xiaohe said, “We’ve eaten, it’s delicious. Brother Jiu, you really have skill!”
Chen Jiu didn’t think much of it—his family spoiled him. He hadn’t done heavy work, and this little kitchen task was easy.
Lu Liu saved him a seat beside him. He preferred sitting next to Lu Liu rather than being distant from everyone else.
Chen Guizhi surveyed the table: “Still a bit rushed; a cold dish would be good.”
Er Jun’s husband laughed: “Ah, I didn’t think ahead. Should have brought a few salted duck eggs to round out the dishes!”
Lu Liu perked up at “salted duck eggs.” Ducks, eggs—something familiar.
He looked at Er Jun’s husband, recalling the day he collected eggs. Li Feng had gone to speak with someone then.
Lu Liu blinked, as if understanding something: that egg had probably been something Da Feng wanted him to pick up, which was why he had.
He listened to the laughter from the small shop, peeking through the window, smiling.
People say being together too long can breed boredom, exaggerate flaws, and make life’s mundane struggles irritating.
But with Li Feng, Lu Liu only grew fonder. This rough, masculine man had an inexplicable attentiveness. Li Feng always did more than he said.
Together, they didn’t exchange many sweet words. The conversations were repetitive, playful, but Li Feng never forgot the small things about him.
Lu Liu took a bite, glanced past the people at the table, and glimpsed the newly laid stone path in the courtyard—ordinary, yet solid and steady beneath his feet.
