Chapter 1

I was born in the 1960s, burdened with eighteen calamities, a man who should have long ceased to exist in this world...

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I was a child who could have died at birth. Back then, I didn't even have a proper name. People said that when I was born, the midwife from the neighboring village lifted me high and, with a voice that could scare anyone, shouted, "Hey, it's a boy! Oh my, look at these balls, they're so big, I've never seen such big ones in my life!"

This midwife, surnamed Wang, was the "child-giving goddess" for over a dozen villages and natural groups in Malishan. For decades, except for those who could afford to go to the town or county hospital, most children were delivered by her rough hands. Her words set the stage for my nickname, "Chen Erdan." In those days, hygiene was poor, and children often died young. Therefore, when naming their children, villagers preferred humble and poor-sounding names, thinking that the less human-like the name, the better, to avoid attracting the attention of spirits and ghosts, who might envy and take the child away.

Long Genzi, Luo Diao, Wang Gouzi... Listen, the villagers' horizons were generally limited, and their knowledge was often just this shallow. In comparison, my name, Chen Erdan, was actually quite refined, right?

I was different from others from the moment I was born. In the village, other children would cry loudly when they were born, their joyful cries bringing good fortune. But I didn't make a sound, my dark eyes rolling curiously as I observed the world. The experienced midwife, Wang, was a bit frightened by my appearance. She pinched my buttocks with her nails, but I didn't make a sound. So she said, "This child, could he be here to collect a debt?"

Speaking of collecting debts, this actually refers to a story that has been passed down in Malishan for a long time. It's about a family in Tianjiaba who was ruined by their own son during the Republic of China era. When the county executed the son, he suddenly said that he was the family's enemy from a past life, reincarnated to collect a debt.

The mountains were isolated, but legends of mountain spirits and wild creatures were countless. Every old man in the village could tell you a basket full of ghost stories. That family had long since died out, and no one knew if the story was true, but it was passed down. However, according to my father, Dr. Chen Zhili, a barefoot doctor in Longjialing, a newborn's first cry is a sign of a strong constitution. If a child doesn't cry, it means they are very weak.

But later, the villagers said that before my mother gave birth, a strong wind suddenly blew through Longjialing. The sky turned black in the middle of the day, as if it were night, and the whole world became pitch dark. Dogs barked and cows mooed, and the villagers, thinking it was a solar eclipse, grabbed pots and bowls to bang loudly. But when I was born without a sound, the black wind disappeared as if it had never been there. Afterward, the villagers, combining this with my lack of crying, spread rumors that the child of the Chen family was evil.

The villagers also said that my mother fell seriously ill after giving birth to me. Although she eventually recovered, some still believed I was inauspicious, a debt-collecting ghost. The mountain people were superstitious, and even now, I can remember being pointed at and whispered about by the village elders during my childhood.

Of course, these are things I heard from my parents later on, and the memories are not very clear. However, I was particularly mischievous as a child and had little self-respect. Children love to play and misbehave, and although adults would scold us, they wouldn't go too far, especially since my father was a barefoot doctor in the mountains. In the early 1970s, when the roads were not well-connected, people from the surrounding areas would come to him for medical treatment.

I was born with a calamity, known only to my parents, but the calamity I encountered at the age of eight is still vivid in my memory.

As the saying goes, boys at seven or eight are even dogs find them annoying. At that time, there was a wave of change, and although the impact in the mountains was not significant, schools were closed. I was in second grade and had no ambition. With nothing to do, I would run around the mountains with a few friends. One of my childhood friends was named Luo Diao. His father was a hunter, and before the gun ban, they had an old hunting rifle from the liberation era, loaded with gunpowder and iron sand. When fired, it made a loud bang and could take down anything.

Luo Diao's father was known as "Chasing Mountain Dog," wearing a headscarf and a waistband, with a gun on his back, he was the idol of all the children. I was very envious and pestered Luo Diao several times. Finally, he found an opportunity to steal his father's gun and took me and Long Genzi into the mountains.

Malishan is located at the intersection of Hunan, Guizhou, and Sichuan provinces, near the Tujia and Miao Autonomous Prefecture of western Hunan, already within the range of the Ten Thousand Mountains. It was full of deep forests, and many places were undeveloped and rarely visited by humans, teeming with wild animals and even fierce beasts. It was very dangerous, but being at the age where even dogs find you annoying, we didn't worry much. The three of us, carrying one gun and two machetes, excitedly roamed around.

We left Longjialing, passed Tianjiaba, and then the Snail Forest, and entered the deep mountains. Children are energetic, and once we entered the mountains, we ran around without boundaries. It was summer, and the mountains were full of wild fruits like mountain apricots, wild peaches, and snake thorns, all delicious. But what I cared about most was the gun on Luo Diao's back, my eyes fixed on the iron barrel.

"Diao, can I fire it once?" I and Long Genzi kept pestering him, but Luo Diao refused. His father was a hunter, and he knew how to load and fire the gun, but he was reluctant to waste ammunition. He said one shot should bring one piece of meat, otherwise, it would be a loss, and he wouldn't let us play with it.

We don't know how long we walked, but we eventually came to a mountain bend with a small stream. Long Genzi pointed to a patch of grass ahead and said, "Hey, Diao, Diao, there's something there, it looks like a fox den."

Hearing Long Genzi's whisper, we crouched down and squinted to look. Indeed, in the green grass, there was a tuft of white fur, and suddenly, a small fox's head, white and fluffy, with black, glass-like eyes, appeared. It was beautiful. Mountain hunters were wary of foxes, believing they could communicate with spirits and generally avoided them. But we were just kids and didn't understand this. Luo Diao, while loading the iron sand, aimed at the little fox.

Mountain children may look rough, but they are quick-witted. Luo Diao, at nine years old, had already helped his father hunt many rabbits. This time, he might be able to catch a fox.

Luo Diao was loading the gun, and I was watching. But for some reason, looking at the little fox's small, delicate face, I felt it was almost human. When Luo Diao finished loading the gun, the little fox seemed to sense something and turned its head to look at us.

Looking into the little fox's black, clear eyes, I suddenly felt that it was wrong to aim at it. So I instinctively pushed Luo Diao and shouted, "Don't shoot, don't shoot."

Luo Diao was aiming, and when I pushed him, he accidentally pulled the trigger. The loud bang scared us all, and we wet our pants.

I and Long Genzi heard the gunshot, and Luo Diao was scared by the misfired gun. When we came to our senses, the little fox was already gone.

Because of that, Luo Diao and I had a fight, but after the fight, we made up. We checked our crotches, all wet with urine. The hunt was over, and the weather was hot, so we went to the stream to bathe.

Who knew that this time, I almost died.