Chapter 7

Old Man Jiang wandered around the village like this, occasionally talking to people about living on the mountain behind the village. His appearances were irregular; sometimes he would be in the village every day for a month, and sometimes he would disappear for one or two months.

People believed he lived on the mountain. He had been in this area for five years, and people had come to know him somewhat. They found that Old Man Jiang never lied. If he didn't want to talk about something, he would just laugh it off and wouldn't make up stories.

Moreover, most of the villagers considered him a pitiful old wanderer who had stayed in the village because it was relatively prosperous and the people were kind. This, in fact, was one of the reasons.

After finishing a cigarette, the sky became a bit brighter. My father got up, rolled up his trouser legs to his socks, and continued on his way. The mountain paths were difficult to navigate, and many places had no paths at all. My father slowly made his way, and before he knew it, three or four hours had passed, and he hadn't even caught a glimpse of Old Man Jiang.

But it was a rare sunny day in winter, and the warm sunlight kept my father's mood relatively cheerful. He didn't complain too much, only thinking that he would find a clean spot, eat some dry rations, and continue searching in the afternoon, aiming to return before dinner.

"If I don't find him today, I'll keep looking tomorrow. I'll find him eventually. Maybe I'll get lucky and run into him in the village." My father took a sip of mountain spring water and muttered to himself. There were no other people around, and talking to himself helped pass the time.

The mountain spring water was refreshing, and this big gulp really quenched his thirst and fatigue. Thinking that this was a nice spot, my father decided to eat his dry rations here. But just as he sat down and took out his steamed bun, he heard a tuneless mountain song, accompanied by a hoarse voice, which almost ruined his appetite.

But my father was delighted. He knew this tune all too well. Who else could it be but Old Man Jiang? He often sang tuneless mountain songs in the village, and the villagers had heard his hoarse voice so many times that it was impossible not to recognize him.

"Old Man Jiang, Old Man Jiang..." My father shouted at the top of his lungs. The mountains were vast and the paths winding, so he could only hear the voice but not see the person.

After shouting a few times, he indeed heard a strong voice from the path behind him: "Hey, who's calling me?"

"Old Man Jiang, over here, over here..." My father shouted happily, jumping up and down as if he had met a long-lost relative.

Following my father's voice, Old Man Jiang soon emerged from the path behind. Who knew where he had been wandering on the mountain, but he happened to meet my father.

He still looked dirty and a bit sleazy, far from the image of a wise man that the villagers imagined. In their view, a wise man should have a good appearance, like a sage with a noble demeanor or a hermit with a mysterious aura.

But none of these descriptions applied to Old Man Jiang.

But my father, who was already desperate, didn't care about these things. Even if a widow told him a pig was a wise man, he would have believed it.

"Old Man Jiang..." As soon as my father saw Old Man Jiang, he ran over and, standing in front of him, changed his call to: "Master Jiang..."

Old Man Jiang didn't seem surprised at all. He didn't ask what my father wanted and just enjoyed my father's respectful attitude. After my father smiled and called him, Old Man Jiang raised one hand and said, "Give me the steamed bun. Is there any pickled vegetables?"

As soon as he raised his hand, my father was startled. What was this? A 'rope' almost hit his face. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a soft, green bamboo snake that Old Man Jiang was holding.

Sichuan has many bamboo trees, and the bamboo snake is a common venomous snake. Despite its commonality, it is highly toxic, and there are many legends about it among the mountain people.

This Old Man Jiang... My father was speechless. He could even bring out hibernating snakes, and specifically venomous ones. He was truly skilled. Thinking about Old Man Jiang's usual nature, my father didn't doubt that the bamboo snake was for eating.

Despite his thoughts, my father respectfully handed over the steamed bun and explained, "I didn't add pickled vegetables because they might go bad. Master Jiang, please bear with it."

Old Man Jiang didn't hesitate. He plopped down on the ground, threw the bamboo snake, which was probably already boneless, on the ground, and started eating the steamed bun.

My father was puzzled why he didn't use his other hand, which had touched the snake, but then he noticed that Old Man Jiang was holding a wild chicken in his other hand.

At that time, there were still many wild chickens and rabbits in the mountains, and even foxes and monkeys could be seen. But after the three years of famine, they had disappeared. The fact that Old Man Jiang could still catch wild chickens showed his skill.

Thinking about this, my father smiled at Old Man Jiang, who was now eating the steamed bun without any dignity, seeing him as a living sage.

After finishing the steamed bun, Old Man Jiang clapped his hands, scratched his beard, and started drinking mountain spring water. After a burp, my father quickly handed him another steamed bun.

Old Man Jiang didn't hesitate, grabbed it, and started eating. Finally, after finishing the steamed bun, he patted his stomach, stood up, and said, "It would have been better with pickled vegetables. Sichuan pickled vegetables are crisp, sour, and slightly spicy, and they are delicious."

"Why don't you come to my house and eat as much as you want?" My father, who was worried about how to approach Old Man Jiang, quickly said, hoping to trick him into coming to our house.

"Pickled vegetables? You want me to help you and just give me pickled vegetables? You wish!" Old Man Jiang looked disdainful, grabbed the bamboo snake from the ground, and added the wild chicken to my father's hands.

My father, hearing Old Man Jiang's words, was like meeting a god. He was so stunned that he subconsciously took the things Old Man Jiang handed him.

"The taste of venomous snakes is the best. Stew it with the wild chicken. Remember to use a low heat and stew it for a long time. Also, bring out all your best dishes and homemade wine. I'll come to your house for lunch tomorrow. I'm off!" With that, Old Man Jiang turned and left.

My father was left standing there, dumbfounded.

My father returned home in the afternoon.

As soon as my mother opened the door, my father rushed into the house, ignoring her surprised look, threw the wild chicken and bamboo snake on the ground, and dragged my mother into the house.

"Old Chen, what have you been doing? Hunting in the mountains? Why don't you do your job properly?" My mother, seeing the things my father had thrown in the yard, was furious and started scolding him.

My father was both anxious and unable to explain, so he forcefully pulled my mother into the house and closed the door before saying, "What hunting? Do you think I have the skills? Do you think I would neglect our son's affairs and go hunting?"

My father's rapid-fire questions left my mother confused. Yes, my father wasn't usually so unreliable.

"First, get me a glass of water. I'll tell you everything. This time, I really met a wise man!"

An hour later.

First, my father went out with a load of grain.

Then, my mother quickly processed the chicken and snake in the yard.

In those days, it wasn't unusual for rural people to eat snakes, and my mother knew exactly how to handle venomous snakes.

Two hours later, the bamboo snake and wild chicken were cleaned and neatly placed in two basins, covered with plastic bags, and tied up.

My mother then placed the two basins in a wooden basin, went to the well in the backyard, tied the basin to the well rope, and lowered it to about 10 centimeters above the water surface.

Finally, my mother moved a large stone to cover the well, ensuring there were no gaps.

The well was our natural refrigerator, and my parents always believed that things stored in the well were the freshest. Since the wise man was coming for dinner the next day, my mother didn't want to be negligent.

After finishing this, my mother took a basket and went to the bamboo forest on the back slope. Winter bamboo shoots were excellent, and she wanted to get some.

As soon as my mother finished picking the bamboo shoots, she saw my father returning and asked urgently, "Did you get the meat?"

In the countryside, there were no meat tickets, and any leftover pork was made into cured meat. Fresh meat had to be exchanged for grain, and it was unacceptable to entertain guests without meat.

But even so, getting meat was not easy.

My father had rushed to town and back, and despite the cold, he was sweating. He said happily, "I got it. Over a pound of meat, and it went smoothly."

"Ah, a whole load of grain for just this much meat..." My mother was deeply pained.

"Alright, for our son, this grain is nothing. If he comes to our house for a good meal, it's worth it." My father was elated, and Old Man Jiang's words about helping him convinced him that he had met a true wise man.

This was not all. My father then went to the river, determined to do his best for the next day.

By evening, my father had brought back two fresh river fish and was about to go out again.

"Old Chen, you haven't eaten, and now you're going where?" My mother, taking the fish and putting them in the water tank, asked in confusion as my father was about to leave again.

"To get some eels. You know my stir-fried eel is excellent. I want Master Jiang... Master Jiang to be satisfied." My father was in a highly excited state.

"It's winter, not summer. Where are you going to get eels?" My mother was almost laughing and crying.

"Who says you can't get eels in winter? They hide in the mud at the bottom of the river, but I can find them. Trust me." My father was full of confidence.