Chapter 101: Niu Qiang is so strong!!

On that night, Ming Dai not only made braised roe-deer, but she also rigged a fire in the yard and grilled more meat. Zhou Sinian worked at her side, all joy and excitement.

The freshly marinated deer meat was strung on wires and hung on the rack. Zhou Sinian turned the skewer tray while Ming Dai brushed honey over the strips; their movements were in perfect rhythm.
The sweet scent of honey mixed with the rich aroma of roasted flesh drifted through the air. Even the foolish does grazing in the field came near, stretching their necks and staring in curiosity. Neither of them had the slightest idea that Zhou Sinian was already planning to choose another lucky one next.

Ming Dai had Zhou Sinian take the cooked slices down and put on fresh ones, and then they ate and grilled in turns. In the charcoal brazier a hot pot of mushroom broth bubbled steadily.
Each thin pink slice was dropped in for a few seconds and curled right up. In the bowls, each piece was drenched in sauce, and Zhou Sinian, thoroughly pleased, kept calling out that it was delicious.

“Mei, this is great!”

He pointed at the hot pot, his eyes bright, meaning he wanted it again next time.

Ming Dai liked it too. She blanched fresh sweet-potato vines, then bit into them with a crisp snap. “When you get better, we’ll have a spicy hot pot. The sliced-meat style is much better that way. I wanted to have hot-pot beef, but there’s no beef in the warehouse.”

“Beef?” Zhou Sinian tilted his head. “I think I’ve seen some.”

She flipped the skewers. “Probably in that village before. Cattle are usually for plowing around here.”

He shook his head. “I saw them in the mountains.”

Ming Dai paused in mid-motion. “In the mountains? Impossible. There are no wild cattle in Black Province.”

After a moment, he said, “I ran up there before. Wild boars were coming to eat them, so I penned them up.”

“Aren’t you joking?” she said in surprise. “What did you mean—‘penned them up’? How many were there?”

With his chin raised in pride, he replied, “I penned them, the same as we keep things at home, so the boars can’t bite them. There are two. They were hauled up by a big cart, but it tipped over and they wandered into the mountain. Not this one—the other hill before.”

“Many people went searching, but they were too clumsy and couldn’t find anything. I found them later.” He paused, smiling. “The old man brought me here, and I brought them all over to this side of the mountain.”

Ming Dai stood still, astonished. “If you penned them, wouldn’t they have starved?”

Zhou Sinian chewed happily on a piece of roasted meat, glossy with fat and sweet. “No. I checked. They’re alive. I put lots of grass there, enough for them.”

“When did you check? Why didn’t you tell me?”

He gave her a sidelong glance. “You know nothing when you’re asleep. I went at night.”

Ming Dai swallowed. “You still remember where, up there?”

He nodded with a faintly defiant air. “Of course. I know every place I hid them.”

“You hid other things too?”

“Damn it!” he snapped, offended. “Those guys keep stealing from me, so I hide things.”

Ming Dai, who had not yet fully adjusted to him suddenly talking so much, was completely thrown off by his revelation. So startled that she didn’t even notice her grilled meat had burned.

At one point Zhou Sinian brought another slice over. He glanced at it with regret, didn’t dare throw it away, and shoved it into his mouth where he chewed twice and swallowed.

“Zhou Sinian,” Ming Dai said softly, “let’s go see the cattle tomorrow?”

“All right,” he said.

To him, Ming Dai was no outsider. He was happy to share—he had simply forgotten to tell her before. Reassured, she began to look forward to tomorrow.

At first light the next morning, before the sky had brightened, Ming Dai woke Zhou Sinian. She was almost too excited.

He got up without complaint, washed quickly, and ate a few warm red-bean buns she made. Then they slipped out of the space, avoided the housefolk, and ran up the mountain.

At the foot of the mountain they checked that no one was around. Ming Dai brought out a pair of non-slip rain boots and made him change into them. At her request, Zhou Sinian carried her as they climbed toward Wild Boar Ridge. Snow was deep up there; he labored through it and had to watch for hidden pits in the drifts. After a few falls, they reached a cliff wall.

Ming Dai stared at the bare rock face and thick snow and asked, “There’s nothing here.”

He didn’t answer. He bent and snapped off a branch, sweeping away the packed snow. Slowly, a cluster of stones emerged.

She watched him move the stones away one by one, and a cave opened.

Ming Dai looked at the large boulders and then at Zhou Sinian at her side. “This is where you penned them?”

“Yeah.”

Inside, her heart sank. She handed him a torch, one of the beams of light cutting into the blackness as they went deeper.

The deeper they went, the stranger it felt. This place did not seem like a naturally formed cave. As the irregular roof and scattered rubble gave way to a high ceiling, she saw wall surfaces smeared with cement. It was unmistakably man-dug.

A chill of worry rose in her chest. In these deep mountains, only two kinds of people could carve out such a cave. She feared they might have found one of the rough lot who had poorly made their lives.

Zhou Sinian seemed to know every turn and guided her forward. The rooms inside confirmed her suspicion—though now they were stripped bare, only broken tables and lopsided chairs remained.

A few minutes later, Ming Dai caught a heavy odor, and on the floor lay dry, clumped manure.

Her unease deepened.

After two turns, Zhou Sinian led her into a chamber. In the corner against the wall lay two massive, gaunt rib-cattle, all hide and bones.

Ming Dai let out a bitter smile. “So they really are rib-cattle.”
Each bone was clearly visible beneath their skins, the ribs lined up in plain sight.
Piles of dry dung lay on the floor, with old traces of hay beside them—grass Zhou Sinian had left before, now almost entirely gone.

“When was the last time you fed them?” she asked.

“Last time?” he repeated.

She sighed. “Was it before we built the reservoir, or after?”

He thought for a while. “Before the reservoir. After the snow came, I never came up there again. I thought they didn’t need to eat when it was snowing. Then I forgot.”

His answer was confident; there was little room to argue.

Ming Dai looked at him, then at the cattle on the floor. “Well… at least you and yours have terrible luck.”

He seemed annoyed by the creatures lying in their dung mound and even kicked one. “Wake up.”

“Don’t kick them—they’re dead!” she snapped, grabbing his sleeve.

“No, no, they’re not dead. Look.”

He parted one cow’s eyelid and shone his torch.

Ming Dai leaned in. Though the eyes rolled white, the pupils still reacted to the light. She started, staring. “They’re not dead? You’re serious?”

Stubborn things, those cattle.

She checked the other one quickly; it too had a response. She immediately transferred both beasts back into the space.

Zhou Sinian followed. Seeing the skeleton-thin bodies on the ground, he asked anxiously, “Ming Dai, the meat’s gone now. Are the bones any good to eat?”

She was already riffling through a veterinary manual in her mind. “Bones aren’t edible. I’ll try and save them.”

She chose a formula, then rushed to the warehouse to prepare medicine at speed.

Zhou Sinian stood still in the cave, brows knotted, staring at the two sets of frames. He grabbed some hay and stubbornly pried open one mouth, forcing it in until the poor animal nearly choked, its white eye whites rolling wildly.

Ming Dai came out with the medicine and caught him just in time. “For heaven’s sake, don’t make trouble!”

She looked ashamed and dropped the hay. She set a funnel into the cow’s mouth and asked Zhou Sinian to hold its head still. Then she lifted the basin and poured in nutrition solution.

The poor rib-cattle could not swallow on their own. Ming Dai grew frantic. It was only after Zhou Sinian pressed on the neck that it finally triggered a swallowing motion.

When both were fed, they had enough strength to open their eyes on their own. Their dry pupils stared blankly, dull and vacant, as if they were still hovering at death’s edge.

Ming Dai then gave each a dose of milk in the same way. This time they swallowed on their own, though slowly. The two of them were drenched in sweat by the time they finished.

There was nothing more they could do. All that remained was the animals’ luck.

Ming Dai led Zhou Sinian back out and continued to probe the cave.