Ch 9: The Farmer Ger in the Apocalypse

Shen Qing placed the cloth bag of pancakes, his water pouch, and the rope for bundling firewood into a small basket. The basket wasn’t large—it could be carried on his back or held in one hand. Normally, he didn’t use it, simply tying the water pouch and bag around his waist. But today, he planned to head to a hawthorn grove where the fruit was ripe, so he intended to pick some to bring home.

After informing Miao Shi, Shen Qing grabbed his hatchet and headed into the mountains. Previously, Miao Shi had suggested buying an axe so that Shen Qing could cut down larger logs and carry them home, allowing her to split them into uniform firewood. This way, they could work more efficiently and perhaps gather three loads of wood a day.

However, Shen Qing refused, mainly because he was concerned about Miao Shi’s health. In his mind, it was already bad enough that he couldn’t earn enough to get her proper medical treatment—how could he let his mother do such physically demanding work? No matter what, he wouldn’t allow it. He only let Miao Shi handle light household chores.

Back when they lived at the Shen household, even though Shen Qing took on the heavy labor, Miao Shi’s days were far from easy. She had to wash clothes for the entire family, cook meals for everyone, and handle all the smaller tasks like washing dishes, cutting grass for the pigs, feeding the pigs and chickens, cooking pig slop, and sweeping the yard. Shen Qing had to work the fields, so he couldn’t always watch over her. From morning to night, she was as busy as a spinning top.

Now, there were only the two of them in the house, along with a few chicks. Since Shen Qing was out working all day and didn’t come home for lunch, Miao Shi suddenly found herself with much more free time, something she wasn’t used to.

She had always been someone who couldn’t sit idle. Since she couldn’t do heavy labor, she gathered some rush grass from the fields and sat on the heated kang bed, weaving mats. In the village, almost everyone—men, women, young, and old—knew how to weave, whether it was mats, baskets, backframes, or even simple covers. It was just a matter of skill.

Miao Shi was of average skill—not exceptionally good, but not bad either. Her work wasn’t fine enough to sell, but it was sturdy and useful for household use.

These mats weren’t just for keeping cool in the summer; they also served as bedding to keep moisture and bugs away from the sleeping area, making it much more comfortable than just using straw. They could also be spread on the ground for drying grains or vegetables, and even used as wind-blocking door curtains.

Winter was approaching, and since they couldn’t afford to buy fabric for proper curtains, they planned to weave extra mats instead.

For Miao Shi, this wasn’t even work—it was practically resting. She had just finished making breakfast, and the kang bed was still warm. With her head lowered, her hands moved swiftly, weaving piece by piece, turning this rented house into a real home.

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Shen Qing followed the slope behind their house into the mountains, walking for half an hour before stopping. By then, he had already left behind the areas where villagers typically gathered firewood or foraged for wild vegetables. The deeper parts of the mountains were rarely visited. When he was younger and often went hungry, he would venture into these depths to gather mushrooms and steal bird eggs. The areas near the village were always picked clean by other children, but the deep forest, where few dared to go, had plenty left.

Shen Qing often roamed the mountains and had long since memorized which areas were safe, where to find good wild fruits, and even discovered a few secret spots for roasting food.

The place he arrived at today was one of those hidden spots. To the southeast stood a towering banyan tree, its roots nestled against the mountain wall. What made this spot truly unique was the presence of a cave in the mountainside, two or three people tall. It was impossible to climb up directly; one had to scale the thick branches of the banyan tree to reach it. The cave’s entrance was concealed by dense shrubs and wildflowers growing from the cracks in the rock. With the banyan tree’s massive canopy covering it, the cave was completely hidden unless someone looked closely.

Shen Qing had discovered this cave by accident. Initially, he had climbed the banyan tree to search for bird nests but ended up stumbling upon the cave. Since then, he had treated it as one of his secret hideouts. In the past, he had roasted food there, and when he found something valuable in the mountains that he couldn’t take home immediately, he would store it in the cave—its high ground kept it safe from small animals.

Shen Qing was agile, so climbing up and down wasn’t difficult for him.

Later, when he started secretly selling firewood and earning money, he used some of his earnings to buy a fire starter, a clay pot, and some salt, which he stored in the cave, making roasted bird eggs even tastier.

Placing his small basket beneath the banyan tree, Shen Qing didn’t rush to chop wood. Instead, he began gathering wild food.

The deep mountains were full of treasures, but few people dared to venture this far, leaving the land covered in wild greens, many of which had grown old and overgrown. After a few autumn rains, the forest floor wasn’t muddy, but the dampness had encouraged clusters of mushrooms and wood ear fungus to sprout along rotting logs and damp tree trunks. A little further ahead stood several hawthorn trees, their branches laden with bright red fruit.

On the eastern slope, a large persimmon tree bore plump, sweet fruit. If he dared to venture even deeper, he could find walnut and chestnut trees—both valuable finds. However, that area occasionally showed signs of wild animals, and even Shen Qing didn’t dare to visit too often.

Before long, his small basket was filled with mushrooms, wood ear fungus, and hawthorn berries. Leaving the basket inside the cave for safekeeping, Shen Qing finally began chopping firewood.

He didn’t just chop down any tree at random. Though this was the deep forest, and no one would stop him, he still felt reluctant to cut down perfectly good trees. Instead, he searched for dead or rotting trees, ones infested with insects, or branches that had grown too far outward and needed trimming. Whenever he took from the forest, he also made a habit of planting cuttings or burying seeds, hoping to replenish what he took.

As he worked, he gradually strayed farther from the banyan tree. Just as he noticed fresh animal tracks and the sound of heavy breathing, he realized he had ventured too far.

Shen Qing tensed, locking eyes with a lone young wild boar not far ahead.

The wild boar also stared at him.

They said that among wild animals, you should fear tigers the most, bears the second, and wild boars the third. Especially in winter, wild boars were known to be particularly aggressive. Fortunately, this one wasn’t fully grown—it looked like an adolescent that had wandered off on its own, possibly to roll in the mud. Its body was still covered in wet sludge.

Even so, Shen Qing knew better than to engage directly. He was even more wary of the possibility that its mother might be nearby.

In just a few heartbeats, he made his decision.

Before the wild boar could charge, he spun around and sprinted toward the banyan tree.

The young boar, either playing or mistaking him for prey, kicked up its hooves and charged after him.

Two legs could never outrun four.

Even though Shen Qing deliberately weaved between trees to slow the wild boar down, he was eventually caught. One of its long tusks scraped past his arm, immediately drawing a trail of blood droplets. He was lucky—if he hadn’t dodged in time and the tusk had pierced his stomach instead, he would have lost his life then and there.

The scent of blood seemed to excite the boar even more, and it let out a long, piercing howl. Thankfully, Shen Qing had already reached the large banyan tree. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he sprinted the last few steps and leaped onto the tree, climbing up swiftly along its thick branches before disappearing into the cave.

Only after making it safely inside did the tension in his mind finally snap. A wave of cold sweat broke out on his back. It was only now, in hindsight, that he truly understood why Tongsheng Miao had called him reckless and why his uncles had been so worried about his decision to become a woodcutter. The forest didn’t seem all that dangerous—until the moment you actually encountered a wild beast.

Peering over a large stone at the cave entrance, Shen Qing looked down and saw the boar still lingering below, agitated by the scent of blood. It refused to leave, letting out loud cries and occasionally ramming its head against the banyan tree he had climbed.

Fortunately, wild boars couldn’t climb trees.

Leaning against the stone, Shen Qing panted heavily. Blood dripped from the wound on his arm. After a long moment of recovery, he sat up with effort and reached for the wild chrysanthemums growing near the cave entrance. He squeezed the milky white sap from the stems and applied it to his wound.

This was an old hunter’s remedy he had learned from Old Man Liu. It worked well for minor cuts and scrapes—the sap from wild chrysanthemums had coagulating properties that helped stop bleeding and speed up healing.

Though the wound looked long and rather gruesome, it wasn’t too deep. Shen Qing picked every wild chrysanthemum he could find at the cave entrance and finally managed to stop the bleeding. Then, he tore off the lower hem of his inner garment and wrapped it tightly around his arm. Normally, he would never have wasted fabric like this—this inner garment was newly made after he and his mother left the Shen family. But the scent of blood could attract more wild beasts, so he had no choice.

Once his wound was bandaged, he looked down and saw that the boar still hadn’t left. This troubled him.

First, he feared that the boar’s loud calls would attract more of its kind—after all, wild boars were pack animals.

Second, he was worried about being trapped in the cave overnight. He could endure it; the cave wasn’t too cold yet, and he had fire starters and dry wood stored inside. But if he didn’t return home by nightfall, Miao Shi would undoubtedly worry. If she only stayed home feeling anxious, that would be fine, but the worst-case scenario was if she came into the mountains looking for him and ended up running into the boar herself. That would be truly dangerous.

Just as he was racking his brain for a way to drive the boar away, something caught his eye—a faint glimmer of light.

Shen Qing turned his head sharply and noticed something strange.

This cave, which he had visited so many times before, was… different.

Originally, the cave was shallow, with a rounded, semi-circular shape. But now, at the far end, a conical passage had appeared—one that hadn’t been there before.

At the very end of this tunnel, there was a small opening, and from it, a faint light seemed to flicker.

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