Wang Shitou nodded, slowly lowered his head, and said in a hushed, somewhat sad voice,
"I came back late today, so Aunt and Uncle definitely didn't save any bran cakes for me."
"Alas, poor child."
Wang Youcai reached out and gently stroked Wang Shitou's head. "Wait here."
He turned and went back into the house. A moment later, he returned with two coarse flour cakes.
He placed them in Wang Shitou's hands and said, "Here. Eat. Don't go hungry."
"Thank you, Village Chief Grandpa."
Wang Shitou bowed three times before leaving.
He hoisted the bundle of firewood onto his back and ate as he walked toward his aunt and uncle's house.
After finishing one cake, he tucked the other carefully into his bosom. At this point, he had reached the yard.
There were two trees by the gate. Wang Shitou walked to one of them, squatted down, and dug at the roots. Soon, a small hole appeared.
In his tattered cloth bag were wild mountain fruits he had picked. He took out more than half of them, placed them inside the hole, then covered them with soil and patted the dirt smooth.
Only then did he go inside.
Compared to the Village Chief's sturdy wooden door and brick walls, his uncle's house was made only of wooden fencing—walls and door alike.
As soon as Wang Shitou stepped in and turned around to close the fence gate, a stick came down on him.
Crack!
"You useless freeloader! You're back this late? Don't the pigs need feeding? Doesn't the firewood need splitting?"
Crack!
Another strike landed on his back.
A plump woman in coarse cotton clothes swung the stick again and again, cursing as she hit him.
Wang Shitou raised his arms to block.
"Aunt, Aunt! Please stop hitting me! I've brought the firewood back!"
But the woman only cursed louder, calling him a burden, a waste, and a jinx.
"I-I picked mountain fruits for little brother," Wang Shitou shouted desperately. "If you keep hitting me, they'll be crushed!"
At that, she finally stopped. Breathing hard, she said, "Put the firewood away, then feed the pigs. After that, go split more firewood."
"Yes, Aunt. I'll go now," Wang Shitou replied quickly and hurried to obey.
He put away the firewood, then went to feed the pigs.
In the pig slop, he spotted uneaten bran cakes. He quietly picked out two, wiped them clean, and tucked them into his bosom.
They weren't as good as flour cakes, but they could fill his stomach.
Then he went to split firewood.
Before splitting, he peeked into the thatched house.
"Aunt? A-Aunt? Are there any more bran cakes?"
Bang!
A foul-smelling cloth shoe was thrown out, hitting the doorframe.
A man's irritated voice shouted from inside, "Eat, eat, eat—always eating! You come back late and still want food? Get lost!"
Wang Shitou said nothing more. He went back to splitting wood.
As he worked, a small boy in clean clothes walked over, picking his nose.
This was Wang Shitou's cousin, Wang Guzi.
But instead of calling him "brother," the boy wrinkled his nose and said,
"Hey, stinky Shitou, where are the fruits?"
"Here, here."
Wang Shitou hurriedly handed him the cloth bag.
Guzi poured out a few fruits and frowned.
"That's it?"
"I picked almost all the ones left on the mountain…" Wang Shitou said cautiously.
"Then go farther!"
Guzi tossed the bag into Wang Shitou's face, took a bite of fruit, and started to leave.
"Brother…" Wang Shitou removed the bag from his face and called softly.
"What now?" Guzi turned back impatiently.
"Can you… Can you get me a bran cake?"
Pfft!
Guzi spat the fruit pit onto his face.
"If my mother won't give you any, then you don't get any. You think a handful of fruits can buy a cake? Go sleep in your dog hut."
He kicked aside a log and walked away.
Wang Shitou wiped his face silently, then sat back down and continued splitting firewood.
When he finally finished, hunger gnawed at him again.
He took out the cakes hidden in his bosom: one coarse flour cake, and two bran cakes stained with pigslop.
After hesitating, he put the flour cake back.
He wanted to save the better food.
He ate the two bran cakes. The faint warmth in his stomach would help him sleep.
His small "room" was next to the pigsty—barely two meters tall, patched with boards.
It had no door, only a torn curtain.
There was no bed, only a layer of straw.
He lay down, but didn't sleep.
Instead, he dug a spot in the dirt beside him until a wooden box appeared.
Inside were four hard bran cakes and one flour cake—his secret emergency food.
He took them all out, but paused.
Could things be stored in that strange cave?
He decided to test it.
He buried the box again, took just one bran cake, and waited quietly until very late—until he was sure everyone was asleep.
Then, clutching the cake, he thought:
"I want to enter that cave."
Swish.
He vanished from the wooden hut and opened his eyes in the cave.
"It's warm… not cold like outside," he murmured.
He placed the bran cake on a raised stone.
He wanted to sleep here, but he wasn't sure if it was safe yet. After thinking, he returned to the hut.
The next morning, before dawn, he woke up and checked the cave again.
The bran cake was still there.
He let out a breath of relief.
He fetched water—three heavy trips—before Aunt awoke.
She glanced at the full jar and tossed him a cold bran cake.
"Go light the fire."
"Yes, Aunt."
He smiled obediently and went to the stove.
He warmed the bran cake near the fire, though it became dry and hard. It was still better than cold.
After breakfast, he was sent to the mountains again.
He retrieved the fruits he had buried, put them in the bag, and went to a small path outside the village to wait.
Before long, a group of village children approached.
Wang Shitou ran to them.
"Ling-jie! Brother Dali! Brother Tiezhu!"
Wang Jialing, the Village Chief's granddaughter, looked at him first.
"It's you, Wang Shitou."
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