Going hunting in the mountains at midnight sounded like a risky thing to do. But there's nothing they could do—only seven days were left, and to earn 200 yuan, you couldn't afford to slack off even a little.
Having returned to his youth, Chen Yang was agile and energetic. Walking along the path in the back mountain, he moved swiftly, leaving only a lithe and handsome figure in the forest.
More than an hour later, Chen Yang entered the woods behind the mountain. Because it was night, he did not choose to go deep into the mountains—wandering around the perimeter could help him avoid encountering large wild animals. Although it was only the outer edge of the back mountain, many wild animals still frequently active there. Pheasants and roe deer liked to come out to forage at night. Shooting a few pheasants with a slingshot shouldn't be too difficult. If he was lucky enough to run into a civet cat, then he had struck gold.
This thing was a treasure trove: meat could be eaten, fur could be used to make clothing, and even fat could be refined into high-end cosmetics. But it was extremely cunning and appeared frequently at night. With the slingshot Chen Yang currently had, it would be difficult for him to hit the civet cat. If he had a shotgun, he might give it a try.
However, on the other hand, Chen Yang was lucky—the moon was very bright tonight, and the hill behind was brightly lit by the moonlight. This allowed him to see many things clearly. For example, in the bushes not far away, several wings were flapping, accompanied by a clear "cooing" sound. Chen Yang, having grown up in the mountains, had a keen ear and recognized the sound as coming from a ring-necked pheasant—to put it simply, a pheasant. They were not very big, with only about two pounds of meat per animal. But in those days, two pounds of meat was enough for an average family to eat for a year.
Chen Yang remembered it very clearly: this year during the Spring Festival, his father had bought two ounces of pork belly from the supply and marketing cooperative. His mom had shaved off the lean meat, mixed it with chives and cabbage, and made a pot of dumplings. Once you peeled the dumpling open, you'd see a bright green color with only a few bits of meat scattered about—you couldn't really taste it unless you're really looking closely. There was still an ounce or two of fatty meat left, which they couldn't bear to eat, so they rendered it into lard and cracklings. When they craved meat, they would boil a pot of vegetable stalk soup, sprinkle a few bits of pork cracklings on top, and that's how they got to enjoy meat soup. This is why, at the end of that year, if you wanted someone to do something for you, all you had to do was bring two ounces of meat, and the matter would most likely be settled—because everyone had a craving for food in their stomach.
Chen Yang sighed that he was really lucky, as he had encountered a pheasant as soon as he arrived. And judging from the noise, there was more than one. Unfortunately, he only had one slingshot—he shot one, but the others would immediately fly away, so he couldn't catch them all. The key was that he couldn't afford to make a mistake. Wild animals are all intelligent and very cunning—at the slightest sound, they'll disappear in the blink of an eye.
So, knowing that there were pheasants in the bushes, Chen Yang calmed down. He crouched low and tiptoed to a spot ten meters away from the bushes, not daring to make a sound, much less to rashly use his slingshot to shoot. Because those pheasants were hiding in the bushes, where the branches provided protection—even if he shot with great accuracy, if his slingshot wasn't powerful enough, the pebbles would easily lose their force when hit by bushes. At that time, hitting the pheasant would be like tickling it.
So, Chen Yang had to think of a way to lure the pheasants out of the bushes. He squatted down and observed for a while, then noticed a grove of Elaeagnus angustifolia on his left. This tree can produce a wild fruit called "goat milk fruit," which is common in the southwestern mountainous areas and can be used medicinally. Pheasants love to eat this fruit—however, the fruit is large and has a hard skin, so pheasants generally won't touch it. There are exceptions, though: by September, the fruit is completely rotten, and its rich, fragrant juice bursts out, attracting pheasants. These wild birds use their sharp beaks to peck at the juice and eat it.
Chen Yang crouched down and tiptoed to the edge of the grove. He picked a few goat milk fruits, pinched them with his fingernails, and found that the skin was still hard and tough—without a bit of skill, it's really hard to break it. There was plenty of other food in the mountains, so pheasants wouldn't bother trying to get their hands on this fruit.
Chen Yang, however, had an idea. He walked back to his original spot, bit down on the skin of the goat's milk fruit with his teeth, and pulled hard, causing the rich juice to burst out instantly. He did this not to eat the fruit—he bit open the skin of several fruits one by one, then aimed at the clearing outside the bushes and threw them there. Then came the patience of waiting.
Soon, the rich, fragrant juice was carried by the mountain breeze into the bushes. From within, several high-pitched "coo-coo-coo" sounds followed, then silence. Chen Yang held his breath instantly, staring intently at the bushes.
After a while, a head the size of a walnut peeked out from the bushes, looking around furtively. Hunting requires not only excellent skills but also a great deal of patience. Chen Yang knew the pheasant was observing its surroundings—he lay hidden in the darkness, motionless, watching the pheasant that had poked its head out.
The aroma of the goat's milk fruit was truly enticing. After observing for a while and feeling that the surroundings were safe, the pheasant cooed a few more times, then emerged from the bushes, stretching and retracting its neck as it slowly walked towards the fruit. Then, two more pheasants emerged from the bushes.
Chen Yang's pupils widened instantly. He raised his slingshot, pulled hard, and aimed at the fattest pheasant in the lead.
Whoosh!
The pebble shot out, cutting through the night air, and struck the pheasant precisely on the neck.
"Giggle—"
Startled, the wild bird leaped up and frantically flapped its wings in mid-air. The two pheasants behind were so frightened that they flew away in a flash. The poor leader was stunned by the stone—after landing on the spot, it staggered and its legs were weak, so it could only frantically flap its wings.
To be on the safe side, Chen Yang drew his slingshot back to its full extent and fired several more pebbles at the pheasant. They shot the chicken feathers so hard they flew everywhere, and the pheasant stopped flapping its wings.
He quickly ran over, grabbed the pheasant's soft neck, and lifted it up. The pheasant was motionless, but it was probably not dead—after all, the slingshot in Chen Yang's hand wasn't the kind of powerful bow that could kill people. To prevent the pheasant from waking up and struggling halfway back, Chen Yang casually reached out and pulled at the branches of the bushes, intending to tie the pheasant's wings and claws.
Rustle.
The branches and leaves swayed constantly. Chen Yang pulled up a very long branch, and when he reached the end, he touched it and found it covered in a slippery liquid—it stuck to his hands and had a fishy smell.
Chen Yang's heart skipped a beat. He was already a little puzzled as to what the pheasants were doing hiding in the bushes, flapping their wings and clucking. At first, he had thought it was two pheasants breeding—but just now, three pheasants had clearly run out of the bushes.
Chen Yang understood instantly: there must be something in the bushes that had attracted the few pheasants!