I Overhear Animals' Thoughts to Feed My Family

’He couldn’t even bear to abandon a little tiger cub. He’d rather let his own family go hungry just to raise a tiger. What a selfless spirit!’ The thought made Wei Dongliang feel both angry and guilty, and he fiercely slapped his own thigh.

"This spirit of Comrade Zhao Wendong must be celebrated! We need to organize everyone to study it earnestly. It’s not just your county that needs to learn from him; our entire region must as well!"

"Yes, yes, yes!"

Of course, Jiang Weimin nodded profusely. With a model citizen emerging from his county, he’d gain face and prestige at regional meetings.

After Wei Dongliang and his group left, Zhao Dashan sat dazedly on the kang, as if still in a dream, unable to believe everything that had happened that day.

"Stop staring into space, dear. Where do we put this calligraphy?"

Hearing this, Zhao Dashan looked at Chen Yanmei and Song Xiaoyu, who were still tightly clutching the framed calligraphy.

"You’re asking me? Who am I supposed to ask? I’m not the head of the house. Didn’t you hear what the leader said? We’re supposed to learn from Comrade Zhao Wendong’s spirit. *He’s* the real head of our family now. Let’s wait for him to get back and ask him!"

In the end, the frame was placed on a low cabinet. They were afraid it would fall if stood upright, but laying it flat felt disrespectful. They ended up propping it up and then blocking it with a quilt. But Chen Yanmei was still not satisfied, terrified that the quilt would slip, the frame would topple over, and it would shatter.

Fortunately, it wasn’t long before Zhao Weiguo and the others arrived. After hearing Chen Yanmei’s happy dilemma, he smiled and said the calligraphy could be kept at the team headquarters for now, and they could let Zhao Wendong decide what to do with it when he returned.

The members of the team committee were all red-faced with excitement, their faces nearly cramping from smiling so much.

Just before Commissioner Wei Dongliang left, he had specifically asked about the team’s spring plowing preparations. He even went to see the old well in person, and the accompanying reporter took photos with a CLICK-CLICK sound. Maybe they would even get their picture in the newspaper thanks to this. Now, the team committee members all felt that making Zhao Wendong the Civilian Militia Captain was the best decision they had ever made in their lives.

"Dashan, when do you think Dongzi and the others will be back?"

"Who can say for sure? If they have a good harvest, they’ll be back in a few days. If the harvest is poor, it could take three to five days, maybe even six or seven."

"They can stay in the mountains for that long?"

Zhao Dashan paused for a moment before nodding reservedly.

"Yep. They built a wooden shed in the mountains, so they can hold out for a few more days."

Hearing this, the crowd grew a little anxious. The leaders were waiting back in the county town. If Zhao Wendong and his group didn’t return soon, keeping the leaders waiting like that could turn a good thing into a bad one.

"Should we send someone into the mountains to look for them?"

The moment Zhao the Fourth said it, he knew it was a stupid idea. Sure enough, Third Master Zhao shot him a glare.

"We won’t find Dongzi, and we’ll end up losing a few more men. Stop spouting such nonsense."

Zhao Weiguo finally clapped his hands together.

"It’s fine. If they can’t make it back, they can’t make it back. Even the old master gifted Dongzi a piece of calligraphy. Who would dare say anything against him now?"

"Exactly! No, I have to see that calligraphy again."

"Right, right, right! Bring it out so we can all look at it again."

Zhao Wendong knew nothing of what was happening in the village. He was standing outside the valley with the hot spring, standing guard for Lin Zhiyin while she bathed. It was the same job Zhao Wenwu had done before. Originally, Lin Zhiyin had wanted Jin Xiuying to accompany her. But after giving Zhao Wendong a wink, Jin Xiuying claimed she was going to help Zhao Wenwu with his work. And so, the task ultimately fell to Zhao Wendong.

In the mountains, a frigid wind sent flurries of snow flying everywhere, but it couldn’t disperse the billowing white steam from the hot spring in the hollow. Zhao Wendong hadn’t yet had time to build the wooden screen he’d planned by the spring’s edge. As a result, Lin Zhiyin still had to rely on him to guard the valley entrance. It wasn’t that she was worried about anyone from their own group, but rather the sudden appearance of a wild animal or some stranger.

Lin Zhiyin stood by the hot spring. Amid the steam, she rustled out of her clothes, placing them on a nearby burlap sack. She would occasionally glance nervously at Zhao Wendong’s back, the tips of her ears tinged a faint red.

"Zhao Wendong, you... don’t you peek, okay?"

Her voice was strange, like she was being coquettish, yet also inviting, like fluff landing gently on snow. The moment she said it, her own face flushed red. She quickly clutched a bar of soap and slipped into the hot spring pool. As her perfectly proportioned, delicate body entered the warm water, the sensation of all her pores opening at once made her let out an involuntary moan. The sound startled even herself, and her snow-white skin instantly turned crimson.

"What’s wrong? Why did you make such a strange sound? Are, are you alright?"

"I’m... I’m fine! Just don’t come over here!"

"Don’t worry. I, Zhao Wendong, am a famous gentleman of honor."

Zhao Wendong boasted with his back to the spring, but his tense body betrayed him. He used to envy his second brother’s experience standing guard for Jin Xiuying. Now that it was his turn, however, he realized this job was the ultimate form of torture for a man. To see but not touch was painful enough, but hearing created an even wider space for the imagination. It was just too tempting. Zhao Wendong felt an unbearable itch all over, as if countless ants were crawling on his skin.

The warm, humid steam from the hot spring, mixed with the faint scent of soap from Lin Zhiyin’s body, drifted out from behind him, coiling around the tip of his nose. Then there were the soft splashing sounds from the pool. They were faint, yet every single one landed right in his heart. His feet subconsciously shuffled inward, each step incredibly slow and light, like a tiptoeing thief. Even his palms were starting to sweat.

After two steps, he didn’t dare move again. Zhao Wendong’s head began to turn slowly. A slight movement, a pause. Another slight movement, another pause. He gradually turned sideways like a sloth, then began to deceive himself by pretending to look elsewhere. But the corner of his eye involuntarily darted toward the valley. In a daze, he thought he saw a hazy white figure reflected in the steam. The sight sent a jolt through his entire body. His heart began to pound furiously, threatening to leap out of his chest.

Suddenly, the soft sound of someone emerging from the water came from the valley. Zhao Wendong hastily snapped his head back, freezing in place, too nervous to move. ’Please don’t let her have noticed,’ he chanted inwardly. ’I’d be so ashamed.’ Zhao Wendong, who had been an old bachelor in two lifetimes, now discovered that all those plots he’d read about innkeepers’ wives at hot spring lodges were useless. None of them had a scene like this! He genuinely had no idea what to do now.

"Zhao Wendong, thank you!"

Lin Zhiyin’s low, soft laughter suddenly came from the pool. It mingled with the steam and wafted out, warming Zhao Wendong’s heart. Her words were like magic, allowing him to relax completely. In that moment, even the frigid mountain wind seemed to soften, carrying their shared shyness and budding affection into the withered branches and lingering snow across the mountainside.

"SQUEAK SQUEAK!"

The little White Weasel that Lin Zhiyin had placed by the edge of the hot spring suddenly cried out.

’I want to eat fish.’

Zhao Wendong was startled to hear its thoughts. ’What fish?’

’Where would fish come from?’

He quickly walked over to the White Weasel’s side and looked carefully in the direction it was staring. In the pool of water where the hot spring flowed before draining into an underground river, he could just make out several crucian carp. They were lying nearly motionless in the warm water near the spring’s outlet.

None of them were small. They were plump, their silver-gray scales veiled by a faint sheen of water. With dark backs and pale bellies, they looked like small silver ingots softened by the water. They were half-stuck to the rocks, their pelvic fins resting gently on the stone surface as if glued to the bottom. The cold weather and cool water had made the fish sluggish. Their tail fins would give an occasional twitch, their gills opening and closing at a rhythm so slow it was almost invisible.

The carp were close to each other but not crowded, just lying there, suspended quietly in the water. It was a good thing the White Weasel had spotted them; a person walking by would most likely have missed them. At a glance, they looked more like a few rocks submerged at the bottom.

"Zhao Wendong, what is it?"

Lin Zhiyin heard the commotion and called out.

"It’s nothing. You just keep washing. The White Weasel found some fish. I’m going to see if I can catch a couple to make some crucian carp soup for tonight!"

Zhao Wendong scanned the area but couldn’t find any suitable tools. To be honest, he wasn’t keen on getting into the water. Outside of the hot spring pool itself, the water here was already very cold, and the shock could easily make him sick. It wasn’t worth catching a cold for a few carp. It was a shame he hadn’t brought the skimmer from their camp. Given how sluggish the fish were, he could have just scooped them up with it.

’Maybe I could find a piece of wood, sharpen it, and make a spear?’

As he thought this, Zhao Wendong casually drew the bayonet for his Type 38 rifle from his belt. He stood up, about to look for a suitable stick, when he froze. ’Has my brain gone soft?’ he thought. ’The water isn’t even deep. Can’t I just stab them with the bayonet? The fish are slow anyway.’ Zhao Wendong shook his head with a wry smile. He readied the bayonet to get to work, then slapped himself on the forehead again.

’My brain’s been completely scrambled by thinking about that Hokkaido innkeeper’s wife. The Type 38 rifle’s bayonet is long and narrow, single-edged, with a large blood groove and a thick handguard hook. The whole thing is long and heavy. How could that be better for spearing fish than my own Type 56?’

’Using the Jap’s bayonet to spear fish would be pure torture. It’s too long, so it’d easily get stuck in the mud. It would also tear the fish to shreds. That handguard hook is the biggest nuisance; it could easily snag on something and prevent a second strike. Plus, it’s dead heavy. Holding it up for any length of time would be exhausting.’ With this in mind, Zhao Wendong tossed the Type 38 bayonet aside and slung his own Type 56 carbine off his back.

The jet-black body of the rifle gleamed with oil. Beneath the barrel, the folded bayonet lay flush against the handguard, almost melting into the rifle’s frame if you didn’t look closely. Zhao Wendong raised the rifle, gripping the handguard with his left hand and the stock with his right. He pressed his thumb firmly on the metal latch beneath the barrel.

"CLICK!"

With a crisp sound, the lock released. The bayonet hidden at the front of the handguard sprang forward and up in a sharp flip. The steel blade, which had been parallel to the barrel, instantly snapped into a forward-facing position, perfectly aligned with the muzzle. The moment it was in place, there was another soft CLICK, and the bayonet locked firmly, not moving an inch.

The Type 56 carbine was equipped with a folding, blade-style bayonet. Forged from solid steel, it wasn’t particularly long—about twenty centimeters. The blade was flat with two sharp edges, tapering slowly from the base to a tip as sharp as a steel needle. It had no superfluous blood groove, only clean, efficient lines. With the bayonet fixed, the rifle felt like a long spear. It would definitely be much better for spearing fish than that Jap’s bayonet!

Holding the Type 56, Zhao Wendong carefully approached the water’s edge. Within his sight, there were five crucian carp in the warm-water area. He could also see a small loach wriggling in and out of the silt in a rock crevice. It was tiny and there was only one, so Zhao Wendong paid it no mind.

He slowly drew near. The fish didn’t seem to notice him—perhaps they weren’t wary of humans, or maybe the cold water had just made them sluggish. They remained motionless. Zhao Wendong held his breath and slowly lowered the rifle, letting the tip of the bayonet gently touch the surface of the water. Then he took a slow, deep breath and aimed for a carp about twenty centimeters long.

The next second, Zhao Wendong snapped his wrist, his arm shooting forward in a smooth motion. The hand gripping the rifle was steady as a rock, without the slightest tremble. A cold glint flashed as the bayonet’s tip SWISHED through the water’s surface and plunged straight toward the carp. With a soft THWACK, the double-edged blade pierced cleanly through the fish’s back. The sharpness of the steel gave it no chance to struggle.

The speared carp stiffened violently, then began to struggle with all its might. Zhao Wendong lifted the Type 56, and the rifle, bayonet, and the impaled fish were all hoisted out of the water.