The wine hit his mouth, slid down his throat, and landed in his stomach with a fiery kick. Instantly, the heat split into four streams, rushing to his limbs.
In that instant, Zhao Jun felt a pleasant warmth spread through his entire body. Then, a lightness came over his shoulders, back, and waist, and the exhaustion from a long afternoon of work vanished completely.
Zhao Jun casually set his bowl aside and turned to the old man, his face a picture of delighted surprise. "Uncle," he asked, "this wine...?"
"Amazing, right?" Elder Yang asked with a smile.
Zhao Jun and Zhang Xuefeng nodded in unison.
"HAHAHA..." Elder Yang pointed to the washbasin in the corner and chuckled. "Wash your hands and help me make dumplings."
"Alright!"
Zhao Jun and Zhang Xuefeng responded in unison and quickly hopped off the kang.
The moment their feet touched the floor, the two exchanged another look of surprise. When they had come in from outside just a little while ago, their legs had felt like they were filled with lead.
But now, there wasn’t a trace of heaviness from their knees down. Instead, their legs felt light and airy, almost as if they weren’t their own. Every step they took was like walking on clouds.
After washing their hands, Zhao Jun climbed back onto the kang and sat toward the inside. Zhang Xuefeng sat on the edge of the kang, across from Elder Yang.
Elder Yang rolled out the dumpling wrappers while Zhao Jun and Zhang Xuefeng filled them.
Back home, both boys were used to being waited on, so they were clumsy and slow at making dumplings. Elder Yang, rolling out the wrappers by himself, could easily keep up with both of them.
While they were making the dumplings, Zhao Jun asked Elder Yang, "Uncle, I thought you didn’t hunt. How did you get Suspended Sheep Blood?"
Elder Yang picked up a piece of dough with one hand and rolled his rolling pin with the other. Looking up at Zhao Jun, he said, "In your village, there’s a man called Song the Crooked. You know of him, right?"
"Song the Crooked?" Zhao Jun frowned. Since his rebirth, he hadn’t actually seen the old man in Yong’an Village. But the nickname was familiar.
That’s because Song the Crooked had an ailment—a twisted neck. His left cheek was permanently pressed against his left shoulder.
Zhao Jun thought for a moment before asking Elder Yang, "Uncle, is this Song the Crooked... Song Tiemin’s uncle?"
"That’s the one!" Elder Yang grinned. "His uncle. He’s staying out by Bluestone Cliff now, in a dugout with another old fella by the name of Xu."
"Bluestone Cliff..." Zhao Jun knew the place Elder Yang was talking about. It was surrounded by an area called Jumping Stone Pond, which was filled with massive bluestones—hence the name, Bluestone Cliff.
Elder Yang continued, "Those two old-timers each have their own special trade. That Elder Xu, he’s an expert at trapping Fragrant Musk Deer—never fails to catch one. And Song the Crooked, he specializes in catching suspended sheep."
At this point, Elder Yang tossed a freshly rolled wrapper in front of Zhang Xuefeng. Then he raised his now-empty hand and held up two fingers to Zhao Jun. "All year long, he only catches one suspended sheep. Two, at the absolute most. But the money he gets from selling just one is more than he can spend in ten years."
"For real?" Zhang Xuefeng picked up a dumpling wrapper in one hand and held a flat spoon in the other, but he didn’t scoop any filling. He just stared at Elder Yang in astonishment. "How much can one of those things sell for?"
Zhao Jun nudged Zhang Xuefeng gently with his elbow. Then he asked Elder Yang, "Uncle, my grandma told me my grandpa used to hunt suspended sheep, but he could never catch one. She said those things can jump off a ledge no bigger than a thumbnail. How could anyone possibly catch something like that?"
As Zhao Jun spoke, Elder Yang finished rolling the last dumpling wrapper. He scooped some filling onto it, folded the wrapper over, and sealed it with a firm press of both hands. Only then did he look at Zhao Jun and say, "With a tilting pole trap!"