"What’s this kid talking about?" The old man seemed a little unhappy at Zhao Jun’s suggestion that he was stealing from someone’s snares. He just said, "I carried my gun all the way here to help them kill a wild boar. It’s not out of line for me to take two legs, is it?"

"That’s not out of line," Zhao Jun replied. It was the rule. Never mind two legs, he could take half the pig if he wanted.

The old man then said to Zhao Jun, "Come with me, young man. If we see the wild boar, we’ll kill it, then cut off two legs. One for you, one for me."

Seeing Zhao Jun remain silent, the old man added, "It’s just a short distance away. We’ll be there in a few steps."

When Zhao Jun heard it wasn’t far, he figured it was worth a shot. It wasn’t that he was short on boar meat, but if he could bring some back to the inspection team, he could give it to Ma Liang. Whether or not he had actually learned anything from Ma Liang, the man had taught him earnestly, and that was a favor he had to repay.

Favors like that only grew deeper the more they were exchanged.

"Alright then, sir. I’ll go with you."

Hearing Zhao Jun agree, the old man smiled. "Then let’s head on. It’s just through that patch of woods. There’s a fellow from our brigade, Elder Guo, who sets his snares up ahead. A couple of days ago, his sled slipped and he fell, fracturing his tailbone. He can’t come up the mountain now, so I figured I’d check his snares for him."

"Then let’s go." Zhao Jun followed the old man into the woods. They hadn’t gone far, not even all the way through the trees, when they heard the HUFF, HUFF of a wild boar up ahead.

"Stop," Zhao Jun said, quickly grabbing the old man to hold him back.

The old man looked at Zhao Jun blankly. Only then did Zhao Jun realize that the old man was getting on in years and was probably a bit hard of hearing; he hadn’t heard the boar.

"What is it, young man?" the old man asked Zhao Jun.

"Ah," Zhao Jun sighed softly, then smiled. "Sir, if I hadn’t stopped you, you would have walked right into that wild boar."

As he spoke, Zhao Jun pointed ahead and leaned in close to the old man’s ear. "I can hear it. The pig’s right up there."

"Is that so?" The old man squinted, peering ahead.

The woods were very dense, and their view was obstructed by a thicket of branches. After staring for a good while, they finally made out the wild boar.

It was a sow, weighing about a hundred and eighty pounds, with an Oil Silk Rope snare looped around its neck. The other end of the rope was tied to a fallen white birch tree.

The snow all around it had been churned up by its thrashing.

The moment he saw the boar, the old man grew excited. He said to Zhao Jun, "Watch this, young man. I’m going to kill it right now."

Zhao Jun couldn’t help but smile when he heard that. ’First time I’ve ever seen a hunter announce he’s about to shoot.’

But Zhao Jun knew that old folks tended to be talkative. He said patiently, "Alright, go ahead and shoot."

The old man let out a chuckle, and his next move nearly made Zhao Jun’s eyes pop out of his head.

He flipped his shotgun around, stood it upright in front of him, and pointed the muzzle right at himself.

This gave Zhao Jun a terrible fright. He was just about to rush forward and stop him when he saw the old man pull a large jar out of his hip pocket.

The jar was filled with iron shot.

"Oh my god," Zhao Jun was stunned.

Watching the old man pour the iron shot down the barrel, Zhao Jun asked blankly, "Hey, sir, what are you doing?"

"Hunting the wild boar," the old man said, looking at Zhao Jun with a puzzled expression. "We’re already here. What else would I be doing?"

"No, I mean," Zhao Jun said, "you’re going to use *that* to hunt the boar?"

Zhao Jun knew his firearms. He knew the old man’s gun was a special type that could be muzzle-loaded with shot to be used as a shotgun, or it could be broken open to load a cartridge.

Shot was for hunting squirrels, rabbits, and grouse. Cartridges were for wild boars, roe deer, and stags.

From the very beginning, the old man had been talking about hunting a wild boar. Zhao Jun had just assumed he was going to use a proper bullet.

He never imagined the old man would actually load his gun with iron shot.

Everyone knew that wild boars were thick-skinned and tough-hided. Shooting it with iron shot wouldn’t even break the skin. Was this a joke?

Zhao Jun was speechless for a couple of seconds, staring at the old man. "Sir, be honest with me. Have you ever hunted before?"

"Hey, you little brat." The old man was not pleased. "Isn’t that the question I asked you first?"

"Sir," Zhao Jun said, "never mind who asked who. I’m asking you, have you ever hunted before?"

"What kind of nonsense is this kid spouting?" the old man said, looking annoyed. "You go ask around our brigade. Ask them how many years I’ve been hunting. When I started hunting thirty years ago, you probably weren’t even born yet."

Zhao Jun pursed his lips and asked again, "Sir, what do you usually hunt then?"

"All sorts of things," the old man said, counting them off as he continued to pour in the shot. "Squirrels, martens, grouse... Let me tell you, with this gun, I get those things in one shot. Every single time."

"Oh, for crying out loud." Zhao Jun was getting anxious, but the boar was nearby, and he didn’t want to startle it. He could only whisper urgently, "A shotgun is fine for squirrels and martens. But you can’t use a shotgun on a wild boar!"

The old man froze at Zhao Jun’s question. He blinked three times and fell silent.

He just stared at Zhao Jun, speechless for a long moment.

Zhao Jun gave the old man a helpless look, then sighed again. "Sir, do you have a knife? If you do, give it to me. I’ll mount it on a pole and go stab the pig to death."

"I do, I do." At the mention of a knife, the old man quickly reached behind his waist and pulled out a small blade.

The knife was about a handspan long, and it had no guard or pommel, so it couldn’t be mounted on a handle.

Seeing it, Zhao Jun was so exasperated he almost laughed. "Sir, what kind of knife is that?"

"A skinning knife," the old man said. "After we kill the pig, we have to skin it, don’t we?"

Zhao Jun looked at the old man helplessly and shook his head. "Sir, maybe we should just head back."

"Why?"

Zhao Jun said, "Your gun can’t kill the boar, and your knife can’t kill the boar. If we don’t go back, what else can we do?"

"We’re not going back." The old man’s eyes darted around for a moment before he answered with unwavering conviction. He then continued pouring shot into the gun barrel.

Once he had loaded the shot, he shouldered the gun and faced Zhao Jun. "Young man, you watch from here. I’m going over with the gun."

"You can’t do that!" Zhao Jun said, watching him anxiously. "Sir, this is no time for games!"

"Just listen to me first." The old man shook off Zhao Jun’s hand. "I’ve thought it all out. I’ll take the gun and aim right for the boar’s eyes. Its body can take the shot, but its eyes can’t, right? I’ll blind it."

At this, the old man held the gun in one hand and pointed forward with the other, striking a pose like a general mapping out a grand strategy. He continued, "In these dense woods, it can’t run far. As soon as it runs, it’ll crash into a tree."

"Oh," Zhao Jun said, stunned. "What? So you want it to kill itself by running into a tree?"

"What are you talking about?" The old man heard the sarcasm in Zhao Jun’s voice. "I’ll blind the boar. It won’t be able to run, and it won’t be able to hurt us. Then we can just beat it to death with a big stick."

As he spoke, the old man glanced left and right, spotting a fallen larch.

The broken section of the larch was about six or seven feet long and as thick as a forearm.

The old man handed the small skinning knife to Zhao Jun and said, "See that larch? Go ahead and sharpen it. After I blind the pig, you charge in with the club!"

Zhao Jun stared at the old man helplessly. After a long moment, he finally asked, "Sir, is your last name Zhang, by any chance?"