Chapter 54: A Small Harvest from Hunting in the Mountains (Seeking First Subscription)

The next morning, Du Yun woke up at the crack of dawn, her excitement still lingering from the previous night. She had spent half the night searching and finally, in a storage compartment labeled “a box of miscellaneous items,” she found a bundle of rope, thicker than fishing line yet incredibly sturdy—perfect for what her grandfather had suggested: wrapping it around the bow grip as an anti-slip cord.

With delight, Du Yun pulled out the rope, stretching it firmly between her hands. Satisfied with its elasticity, she patiently and meticulously wound it around the bow grip, layer by layer. Once she’d finished, she noticed it was still early. Considering the market would soon be bustling, she made her way to the backyard to harvest what she needed—radishes, corn, and other ingredients—washed and chopped them neatly, then stored them away in the compartments.

Du Yun had discovered a little secret about the storage compartments. For example, if she put a single radish inside, the compartment would be labeled “one radish.” Add another radish, and it would change to “one radish 2.” If she stored everything this way, with only twenty-five compartments, space would quickly run out. However, if she placed radishes, cabbages, and other vegetables into a basket, bag, or box and then stored the whole container, it would show up as “a basket of vegetables.” It didn’t matter whether there was just one radish and cabbage or a pile of them—the compartment would still be “a basket of vegetables 1.” With another basket, she could stack even more.

Thanks to this method, Du Yun’s storage compartments became vastly more efficient. Clothes that had previously taken up several slots were bundled into a single stack. Miscellaneous goods from the general store were packed into boxes, turning into “a box of odds and ends.” This freed up a great deal of space, so now she had plenty of room left.

After tidying up the vegetables, it was time to prepare lunch. Du Yun helped her sister Du Zhi with the meal, and the whole family ate together. Then, brimming with anticipation, Du Yun eagerly waited for her grandfather to take her into the mountains.

For Du Yun, who had lived in the year 3016, her view since birth had been nothing but cold concrete cityscapes. Any greenery she’d ever seen had been artificially planted; vast forests only existed on the internet. So this journey into the mountains filled her with excitement.

Perhaps her grandfather sensed her eagerness, for not long after lunch, he appeared with a proud grin and tossed something in front of Du Yun with a dramatic flourish, startling her.

“Grandpa!” Du Yun exclaimed. Her eyes widened in astonishment at the sight before her.

There lay a bundle of neatly tied arrows. Their arrowheads gleamed silver, the shafts were straight and finely crafted, and the fletching at the ends was perfectly arranged—clearly the work of a master.

“Where did these come from?” Du Yun asked joyfully, lifting the bundle and counting roughly fifty arrows. She couldn’t contain her happiness. Now, with a fine bow and matching arrows, her chances of surviving in the world of the undead would be much improved. If she had ten days to reach a city swarming with zombies, she’d be far better prepared.

“Come on, girl, let’s head into the mountains!” her grandfather called, slinging his own bow and arrows over his shoulder and leading Du Yun out the door. At the entrance, Du Yun was surprised to see her second cousin—her uncle’s son—also waiting with a bow and arrows, obviously ready to join the expedition.

Only then did Du Yun realize why her grandfather was so adept at crafting bows and arrows. Just by comparing her own and her cousin’s bows with her grandfather’s, she could see they were all made in the same style—her grandfather’s handiwork. Considering her father’s generation and her eldest brother, it was clear her grandfather had made many over the years, honing his craft to perfection.

“I want to go too!” The younger children clamored to join, but even Grandfather Du’s scolding couldn’t quiet them. It took Du Yun’s promise—to bring back any game they hunted and make a stew for everyone—to finally appease them.

Although Lotus River was named after the river, the mountains weren’t far away. After half an hour’s walk, they reached the foot of the hills.

“These mountains belong to us, the people of Lotus River. We never gave them a separate name—they’re just called Lotus Mountain. It’s a vast range; cross two ridges and you’ll find the shortcut to the county town, but there are plenty of pit vipers along that path. Ordinary folks rarely go there,” her grandfather explained, sharing both the lay of the land and its dangers.

“All right, we’ll keep far from that side, then,” Du Yun replied cheerfully, though her heart was already soaring with excitement. To her, no matter how venomous the pit vipers, they couldn’t possibly be more dangerous than zombies.

Her grandfather’s warning was more out of habit than genuine concern. After all, Du Yun was just a young girl; the odds of her stumbling on a viper were slim. He strode along the mountain path, bow in hand, scanning for tracks while jovially teaching Du Yun the finer points of archery.

Du Yun had learned archery before, but only in a classroom setting—rigid and formal, not at all suited for real-life practice. Even in the world overrun by zombies, she’d picked up some skills, but nothing compared to the insights her grandfather had gleaned from decades of hunting. In no time, Du Yun felt her marksmanship improving by leaps and bounds.

“Look, a rabbit!” Du Yun was practicing the quick-aiming technique her grandfather had just taught when she spotted movement in the grass ahead. A fluffy rabbit suddenly bolted out from the underbrush.

“Quick, shoot!” Her grandfather had also seen it. He nocked an arrow but didn’t fire, giving Du Yun the chance to try.

“All right!” Du Yun answered enthusiastically, though her hands were a bit clumsy—she was still unfamiliar with the new technique. She held her breath, focused, and in her eyes, the running rabbit seemed to magnify, every detail clear. With a snap, she released the string; the arrow shot out like a meteor and struck the rabbit’s hind leg, pinning it to the spot.

“Excellent shot!” her grandfather exclaimed, beaming with pride. Though he’d just taught her, to hit game with the first shot was a rare feat.

Du Yun grinned from ear to ear. As she released the shot, she’d felt herself entering a strange, heightened state where every detail of the prey stood out as though under a magnifying glass—her accuracy had soared. The sensation was exhilarating.

She trotted over to where the rabbit lay pinned, picked it up, and pulled out the arrow. Seeing its injured leg bleeding profusely, she quickly tied a strip of cloth around it to staunch the blood.

She had just finished when her second cousin called out with delighted surprise, “There’s a nest of baby rabbits over here!”