Chapter 62: Roast Venison

Shaoqiu returned to his room once again.

At this moment, he still had no idea why he had gone into the water in the first place. Did he truly hear someone calling out to him? Yet what sound could there possibly be now? There was none at all. Could it be that he had misheard, or that something had gone wrong with his nerves? How else could things have come to this?

Now, let us speak of Huagu. On this day, she stayed inside her own room. In such heavy snow, the cold was utterly unbearable, and there was nowhere else to go. If she did not stay in her own room, where else could she possibly head? That night, Huagu remained right outside the doorway of her room, while the two jujube trees had already shed all their leaves, standing bare and utterly desolate.

Huagu sat beneath those leafless jujube trees, reminiscing about the prosperity of days past. When her husband was still alive, the couple would sit right here beneath these jujube trees after finishing dinner on a snowy evening just like this, chatting about old times. A hearth fire would be burning beside them, smoke curling lazily upward, living a life akin to that of immortals.

Back then, whenever the people of the desolate village walked past her doorstep, they always maintained a look of utmost reverence. Who would dare to speak boisterously or behave with any impropriety?

Her husband would sit right here beneath the jujube trees, chopping firewood. After splitting a large pile, he would continue to sit beside the hearth fire, exchanging casual remarks back and forth with his Huagu. Truly, those days were exceptionally wonderful.

During their conversations, her husband would also roast a piece of fine venison. The rich aroma of the venison, mingling with the scent of plum blossoms in the distance, made everything appear so enchanting. As they ate the venison, the children of the desolate village would wander over, gazing at the meat with mouths watering continuously. At such times, her husband would generously hand a piece of venison to the children while continuing to roast fresh venison over the hearth fire for themselves.

...

Thinking of all this now, Huagu felt a deep wave of melancholy. Right at this moment, the long-bladed swordsman came striding across the boundless snowy plains once more. The rattling sounds emitted by the long blade strapped to his back accompanied his footsteps, disturbing the peace of the desolate village to the point of unbearable torment. In the distance, the barking of dogs echoed incessantly. It seemed that as long as the days of this swordsman lasted, the desolate village would never know peace.

This swordsman had no intention of going anywhere else. Knowing that Huagu was beautiful and moreover a widow—and wouldn't a woman without a man feel lonely?—he disregarded the gazes of everyone else in the village, carrying his long blade and walking step by step along the long snow-covered path right up to Huagu's doorstep.

Huagu sat alone beneath the bare jujube trees, watching the hearth fire flicker in the wind. The sound of footsteps in the distance abruptly interrupted her longing for her husband. Raising her eyes to look, she saw that the swordsman was already heading straight for her.

Listening to the clanging sound of the swordsman's blade, a child began to cry in terror, blindly searching for its mother amidst the swirling wind and snow. An old dog barked for a moment before tucking its tail between its legs and fleeing blindly into the distance. The swordsman paid no heed to any of this. In this desolate village, he was confident that no one could do a thing to him, and he cared even less for stray dogs and the like.

Yet at the mere sight of this swordsman, Huagu trembled all over, just like the leafless trees of the desolate village shivering incessantly in the bitter wind.

She could hide inside her room, but that would not be of much help. The swordsman might very well hack her front door to pieces, and in the end, her door would be ruined as well. One must know that building a front door in this desolate village cost a considerable sum of money, and as a widow, how much wealth could Huagu possibly possess?

The swordsman approached aggressively, demanding from afar that Huagu take off her trousers. Upon hearing these words, the people of the desolate village all fell silent, too terrified to show their faces. They scrambled back into their respective rooms, staying plunged in pitch-black darkness, temporarily at a loss as to what they ought to do.

Hearing the swordsman demand that she remove her trousers, Huagu was gripped by intense fear. Yet fear was of no avail; not only did it accomplish nothing, but it instead provoked a strange, mocking laugh from the swordsman. For at that moment, the swordsman saw that Huagu was blushing, and to him, a blushing widow was as breathtakingly beautiful as a celestial fairy.

Who could know why the swordsman chose to utter such words, and shouted them from afar at that? Hearing this, an elderly man of the desolate village stepped forward to advise restraint, urging him not to commit acts that violated public decency and morals. But what did he receive in return? The old man was struck down by a single slash of the swordsman's blade, collapsing into a pool of blood, never to rise again.

In an effort to curry favor with the swordsman, other women of the desolate village also hastily stripped off their trousers, standing amidst the swirling wind and snow to let the swordsman appraise them. However, the swordsman found none of them to his liking. Compared to Huagu, the other women of the village were either too tall or too short, too plump or too thin, lacking the true allure of womanhood.

Huagu sat right there beneath the jujube tree by her doorway, gazing at the heavy snow filling the sky and resenting the heavens for lacking eyes. Why would they not inflict punishment upon this lawless swordsman?

With his long blade strapped to his waist and a cigarette dangling from his lips, the swordsman burst into roaring laughter. Hearing this laughter, the villagers were too terrified to even draw a breath, dreading lest the swordsman commit some vicious atrocity, leaving them with consequences too severe to bear.

Yet Huagu stubbornly refused to obey the swordsman. That was something she could never, ever do; if word of it spread, would she have any dignity or face left? She simply sat beside the hearth fire, warming herself, though there was no longer any venison to be had. All that remained was her yearning for her husband—where on earth could he be at this moment?

Huagu did not know. She let out a long sigh toward the heavens, then lowered her head once more, listening as the sound of footsteps drew closer and closer. Her terror mounted continuously, threatening at any moment to push her to the brink of hysteria.

The swordsman closed in beside her. Without a second word, he lunged forward and tore her trousers to shreds, exposing her plump, fair thighs right before his eyes...

Meanwhile, Shaoqiu remained cooped up inside his own room. Hearing the sounds of struggle echoing from above, he knew Huagu was suffering, yet he lacked the courage to offer any assistance. In this desolate village, who could possibly stand up against this swordsman?

Shaoqiu had no choice but to sit inside his room, reading aloud from his books. When night fell, as people walked past his doorstep, one after another they would spit on the ground to express their utter disgust for him. Staying inside his room and listening to the sound of those contemptuous spits, Shaoqiu trembled with fear in his heart.

While the villagers dared not do anything to the swordsman, they harbored no such reservations when it came to people like Shaoqiu. If it came to a physical fight, the villagers held Shaoqiu in absolute contempt; at that moment, spitting on him was nothing, and even killing him outright would be of no consequence whatsoever.

While the villagers continued spitting at Shaoqiu, roars of laughter echoed ceaselessly from outside Huagu's doorway. By this point, the swordsman had practically become the object of Huagu's affection; not only did she no longer despise him, but she had actually grown fond of him. The men of the desolate village who spat at Shaoqiu were, in truth, employing the tactic of "beating the grass to startle the snake," intending to warn the swordsman to watch his step. Their jealousy was blindingly obvious to all.

Whenever such moments arose, Shaoqiu also contemplated leaving—deciding never to stay in this desolate village again. Yet the moment he thought of Xiaohua's smile, how could he possibly find the heart to walk away? He could not simply walk out like this; if Xiaohua were to find out, wouldn't she accuse him of being heartless and devoid of loyalty?

Shaoqiu was thus compelled to remain trapped in this desolate village.