More than twenty dogs were swarming over the Ancient Boar, biting and tearing at it with clear division of labor. A few of the larger ones pinned down its limbs to keep it from getting up, while the rest piled on top in a chaotic mass, sinking their teeth into the boar's relatively soft belly.
Dahei had still not let go, panting heavily with white puffs of steam, its body already marked by several bloody gashes.
Gritting his teeth, Ning Jie raised his short blade and drove it fiercely down into the boar's neck.
"Splrit!"
Warm, reeking blood mixed with a foul stench sprayed all over Ning Jie's face. The Ancient Boar bulged its eyes and struggled with all its might, showing signs of trying to stand back up.
How could Ning Jie give it that chance? Gritting his teeth hard and gripping the short knife with both hands, he yanked it downward. The coarse, muscular fibers of the boar's flesh parted distinctly. His face flushed crimson, yet he managed only to rip a wound about a hand's breadth wide across the boar's neck.
Still, that was enough!
Bright red blood poured out like an opened water valve, bubbling with light red foam and staining the hard snow a deep crimson.
The Ancient Boar's final burst of adrenaline and dying counterattack dissolved under Ning Jie's second blow into a series of spasms and low, mournful whimpers.
Ning Jie had no time to wipe the blood from his face. He collapsed heavily onto the ground, panting in ragged gashes.
Though it had only been a few short minutes and merely two strikes, Ning Jie felt as though his entire body had fallen apart, leaving not an ounce of strength.
The boar's pupils gradually dilated, and its body was reduced to mere nervous twitches before finally falling completely still.
Dahei let go of its bite, lying flat on the ground with its tongue lolling out. Hot breaths billowed from its mouth one after another like a mythical sea-monster exhaling clouds and mist.
Ning Jie reached out and patted Dahei's head. Dahei let out a couple of low whimpers.
It was simply too exhausted—so tired that it lacked even the strength to lift its head in response.
Second Uncle reached down to pull Ning Jie to his feet, drew out a pack of Golden Gourd cigarettes, and pulled one out to hand to Ning Jie.
Golden Gourds were cheap. The gold wrapping paper featured a picture of a little gourd, and they were produced by the Changchun Cigarette Factory, costing just nine fen a pack. Right now, a single egg at the supply-and-sale cooperative cost eight fen, and even around the New Year it was only twenty fen. Still, they were much better than smoking harsh pipe tobacco.
Looking at the Golden Gourd cigarette in his hand, Ning Jie felt somewhat dazed. At that moment, he finally knew for certain that he had truly come back.
"What's the matter, think your second uncle's smoke isn't good enough? If you want to smoke the good stuff, buy it yourself."
Second Uncle made a motion to snatch it back, but Ning Jie deftly jammed it into his mouth and laughed. "No way! I was just thinking that when we get back and sell some of the pork, I could buy a pack of Three Five cigarettes to show you some respect."
Second Uncle gave Ning Jie a sidelong glare, handed him his matches, and snapped impatiently, "Those things cost twenty-seven fen a pack! How much do you think this pig is going to sell for? You ought to be buying me a pack of Changbai Ginseng to smoke instead."
Changbai Ginseng cost one yuan and eighty fen a pack, while pork was only eighty fen a jin—a single pack of cigarettes was worth two jin of pork.
Ning Jie chuckled. "Second Uncle, as the saying goes: the poor smoke Changbai and the rich smoke Three Five, while whores and madams smoke Bat. One way or another, I'll get you a pack of Three Five to smoke."
"Oh, cut the crap. Smoke that stuff? The last time the brigade secretary gave me one, it choked my throat right up. Changbai Ginseng is what I want."
Second Uncle squatted down and slit open the Ancient Boar's belly with his mountain knife, and the viscera spilled out with a wet rush.
The thick stench of internal organs hit Ning Jie, nearly blocking his nose, but Second Uncle acted as though nothing was out of the ordinary. He thrust his mountain knife into the snow, threw his weight into it, and hauled all the innards out with both hands.
"Come on over and eat, you rascals. This fellow's here for you to feast on."
Hearing the permission, the big yellow dog limped forward first. Aside from Dahei the lead dog, it was the fiercest fighter in the family, and it was always first to eat.
Whenever they hunted, they would generally gut the animal on the spot and feed the offal to the hounds.
In this day and age, grain was already precious enough, and since the hounds literally risked their lives for their masters, they counted on this meal of offal—it wouldn't do to deny them.
The hounds in Ning Jie's family were big, every single one of them, with sleek, glossy coats, all thanks to them being willing to spare good food.
These were the old partners they relied on for their livelihood; they couldn't skimp on their meals.
The big yellow dog dragged out the pig's heart, trotted unsteadily over to Ning Jie, and flopped down with a heavy smack. Pinning it with its two front paws, it began to crunch away hungrily.
Second Uncle sliced off a piece of pig liver, chopped it into small bits, and walked over to Dahei, feeding them to it one piece at a time.
There were twenty-seven dogs in all, and nearly every one of them had injuries. The larger and more robust they were, the worse their wounds.
Fortunately, even the heavily injured big yellow dog could still eat, and the rest were in no major danger.
If even a single dog died, Ning Jie would grieve for days.
Having finished the offal, the dogs recovered a bit of their strength. Even Dahei managed to stagger to its feet, rubbing its head against Second Uncle's face.
Second Uncle stroked Dahei's head and said, "Ning Jie, open up the sheepskin bundle and tie up the ropes. It's getting on toward afternoon; we've got to haul the pig back."
"Yeah, look at that sky—looks like it's going to snow, Second Uncle."
Second Uncle glanced up at the sky and said with absolute confidence, "It won't snow. Once the wind blows in a minute, it'll all head over to Baitou Mountain."
The rope was tied around the pig's front legs near the chest pits, while the other end was attached to a stitched cloth harness. Second Uncle called over eight dogs that were in decent condition and fitted the harness onto them. Throwing their weight together, the eight dogs slowly dragged the Ancient Boar out toward the edge of the snowfield.
Second Uncle and Ning Jie each pulled on a rope slung across their shoulders, hunching down and walking forward with lowered heads.
The remaining dogs limped along behind them, occasionally barking toward the tree line.
The dogs took turns pulling while the men stayed the same. They walked for a stretch, rested for a stretch, and after nearly three hours, the two of them finally emerged from the mountains.
Night was gradually falling. The vast white snow blanketed the fertile soil of the Northeast like a heavy cotton quilt, and the wisps of smoke rising from the distant loess houses, blending with the slowly sinking sun, looked exceptionally magnificent.
The sound of barking drifted through the village. Once a single dog started up, all the dogs in the entire village joined in chorus.
Dahuang limped up onto an earthen mound, mustered all its strength to let out a few deep roars, and within moments, the entire village fell dead silent.
Ning Jie smiled and said, "Dahuang is a fine hand at fighting, but it doesn't have a head on its shoulders quite as sharp as Dahei's."
Panting heavily, Second Uncle replied, "Ain't that the truth? This fellow goes out to scrap every three days. Around these streams and gullies, there isn't a single dog that can beat it."
Second Uncle looked at Dahuang in the sunset. Golden light washed over the dog's body; injured though it was, Dahuang still held its head high, like a proud warrior.
"It's a five-year-old dog. There aren't many good years left for it."
Ning Jie felt a wave of melancholy too. Hounds didn't have long lifespans—much like athletes, their bodies suffered too much damage, and once they reached a certain age, they aged exceptionally fast.
From a distance, Ning Jie saw an old man draped in a cotton-padded jacket walk out from a homestead at the head of the village. The old man puffed on a long-stemmed pipe and shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Well now, Second Brother! Not bad at all, hauling such a huge beast back!"