Volume 1, Chapter 7: The Silly Roe Deer

Erdaowan was merely a small settlement. Although it had a cooperative, it did not purchase goods. To sell items like furs, one had to go specifically to the state-run supply station in the district.

Early the next morning, Wang Dong packed up his furs, brought along some roasted grey squirrels, and set out. After trekking over twenty miles of mountain paths, he finally reached the state-run store in Yilaha Township.

At present, Nenjiang was still just a small county seat. Though situated at the junction of two provinces and four cities, its transportation network was not nearly as bustling as it would become in later generations, though signs of development were already beginning to emerge. At the very least, while state-run stores elsewhere were languishing, the one in Yilaha Township was quite lively.

This was inevitable. Even though so-called free markets existed in this era, the common people naturally distrusted the peddlers who wandered the streets when it came to bulk transactions. It wasn't that they were naive; it was simply that they had been cheated too many times.

Outside the Yilaha state-run purchasing station, there were at least a dozen people in line, some arriving with ox carts or donkey carts loaded with goods. Wang Dong waited for over an hour, and it wasn't until the sun was high overhead that it was finally his turn.

But the wait was worth it. He had brought twenty grey squirrel pelts this time; he kept the remaining two for his own use, while the rabbit skins were stuffed with old clothes to serve as a pillow. Of the twenty squirrel pelts, two had been torn during skinning and were bought at a lower price of one yuan each, while the rest were purchased at one yuan and fifty cents apiece.

In total, he received twenty-nine yuan. Honestly, the price was a bit low, but that was beyond Wang Dong’s control. There were two main reasons for the low price of squirrel pelts at the moment: first, it wasn't cold enough yet, so the fur wasn't as thick and lustrous as it would be in winter, which naturally affected the value. Second, the timing was off; he was a bit too early. Five or six years later, this price would more than triple, largely due to international trade—a topic Wang Dong only understood superficially.

Still, twenty-nine yuan was enough. After all, this was just three or four days of income, which was already nearly equivalent to a month’s wages at the factory.

Since he was already in the township, he couldn't return empty-handed. He had coupons for grain and oil, so he bought some oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, and pickled vegetables at the state-run store. As for tools, he bought a hacksaw blade, a shovel head, some steel wire, two rolls of hemp rope, a pack of sandpaper, and the rest were small woodworking gadgets like plane blades and knives.

As for grain... the grain available for purchase at the state-run store was limited to sorghum and cornmeal, and even those required coupons. As for white flour and rice, one could basically forget about it. Although they were also rationed, they required a grain ration book. Even though the price was only eighteen cents per jin, Wang Dong couldn't buy much. He tried to see if he could use his old identity from the North 102 Factory to muddle through, but unfortunately, the clerk, while sympathetic that he "didn't bring his ration book," remained impartial and would only sell him one jin—no more.

One jin it is, then. Mixing it in would still taste better than pure sorghum... He bought one jin of rice, five jin of sorghum, and two jin of cornmeal. Wang Dong packed everything into a new chicken-skin sack and finally headed out.

After a quick calculation, the grain, flour, and condiments had only cost a little over a yuan, but those various tools had set him back over ten yuan. Out of his twenty-nine yuan, he had only seventeen yuan and eighty cents left.

...

By the time he returned to his shack, it was nearly dark. No, it wasn't just dark. Looking at the ominous, gloomy sky, Wang Dong frowned. "Damn it, heaven, please don't rain right now!"

His room was filled with the grain he had just bought, which couldn't get damp, and the thatched roof of the shack had just been patched with mud, which hadn't completely dried yet! Seeing the sky growing darker by the minute, Wang Dong had no choice but to start a fire.

The sun had already completely set, so he couldn't rely on the sky to judge whether it would rain. As for the rheumatism that could predict weather—Old Man Wu had that, but he was still too young to possess such an ailment. He could only build a fire and heat the shack up, hoping to dry out the mud on the roof as quickly as possible to avoid a situation where it rained outside and dripped muddy water inside.

Since he had spent the day walking and hadn't been up the mountain, he still had some energy, so he decided to take this time to make something to improve his quality of life. The most important thing was a steamer. Wang Dong had a pot but no steamer and no steaming cloth, so he had been eating nothing but porridge for days, which was starting to give him heartburn. He didn't know how to make a steamer, but he could make a bowl; if he made a large enough one, wouldn't it be like the steamers used in the south?

He roasted some meat, boiled some water, and then took a section of the thick cedar log he had saved earlier. He shaved off the bark from both sides, hollowed out the center, and polished it with sandpaper.

It looked a bit strange... but it would work! However, it couldn't be used today. Any wood would carry a peculiar scent, so Wang Dong stuck a stick into the small creek at his doorstep, placed this bowl-like object over it, and let it sit in the water. After letting it soak in the flowing water for a while and then drying it in the sun, the smell would fade significantly.

After adding some water to the downstream area, Wang Dong prepared to go back into the shack to eat. But just as he turned around, several roe deer emerged from the woods downstream and began drinking happily right where he had been pouring water.

Uh...

Wang Dong was stunned for a moment, then realized what was happening. Of course! In the mountains, roe deer and musk deer were attracted to human urine. Back at North 102, Old Man Wu had taught him how to make "urine ice" and how to track and trap these animals, which had such peculiar, almost perverse, tastes.

Wang Dong was eager to use this method to catch these silly roe deer. After all, they had much more meat than grey squirrels, and eating them would be incredibly satisfying! But the problem was, in this season and at this temperature, there was no way to make "urine ice."

He decided to try the old method described by the elders. Watching the roe deer happily drinking, Wang Dong shouted loudly, "Hey!"

Sure enough, just as Old Man Wu and the others had said, roe deer were particularly sensitive to sound. As soon as they heard a shout, regardless of what they were doing, they would immediately freeze and lift their heads to look around. At that moment, all one needed to do was grab a wooden club and strike!

But just as Wang Dong took a step forward, the deer, startled by his shout, immediately scrambled away!

Wang Dong was left dumbfounded. They say if you don't listen to the elders, you'll suffer, but it seems listening to them doesn't always help either!