After the superior leader learned about the situation, he immediately instructed the cultural work station of the military region to send a Japanese-made video recorder and several video tapes to the soldiers. Since then, every leader who goes there, regardless of their high position, never forgets to bring a few video tapes. It is said that this is how the soldiers have been spoiled, as they determine the standards of reception based on how good the video programs are.
When I went there, I somehow overlooked this matter, so I received relatively low treatment. But I ate better than the soldiers. Every meal, in addition to the same compressed dried vegetables as the soldiers, I also had a few meatballs. The soldiers shared one can of meatballs among eight people, while I had one can to myself.
I jokingly told the instructor from Zhejiang that next time I must bring a few "life films" that could overshadow the "martial arts films," internal ones, for the leaders' reference and review. The instructor also humorously replied that there were no grass or trees within a ten-kilometer radius, and for the soldiers to eat fresh vegetables and fruits was a dream. Many cans in the warehouse were already "aged," and having fresh canned food was already quite remarkable. Transportation was indeed difficult, and there were no advanced methods; letters and newspapers had to be sent by horseback to a distant county every month. If the weather was bad, there was no need to send people or horses. The soldiers had a poem that had some insight:
In spring, eat vermicelli,
In summer, chew on kelp.
Usually, open canned food,
In all seasons, swallow dried vegetables.
Chewing makes it mushy,
And results in a long string of droppings.
……
The instructor said this was a kind of "soldier's poem" that could overshadow "trendy poetry," internal ones, for the soldiers to appreciate and entertain themselves. I said I understood, and the instructor happily handed me a semi-automatic rifle, 40 rounds of ammunition, and ordered two sharpshooters to take me to Rabbit Mountain to look for rabbits.
We walked along the riverbank.
The sun was intense, and there was not a single shade around. The terrain was wide and flat, and Rabbit Mountain was clearly visible, resembling a sculpture standing on the horizon from a distance. The dry fine sand on the ground was blown by the wind, twisting and turning, with continuous small sand dunes resembling crawling sand people, stretching all the way to the distant sky. Weathered yellow goat horns could be picked up everywhere.
The two sharpshooters were soldiers from Sichuan, one named Zhou Jianxin and the other Chen Yong. They said the company rarely sent people to Rabbit Mountain; they only went there for tactical exercises and live-fire shooting, sometimes leaving some bullets for the rabbits. The rabbits were quite foolish, starting to run only after the gunshots rang out, and even then, they would stop and look back. If luck was on their side, one shot could take down two, and with forty rounds, at least forty-one rabbits could be collected. When there were many people, they could surround the area without firing a shot, slowly closing in while shouting and calling out, and the surrounded rabbits would hop around for a while before lying down obediently, as they also lacked oxygen.
It got hot. I dipped my hand into the river. It was cool. The river water, influenced by the sun and clouds, changed colors frequently, sometimes crystal blue, sometimes blue and yellow mixed, sometimes bright and dazzling, and sometimes dark gray and murky. There were no splashes; the river water calmly flowed along the riverbank. Lizards kept appearing by the riverbank, scurrying away into the sand pits at the slightest sound. There was a group of yellow ducks resting in the middle of the river, not looking sideways. I wanted to shoot, but Xiao Zhou said there was no need; the yellow ducks here were also quite foolish. As long as you see a group of yellow ducks by the river, you can just run over; the older ones would run away, leaving the younger ones behind, and every year, they could catch a group. I thought, never mind, let’s save the bullets for the rabbits.
Before I saw the rabbits, I first spotted some foxes. Two fiery red foxes were running along the ridge of Rabbit Mountain, moving gracefully. Xiao Chen said they were hard to catch; foxes were not foolish. They were the soldiers' old neighbors, very greedy, often visiting the company’s kitchen. If people waited for them to come, they wouldn’t show up; if people didn’t wait, they would come. They were elusive. Someone had once set traps and pits, only to find the meatballs missing the next morning, while the traps remained intact, unable to catch anything, and they were reluctant to shoot, as the fur was too good, and a few holes would be a waste. Moreover, if one was shot, the other probably wouldn’t survive either.
It turned out that hunting foxes, yellow ducks, and rabbits all required a certain culture; those without culture could never imagine the strange sounds.
Xiao Zhou and Xiao Chen cupped their hands to their mouths and made a sound resembling a wolf's howl, and soon, plump yellowish wild rabbits began to leap around on the hillside. Some raised their tails, revealing a bit of white on their backs, darting away and suddenly stopping to see what was happening. Some perked up their ears behind the rocks, remaining still, thinking they were well hidden, looking quite silly and adorable. I had never seen such a spectacular sight of rabbits before, and my excitement was palpable, so I also cupped my hands and imitated a wolf's howl. I saw a ram swiftly escape into the distance, its thick, curved horns disappearing in no time. Fortunately, the rabbits were still there, but I couldn’t hear any gunshots. I didn’t know when Xiao Zhou and Xiao Chen had both disappeared.
I felt a shiver; those rabbits seemed to have turned into wolves in an instant. I turned and ran down the mountain, finally stopping when I saw Xiao Zhou and Xiao Chen.
They were squatting on the ground, heads down, with their guns set aside, using a fruit knife to dig something out of the crevices in the rocks. As I approached, I saw they were digging up grass, green grass, which was everywhere in the rocky crevices. The grass varied in length, some three inches, some five inches. They said it wasn’t grass, but wild leeks. I pulled one out and sniffed it; it indeed had a pungent leek smell. They apologetically said they would dig a bit more to ensure they could catch 42 rabbits. Looking at their sunken fingernails, I felt a surge of warmth and said, "I damn hate rabbits," and squatted down to dig with them.
One root, two roots, three roots… Carefully digging, if I applied uneven force or got the angle wrong, the grass would break into two, and the part that broke off below was the tenderest part. It turned out that digging grass also required culture; those without culture couldn’t dig grass well.
The day was getting late, and the grass still hadn’t filled Xiao Zhou’s military cap. The grass that the three of us worked hard to dig, which cost at least 41 rabbits, was held by Xiao Zhou, as if he were cradling a newborn baby.
The moment of the glorious sunset arrived, and Rabbit Mountain was bathed in crimson. The sand dunes near and far were also a bright red, and the river over there sparkled with red light. The warm and deep tones gave the earth a solemn and sacred feeling, as everything was bathed in this red light.
They were dumbfounded; the sharpshooters had run all day without even touching a single rabbit hair, feeling embarrassed to face the instructor. I said, even if today I just wanted to shoot for fun, I would randomly fire my gun while going down the mountain. It felt good. With a cultured air, I counted about 43 rabbit hairs out of thin air, and thought, never mind, I was too lazy to pick them up, and headed back to the camp.
When we reached the entrance of the company, Xiao Zhou was too nervous, holding the military cap and wanting to rush into the dormitory, but tripped over something, spilling grass all over the ground. He didn’t care, quickly tossed some sand and grass into the cap, and swiftly disappeared through the door.
That night, Xiao Zhou quietly led me to a small room. Inside were a few soldiers who were close to Xiao Zhou. To thank me for not betraying my brothers, Xiao Chen served me a bowl of steaming noodle soup, with a layer of "green" floating on top. I pushed the "green" to Xiao Zhou, and he didn’t want it. Then I pushed it to Xiao Chen, and he also didn’t want it. The soldiers said this was looking down on the people on the mountain. I quickly drank one bowl and then filled another bowl.