There was a man named Hu Changzi who was sent on an errand because he had long legs and was tall, with the surname Hu, and got this name.

  This Hu Zhangzi is a kind-hearted person. When something happened in the Wang family, he rushed into the yard and asked for things to do everywhere. The person in charge of entertaining guests is called "Zhi Ke". This Zhi Ke is equivalent to the temporary general manager of the Wang family now, responsible for handling all kinds of affairs inside and outside, arranging and entertaining mourning guests. Generally, it's done by people with some face and prestige in the village.

  Hu Changzi was also just over thirty that year. Because the family conditions were not very good, his wife married late and gave birth to a son in the first month of that year. After the son was born, Hu Changzi walked with his back straightened in the village, using their words, it's called walking with a gust of wind.

  But this man is poor, since ancient times he has been a villager with no status, in order to give others a good impression, he can only help others more at home, so that others will remember his kindness, rural areas are particular about this.

  At that time, Old Wang's family had a distant relative in the neighboring county of my hometown, in the countryside. When holding a wedding, you can choose not to invite these distant relatives, and they won't blame you. However, if you don't invite them when holding a funeral, others will think you look down on them, and that would be a big mistake. So, back then, whenever someone held a funeral in the village, you could see many unfamiliar faces, all sorts of great-aunts and great-uncles, who would come from far away to mourn. As we say in China: "The deceased is most important!" A funeral is the best way to see how extensive a family's connections are.

  At that time, the big families had to hold a funeral, which was written in the genealogy, and anyone who could be related would be notified, for fear of missing someone's family and being scolded by others after death. Coincidentally, He Lao was a cultural person from this small mountain village, which hadn't produced one in hundreds of years, as long as he was invited, his face would have some prestige.

  That county is administratively part of Anhui Province, and at that time, there was a highway between my hometown and that county, but it had to take a long detour, transfer several times, and it was very inconvenient. You have to walk along a small path that few people usually take, cross over a big mountain, and pass through. Moreover, the relative lived in the deep mountains, so no one wanted to go pick up the mail for this household.

  When he heard that no one was willing to take on this difficult task, Hu Changzi patted his chest and guaranteed that he would complete the task in the Wang family's large courtyard. The person who had been entrusted with the task was worried that no one would be willing to deliver it, but when they heard that Hu Changzi was willing to go, they were overjoyed and immediately took a few more pieces of white rice cake from the basket and handed them to him, and also asked the accountant to take out two packs of cigarettes and put them in his pocket. They patted Hu Changzi on the shoulder and praised him as the most promising young talent in the village.

  This Hulangzi has lived so big and has never been praised by anyone, the tears of excitement only turned in his eyes, led to Zha Wenbin's place to receive the funeral notice, changed into brand new Liberation shoes, that proud appearance only made a group of old women laugh.

  Hu Changzi sighed that he was also a bit famous in the village, and remembered what Cha Wenbin said in his heart. He carried his canvas bag and went out the door.

  He had never been to the place where he was supposed to send the letter, and could only roughly guess its direction. He thought to himself that with a mouth on his face, couldn't he just ask for directions along the way? So he rode his family's brand-new Forever 28 bicycle towards the back of Wangzhuang village.

  Behind the Wang Village, there is a big mountain called Lion Mountain, with an elevation of nearly 1,000 meters. In Zhejiang Province, it's considered a high mountain. The top of this mountain is shrouded in clouds and mist all year round. As long as you cross over this mountain, on the other side is Anhui Province.

  In the past, some farmers from Anhui carried tea leaves and mountain goods to sell in Zhejiang, taking this very path. On our side, we also had farmers carrying bamboo shoots and medicinal herbs to sell over there. However, all of these were things that happened before liberation. It can be said that there was an ancient road here connecting the commercial exchanges between two neighboring counties. Later, as their economies developed, local markets emerged, and ordinary people no longer had to suffer the hardships of crossing mountains to make a little money.

  This Hu Changzi is a native of Wangzhuang, and naturally he has also heard the old people talk about this road. The villagers of Wangzhuang often come to Shizi Mountain on ordinary days, but most of them only go halfway up the mountain.

  What's the point of going up? As the saying goes, "rely on the mountain to eat the mountain, rely on the water to eat the water". This big mountain has also nurtured a group of villagers to some extent. Going up to cut firewood, dig herbs and pick tea leaves. On the waist of Lion Mountain, there was originally a good wild tea, because of its high terrain, it is half a month later than ordinary green tea on the market. Because this tea soup is flavorful and fragrant, and its shape looks good, some farm women will choose to go up the mountain with their companions before dawn to pick two or three liang of tea, and by the time they rush down the mountain, it's already dark.

  It is said that on the top of Lion Mountain, there is an even better tea, but no one has ever dared to go up and pick it, because people say that there are wild ghosts on the mountain top that can hook people's souls, making it a place where one cannot go. This rumor probably originated from local hunters. To be honest, Hu Zhangzi's father died on this very mountain.

  Before the country implemented gun control, many rural households had a kind of homemade shotgun made from black powder, without rifling, and mostly loaded with buckshot. The amount of gunpowder used depended on the size of the animal being hunted, based on experience. This thing was also called a "tu qiang". Although its accuracy was poor, its power at close range was quite astonishing. If tin foil was used to make bullets and put in, it could directly knock down a 200-pound wild boar within a distance of 30 meters.

  After the autumn harvest, several villagers made an appointment to go up the mountain to hunt wild boars. They used dogs to drive the pigs and drove them all the way to the top of the mountain, where they were trapped. Then the hunters approached from various directions and opened fire.

  There was a father-son pair participating in this hunting action: Hu Changzi's dad and his own grandfather.

  These two old men were both good at hunting, after separating to search the mountain, Hu Zhang's grandfather slowly crept up behind a bush, only seeing not far away two pig ears constantly flashing and flapping, this old man spat on his palm, slowly raised the rifle to aim, with his many years of experience it was clear that this was a wild boar foraging.

  "With a loud gunshot, the big-eared one fell to the ground with a thud. Old Hu's marksmanship was truly exceptional. The old man loudly shouted his son's name and those of other villagers, telling them that the pig had been shot and asking them to come quickly to lift it up. He himself excitedly took out an axe and chopped open the thorny bushes, rushing inside. But when he went over to take a look, he was shocked: lying in the pool of blood was his own son!"

  When the other excited hunters felt the scene, Old Hu had already fainted beside his son. According to the old folks of Wang Village, the old man's head was directly blasted open by a tin rod as thick as a little finger, with a hole as big as a small wine cup, because after the gunpowder was fired, it would bring extremely high temperature, so the entire wound at that time still presented a burnt appearance, which is really unbearable to look at.

  That year, Little Hu's eldest son was only two or three years old and still a toddler. The pillar of the family had gone, and Little Hu's mother quietly packed her bags and ran away a month later, never to return again. At that time, the matter did not make a big fuss, but Old Man Hu was filled with grief and self-blame after mistakenly killing his own son. Every day, he would hold Little Hu and mutter that what he saw was indeed a large wild boar with black fur and sharp tusks. Less than a year later, Old Man Hu gradually became thinner and eventually passed away, still insisting until his death that what he saw was a wild boar.

  Later, people said that the mountain had a wild ghost who came to take lives, otherwise how could Old Man Hu, an experienced hunter, mistake his own son for a wild boar and kill him? Over time, no one dared to climb the upper half of the mountain again. As for Hu Changzi, he was also raised on handouts from many families since childhood, and after his family's downfall, he became one of the people with the lowest status in the village.

  Hu Changzi spent all the money he had saved for two years to buy this 28-style bicycle, just so that on his wedding day, he could wear a big red flower and ride it back with his bride. Now, he has already ridden the bike to the foot of the mountain, and according to what people say, he still needs to ride for several hours to reach the village where he is going to deliver the message.

  This young man is not only tall, but also very strong. The children of poor families are all like this, they have been accustomed to hard labor since childhood. Now he is carrying the big pole on his shoulders and humming a little tune as he climbs up. He knows what happened to his old father back then, but he has long forgotten what his father looked like. At the age of 15 or 16, he started chopping firewood on Lion Mountain, but he never climbed to the top of the mountain because there was enough firewood at the foot of the mountain for the small Wang Village.

  The path down the mountain, because of frequent human activity, has a small road, and Hu Zhangzi doesn't know how many times he's walked it. He huffed and puffed effortlessly to the middle of the mountain. He felt warm in his heart, thinking that after this matter, the villagers would definitely think he was enthusiastic, otherwise why would he give out an extra pack of cigarettes and a few more pastries than others?

  The more he thought about it, the more beautiful it became, so he simply stopped and took a break. He pulled out that white rice cake and dipped it in the sweet creek water beside him. Hu Changzi felt like no one had ever valued him so much in this life. After finishing eating, he also pulled out a pack of high-end cigarettes with exquisite stickers, put them under his nose to smell, and couldn't bear to open them. He hesitated for half a day before finally opening one, taking a few puffs, blowing out several rings, and suddenly inhaling deeply, sighing: This is what life is all about!

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