Day 68: Rebuilding the Homeland (Part 1) Extra Update for Yun Qi You Ran

Watching the crackling bonfire, my heart felt profoundly at ease. Even the mud-caked little black was thrilled, darting up and down beside the flames, pacing back and forth in circles several times over.

Though the tree house no longer bore any resemblance to its former self, I was glad I had not lingered in sorrow. I had rallied once more, convinced that soon I would construct a far more perfect home, a more perfect tree house, a more perfect courtyard!

I would enlarge the yard and fortify its walls!

I would use young trees for the enclosure, weave them with vines, and also...

The sun had already sunk low in the west, yet night was still far away. Little black looked utterly wretched, its fur plastered with hardened mud. It must be miserable too. So I decided to take it down to the river to bathe.

The murky water flowed slowly. Little black dashed to the edge and plunged in, splashing wildly. Its joy made the corners of my mouth curve upward of their own accord.

At that moment, time itself seemed to pause, my soul fully immersed in the moment... Only when Little black emerged from the water did I return to myself. After playing enough, I led it back to the riverbank. It could not clean itself, and the mud on its back remained. It took several more minutes before I scrubbed its entire back clean.

Though the water was murky, it felt wonderfully refreshing now. Once the water cleared in the coming days, we could bathe again...

Upon returning to the tree house, the sun had not yet set. Without a roof, the upper level dried quickly. The small trees forming the walls and floors would absorb water, so the interior remained damp, but that was not an issue. I only wanted to sleep on the upper floor enclosed by walls, roof or no roof.

The lower level was not so fortunate. It was a mess of mud and mire. I could lay the stones only after they dried. I also considered whether to build a new enclosure beside the existing one rather than repair this tree house, for it had withstood several storms already. I could not guarantee it would survive another, and even if I fixed it with vines, I feared the branches might snap. Vines were not stable enough.

The grain had become my greatest worry. Much of it had been dampened by water. I had seen that the cornmeal and flour were the worst, hardened into clumps. The rice was better; once dried, it should be fine...

If only I could spread the rice to dry, my chances would be greater. But I had no suitable place to do so, and the worry lingered. If possible, I truly did not want to waste any of it.

These grains were more than mere food. They were memories of home. Each time I ate them, it felt as though I were still in my homeland...

Reaching into the bag of rice, I felt its warmth. I hoped the coming days would stay clear and not extinguish the last spark of my hope.

Today I was truly exhausted, my stomach long since hollow and empty. I had even caught Little black secretly nibbling two fruits. But before preparing dinner, there was still much to do.

I had to carry the grain up to the upper floor of the tree house. Left here, it would surely be stolen by birds, rats, or other unseen creatures. The plastic basket came to my aid once more, making the transport lighter than carrying it on my back. My muscles ached from exhaustion, but the vine strap made dragging bearable.

From sunset until night fell, I labored without pause. "Huff... ha..." At last it was done. I bent over, bracing my hands on my knees to catch my breath. I had truly wanted to collapse, my thigh muscles twitching. After several struggles, I finally chose to make dinner, eat, and then rest.

I had not built a proper stove but had stacked two piles of stones for pots. Now only the blazing fire remained. Fortunately, I had gathered many stones earlier. Stacking two piles took only a short time. If I had to carry the pot to boil the rice by hand, my arms would not hold out.

I thought stacking the stones would be quick, but it took far longer—nearly half an hour!

Dinner was nothing but dumplings, scooped from the clumped flour. I kneaded them until crumbly, added water, and stirred until smooth before ladling them into the pot.

Today the dumplings were not plain. I had sliced in a small piece of cured meat and two sausages. Possibly because the salt had been insufficient, the sausages carried a faint odd scent beneath their aroma—not obvious but noticeable. It served as a warning: these foods would not keep long. Perhaps in a week or two, but certainly not beyond a month, they might spoil.

So while they were still good, I should eat more. If I hid them until they rotted, I would cry in vain. Thinking this, I decided to slice two more pieces of sausage.

After rinsing the sausage and cured meat in clear water, I laid them on the table and began slicing. The cured meat came out in thin sheets. The fat layer on the wild boar was not thick; beneath the skin lay only a few millimeters of fat, with the rest lean meat. The sausages were still edible, though their color was dull and somewhat darkened. Once sliced, they looked quite appetizing.

The dumplings had long since come to a boil. I poured the sliced meat in. In the boiling water, the meat pieces danced as though alive...

Covering the pot and letting it steam for five minutes, the aroma could no longer be contained. It seeped from the lid's edge. A breeze stirred through the nighttime forest, carrying the savory scent straight to my face, sending hunger surging through me.

Little black needed no urging; whatever was offered, it would choose food! I knew it too well. Its long muzzle gaped wide. Before eating, it would not close... drool still hanging from its lips...

Of course, I observed it for a reason! To distract myself, lest my own appearance prove more wretched than its!

After cooling, the dumplings were finally scooped out. A faint sheen of oil floated on the surface, and the smoked meat smeared my face.

Unable to restrain my hunger any longer, I reached for a spoonful—only to be nearly knocked over by Little black lunging at me...

I had forgotten to set aside a portion for it... Thinking there was only one serving, it was ravenous and desperate to snatch the bowl...

"Hic..." A satisfied burp escaped me. This method was entirely reasonable, elevating the dumplings to something sublime. The addition of the cured meat not only imparted richness but blended the herbal notes with the dumplings' sticky savor, tasting like meat-filled soup dumplings—utterly delicious...

I had hoped to lie beneath the stars that night, planning what came next, but as soon as I lay down, my eyes refused to stay open...

I only wanted to sleep...