Chapter Two: Became a Fool

Xiao Ding steadied himself, gripping the hatchet as he approached the abandoned basket. Looking closely, he saw a black hemp jacket draped over the top, fluttering slightly in the night breeze. Xiao Ding picked up the jacket and discovered that inside the basket were still some wilted wild greens, about half a basketful.

He had no interest in the wild greens, but he rather liked the jacket. He had nothing to wear, after all, and here was a garment delivered to his hands. Xiao Ding put it on and found that it fit him quite well.

But the buttons on the jacket struck him as odd. They were made from knotted cloth, a style he didn’t recall seeing before, though it also felt strangely familiar. He couldn’t quite place where he’d seen such buttons; the more he tried to remember, the worse the pain grew in his head.

Now he had something to cover his upper body, but still lacked trousers. It was late autumn, and nights were cold without proper clothes.

He looked around, and his gaze fell upon the half-devoured corpse left by the wolves. The two wolves had mostly eaten the innards and torso; the legs, though bearing bite marks, were largely intact.

From the remains of those legs, Xiao Ding tore off a pair of tattered, bloodstained hemp trousers and pulled them onto himself. He tore off a strip of cloth to serve as a belt, tying it around his waist.

It was better than nothing; even ragged trousers were an improvement over going bare.

Before leaving, Xiao Ding looked once more at the mutilated corpse. Life was hard enough, he thought. The man had likely come to the mountain to gather wild greens, taken off his jacket in the midday heat and left it in his basket, never expecting to encounter those two wolves.

Having taken his clothes, Xiao Ding felt he couldn’t simply leave the body exposed in the wilderness; sooner or later, wild beasts would feast on it. He ought to bury him.

Finding a patch of soft earth, Xiao Ding dug a shallow grave with his hatchet, collected the remaining limbs, and buried them. He then piled several large stones over the spot to keep wild animals from digging up the body.

Returning to where the two gray wolves lay, he suddenly sensed the presence of a predator approaching through the woods—an instinctive feeling. He guessed that the scent of blood had lured other carnivores from the depths of the forest.

He was just about to leave quickly when faint shouts drifted up from the foot of the mountain.

Xiao Ding pricked up his ears and listened intently. As the voices came nearer, he began to make out their words:

“Brother—”

“Xiao Ding—”

“Tian the Fool—”

Judging by the number of voices, there were perhaps a dozen people, seemingly searching for some folks named “Xiao Ding” and “Tian the Fool.” Xiao Ding himself did not know whether he was called Xiao Ding.

He listened a while longer; their voices were drawing close. He could vaguely see flickers of torchlight among the trees at the base of the slope. Gripping his hatchet, he hurried toward the group.

Whoever they were looking for, it was best to join them; there was safety in numbers, especially with wild beasts about.

He hadn’t gone far before he met the group—more than a dozen sturdy men, torches in hand, and armed with shovels, hoes, and clubs, peering about as they called out.

Their patched and repatched clothes marked them as ordinary working folk, not men of rank or wealth.

Yet something about their attire struck Xiao Ding as odd, a feeling much like the one he’d had when he saw the buttons on his own jacket.

Period costume?

The phrase flashed across Xiao Ding’s mind, though he didn’t know why, nor what it truly meant.

“Brother! At last we’ve found you—are you hurt?” As Xiao Ding stood dazedly, the group across from him spotted him standing there, motionless.

“Huh?” Xiao Ding looked at the scrawny young man who addressed him, wondering if the man was speaking to him. Did he know him? Were these people searching for him?

His mind was a whirl of questions and confusion.

“Brother, don’t you recognize me? How are your injuries?” The skinny youth hurried over, concern in his eyes as he took Xiao Ding’s bloodstained hand and looked him up and down, noting the many wounds.

“You’re my brother?” Xiao Ding asked, puzzled.

“I’m your brother-in-law, Zhao Laixi! You don’t remember me? You’re my wife’s elder brother!” Zhao Laixi replied anxiously.

“Hey, Tian the Fool! Don’t tell me you’re so dumb you can’t even recognize your own brother-in-law?” a dark-skinned young man called out, laughing.

“Tian the Fool?” Xiao Ding was even more bewildered. This frail youth was his brother-in-law, and he himself was “Tian the Fool.”

“Little Chick, don’t mind what Black Coal says,” said a brawny man standing behind Zhao Laixi. “You may be a bit slow, but you’ve always known your own family.”

Little Chick? Was that also him? The name sounded vaguely familiar. Xiao Ding knit his brows, desperately hoping his memory would return, but the pain in his head only worsened, and nothing came to mind.

“Xiao Ding, listen to your Uncle Niu. You went out yesterday and didn’t come home all night—your parents were worried sick. Come, don’t just stand there, let’s go down the mountain.”

“Go home? Parents? Xiao Ding?” Xiao Ding murmured softly to himself.

Wait—Xiao Ding? The name rang a bell, warm and familiar. Could it be that, in addition to being called Tian the Fool and Little Chick, his name was also Xiao Ding?

“Hah! You see?” Black Coal crowed. “Calling him a fool isn’t wrong; he doesn’t even know his own name! If he’s not a fool, who is?”

“All right, Black Coal, enough out of you,” the long-faced man interjected. “Fools have their own kind of luck, so why bother him? Now that we’ve found him, let’s go home. Otherwise, if we run into those gray wolves, we’ll be in real trouble. I’ve heard there are two huge gray wolves prowling around lately; they’ve already taken several pigs and sheep from the neighboring villages.”

“They’ve taken more than that,” someone else chimed in. “Even people have disappeared.”

“What? People? Who was unlucky enough to get snatched by wolves?” The group was immediately abuzz.

“That vagrant Liu Laitou from Smoky Hollow Village. Someone saw him foraging at the foot of the mountain and ran into two massive gray wolves—bigger than calves! One bite and they snapped his neck…”

“I heard the county sent Chief Constable Sun with a dozen hunters to track them down. In the end, only three made it back, all wounded…”

The crowd shrank back at these words, unease settling over them as they glanced warily around, as if the wolves might emerge from the forest at any moment.

“Brother, let’s go home,” Zhao Laixi urged, clearly nervous after hearing the stories. Seeing Xiao Ding standing there, still dazed, he tugged his arm.

“All right,” Xiao Ding replied, coming to his senses. He still hadn’t remembered his past. But when Zhao Laixi insisted on taking him home, he thought perhaps seeing familiar faces and places might help him recall something.

He took a few steps with the others when his stomach suddenly rumbled with hunger. He wondered if there would be anything good to eat at home. Then he remembered the two wolves he’d killed earlier. Roast wolf leg might be nice.

He called out to Zhao Laixi, “Hey, um, brother-in-law—I just killed two wolves back there. Should we bring them back with us?”

“What? You killed two wolves?” The group stared at him in astonishment.