Chapter Fifty: Viewing the Hill

Xiao Ding was puzzled, when suddenly he saw two men dressed as wanderers ride past the courtyard, also heading west toward Sunset Mountain. The road was slippery, so their horses moved slowly, allowing Xiao Ding a clear view; it was obvious they were not ordinary villagers.

Strange, Xiao Ding thought. When did people from the martial world arrive in the village? What could they be up to?

He pondered for a long while, but could not arrive at any clue, so he decided not to dwell on it. Glancing up at the sky, he saw it was already afternoon. Today, the bricks and tiles had been set, and Uncle Niu Er had been invited to help find workers for the construction. He should mark out the site for the house beforehand, carefully inspect the small hill, and then return to draft a detailed plan.

With that in mind, Xiao Ding left the courtyard and walked toward the wasteland and the hill. The wasteland was vast, larger than three modern football fields combined. He remembered measuring it the other day: the length was more than seventy yards, the width less than forty.

The wild rocks, weeds, and shrubs scattered across the wasteland needed to be dealt with. Xiao Ding decided that the rocks would be dug up to build the walls—large ones broken down, small ones used directly. Weeds and shrubs that could serve as building material would be used; the rest would be cut, dried, and stored for firewood.

The small hill to the north of the wasteland was not perfectly round; Xiao Ding had roughly observed it during the previous survey. Its southern side formed a half-elongated oval, sloping gently and covered in lush vegetation, a green expanse visible from afar.

Its northeast and northwest sides were sheer cliffs, as if sliced by knife and axe. Where these cliffs met, they formed an obtuse angle, almost perfectly aligned with a gap in the main mountain range, which was about ten yards away.

As a modern man, Xiao Ding understood that this hill had once belonged to the main mountain range, but had been separated from it by millennia of shifting earth, moving farther and farther apart.

Viewed from above, the hill looked much like a small segment cut from a giant round cake—though the main mountain range to the north was not round, but elongated, its true size unknown.

The hill did not appear very high, roughly estimated at a little over twenty yards. Its length from east to west was slightly less than the wasteland, but still more than seventy yards.

There were no paths on the slope, but most of it was gently inclined, except for a steeper stretch near the summit.

Xiao Ding climbed laboriously up the hill. There was no mud like in the village roads, but wild grass was everywhere. Though the grass had begun to yellow, the rain had left it wet and slippery, making it easy to lose one’s footing.

He resolved to build a proper path here; stones were plentiful nearby, so a stone-paved mountain road would be ideal.

In the woods atop the hill, Xiao Ding discovered pheasants, hares, field mice, and various birds, as well as several unknown wild fruits—many had fallen and rotted, untouched by human hands.

He thought, once he fenced off the wasteland and the hill, all these resources would belong to him!

After much effort, Xiao Ding finally reached the summit. The higher he climbed, the fewer trees there were and the more scattered rocks. At the top was a clearing, covered only with a thin layer of weeds, about the size of a football field.

At the rear of the clearing was a short, bare cliff of stone.

Xiao Ding wandered the clearing several times, thinking that building a house here would be an excellent choice. The view was open, the air fresh; standing atop the hill, he could gaze at birds soaring, white clouds drifting, verdant peaks and green trees, fragrant grass everywhere—a sense of transcendence, his spirit broadened and his mood joyful.

After observing for a while, he suddenly noticed what appeared to be two caves beneath the northern cliff.

He hurried over and found, indeed, two caves with small entrances. The smaller one glimmered with water, as if a spring flowed out—though the flow was slight, seeping into the cracks of the rocks before going far.

The cave entrances were close together. Xiao Ding peered inside both, finding spacious interiors. If the entrances were widened and the inside renovated, people could easily live there.

He recalled the cave he’d once lived in on a deserted island—warm in winter, cool in summer, very comfortable.

The eastern cave, where water flowed, must contain a spring; if time allowed, he would dig deeper. If the water was plentiful, it would be a great boon. With irrigation, the wasteland below could be made fertile.

He cleared a few rocks from the cave’s entrance and found the flow was already a bit stronger.

This discovery lifted his spirits. He decided to bring tools tomorrow and dig further.

As the afternoon waned, Xiao Ding returned to the southern edge of the hill and looked down at the wasteland. From this vantage, everything was clear. He regretted not bringing paper and pen; had he done so, he could have drawn a plan right there, seeing everything at a glance.

Still, he now had a rough idea in his mind.

He would build the main house as a two-story dwelling: the first floor for Tian Dabao, the second for himself and Xiao Fu for now. Once the hilltop caves were renovated or a house built on the summit, he would move there.

On either side of the main house, he would build east and west wings for Zhao Laixi’s family and for Xiao’e, Xiao Zhu, and Er Niu. When the new house was ready, he could no longer live with Er Niu.

In front, he would build a gatehouse. Behind the main house would be warehouses, kitchen, livestock pens, and so on.

These buildings would form a private courtyard for his family, and in front of them he would construct guest rooms and worker quarters, since he would need to hire more people in the future and provide them with lodging.

His future earning plans were already settled: first, raise pheasants and hares on the hill; second, build greenhouses on the wasteland to grow vegetables, especially out-of-season produce. These could all be supplied to the town and county’s major restaurants. Once everything was built and running, he would have no worries about making money.

As Xiao Ding dreamed of the future, he saw another horse pass along the village road, its rider also dressed as a wanderer, heading toward Sunset Mountain.

Counting this one, Xiao Ding had now seen four wanderers heading west.

Why were they going to Sunset Mountain? Could there be some martial gathering there? Having read martial arts novels and watched TV dramas, Xiao Ding couldn’t help but wonder.

Just then, he noticed a rider coming along the road to Sunset County, who soon turned onto the village’s western road, also heading toward Sunset Mountain.

How peculiar!

Xiao Ding was puzzled, sensing something was about to happen. He resolved to ask Tang Yunzhi later if she knew anything about it.

Descending the hill, Xiao Ding changed his mind: the eight rooms he planned to build didn’t have to be located by the warehouse; they could be built by the worker quarters, just as suitable for the workers to live in.

He paced the wasteland, marking the approximate position of each house, carefully noting each one. After confirming the site for the eight rooms and marking them, Xiao Ding finally turned for home.

The sun was already sinking westward; it was nearly time for dinner. He went into the forested hillside and, using stones, caught two wild pheasants, intending to cook them for dinner.

As he approached the courtyard gate, he suddenly saw two horses—one black, one white—coming from the village. Two slender figures sat astride them. Xiao Ding wondered, why have they come as well?