In the autumn of 1969, the War of Liberation waged by the Vietnamese people against the American imperialist aggression was raging fiercely. At that very time, as one of the many educated youths sent down to the countryside, I was assigned by the Youth Relocation Office to settle in a remote village deep within the Greater Khingan Range, tasked with executing the highest directive: Educated youth must go to the countryside to brave the snowstorms, temper their revolutionary hearts, wrestle with heaven and earth, and forge iron bones.

Unnoticed, several months had slipped by. The initial excitement and novelty of arriving in the mountains had long since evaporated, replaced by the monotony of endless days. The ravine where I was placed was scarcely larger than the palm of a hand, housing only twenty or thirty families. For hundreds of li around, the landscape was almost entirely untouched primeval forest.

The villagers lived off the bounty of the mountains. Aside from clearing a few small patches of land to grow staple grains for sustenance, their primary food source came from hunting. The roe deer, sika deer, wild rabbits, and pheasants on the slopes, along with wood ear mushrooms and other fungi in the woods, were all considered delicacies. Eating well and having enough to fill one’s stomach was never an issue.

But that winter, the snows arrived unusually early, and the northwest wind suddenly intensified, plunging the temperature. It was clear that heavy snow would soon seal off the mountain passes before anyone had time to properly stock up for the winter. In previous years, the mountain people relied on the autumn season, when the wild boar and rabbits were at their fattest, to hunt in large numbers, drying and curing the meat for storage to survive the cruel and protracted Khingan winter.

This abnormal weather pattern, unseen in a decade, struck right in the middle of autumn with heavy snow, immediately followed by howling northwest gales. This threw the hunters into disarray. They grabbed their rifles, gathered their hounds, and scrambled into the mountains for the "Winter Provisions Rush," racing against the heavens to seize the dwindling time. They focused all their efforts on setting snares for foxes and shooting rabbits; any later, and the mountain would certainly be swept by the ‘white-haired wind’—a phenomenon usually reserved for deep winter—at which point nothing could be hunted. If that happened, the entire village would face a terrible winter famine.

My fellow sent-down youth, Fatty, had been itching with restlessness lately, almost wishing for some kind of trouble to erupt. Seeing the hunters forming groups and heading into the mountains for a massive roundup ignited his spirit. He nudged me, rubbing his hands together, suggesting we join the hunters and try to take down a few Ren Xiong (Man-Bears).

My enthusiasm for mountain hunting, especially for cunning, strategic pursuits like ‘fox-snaring,’ was no less than Fatty’s. However, we rarely got the chance to truly let loose with rifles and dogs. I already knew—deep down—that the Brigade Secretary would never let us participate in this venture. Firstly, the few of us sent-down youths had already stirred up considerable trouble in less than six months, provoking the Old Secretary’s wrath and strict orders to cease any mischief. Our recent assignments consisted only of dull, static duties like cutting tomb bricks or guarding the lumber depot. Secondly, this Winter Provisions Rush was a vital village endeavor; the hunt was a collective operation demanding rich experience and seamless coordination among seasoned hunters. Allowing city-bred novices like us to join, only to cause an accident, would mean the entire village might starve through the harsh winter. No one could bear that responsibility, and such a risk absolutely could not be taken.

We watched longingly as every household dispatched its strongest hunters, forming the ‘Winter Provisions Rush Combat Team,’ and marched grandly into the snow-covered wilderness with droves of dogs, heading for the front lines of the encirclement. I felt anxious and frustrated. Even knowing it was practically hopeless, I clung to a thread of hope and sought out the Secretary again, pleading for any compromise—even if it was just rear-support work for us youths within the village. Staying confined to the village was driving us mad.

Fatty also stressed the Chairman Mao’s highest directive to the Secretary: "We have come from all corners of the five lakes and four seas, united for one common purpose. On behalf of the five of us sent-down youths, I sincerely request that you, no matter what, allow us to join the torrent of this revolutionary struggle of the Winter Provisions Rush..."

The Old Secretary cut Fatty off before he could finish, neutralizing our request with another directive from the Chairman: "Stop feeding me nonsense and fooling around! Didn’t Chairman Mao also emphasize... yes... His Elderly Self also stressed opposing liberalism and obeying organizational arrangements? Look, everyone in the village capable of hunting has gone. All that’s left are the women, children, the weak, and the sick. And look at this snow! If some poorly prepared Hei Xiazi (Black Bear) comes sniffing around looking for winter food, it'll be trouble. Here’s what we’ll do: Half of you youths stay behind to guard the village. You, Ba Yi, and Little Fatty, I want Yanzi to take you to guard the lumber depot at the forest farm. That will allow Old Man Qiaoshan to come back. I’m telling you two, you are absolutely not allowed to stir up trouble while I’m gone, understand?"

As expected, I saw there was no room for compromise on the fundamental issue. Since the matter had been pressed this far, I could only acquiesce. In my mind, I secretly plotted to find an opportunity to set fox snares near the forest farm; it was certainly better than the dullness of engaging in political education back in the village. So, I bade farewell to the other three sent-down youths, shouldered my bedding roll, and, along with Fatty, followed Yanzi to the forest farm beneath Tuanshanzi to guard the timber.

A few households in the village served as designated youth points, where the sent-down youths were permanently billeted. Meals were taken in rotation at different homes; whatever was cooked, they ate. Yanzi, the girl, was the "landlady" for me and Fatty. She was also an excellent huntress. The Secretary assigned her to escort us and watch the lumber depot, partly out of concern that the remote site might attract wild animals.

Yanzi did not complain about missing the big hunt. After all, the sent-down youths possessed knowledge far beyond that of the mountain people. Especially those like me and Fatty, who could discuss everything from astronomy to geography, charming our way through any topic. Being with the educated youths allowed her to learn about the world beyond the mountains she had never left. So, she slung her rifle, gathered some essential supplies, and set off with Fatty and me. The journey from the village to the forest farm required crossing one ridge and navigating two mountain dips—a long trek. The northwest wind howled relentlessly along the way, whipping the snow spray from the ground and the treetops into a swirling frenzy across the sky. The daylight itself was so dim and grey that it was impossible to tell if the snow was still falling. I wrapped my head tightly in my dog-fur hat, but the wind still managed to numb my scalp bit by bit.

However, Yanzi assured us this weather was nothing. Once deep winter arrived in the mountains, the snow in the woods could reach waist-deep. Walking through it was exhausting, often leading to profuse sweating, yet stopping to rest was forbidden. Once one stopped to catch their breath, the bone-chilling wind would instantly turn all that sweat into layers of frost. Furthermore, those who hadn't spent a winter deep in the mountains could scarcely imagine the terror of the ‘White-Haired Wind’—a term mountain folk spoke of with dread. The ‘White-Haired Wind’ was essentially snow infused with gale-force wind, creating a silver-white vortex more vicious than ice shards. No one could withstand it hitting their body. This was why mountain hunters had to stockpile food in advance; when the cold truly set in, they retreated to the warmth of their indoor kang beds to hibernate.

We reached the forest farm after nearly a full day’s travel. This depot lay adjacent to ‘Tuanshanzi,’ the territory of the Ren Xiong. A river cut through this expanse of snowy forest, perfectly dividing the mountainous area from the dense woodland. Tuanshanzi was rich in vegetation and never lacked food sources, meaning the Man-Bears residing there rarely crossed the river into the woods. Conversely, the hunters dared not provoke the fierce King of the Forest—the Ren Xiong—by venturing too close to their domain.