I told Fatty and Yanzi that the only place to hide things in this underground chamber was within the huokang (heated brick bed), and I seemed to recall a similar record in the Sixteen-Character Yin-Yang Feng Shui Secret Manual. That tattered volume mentioned the concept of "Yin and Yang Dwellings": Yin dwellings are cemeteries, prepared for the dead, while Yang dwellings are residences for the living. The "Gathering Spirit in Dwelling" method in Feng Shui, also known as the Art of the "Eight Houses Bright Mirror," suggests that this symmetrically designed underground chamber might have been set up with Yin-Yang Mirror formations—a technique akin to the "Yansheng" (a type of sympathetic magic) used by ancient carpenters. Spiritually advanced Huangpizi (weasels) could use this "Yansheng" to capture human souls here. However, I had only casually flipped through that fragmented book and never read it closely; I just felt that under the circumstances, we ought to destroy this chamber immediately to prevent others from falling into its trap later.

I didn't believe the Huang Daxian (Great Immortal Weasel) had a treasure chest, but I suspected that out of people's desire to seek good fortune and avoid disaster, and their fear of provoking the Huang Daxian, someone might have used the guise of the Immortal Dao to conceal valuable items in the temple’s underground chamber. Such a thing was hardly surprising. And that box, I speculated, might be connected to the ancient gold vein at "Tuanshanzi." If we could find that object, we would have rendered a great service, perhaps even enough to secure enlistment in the army.

"A single red star worn on the head, the revolutionary red flag hung on both sides." Putting on a military uniform was the greatest dream not just for me and Fatty, but for our entire generation. Thinking of this, I couldn't help but feel excited, wishing we could tear down the huokang immediately. When Fatty heard there might be a secret compartment in the huokang, he instantly perked up, shaking off his lethargy. He hefted his long-handled axe and began smashing the brick wall of the huokang.

The earth partition under the underground chamber was built using the "dry-tamped" method. Both huokangs were connected to this wall. While solid, it couldn't withstand Fatty’s relentless assault. After a few swings, he smashed the earth wall down. The space beneath both huokangs was hollow; they collapsed too, exposing the pitch-black flue, from which billowed a plume of black smoke mixed with a pungent stench and dust, forcing us to retreat a few steps. Only after the dust settled did we approach together and start moving the broken bricks away.

Fatty, being impatient, rushed ahead. He held the oil lamp closer and peered in: "Yo! There really is something in here." He plunged an arm in, fumbled, and yanked out a heap of dark objects. Once he clearly saw what he had pulled out, Yanzi let out a shriek. Before I could even see what was under the huokang, I was startled by Yanzi's scream. Peering in the dim, yellow lamplight, I saw that Fatty had dragged a headless male corpse out of the smoke flue beneath the huokang. The headless body was already terribly decayed, even the ancient silk robe it wore was rotten. Having been entombed in the flue, half of its body was now dragged out, with the lower half still inside the huokang.

Fatty spat on the ground when he realized he had pulled out a headless mummy, cursing his bad luck, but he wasn't ready to give up. He used the axe like a sledgehammer, smashing and knocking again. The huokang on the left side of the chamber was completely broken apart, revealing another headless mummy buried beneath it. Judging by the attire, this mummy appeared to be female.

Just as I wondered why the huokang had become a joint burial casket for a couple, Fatty flipped open the hearth bricks and exclaimed in shock, motioning for me to look at what lay on the cavity of the mummies. Resting in the hollow space between the male and female headless mummies were two perfectly preserved human heads—one male, one female. Their hair was disheveled, but heaven knew how many years they had been buried in the huokang. Although the skin of the heads had undergone some form of preservation, it had collapsed and withered, the color resembling withered wax.

Mustering my courage, I leaned in to examine the two heads and discovered they were hollowed out; there was no skull or flesh inside, merely supported by copper wires, like empty human skins for a puppet show. Inside each empty head was a dead Huangpizi. The three of us were simultaneously startled and disgusted. We had heard rumors that when the Huang Daxian was formally invited into a mountain shrine, it could manifest in the form of a dignified, immortal human figure. Could that human form have been an illusion created by the Huangpizi crawling inside the cavities of dead bodies?

Yanzi declared we had brought great trouble upon ourselves by disturbing the remains of the Huang Daxian, fearing we would lose years of our lives. I comforted her, telling her not to believe such things. These were just tricks played by the temple caretakers to swindle incense money, mystifying the ignorant. Similar things happened back in my old hometown: a White Snake Temple in the mountains claimed the White Snake Goddess would appear to dispense medicine, but it was just some snake handler using serpent charming techniques to fleece the common folk. There was another story, heard before the Liberation, about a Rat Immortal Shrine in Yandang Mountain. It originated when a mountain resident caught an unusually large rat and, instead of killing it, kept it for entertainment. However, a local charlatan seized the opportunity, declaring it the Rat Immortal come to avert disaster for the villagers, thereby collecting a lot of incense money from pious devotees. Later, when the rat idolizing the god died, the charlatan said that since the Rat Immortal Lord had brought so much fortune, it deserved a human skin to cover it for a dignified passage into the afterlife. So, they found an unclaimed body in a mass grave, flayed the skin, and used it to enshroud the Rat Immortal. The more remote and uncivilized the deep mountain forests, the more bizarre and strange the customs. I figured the Huangpizi in these dead men's heads were similar—just props used by charlatans to cheat people. We had no need to worry our heads over these "Four Olds."

Yanzi was half-convinced by my words. Being a mountain native, though born after the Liberation, she wasn't deeply superstitious about these bizarre practices, but she still harbored some apprehension. Moreover, she was terrified of the two hollowed-out heads used to house the dead weasels and absolutely refused to stay any longer. I finally told her to wait outside the stone gate of the Daxian Temple, and that Fatty and I would join her as soon as we finished dismantling the other half of the huokang.

After sending her away, I told Fatty, "If there really is a Huang Daxian buried beneath this 'Weasel Grave,' then the legend of the Huang Daxian's treasure chest is probably true. Finding it would be supporting world revolution." So, without pausing for a rest, the two of us set about dismantling the other side of the huokang.

But things didn't go as smoothly as we imagined. When we collapsed the other huokang, all we found inside were some broken porcelain bowls and shards—no sign of the chest containing the gold vein or gold. On the ground were only scattered gold particles the size of rice grains. Near the base of the wall, the huokang had a large hole dug out; the passage beyond had already collapsed, completely blocked off.

Upon seeing this, Fatty and I immediately understood everything and slumped onto the ground. It was over. Those four hanged men were right; they must have had accomplices. They likely realized that anyone descending the stone steps into the chamber never returned, meaning a formation was set up below. The accomplices must have used the "flanking maneuver," digging a tunnel from the mountain into the underground chamber, stealing the Mountain God’s chest. All our efforts had been for nothing.

Fatty still picked up every gold particle on the ground, consoling himself that while the amount was small and insufficient to support world revolution, it was more than enough to improve our meager lives. I noticed these gold particles were very similar to the ones we obtained at the lumber yard that night—irregular in shape, as if they were slivers broken off bobo gold granules used for inlaying decorations. Could the Huang Daxian's chest have been completely inlaid with golden ornaments, with these fragments falling off during the theft?

The thought of what the mysterious chest contained made my curiosity burn, but that object had likely been stolen for years; I probably wouldn't see it in my lifetime. I felt disappointed for a full minute. By then, Fatty had gathered everything worth taking. There was no point lingering; besides, Yanzi above might be growing impatient. So, we decided to leave.

As we were about to depart, seeing the entire chamber littered with corpses, especially those four "Old Hangers," it made us feel uneasy just looking at them. I suggested to Fatty that we might as well finish the job—burn this entire underground hall down. Since the basement never received light, the chamber held almost a full jar of lamp oil, and much of the structure was wood; setting a fire wouldn't be difficult. We poured the lamp oil haphazardly, then kicked over the oil can, smashing the lamp onto the ground. It immediately caught fire, the flames causing the wooden beams and rafters in the chamber to crackle loudly.

Fearing we would suffocate from the thick smoke, Fatty and I scrambled up the stone steps and out of the Huang Daxian Temple. The snow outside had stopped. We first found a tree hollow to hide the bear skin and meat, sealing it with stones. Only then did we cross the Chahagan River on makeshift logs and return to the lumber yard. It was only then we realized that the "Yellow Immortal Aunt" we had captured was barely clinging to life, half-dead from fright and exhaustion. Fatty looked and realized that if the weasel died, the pelt wouldn't be worth much, but if he botched the skinning, it would be worth even less. So, he force-fed it some rice soup to keep it alive. That night, he set out through the wind and snow, taking the bear paws and the "Yellow Immortal Aunt" to the supply and marketing cooperative to trade for goods. Going through mountain trails in a blizzard just for a few pounds of cheap fruit candies—only educated youth sent for re-education would do such a thing. The motivation wasn't entirely gluttony; it was primarily driven by sheer boredom.

Yanzi returned to the village to find people to collect the bear meat, leaving me alone to guard the lumber yard. After everything was settled, we rested for two days. Then we started plotting to trap a fox this time, having already trapped a weasel. But before we could act, the old Party Secretary sent someone to bring us back to the village.

The Secretary said, "We assigned you to the quietest place, the lumber yard, fearing you wouldn't behave if you stayed in the village. Yet, you still ignored orders and went hunting bears at Tuanshanzi—your disobedience is too much. If something went wrong, who would take responsibility? Although hunting a bear counts as aiding agriculture, your merits don't outweigh your fault. I think if you stay at the lumber yard, you'll eventually cause more trouble. We need to find you something else to do as punishment... Hmm, what job should I find?"

Finally, the old Secretary assigned the three of us to the labor of "shaving grave bricks." Since farming in the mountains was difficult, there were only scattered patches of thin soil. This year, they had leveled a new area from a mountain gully, which uncovered numerous tombs. Since our village gradually formed from assembled hunters during the Qing Dynasty, no one could say for certain which dynasty the old burial grounds near the gully belonged to. These unmarked, old graves were stone and brick crypts, most of them already dilapidated, largely destroyed, looted, or waterlogged. The coffins, grave goods, and bone fragments inside held little value. What remained after clearing were many grave bricks. These bricks were valuable to the locals because the region was sparsely populated for hundreds of miles, lacking any brick kilns. The bricks were large and sturdy, suitable for building livestock sheds and simple structures. However, the bricks were often covered in residual mud, chipped at the edges during excavation, or broken into irregular shapes. This necessitated using a trowel to shave and trim them, cutting off any uneven parts. The integrity of the entire brick wasn't essential, but they needed to be flat and regular for easy wall construction.

"Shaving grave bricks" was usually work done by the women in the village because the men found the task unlucky and too saturated with yin energy. Assigning this job to us was considered a lighter punishment. The work was supervised by the Secretary's wife, Fourth Auntie.

Although it was a light punishment, I loathed this kind of uncreative labor. We spent half the day hacking away at foul-smelling grave bricks, leaving our waists sore, arms numb, and hands aching. So, I found an opportunity to treat Fourth Auntie to a few pieces of the fruit candy we traded the "Yellow Immortal Aunt" for, coaxing her into a good mood. I seized the chance to slack off and have a smoke break with Fatty.

I blew out a smoke ring. "I'm dizzy from shaving these bricks all day. It’s not dinnertime yet, but my stomach is already rumbling," I couldn't help but ask Yanzi, "Sister Yanzi, what delicious things will you cook for us tonight?"

Before Yanzi could answer, Fatty jumped in, "You two are in luck tonight, I'm treating! Dragon meat from the sky, donkey meat from the earth. Yesterday, there was a sick black donkey in the village, and I bravely disregarded the bad reputation of 'slaughtering a donkey after it’s done its work'—I helped butcher it. So, the Secretary gave me the hooves and offal. Tonight, we’ll have Yanzi stew the donkey hooves—braised is fine. The offal will be boiled for soup tomorrow morning. I haven't decided how to eat the head yet; what do you think about braising it in soy sauce?"

Yanzi, already annoyed at being dragged into shaving grave bricks, had been sulking. But hearing Fatty talk about eating donkey hooves, she burst into laughter, clutching her stomach. Fourth Auntie, listening nearby, also laughed. "That Fatty, you can't just eat black donkey hooves! Even if you're desperate for a drink, you drink brine; if you're starving, you eat the Five Poisons—but you can’t eat black donkey hooves. Grave robbers in the old days used them. Don't eat them randomly; that stuff is for feeding the dead. Only the 'Old Hangers' eat black donkey hooves. In the underworld, judges manage the ledgers, the Ox-Head and Horse-Face collect souls, and the Nine Nethers General subjugates corpses and disperses malevolence. That Nine Nethers General is said to be a transformed black donkey spirit that achieved immortality. In the old temples, the clay statues were often donkey-headed and donkey-hoofed."

As soon as I heard Fourth Auntie, I immediately recalled the story my grandfather told me about Mojin Xiaowei (tomb raiders) using black donkey hooves to subdue zombies in ancient tombs. Black donkey hooves were essential artifacts the Mojin Xiaowei never traveled without—a far cry from what she said. But I never expected Fourth Auntie to know such lore. I quickly asked her to elaborate on the details.

Fourth Auntie replied, "What are Mojin Xiaowei? What do they do? I've never heard of them. I only remember that before the Liberation, there was a band of bandits in the mountains, a Liuzi (a type of outlaw gang). These people all dressed in black clothes, black trousers, and black caps, with red sashes and red socks over black shoes. Their attire was incredibly bizarre. This group specialized in digging up graves deep in the mountains. They were extremely rampant back then. After the Liberation, sects like the Yiguan Dao were suppressed. In the old days, all Liuzi had a name. I still remember the name of this gang... it was something like... Ni'er Hui."

I had never heard legends of tomb robbers called "Ni'er Hui" before; it was the first time in my life hearing about them. However, Fatty and I had vaguely heard of the "Yiguan Dao" she mentioned. The practitioners of this sect notoriously cut off the private parts of young boys to use as an aphrodisiac in alchemy; they were suppressed after the Liberation and ceased to exist. Hearing Fourth Auntie speak with such conviction, I knew she wasn't joking.

In these deep, lonely mountain ranges, getting a chance to listen to the elders recount tales stretching back to the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors was a major form of entertainment for us. Moreover, Fatty and I had personally seen corpses in the underground chamber of the Huang Daxian Temple that bore clothing similar to that described for the "Ni'er Hui" bandits, which only heightened our curiosity. We immediately begged Fourth Auntie to tell us more about the "Ni'er Hui."

But Fourth Auntie didn't know much about the "Ni'er Hui" either; she only shared what she knew, which were old stories from before the Liberation. Manchuria was chaotic then, with bandits swarming the mountains. Setting aside the major gangs like "Zheletian," there were many roaming groups of petty bandits robbing and plundering in small bands. There were also those who specialized in "binding quick tickets"—kidnapping young women just before their weddings. Since they couldn't hold the captive overnight, the groom's family would surely call off the marriage. Thus, the bride’s family had to quickly raise the ransom and secure her release the same day, hence "binding quick tickets." The leader of the "Ni'er Hui" was previously such a petty bandit who specialized in these kidnappings. Furthermore, he had learned sorcery within a Daoist sect and was rumored to have the ability to escape underground; even if he committed a crime, the authorities couldn't catch him. Perhaps he was actually just a former sapper, good at digging tunnels, but outsiders had no way of knowing the truth; everything was speculation. Later, he discovered that excavating ancient tombs could bring massive wealth, so he turned to robbing the dead.

As he dug more graves, his reputation grew, and he took on many apprentices, forming a Liuzi within the bandit community, and they adopted a formal name. Since their business involved digging earth and scooping mud, and most of his apprentices were poor mud-diggers from riverbeds, their success relied on skill. To bring good luck, they emphasized the character 'Hui' (meaning 'skill' or 'society'), so they named themselves "Ni'er Hui" (Mud Society).

The "Ni'er Hui" emerged in the late Qing Dynasty. Nominally organized like a master-apprentice sect, their actual organizational structure mirrored the strict hierarchy of major bandit gangs like the "Four Beams and Eight Pillars." They were consistently wicked and ruthless; they tormented not only the dead but also many local mountain people. Yet, the government's repeated campaigns failed, and they successfully plundered numerous ancient tombs over several decades. Later, they became openly brazen. Since many old graves contained reanimated corpses or the deceased had been preserved with mercury, to retrieve jewels from their mouths, they would drag the corpses out of the tombs with hemp ropes, hang them upside down from crooked trees to drain the mercury, and then proceed to pry open their mouths and cut open their stomachs. Sometimes, even if the tomb was close to inhabited villages, they operated with open torches or in broad daylight, showing no restraint. Everyone in this trade became rich quickly, so these men all carried real weapons, and nobody dared confront them.

After they looted everything of value from the tombs, they left behind a scene of wreckage: shattered coffins and mutilated remains. The local people would only sigh, lamenting the terrible fate of those ancient corpses, subjected to such desecration after death—the sight was unbearable.

The "Ni'er Hui" gang operated exclusively in the deep forests of the Lesser and Greater Khingan Mountains. In these mountains and ridges, any ancient tomb marked by a broken stele or earth mound they could find, they would find a way to dig open and steal the secret artifacts within. Due to their constant dealings in crime, they were guilty-minded and developed many superstitions. They dressed entirely in black to reduce the amount of living people's yang energy when working, as ancient tombs were places long steeped in yin obscurity, and bringing living yang energy inside was always taboo. Additionally, they used bright red for their cap badges, socks, and belts, all dyed with pig's blood for warding off evil.

Few people now can clearly recall their exploits, as these were all old stories from decades ago. Fourth Auntie knew the details so well because before the Liberation, her own elder brother was captured by the "Ni'er Hui" bandits and forced to work as manual labor, sifting mud and carrying earth during their tomb excavations. He eventually managed a narrow escape from the bandit lair and recounted some of his experiences to her.

According to her brother’s memory, the leader of the "Ni'er Hui" once led the entire gang to dig many tunnels around the "Tuanshanzi" area. Finally, they dug out an underground temple of the Huang Daxian behind the weasel grave. They sought a treasure through a secret passage in the temple but angered the Great Immortal, costing several lives. However, the "Ni'er Hui" weren't easily defeated. When one scheme failed, they tried another, and they ultimately succeeded in digging out a chest inlaid with gold and jade from the passage beneath the temple.

After the "Ni'er Hui" bandits succeeded, the mountain villagers they had forced to help dig were all dragged to the gully and executed to silence them. Fourth Auntie's brother was shot—the bullet passed straight through him. He crawled out of the pile of dead bodies, managed to survive, but his gunshot wound never fully healed after returning to the village. Coupled with the extreme shock, he died within a few years. As for the whereabouts of that large chest the "Ni'er Hui" dug out of the Huang Daxian Temple, and what treasure it contained, no one ever knew. Furthermore, after that incident, the "Ni'er Hui" vanished from the deep forests; the gang was never seen again. It must have been divine retribution; they all perished without a burial place.

My Fatty and I listened with rapt attention. What exactly was hidden in the Yellow Immortal Temple that warranted the "Ni'er Society" going to such lengths? And where had they taken that chest? What ultimately became of those bandits from the "Ni'er Society"? Our curiosity was immense; we desperately wanted to dig to the bottom of the matter, or we wouldn't sleep soundly at night. But Auntie Si only knew so much, and even the veracity of that little she knew was questionable. When her brother dragged himself back to the village after being shot, barely clinging to life, the words he spoke were incoherent—who knew if they were reliable?

Seeing there was nothing more to glean, Fatty and I resumed our work of chiseling tomb bricks. At that time, they promoted changing old customs for new ones: clearing desolate graves to cultivate fertile fields. Since cremation wasn't feasible in many remote areas, earth burial was still practiced, but it was vastly different from the old society. First, burials were modest; second, they were deep, twenty chi down, with no mound raised above the grave, allowing crops to be planted over the site.

However, in the deep mountains and dense forests where we were, people were scarce, so there was no need to fret over the acreage for graves versus farmland. We were merely leveling old graves and ancient tombs, using the bricks as building material. But these bricks were incredibly hard to chisel. These blue bricks had been permeated by the stench of decay from the ancient tombs—a foul odor that, despite the years, had not dissipated. After smoothing them down, we still had to mix lime with potent spirits to neutralize the smell. I chiseled a few more, then sniffed my fingers and instantly grimaced from the fumes. I rubbed my aching neck and gazed out at the silent mountains beyond the village, suddenly overcome by a vague, inexplicable sense of loss. Was I destined to spend my life in the mountains, chopping tomb bricks and watching the lumberyard? Chairman Mao waved his hand to change the course, sending millions of educated youths to new battlegrounds for re-education under the poor and lower-middle peasants. While this certainly tempered a person, it was a far cry from my ideals. I was too young then, restless about my future. The thought of being stuck in a mountain gully my entire life, unable to join the army and realize my ambitions, immediately triggered waves of panic deep within my heart, my nose burned, and I nearly wept.

Fatty noticed my strange expression and asked what I was thinking, why I looked so glum all day. I sighed and replied, "Damn it all, I'm worrying about the liberation of the peoples of Asia, Africa, and Latin America." Fatty advised me, "Stop worrying. What the people of Asia, Africa, and Latin America are up to is beyond our reach; maybe they don't need us to worry for them either. It’s almost quitting time. Tonight, I'll treat you to donkey offal; eat to your heart's content. As they say in the Northeast, don't be polite, just gorge yourselves."

I wiped the snot dripping down my face, about to discuss with Fatty how to prepare the offal, when the old Party Secretary returned. He had been to the commune office on an errand and brought back several postal parcels for the educated youth. Transportation was difficult in these mountains, and we had been here for several months, almost entirely cut off from the outside world. Seeing mail and parcels for the first time, how could we not be overjoyed? We immediately forgot everything else. Fatty and I were most anxious about our families, but the Secretary rummaged through them and announced there were no parcels for us—these were for the other educated youths.

Although I knew my family was under scrutiny at home and naturally couldn't send anything, I still felt a pang of disappointment. Just as I turned to leave, the old Secretary called the two of us back. He held up a single letter, saying it was addressed to both of us.

Fatty and I stiffened slightly and rushed forward to snatch the letter, wondering why there was only one letter for the two of us. Yanzi was also curious and crowded close to look with us. I suppressed my excitement and eagerly examined the envelope. The letter had been forwarded to us from the mail room of our old military district, meaning there was another envelope inside—the original. Clearly, the sender didn't know the address where Fatty and I were settled, so they sent it to the military district first, and it was then relayed here.

I tore open the letter and began to read carefully, word by word. The sender was Ding Sitian, a Red Guard comrade-in-arms we had met on the train during the nationwide Great Link-Up. She was about our age, an artistic standout. We hit it off instantly and toured nearly half of China together. In Chairman Mao’s hometown, we each grabbed a handful of local soil and held on for a full day and night until our hands swelled. In Yan'an, the revolutionary sacred site, we shared a piece of dry bread in a cave dwelling. We had even been reviewed in the highest-level inspection at Tiananmen Square. When the Link-Up ended and we parted, we exchanged correspondence addresses. A good deal of time had passed since then; we never imagined receiving a letter from her here in the mountains today.

Ding Sitian's parents were both museum staff. The Ding family had four children, named after the principles of "Resist America and Aid Korea, Recall Bitterness and Taste Sweetness"—a prevailing naming trend back then. In her letter to us, she mentioned: "To my closest revolutionary comrades, Hu Bayi and Wang Kaixuan, since we parted in our great capital Beijing, I have missed the days and nights of our Great Link-Up every moment. I’ve wanted to write for ages, but many things have happened at home... I trust you have realized your wishes and enlisted, proudly joining the People's Liberation Army to become revolutionary soldiers—that is my dream too. I hope you can send me a photo in uniform so I can share your joy... Finally, please never forget the revolutionary friendship between us; may it be higher than the mountains, farther than the road, everlasting for all time, and never fade."

From the letter, we learned that Ding Sitian, who wanted to join the army, ended up being sent to Kulun Left Banner in Inner Mongolia due to family background and other factors. She clearly didn't know that Fatty’s and my fortunes were similar to hers—we hadn't become soldiers either, instead being dispatched to the Greater Khingan Range. After finishing the letter, Fatty and I were silent for a long time. We felt too ashamed to write back to Ding Sitian, and certainly had no photo in uniform to send her.

I sensed a deep loneliness in Ding Sitian's letter. Perhaps life in Kulun Left Banner was even more monotonous than here in the mountains. Although Kulun Left Banner, like Ganggangyingzi where I was, belonged to Inner Mongolia, they weren't in the same League. Kulun Left Banner was a pastoral area on the grasslands, with harsh conditions and even sparser population, very far from the Hinggan League. It was one thing for Ding Sitian to sing and dance, but imagining her herding livestock on the grasslands was hard to reconcile. How could we not worry about her? As I pondered this, I saw Fatty rummaging through our things trying to find paper to write a reply. I stopped him: "Stop looking. We don't even have toilet paper, where are we going to find letter paper? I think we're going stir-crazy staying in the mountains. We might as well take a trip out to the grasslands and stop by to see our dear comrade along the way."

Yanzi, hearing me mention going to the grasslands, asked in surprise, "What? To the great grasslands of Kulun Left Banner? That’s at least a ten-day round trip! If you don't work for so many days, what about your work points? What will you eat when you get back?"

I nodded to Yanzi. Of course, I had to consider this problem. Work points were the lifeblood of educated youth. Educated youth sent to the countryside for settlement, unlike those in the Production and Construction Corps in places like the Great Northern Wilderness, were managed under a semi-military system structured by divisions, with regiments, battalions, companies, platoons, and squads below. Corps members received free board and lodging plus a six-yuan monthly allowance. The Corps’ advantage was a fixed income; the drawback was a lack of freedom—you couldn't just come and go as you pleased. Educated youth operated on a work-point system; the drawback was unreliable income, but the advantage was freedom of movement and easy leave application. Some might wonder: if educated youth were so free, why not return to the city? This was mainly because once you left, you lost your ration coupon. Furthermore, having your household registration officially transferred to the countryside meant you were classified as rural residents. Returning meant being an unregistered person (heihu); you wouldn't be on the city rolls anymore and couldn't find work. Since food is paramount for survival, no work points meant no rations, which effectively tied people down.

A few days ago, we found quite a few gold nuggets at the Tuanshanzi forest farm. Of course, we didn't dare keep this for ourselves; after handing it over to the collective, the Secretary, being a good person—and although there were no bonuses back then—promised to credit us with two extra months of work points. We could use these to take an extended leave when we went home to visit relatives for the New Year. In short, Fatty and I could take two months off work. Bored of staying in the mountains and concerned about Ding Sitian, we decided then and there to make the trip to the grasslands.