Chapter 21: Clearing the Bamboo Branches
After a sound night’s sleep, Zhao Man woke up and instinctively reached for his terminal. He dismissed the automated notifications announcing that so-and-so had viewed his profile, ignored the private marriage proposals, and focused instead on the base’s latest news updates. After that, he browsed the entertainment forums. All told, he lounged in bed until nine before finally getting up.
Afraid the bedroom would get too warm and spoil the potatoes, Zhao Man had moved the table into the kitchen the night before. When he got up this morning, the potatoes and sand yams in the basin were stiff and cold, though thankfully not frozen to the metal.
He dumped the pork cracklings he had rendered two days ago onto the cutting board, minced them fine, and transferred them back into a bowl. Adding a bowl of water to the pot, he picked a potato that had already been cut down to a quarter and tossed it in to boil. Once the water grew hot, he gently mashed it into a puree with the spatula, mixed in a spoonful of pork crackling mince, and added a chopstick-full of shredded bracken fern.
Ladle in hand, he scooped it into a bowl and eagerly took a large bite. The steaming mashed potato—rich, savory, and scented with rendered fat—was delicious.
Not long after he finished breakfast, a message from Tang Heng pinged his terminal. Wheeling the space heater out into the courtyard, Zhao Man opened the front door. A piercing, bone-chilling wind blew in, and he quickly stepped aside. Five heavily equipped men entered, each carrying a bundle of supplies, including a ladder. They dropped their loads in the recreation room and turned to leave.
They wore gray-and-white snowsuits and full helmets. Broad-shouldered and towering, it was impossible to tell who was who.
The second trip brought three men, each hauling a large sack. The largest man of the group was carrying an extra bundle in his hand.
Two of them dropped their loads and left immediately. The last man set his sack down and unfastened his helmet, revealing a rugged, handsome face. It was Tang Heng.
“This sack is a whole hind leg of pork. This one is rice, and this one is flour. Here are your padded winter coat and bolts of fabric. I’m taking off—still have to deliver supplies to other households. Message me if you need anything else, and I’ll bring it over.” With that, Tang Heng pulled his helmet back on.
“Thanks a lot!” In that moment, Zhao Man had to admit that Tang Heng looked rather handsome.
Closing the door, Zhao Man dragged the sacks into the kitchen. He stacked the rice and flour against the bedroom wall. The pork leg had already been butchered into large cuts, and in the brief time it had been outside, the juices had frozen solid.
He pulled the padded coat on over his clothes. Both the winter jacket and the snow boots were made from water-resistant material, but just to be safe, Zhao Man went to the bedroom and threw his windproof overcoat on top. It had a zipper running down the front, functioning much like an oversized smock. He donned his winter hat and insulated gloves, fastening the hat’s earflaps, neck guard, and face mask securely. All three pieces were made of leather. Grabbing his saw and hauling the pork, he opened the back door.
The moment he stepped outside, a howling gale struck him. Thanks to the eaves, the buffer zone between the rear wall and the jagged outcrop had been spared from direct snowfall. Zhao Man opened the bag and laid the cuts of pork out one by one to flash-freeze.
The jagged boulders were blanketed in thick snow, making it impossible to tell where the crevices ended and solid rock began. Left with no choice, he retreated to the courtyard, gathered a small bundle of firewood, and stood them against the crags. Climbing onto the rocks, he picked his way out from behind the fallen bamboo branches. Snow dusted past the edge of his face mask and slipped inside his collar. A sudden shiver ran down his spine. Freezing.
Crouching down, he pulled out a stick. Grasping the bamboo branches with one hand and holding the stick with the other, he probed the ground around his feet. Soon, the wood sank firmly into a crevice.
Zhao Man picked up the saw and set to work cutting the bamboo branches. As each branch fell, he tossed it onto a pile to the side. Working steadily, a thought struck him: next time, he would ask Tang Heng to bring over a brazier. Now that he had meat, he could make hotpot and stews, burn firewood, and roast a few potatoes on the side. It would be wonderfully warm.
The wind blew against his back, sending a draft of cold air creeping down his neck. Standing in place, Zhao Man cleared away the surrounding branches without stopping.
Once he had cleared all the reachable limbs, he laid the firewood sticks horizontally across the boulders. Holding one stick, he jabbed it into solid rock, grabbed the bamboo trunk, and carefully stepped across to plant his feet. Once balanced, he set the stick into another crevice by his boots and resumed sawing through the branches.
When this section was cleared, a smooth, two-meter stretch of the bamboo trunk was exposed. Not intending to venture any further back, he sawed right through the trunk, returned to the first boulder, and cut through it again. Leaving the severed bamboo section where it lay, Zhao Man planted one foot on each boulder, straddling the snow.
Once he had secured his footing to exert leverage, he grasped the cut bamboo trunk and dragged it down inch by inch. After dragging it a short distance, he trimmed the offshoots first before sawing the main stem down, dragging and sawing in turns. Fortunately, this was only the slender treetop—neither heavy, thick, nor particularly long. With the lower end severed, a bit of elbow grease combined with gravity brought the whole section crashing down.
Once the clearing was done, Zhao Man hopped down from the rocks and pushed open the courtyard door. The meat had frozen solid. Grasping the sack, he dragged it back into the yard with care.
Browsing the forums over the past few days, Zhao Man had read an informational post noting that after an edible mutated beast died, the radiation level of its meat remained stable, provided it didn’t come into contact with high-radiation contaminants. With no way of knowing whether the falling snow carried heavy radiation, he couldn’t afford to be careless.
Once inside, Zhao Man dragged a bamboo trough against the wall, stripped off his gloves, and rapidly loaded the pork cuts into the trough. In that brief window, his hands turned bright red from the biting cold.
A single trough wasn’t enough, so he dragged over a second. Sizing up the meat, he estimated this single leg was as large as two whole legs from a pig in his past life—a genuinely massive, fattened beast.
After stowing the pork, Zhao Man pulled his gloves back on, climbed onto the boulders, and shook the snow from the piled bamboo branches and sawn trunks before tossing them down by the door. Once everything was thrown below and he confirmed the remaining bamboo wouldn’t obstruct the house’s automated defense system, he hopped down.
The area outside the back door was now choked with branches. Adhering to the mindset that he had come too far to leave the job half-done, Zhao Man hauled every last bundle of debris into the courtyard and stacked it away.
Returning to the kitchen, he turned on the space heater and took off his winter hat. His hair was soaked with sweat, steam drifting up from inside the lining. Shedding his windproof coat and gloves, he kicked off his winter boots and slipped into ordinary shoes, only to instantly feel an icy draft seep through the soles of his feet.
Zhao Man stared down at his feet, muttering to himself, “Looks like I need to get another pair of padded winter shoes.”
Downing the remaining half-vial of nutrient solution from yesterday, Zhao Man wheeled the heater back into the bedroom, peeled off his padded coat and Cloud-Cocoon suit, and burrowed under the covers.
Only after he had warmed up completely did he notice large red patches on his hands, along with slight flaking skin. Checking his terminal, he learned it was mild frostbite. Switching on the camera to inspect his face, he found matching red patches across both cheeks, though fortunately the skin hadn’t peeled.
He retrieved the medicinal spray he’d bought previously from the bamboo storage tube beneath his bed, misted his hands and face, waited for the formula to dry, and curled back beneath the covers to sleep.
He slept until three in the afternoon. He couldn’t tell if it was just his imagination, but the howling of the wind seemed to echo in his ears. Reaching for his terminal, a high-wind warning from the base popped up the moment the screen lit.
Climbing out of bed and throwing on his padded coat, Zhao Man walked over to the rear window and peered outside: the snow that had paused that morning had resumed, accompanied by violent gusts of wind. He watched a swirl of snow spin past the glass before blowing into the distance.
The howling hadn’t been his imagination. Standing in the courtyard, the roar was even louder. He could hear the creaking groans of the bamboo and trees swaying violently in the storm out back. All Zhao Man could do was pray that if any trees or bamboo snapped, they would fall anywhere but toward his house.
He ate and slept through the evening on edge. In the dead of night, Zhao Man was jolted awake by loud crashes echoing from the rear courtyard. Scrambling out of bed, he threw on his Cloud-Cocoon suit and padded coat, turned on the yard lights, and unlatched the rear window. The pristine white snow outside illuminated the scene with crystal clarity.
More bamboo and trees had collapsed. A tree had fallen toward the house, but lacking the length to reach the structure, it lay pinned across the jagged boulders. A bamboo stalk had buckled downward; while it hadn’t struck the roof, it had crashed over the fallen tree, its branches draping across the entire rock formation. If left uncleared, the obstruction would not only blind his line of sight, but create a critical blind spot for the property’s defense grid should a mutated beast draw near.
