[The Romantic History of Warlords] (Autobiographical Account 2)

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?? Self-narration (2)
? ? Read YY novels, everyone who transmigrates is a strong person, dominating the world and playing with it. At the very least, they are concubines or
princesses.
? ? But what about me?
? ? Yan Baosan, lives in Yanjia Gou Village, Tangyi County, Shandong Province. His father, Yan Sicheng with big buck teeth, is a tenant farmer, a
poor peasant family exploited in the old society. The family of 7 squeezes into 3 dilapidated mud-brick houses, with a broken kang (heated brick bed), lined
up from east to west: grandfather, big buck teeth, eldest brother, second brother, and me, 5 old and young men. On sunny days, they squint and count stars
, on rainy days, the pots and pans clang and clatter...
? ? The most hateful thing is that these guys all grit their teeth, fart and snore, like a competition, one blowing and one
snoring, each louder than the last. It was hot, and mosquitoes fluttered around, biting me incessantly. Suddenly, someone swung their big
hand and slapped me hard across the face—"Smack!"—it was quite a loud sound.
Immediately afterward, Big Tooth sat bolt upright, yelling, "Which son of a bitch slapped my face?"
"Your dad!" Grandpa muttered disapprovingly.
Anyway, that night, the old and the young were yelling and cursing, and before dawn, everyone was up all night. Opening their eyes, they saw
rows of large and small bumps on everyone's face, neck, belly, and legs…it
was quite a sight.
The next morning, Big Tooth and my two older brothers went to work in the fields, hungry. I went with Grandpa to herd the sheep.
After midday, everyone ran home, shouting, and sat down around the low wooden table to
eat.
A bowl of pickled vegetables sat in the center of the table, completely devoid of oil. Crunching it with coarse salt grains was incredibly salty
. This bowl of pickled vegetables would last for three days.
The staple food was cornbread made from moldy sorghum and corn. One meal was cornbread, the next was cornbread; even farts
smelled of sorghum. Even so, each person only got two cornbreads. If that wasn't enough, they'd drink soup—wild vegetable soup was unlimited. Wild vegetable
soup for lunch, mung bean soup for dinner. A pot of soup might contain a maximum of 20 mung beans. The mung beans were either moldy or eaten by insects and rodents
…
In short, the standard of living for every household in Yanjia Gou Village was, "Just enough to keep people from starving."
The most ridiculous thing was that five men, young and old, shared only one decent pair of trousers. They
could only wear them when attending weddings, funerals, or visiting relatives. Their everyday trousers were patched, large patches over small patches, with the knees and buttocks sticking out
.
I was wearing a vest and shorts. The vest was a tattered apron left by my grandmother after she passed away
, skillfully sewn by my mother. The shorts were a patched-up mandarin jacket my grandfather wore when he was a clerk
. Shoes? Don't be ridiculous. Poor children grow up barefoot before their wedding
.
Well, the landlord Liang's children wore cloth shoes.
My job was herding sheep, specifically for the landlord Liang. Fifteen sheep, big and small, all skin and bones
; you could see their internal organs through their bellies. The sheep's thinness wasn't my fault; it was the whole village's fault. Everyone
had cleared away all the grass and flowers in and around the village to fill their stomachs; there was nowhere for the sheep to graze.
My grandfather had bad legs, so he retired and stayed home, tending to his old hens every day. It wasn't about hatching chicks, it was about keeping an eye out for
the neighborhood kids stealing eggs. Don't underestimate eggs; they were like gold in 2013—a
hard currency. One egg could be exchanged for 3 ounces of coarse salt, or 2 ounces of cornmeal, and a girl's hair tie could be exchanged for a meter
long. 30 eggs could buy a wife.
These hard times made me utterly despair. All my ideals and wishes were just bullshit.
Just give me a white steamed bun, and I'd kneel down and call you "Dad.
" After Grandpa retired, my neighbor Cuihua, two years younger than me, herded sheep with me. She was 14. She had a short,
yellow braid, thin eyebrows, big eyes, an oval face, and dimples when she smiled. She was skin and bones… By modern
standards of beauty, she was a beauty in the making. Unfortunately, she was always so hungry she couldn't lift her head, her face pale and thin.
Three miles outside the village lay a sandy plain. We scattered our sheep, and Cuihua and I lay side-by-side on the warm sand,
drifting through the days in a daze. Our stomachs were rumbling with hunger, and we had no energy left.
"Cuihua, if you were to get married, who would you marry?" I asked, chewing on a straw.
"I'd marry Liang Laocai's grandson," Cuihua replied weakly.
Don't look down on Cuihua's answer. In the eyes of the villagers, the landlord Liang Laocai's house was paradise. Only by
marrying their daughters into his family could they fill their stomachs.
Landlord Liang Laocai owned 30 mu of fertile land, a vegetable garden, 10 jujube trees, a flock of sheep, 20 hens…
…If that's considered being a landlord, then every household in the remote valleys of Yimeng Mountain is a landlord. But
in the Yanjia Gou village area, he was a landlord that everyone envied and resented. There was no denying it.
“I really can’t stand this kind of life,” I said, swallowing hard.
I repeat this phrase 30 times a day. To Cuihua, it's like farting. So, she
says nothing.
A person always needs something to look forward to, and returning to 2013 became my spiritual pillar for living. I asked Cuihua,
“Cuihua, if I were to leave one day, would you miss me?”
Cuihua murmured, “I’m hungry…hungry…”
Staring at Cuihua’s pale belly, I suddenly felt a surge of lust. I pulled Cuihua into my arms and
asked through gritted teeth, “If I could feed you every day, would you be my wife?”
Everything was unexpected. Cuihua obediently let me hold her, without any resistance. Moreover, after hearing
my words, she didn’t blush or skip a beat; she just slightly opened her eyes and didn’t say a word.
Was she willing, or was she willing…? I was confused by Cuihua’s reaction.
Wait a minute!
I suddenly noticed that Cuihua's thin body was twitching slightly, and drool was slowly spilling from the corner of her mouth
... Was she having an epileptic seizure?!
Suddenly, Cuihua opened her eyes wide and said, "I'm going to die..." Then her head lolled to the
side and she breathed her last.
Only then did I realize that Cuihua had starved to death, literally starved to death.
"Cuihua, you can't die, you can't..."
I cried out, pinching Cuihua's philtrum hard with my fingernails. After pinching for a long time, she finally let out a soft breath
and came back to life. But her breathing was very weak; she might die again in the next second.
To save Cuihua, I didn't care about anything else and dragged a lamb to her side. "Puff puff puff," I used a
hard tree root to pierce three bloody holes in the lamb's neck. Then, I drank a mouthful of warm lamb's
blood and poured it mouth-to-mouth into Cuihua's mouth. Cuihua swallowed it with difficulty.
After being given three mouthfuls of hot sheep's blood, Cuihua finally regained her senses. She stared at me blankly and weakly said,
"Brother Sanbao, I... I'm hungry..."
"Okay, come on, have some more."
I quickly knelt down on the dead lamb's neck and drew a large mouthful of blood, then fed it mouth-to-mouth to Cuihua
. She was truly starving; she clung to my tongue, refusing to let go, sucking desperately. So, I fed her mouthful of sheep's
blood, mouthful after mouthful. After a full seven mouthfuls, she gently pushed my head away and began to sob softly
.
"Cuihua, why are you crying?" I asked, puzzled.
Cuihua nestled against my chest, sobbing and whimpering, "We killed the sheep, Liang Laocai
won't forgive us, boohoo..."
Perhaps emboldened by a few sips of sheep's blood, and partly wanting to show off my
manly prowess in front of Cuihua, I stood up, hands on my hips, and declared with boundless pride, "Damn it!
What's Liang Laocai? Just a few acres of barren land! When I become a warlord, I'll make that old bald man shine my shoes!"
Cuihua, probably captivated by my heroic spirit, rested her chin on her hands, her large, watery eyes filled with admiration
: "Brother Sanbao, you're such a man!"
Under Cuihua's adoring gaze, I felt incredibly manly, incredibly heroic.
As darkness fell, Cuihua and I shivered in the autumn wind, huddling together for warmth. Tears
welled in my eyes as I watched the wisps of smoke rising from the village chimneys, my legs trembling as I dared not go home. The sheep was dead; Old Liang would definitely not
let Cuihua and me go. A beating with a whip would leave us either dead or skinned alive… What to do?!
Just then, the sound of hooves came from the west, shaking the ground. Slowly, five horses appeared,
followed by a group of people, carrying gleaming torches and large knives. One of the riders held a flag with
a large, ornately embroidered "Hu" character on it…
Hu Mazi
?! "Old Que is here!" I was terrified. I quickly grabbed Cuihua and lay prone on the sand dune, barely daring to breathe.
What is Old Que? It's a group of poor people who lack food, clothing, and wives. To fill their stomachs,
they are forced to plunder and kill. There's a fundamental difference between bandits and
ordinary people. They live in villages, no different from the common folk, only raiding in droves during the lean season and harvest season, wielding muskets
and broadswords to rob wealthy households and landlords.
Hu Mazi was the biggest bandit leader in Zhouqiao Township, commanding 50 men. Every day at night, they would
raid various villages, robbing grain. The landlords and wealthy households in each village hated him. However, they almost never came to
our Yanjia Gou, because it was too poor; there was no profit to be made.
But today…
A wicked thought suddenly occurred to me: what if they robbed Liang Laocai? Liang Laocai was a notorious
miser, a stingy wretch. He'd surely risk his life to avoid giving up grain, and then Hu Mazi would chop off his head. Then,
wouldn't the sheep be mine, Yan Baosan's?
"Hehe…" Thinking of this, I couldn't help but chuckle foolishly.
"Brother Sanbao, what are you laughing at?"
"Come on, I'll treat you to roast lamb today."
That night, I boldly lit a bonfire and roasted the lamb, tearing it to shreds. Cuihua and I
ate our fill of roast lamb, our mouths agape. It was the most delicious
lamb I had ever eaten in my two lives—so fragrant, so incredibly fragrant!
Later, I became a powerful warlord, eating and drinking the finest things in the world, tasting all sorts of delicacies, but nothing could
compare to that roast lamb from that night.
Roast lamb, a taste I'll cherish for a lifetime.

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