Chapter 3 : Dong San-Shao's "Craft" (2)

　　June-clear water revealed swaying weeds beneath ripples.

　　San-Shao’s gaze locked onto the water. He’d stone a fish for the Young Master—and prove his skill.

　　Yaoting lounged on the slab, grinning. “Quit if you can’t! Just pulling your leg!

　　“Young Master, I’ll stone one to show you!”

　　A minnow surfaced to nibble. San-Shao’s arm snapped like a whip—stone shot.

　　A bubble popped. No dead fish.

　　Yaoting bellowed with laughter. "Stick to land critters! Or wanna drill on the back hill?"

　　San-Shao didn’t blink. Ten seconds. A silver belly breached the surface.

　　“Young Master! Not just hot air!” He jabbed a finger. “That’s my kill!”

　　Yaoting’s gaze drifted lazily across the pond’s surface, a smirk playing on his lips at what he assumed was a prank—until the dead fish’s white belly glinted up at him.

　　He bolted upright, strode to the water’s edge, and stared in stunned silence.

　　Misreading his stillness as doubt, San-Shao plunged into the murky water, sliced through the reeds, and thrust the fish aloft.

　　“God-given talent!” Yaoting breathed. “Dead-eye. Unbeatable.”

　　San-Shao waded ashore and flung the fish to a squabbling flock of chickens. Grinning at Yaoting, he said: “Your head’s full of book learning. Me? Three summers ago, during threshing season...”

　　“Sparrows pillaged the wheat. Dad cursed me for losing the Patriarch’s grain. I burned for revenge—but those devils outsmarted traps. Then I tried stones.” He shrugged. “ Dead sparrows rained”

　　Yaoting watched willow branches trail in the pond, silent until San-Shao’s story ended. “Books are worthless now,” he finally said. “But that stone-skill of yours? Remarkable. Shame there’s no rifle—I’d wager you’d shoot just as straight.”

　　The words sparked something fierce in San-Shao. Rifles? He’d glimpsed them in parades—never held cold steel.

　　“Young Master…” he ventured, “enlisting means they’ll give me a rifle?”

　　“Naturally.” Yaoting nodded. “Yesterday you wondered why silver yuan changed hands after registration.”

　　“You brushed me off!”

　　“Soldier’s pay!” Yaoting grinned. “One silver yuan a month. Two recruits? Two yuan.”

　　San-Shao’s eyes gleamed. “Skip out? Free silver!”

　　“Moron!” Yaoting snapped. “The registry has our homes, our parents’ names—you think you’d vanish?”

　　San-Shao scuffed his foot. “Thought… buying time. Had no idea. So we’re truly going? Should’ve never signed.”

　　Yaoting’s glare sharpened. “Gutless! Fighting for China is sacred! Honorable! You make it sound rotten!”

　　Dong Da’s shout sliced the air: “San-Shao—home! Now!”

　　San-Shao shot Yaoting a glance. “Go,” Yaoting said. “Remember: We leave at noon. Late tomorrow? Not an option.”San-Shao gave a curt nod, closing the distance to his father. "Ba. What's happened?"Dong Da’s eyes darted toward Yaoting before he pulled San-Shao close, his whisper rough as burlap: "The Patriarch orders it—you take Yaoting's place in the army. Your answer?"A cold fury tightened San-Shao’s voice: "His son is precious—yours is disposable?"

　　Dong Da clutched his son’s sleeve like a drowning man. "Repay his 'kindness'! Your own words last night—

　　San-Shao's laugh held no joy. "Dad... Patriarch... Have the years dimmed your eyes,This conscription—not some choice! The registry holds our home, your names—

　　Skip it? Desertion! Nationalist bullets through our skulls!"

　　Dong Da gasped. His eyes drilled into his son. "You boys! Deciding this alone? No undoing it now." He turned away. "I’ll speak with the Patriarch."

　　San-Shao watched his father’s hunched back vanish into the compound. An ache bloomed in his chest.

　　Three generations of tenants. Only Yaoting sharing his wet nurse spared us rent.

　　Raised within these walls, Xuanshu once planned to make him head guard—

　　Bandits prowled Huang’an County since the Japs came. Not the Nationalists’ "Red Bandits"—thieves targeting manors like ours.

　　Magistrate Ma’s militia? Powerless. Rumor: If Wuhan falls, the county government flees.

　　San-Shao turned back to Yaoting, still sprawled on the slab.

　　"What’d your father say?" Yaoting asked, not turning.

　　"His message from the Patriarch—your father: I’m taking your place in the army. You keep studying."

　　Yaoting scanned the sky—barely eight in the morning. "San-Shao comes with me!"

　　Xuanshu snapped at Dong Da: "Harness the carriage! To Song Family Village—fast!"

　　Yuwan darted forward: "Dad! Take me too!"

　　Xuanshu didn’t turn. "Tend your mother. A girl so restless?"

　　Yuwan bared her teeth at his retreating back.

　　San-Shao and Dong Da perched at the front, reins in hand.

　　Xuanshu and Yaoting sank into the carriage. The wheels jolted toward Song Family Village—eight li away.