Staff Officer Xu laughed. “The division bosses placed an order for wolf meat with me before I came out here. I’ll have to take these to them tonight. Some say wolf can cure bronchitis, and a few sufferers have signed up. I’m like a doctor. Killing wolves is wonderful work; first, you get rid of the scourge for the people; second, you get yourself a pelt; third, you help the sick; and fourth, you cure people who hunger for meat. You see, four birds with one stone. Four in one!”
Chen realized he’d never be able to dampen their wolf-killing spirit even if he managed to show them a belly full of dead mice.
Liu drove back to where the first wolf had fallen. The head was shattered, for the bullet had entered from the back, sending gray matter and blood oozing to the ground. He was relieved to see there was no white stripe on the neck and chest. This was not the White Wolf King. He was sure it was an alpha male that had led a few fast wolves to lure the enemy away from the pack. But it had been unprepared for something like the vehicle and for sharpshooters and their weapons.
After wiping off the blood and gray matter with clumps of grass, Liu and Bao happily bagged the wolf, carried it over to the tailgate, and tied it down. “This wolf’s head is almost the size of a two-year-old bull,” Liu commented. They got into the jeep to drive over to Staff Officer Batel.
The two vehicles met up. Batel pointed to the bulging hemp sack in the backseat and shouted, “We encountered nothing but willow-tree stumps and could hardly move. I had to fire three times to bring down a cub. This pack was all females and cubs, one big family.”
Xu said emotionally, “The wolves here are demonic. The males left the best retreat route for the females and their cubs.”
Bao shouted, “Another one! A victory. A great victory! This is the happiest day I’ve had since coming to the pasture. Finally, a chance to vent my anger. Let’s go pick up the other two dead ones. I brought food and drink, so we can celebrate.”
Chen jumped out to check out the cub. He untied the sack and saw that it looked like his cub but was bigger. He was surprised that his cub was smaller than the wild one even though he’d given him the best food he could manage. The wild cub was fully grown in less than a year and had learned to hunt and to feed itself. But it died at man’s hand just as its life had begun. Chen rubbed the dead cub’s head as if touching his own cub; this one died because he wanted to keep his.
They drove south. Chen felt miserable as he turned back to look at the border grassland. In less than an hour, the alpha male and lead wolf had been killed in a sort of attack they’d never encountered before. The rest had escaped across the border and might never return. But how could they survive without a strong leader? Bilgee once said, “A pack without its territory is worse than a dog that has lost its owner.”
They returned to where the first shot had been fired. The powerful wolves lay in their own blood, encircled by swarms of flies. Unable to bear the sight, Chen walked off by himself to sit on the grass and gaze at the distant sky across the border. What would Bilgee think if he knew that Chen had led men on a wolf hunt? He’d taught him so much about wolves, and now he’d used that knowledge to kill them. He didn’t know how he was going to face the old man. By nighttime, the wolves would come looking for their dead, and they’d find only bloodstains. The grassland would be filled with sad howls that night.
The two drivers carried the burlap sacks over to the second vehicle and laid them under the backseat.
On some large gunnysacks spread out on the grass they placed several bottles of grassland liquor, a large bag of spiced peanuts, a dozen cucumbers, two cans of braised beef, three jars of canned pork, and a basin of meat. Bao Shungui, liquor bottle in hand, and Staff Officer Xu went over to Chen and dragged him back to the picnic site. Bao patted him on the shoulder. “Little Chen,” he said, “you did well today, and did me a great favor. Without you, our hunters wouldn’t have had a chance to show off their skill.”
The four soldiers raised their cups to toast Chen Zhen. “Drink up,” said Xu. “This one’s for you. Thanks to your research on wolves, you took us right to where we needed to be. Director Bao took us around over a hundred li, and we never saw a single wolf. Come on, drink up. We owe you our thanks.”
Chen’s face was a ghostly white; he wanted to say something but held his tongue. Instead, he accepted the cup and emptied it, wishing he could find a place to have a good cry. Instinctively, he picked up a raw cucumber and began eating. The laborers’ private gardens were already producing cucumbers, which he hadn’t tasted in more than two years. Maybe all Han Chinese were born to be farmers. Otherwise, why had he picked out a cucumber, of all things? Its light succulence turned to bitter juice in his mouth.
Xu patted him on the back. “Don’t feel bad about the wolves we killed, Little Chen. I can tell you have emotional ties to them after raising one yourself, and you’ve been influenced by the old herdsmen. Granted, wolves make a contribution to the grassland by killing rabbits, mice, gazelles, and marmots. But that’s a primitive way to go about it. We live in an age when man-made satellites soar into space. We can protect the grassland with scientific methods. The corps will be sending crop dusters to eradicate the mice.”
That caught Chen off guard, but he immediately understood what Xu meant. “No, you can’t do that,” he said. “If the wolves, foxes, desert foxes, and hawks eat the dead mice, they’ll all die off.”
“What’s the use of having wolves if all the mice are dead?” Bao said.
“Wolves have lots of uses,” Chen argued. “I’m trying to make you understand that wolves can reduce the number of gazelles, rabbits, and marmots.”
Old Liu, his face red from the liquor, burst out laughing. “Gazelles, wild rabbits, and marmots are all famous game. There won’t be enough for our people when they come, and there definitely won’t be any left for the wolves.”
32
After they finished eating, Bao Shungui had a brief conversation with Staff Officer Xu, and then the two vehicles sped toward the northeast.
"We’re heading the wrong way,” Chen Zhen said. "We’re better off retracing our steps.”
Bao said, “We’re a hundred and forty li from the brigade, and we have to make it worth our while for the long trip back.”
Staff Officer Xu said, “If we avoid the areas where the shots were fired, we might run into more wolves. If not wolves, maybe foxes, and that wouldn’t be too bad either. We must continue the glorious military tradition of keeping the fight going and accumulating victories.”
Soon they entered a vast winter pastureland where acres and acres of needle grass spread before Chen’s eyes. This was high-quality winter grass, with two-foot-long blades and tassels a yard long. The winter snows seldom if ever covered it completely; both the stalks and the tassels were fine livestock feed. The sheep could also get to leaves buried beneath the snow. During the seven months of winter, this pasture kept the livestock alive and thriving.
An autumn wind sent the grass rippling like waves spreading from the border all the way to the vehicles and submerging their wheels; they knifed through the grassy waves like fast ships. Chen breathed a sigh of relief. Even a telescope would be useless in finding wolves on a pasture with such tall, dense foliage. He felt renewed gratitude toward the grassland wolves and the horse herders. The seemingly pristine grassland was actually maintained through their efforts. Both labored hard at their tasks. Whenever Chen heard the herdsmen singing folk songs that echoed wolf sounds, he was happy, knowing that through their songs the herdsmen were acknowledging their debt to the wolves for their part in preserving the winter pasture.