Chapter 3: Verification Through Practice

Not far ahead on a tree branch rested a bird whose name she couldn’t recall. “You it is,” Hong Xiaoduo muttered, hurling a stone from her hand toward the bird.

She wondered if it would merely startle the creature into flight, but to her surprise, she heard a sharp chirp, followed by the bird tumbling from its perch.

“What? Did I really hit it?”

Hong Xiaoduo scratched her head in disbelief and stepped closer.

Staring at the lifeless bird beneath the tree, she remained uncertain. Had she truly brought it down?

The first time might have been luck, but hitting the target a second time? Surely, that was no coincidence.

Could she try hunting wild rabbits next? If she and the other children could catch something, they’d have food—a real meal with meat, authentic game.

Suppressing her excitement, Hong Xiaoduo straightened up and ventured deeper into the forest. After a few steps, she paused and glanced back at the fallen bird. “What if I can’t catch any other game? This little bird is better than nothing,” she muttered to herself, then bent down to pick it up. Spotting some thin vines at her feet, she broke off a piece, tied the bird’s leg, and continued on.

It had been nearly a full day and night since yesterday. The idyllic notion that her ninety-minute trial would end, allowing her to return to the modern world, had long since shattered. She had no idea what kind of story she was caught in, let alone when or how it might end.

At least, her current role seemed to entail some skills. For now, being able to hunt in the wild meant she wouldn’t starve.

She reminded herself to stay calm. The more desperate she became to uncover answers or understand the truth, the more anxious she would feel. That would only worsen her mood without any benefit.

So, for now, the priority was to fill her stomach. Every problem had a solution if one thought hard enough.

With this resolve and the recent confirmation of her pinpoint accuracy, she considered that throwing darts or knives might also work—skills akin to martial arts novels where hidden weapons were mastered. Her spirits lifted slightly.

Not long after, she spotted a pheasant emerge from the bushes. Without hesitation, she excitedly threw a small stone she’d just picked up.

This pheasant was dozens of times larger than the previous bird; it should be easier to hit, right?

No sooner had she thought this than the stone struck the pheasant, and it collapsed.

“Hit it, hit it for real!” Hong Xiaoduo was overjoyed. She hurried over to the flapping bird, tied it together with the earlier catch, and lifted the heavy bundle by the vines.

If she managed one or two more of this size, it would feed the eight of them well.

After hunting a wild rabbit and another pheasant, Hong Xiaoduo forgot her initial plan to catch just enough food. Her enthusiasm for the hunt had become unstoppable.

Eventually, burdened with too much prey for her hands to carry, she reluctantly looked toward the deeper forest before turning back.

As she neared the forest’s edge, faint crying reached her ears—not just one or two children, but a chorus of sobbing voices.

Her scalp tingled immediately. Though she had lost her previous memories, she was certain she disliked the sound of children crying.

What was happening? Could that man have caught up to them?

Worried, Hong Xiaoduo quickened her pace, nearly running. So focused was she that she didn’t notice both hands were laden with over a hundred pounds of game—yet she felt no strain.

Her feet barely touched the ground, as if she were gliding over the grass.

She regretted leaving the children out in the open road, knowing the cruel man might pursue them. She should have hidden them before entering the forest.

Emerging from the woods, she spotted the children not far off—some standing, some sitting, some crying with heads raised, others bowed low, and some clinging to one another in tears.

Counting quietly from a distance—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven—no one was missing or extra, and the worst offender was nowhere in sight. She breathed a small sigh of relief and slowed her pace, only to find her feet felt awkward stepping slower.

“Look, it’s mother! Mother didn’t leave us!” the eldest boy shouted excitedly, having been the first to see her from the forest’s edge.

The crying abruptly ceased as all the children turned their heads to look.

Soon, some began running toward Hong Xiaoduo, others following close behind.

“Don’t run, don’t fall, be careful... oh my,” Hong Xiaoduo called out, frowning as a child stumbled, quickening her steps to help.

“Mother, you caught so much?”

“Mother, did you catch all these yourself?”

“You’re amazing, Mother!”

“Can you sell these for a lot of silver?”

Surrounded by their chattering, Hong Xiaoduo felt like a mother hen shepherding her chicks back to the roadside.

Though their faces were streaked with tears and snot, it was hard to reconcile their current excitement with the heartbreaking cries from moments before.

The eldest boy kept his eyes on Hong Xiaoduo’s face. Seeing her frown as she looked at the others, he immediately pulled out a scrap of cloth to wipe their faces.

“Mother, we cried because we thought you had abandoned us,” he explained gently as he cleaned their cheeks.

Hong Xiaoduo settled onto a makeshift throne of leaves the children had prepared. “What’s this? Do I look like a lying cheat?”

“No, not at all,” the children chorused.

“Alright then, enough talk. Let’s cook the wild game over a fire and eat,” she said, not wanting to promise anything else. Her current worry was how to prepare the game—they didn’t even have a fire starter like those in period dramas or novels. How would she light a fire?

Just as she fretted, the children scattered, gathering dry branches and quickly forming a sizeable pile.

The eldest boy skillfully stuffed dry grass beneath the twigs and pulled an object from a tattered cloth pouch at his waist.

A fire striker? The boy actually had one?

Remembering their swift preparations and his practiced fire-lighting, Hong Xiaoduo felt less joy and more pangs of sadness.

“Mother, which one do you want to roast? I’ll get it ready,” the boy asked, turning toward her.

“You know how to do this?” she asked in disbelief.

He smiled and nodded. “Yes, I can do many things, even cook.”

“Mother, I can wash clothes.”

“Me too, I can do it.”

“We can all help,” the other children eagerly chimed in.

Their earnest expressions clearly conveyed: they were not burdens; they were capable and willing workers.

“You’re amazing,” Hong Xiaoduo said quietly, feeling a bit sorrowful.

She realized she didn’t know how to cook or prepare game. It seemed all she could do was eat.

Glancing at the children and estimating how much meat was needed for a meal, she still couldn’t gauge the right amount—she had no experience.

So, she decided to have them prepare three wild rabbits and five pheasants.

Her calculation was based on two people per rabbit and one per pheasant. If there was extra, that was fine—it could be saved for dinner.

“Mother, can you eat that much?” the boy asked, puzzled.

“I’m not eating alone—we’re eight people,” she replied.

“Really? We get to eat too?” another child asked in disbelief.

“Of course. Otherwise, why would you be here?” Hong Xiaoduo countered.

One child blurted out, “We usually just gnaw on bones.”

Her face darkened instantly. No wonder they all looked so pale and thin—they were starving, constantly hungry for so long.

“Today, everyone eats meat. No gnawing on bones,” she said sternly.

“But Mother, bones taste good,” the eldest boy said quickly, sensing her anger.

“You can’t get full on bones alone. Without fullness, how can you keep up the pace? Don’t you want to avoid that bad man catching us?” She had wanted to say this, but refrained to avoid frightening them.

Hearing that everyone would eat meat and no one had to gnaw on bones, the children stared at her in disbelief, thinking they’d misheard.

The boy then pointed to a nearby pond. “There’s a pool over there where we can clean the game.”

Hong Xiaoduo wanted to go with them. Though she couldn’t prepare the meat herself, she couldn’t just leave everything to the children.

But they firmly refused to let her come, assuring her they were skilled at it and would clean the game thoroughly—no feathers left, no bile spoiling the meat.

As they carried the game a few steps away, she remembered to ask, “Do you have knives? If not, you can use this, but be careful not to hurt yourself.” She reached to draw the sword at her waist.

“No knives needed, no sword either. Don’t worry—it’ll be done quickly,” the boy said with a smile, leading the others toward the pond.

True to their word, the children returned swiftly with the prey cleaned: skinned rabbits, plucked pheasants, and all the innards removed—even the tiniest bird was spotless.

Watching them excitedly poke the meat onto sticks and arrange them in a circle over the fire, she saw the eldest sprinkle saltI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.