Chapter Fourteen: Courteous and Proper Driving

After having a bit to drink, Qin Jun felt his head buzzing pleasantly. In high spirits, he decisively returned home, ignoring the protests of Qin Zheng and Qin Shi.

At this hour, no one at home was asleep, nor were they waiting for him. Yet, upon seeing Qin Jun’s flushed face and glazed eyes, everyone regarded him with strange expressions—some envious, some disdainful, and some joyful.

Regardless of their thoughts, Qin Jun went straight to bed upon arriving. Perhaps it was because he had heated the kang bed or the effect of the alcohol, but he felt warm all over. He fell into the most comfortable sleep he had had since his rebirth.

He woke up freezing, though this time, he had managed to sleep over an hour longer. Glancing at the night sky, he deduced it was just past five in the morning, nearing dawn. Hastily rising, he grabbed a sack and headed out.

Jogging lightly, he surprisingly felt no chill. The darkness was so profound that he had to rely solely on experience to find his way. In the wilderness at night, the earth and paths were pitch black, while water gleamed faintly.

Avoiding ditches, trees, and rocks, he soon reached the first trap. Near the rocks, a pair of green eyes glowed. “Heh, this really is a lucky spot,” he muttered. Using wooden forks and stones, he successfully caught an adult yellow weasel.

This one was notably large. Measuring by hand, it was nearly three spans long. “Not counting the tail, almost sixty centimeters?” Qin Jun was astonished. Could there really be such a large yellow weasel? Perhaps it was a particularly robust specimen.

With excitement building, he continued to check the other traps. But the initial joy soon turned to disappointment. Several traps yielded nothing—not even mice, which had all frozen to death. If he wanted catches tomorrow, he’d need to change the bait.

The thought of finding so many mice was daunting. His lack of money was a constant hindrance. Had he the funds, he could easily trade a few pounds of hard candy for a large number of live mice from village children.

Shaking his head to dispel such thoughts, he focused on what he truly needed—money for things like a flashlight. With one, his speed could increase dramatically. If he had extra cash, perhaps he could even buy an air rifle. Then, even if the traps failed, he could still secure some catch.

Yellow weasels weren’t foolish. Over time, his traps would lose effectiveness. Fortunately, they still worked now. After a busy morning, by full daylight, he had inspected all the traps.

His haul surpassed yesterday’s: five yellow weasels, all larger than the previous day’s catches. The biggest, the first one, measured nearly sixty centimeters. The other four were slightly smaller but all exceeded fifty centimeters.

Their fur was thick and luxuriant. Under the morning sun, it shimmered golden. Such pelts were undoubtedly valuable.

“These must be prime adults—each at least five or six years old,” Qin Jun noted. He was well aware that yellow weasels lived long lives. With no illness and ample food, they could survive up to twenty years, averaging around fifteen.

Thus, a five- or six-year-old weasel was in its prime. Such large specimens were rare in later times. In nature, few weasels lived that long; most only reached two or three years. Many mistakenly believed their lifespan was short, but that was an error—like averaging wealth and concluding everyone was a billionaire.

“I wonder if these top-quality pelts will fetch a higher price,” he mused. He knew skins over forty centimeters sold for fifty yuan. Those exceeding fifty centimeters might command even more, though he wasn’t sure.

No matter what, it was profit. Soon, Qin Jun stopped pondering and returned to the village, heading once more to the young intellectuals’ compound.

Sure enough, Chu Yu had already stewed the remaining half of a rabbit, waiting for him. Dropping off the five adult weasels, Qin Jun eagerly ate. Having woken late, it was already past seven. If all was well at home, it would soon be time to eat.

He consumed two corn cakes, half a bowl of meat soup, and four or five pieces of rabbit meat, just enough to enjoy a bowl of sweet potato porridge back home. He also remembered to save half a bowl of meat soup for his grandparents.

After the meal, Chu Yu had prepared the five pelts. “Third Brother, you really know how to make quicklime?” Chu Yu asked curiously, munching on rabbit meat beside the stove.

“Of course I do,” Qin Jun replied.

“Then you’d better hold on to that skill. With it, you won’t have to settle for just a small cut,” Chu Yu said earnestly.

Qin Jun nodded. After sharing two rabbits with Chu Yu, he was grateful for his sincere companionship.

“My father and the others went to quarry blue stone today. They said the village has marked off an area, so no one can dig wherever they like.”

Qin Jun sighed. Was Chu Yu planning to have him help with making quicklime? “Dig away! It’s a small patch of land; better to get it over with quickly,” he said with a smile.

That was why he hadn’t considered making money from quicklime—there was no limestone here.

After chatting idly with Chu Yu, Qin Jun took the half bowl of meat soup and left. After delivering it, he returned home for his sweet potato porridge, only to be immediately pulled by Qin Zhihe to the lime kiln.

Watching the kiln emit a steady bluish smoke, Qin Jun breathed a sigh of relief. Having never made quicklime before, knowing the coal inside was still burning meant success.

“I heard from your eldest cousin that this kiln will take three to four days to finish?” Qin Zhihe asked. He seemed to have visited earlier and was worried the burning time was too short.

“At most four days, depending on the circumstances. Once the fire dies down and it cools a bit, we can open the kiln.”

“As long as you’re confident.” Qin Zhihe hesitated but didn’t press further. Now that the kiln was burning, worrying wouldn’t help.

“This batch belongs to your uncle’s family today, your eldest cousin’s tomorrow, your second uncle’s the day after, then the team leader’s. After that, the schedule’s not set—I passed that to the team leader,” Qin Zhihe added.

Seeing Qin Zhihe’s reluctance to speak, Qin Jun understood their concerns. But hearing their arrangement warmed his heart. Their family was queued first not for favoritism but because everyone was nervous before the kiln opened—understandable, given the expense of over a thousand kilograms of coal.

“Third Brother, you’re here! Come see the lime kiln I built,” called Qin Han from beside the small blast furnace base.

They had agreed yesterday that Qin Han would help with the kiln, so today he showed up on his own—no need to ask. His simple-mindedness had its merits: he was obedient and dependable.

“Nice work! Hey, you used iron ore to fill the pits?” Qin Jun observed. Upon closer inspection, many spots were filled with iron ore and some slag.

Qin Zhihe explained, “These are leftovers from iron smelting, discarded by the steel plant because they’re substandard. They just dumped it here.”

Qin Jun was intrigued. These contained a lot of iron, and with proper smelting, could yield some steel.

Suddenly, Qin Han blurted out a big piece of news: “Did you hear? The commune accountant Feng was beaten up!”

“You won’t guess who did it. It was Uncle Jiu—he really roughed him up!”

“It’s because Uncle Jiu’s family has money, but can’t build their house. Not just lime, but stones and bricks are all unavailable.”

“This morning, many villagers went to buy lime. Feng was still his usual arrogant self, but this time the villagers didn’t take it lying down...”

Qin Han was clearly excited, recounting in detail the plan Qin Zheng had laid out the night before. Qin Jun could only marvel at their swift execution: planned last night, and by this morning, Feng had been confronted—and thoroughly so, with cause and justification.

This was no small matter. From now on, with the village producing lime, who would dare complain?