RPS – Chapter 59 Wintering Like a Cat

After finishing the mats, Li Feng carefully washed and sun-dried them for a whole day before finally laying them out in the room. Upon discovering that reeds could not only be used to make shoes but also woven into mats, Nuo and the others decided they had to find time to gather as many reeds as possible. The rest of the tribe had a similar reaction. Initially, a few people had been assigned to make straw shoes, but after seeing the mats, some grew eager to learn how to weave them. Many would arrive early in the morning claiming they wanted to help, though it was clear they just wanted to learn by doing. Families would contribute their own reeds—some given to Li Feng, others kept for personal use.

Li Feng had already thought there weren’t enough reeds, so now with people bringing more and offering to help, things were much easier. He treated this help as a kind of “payment” for the lesson. With their assistance, he could sometimes finish two mats in a single day. As with anything, practice made perfect, and his skill was quickly improving. Of course, weaving mats wasn’t all he had to do—his days were packed with tasks.

He had to sew winter clothes, make shoes, care for the baby, cook meals, prepare food stores for winter, feed the animals, and keep the place clean. Day after day, he was endlessly busy, running around nonstop. Especially now that the frost of autumn had begun to fall, signaling that winter was just around the corner.

The various preserved meats—bacon, salted meat, sausages—had all been hung indoors to dry. Any wild vegetables he had gathered earlier that could be pickled had already been processed. After all, fresh vegetables were hard to come by in winter. Things like cabbage and radishes hadn’t even been discovered yet, since the mountains he’d explored were just the nearby ones. He already considered himself lucky to have found as many edible things as he had—not every mountain was so bountiful.

As the weather turned colder, animals grew scarcer too. The migratory ones had left to overwinter elsewhere. What remained were mostly large predators or small animals like wild chickens and rabbits. Fortunately, thanks to early efforts to store food, the tribe had built up a decent supply. Even though new small groups had joined the tribe later, they had managed to supplement their stores over the latter half of autumn. If they rationed carefully, it should be enough to last the winter.

Autumn rains were falling more frequently now. Taking advantage of the damp season, Li Feng led the tribe into the woods to collect mushrooms that appeared in autumn. Of course, he didn’t recognize every kind of mushroom, but having worked for several years as a food magazine journalist, he knew the common edible ones well enough.

Li Feng hesitated to teach the others about mushroom and wood ear fungus gathering, since some mushrooms were highly toxic—dangerously so. A single mistake could cost lives, and he didn’t want to bear that responsibility.

But when Nuo once again mentioned that food supplies were still tight and that daily hunting was barely enough to feed everyone, with only tiny portions of meat left to distribute, Li Feng finally decided to share his idea. After the rain, many mushrooms and fungus sprouted in the woods, only to wither and die if not picked within a few days. Rather than waste them, it was better to gather and eat them—they could serve as both side dishes and emergency food when supplies ran low.

However, Li Feng also carefully explained the risks involved. After weighing the pros and cons, the tribe agreed. They had all tasted the mushroom dishes he’d made before—mushroom stew with chicken, mushroom slices with meat, shiitake chicken—the flavors were so memorable that even recalling them now made their mouths water. More importantly, dried mushrooms could be stored all winter without any issues. At worst, they could be picked now and only eaten when absolutely necessary. That thought gave them some reassurance.

After yet another autumn rain, Li Feng led a group of women, elders, and children into the forest to pick mushrooms. Given his background as a kind of “food expert,” they were all quite enthusiastic. After all, food was precious in the winter, more important than anything else. Many had been worrying about food shortages and knew hunting wasn’t going well. Now that they had discovered another edible and storable food source, they were excited and eager.

The first thing Li Feng did was warn everyone that some mushrooms were poisonous and absolutely not to be picked. To make the danger clear, he even brought a rabbit from home to demonstrate. Naturally, the rabbit didn’t want to eat the poisonous mushroom—it instinctively knew it was harmful. But for the sake of proving a point, it had to “sacrifice” itself. Forcibly feeding it the mushroom, Li Feng and the tribe watched as, shortly after ingestion, the poor rabbit twitched a few times, foamed at the mouth, and died—quickly and silently.

At first, the tribe didn’t take it seriously. But when they saw the stiff gray rabbit lying dead on the ground, the reality hit them: even food could be deadly poison. Their earlier enthusiasm quickly faded, replaced by fear and wariness. They’d rather go hungry than end up like that rabbit. Their fear of death was instinctual—and when they saw something that could kill so quietly and efficiently, their dread was on par with their fear of wild beasts.

Li Feng did feel sorry for the rabbit. He thought, You died for the greater good. I’ll give you a proper burial. Compared to your siblings who ended up in someone’s stomach, at least you’ll have an intact body. He dug a hole and buried the rabbit, silently wishing, May your next life be better.

Even if he wanted to eat the rabbit, he didn’t dare. The fur was a bit of a shame to waste, though—he’d considered skinning it. But in the end, he let it go in honor of its sacrifice.

Though the tribe hadn’t even begun picking mushrooms yet, they were already afraid. Seeing this, Li Feng knew they had taken the warning seriously. Now that their vigilance was high, he began carefully and thoroughly explaining which mushrooms were safe and which weren’t, promising to show them how to cook them once they got back so they could judge for themselves whether the mushrooms were tasty.

He absolutely refused to pick mushrooms he wasn’t sure about and gave strict warnings to the children: they were not to touch any mushrooms except the few he had personally taught them to recognize. He especially emphasized that some poisonous mushrooms looked very beautiful and colorful—people often found them attractive, but in nature, such vibrant colors often signaled deadly danger.

The children had just witnessed the rabbit demonstration and took Li Feng’s warnings very seriously. The mushroom he’d fed the rabbit had been one of those bright and pretty ones.

The mushroom picking went smoothly. This area was surrounded by mountains and forest, and mushrooms were growing on trees and on the ground. Different species grew in different places. Everyone picked a large amount, and since mushrooms were light, carrying them in baskets wasn’t hard—even the kids could manage. After a rain, mushrooms and wood ear fungus always proliferated, and since they had waited a while after the rain ended, most of the fungi had already emerged in full.

After they brought back the mushrooms, Li Feng taught them how to make soup and dishes with them. The aroma wafted through the air even before the food was served, easing their fear of mushrooms. Especially when they saw that Li Feng ate them without any adverse effects, they followed suit. Once they tasted the mushrooms, no one wanted to stop eating. Whenever they had time—especially after it rained—they’d head to the forest. They had seen mushrooms before but never paid them much attention and certainly hadn’t tried eating them. Now that they knew they were edible, they went back and harvested all the places they remembered seeing them.

Li Feng told them that the large wood ear mushrooms could be picked, but the small ones must be left to grow, or there would be none next time. Though the tribespeople didn’t fully understand the reason, they trusted Li Feng’s “expertise” and followed his instructions seriously. After all, it wasn’t a joking matter—what if some mushrooms were deadly?

The mushrooms were harvested and eaten, and any surplus was dried for later use. They could be rehydrated when needed and were almost as good as fresh—sometimes even tastier.

As mushroom gathering continued and everyone in the tribe busied themselves with food preparations, winter arrived. Frost lined the roads, and thin layers of ice formed on the river—clear signs of the season’s change. Now, whenever they went to fetch water, they had to be extra cautious to avoid slipping into the river. Children were strictly forbidden from going near the riverbanks. The ice on the river wasn’t very thick yet—it was still early winter, and the first snowfall hadn’t even arrived. So, fetching water from the river was still manageable, as long as they broke or pushed aside the ice.

Li Feng’s home had been fully sealed against the wind. In truth, the house didn’t have many draughts since it was solidly built from the start. The windows were the biggest concern. Simply covering them with animal hides was no longer effective—the wind would just blow them open. So Li Feng stuffed the window frames with dry straw, which was easy thanks to the wooden lattice bars. Then, inside the room, he nailed hides over the openings using small, sharpened sticks whittled from fine branches with a shell knife. This kept the wind out securely.

Everyone was already dressed for the season, all in animal hide clothing. Li Feng had made several tight-fitting undergarments from thin hides to be worn beneath their outerwear. Without a snug inner layer, just wrapping oneself in thick outer hides wasn’t warm enough—the wind would seep in, and body heat would escape.

Now everyone was bundled up like fuzzy balls—especially Li Feng, Nuo, Mo, and the baby. Knowing how cold it could get, Li Feng had made several sets of clothing for each of them, nearly depleting their stockpile. He’d also made several thick quilts, patchworks of bear or tiger hide. Though they were mismatched and not very pretty, they were incredibly warm.

Since it was raining today, everyone stayed inside. The cold was bad enough; rain and wind made it worse. The gloomy sky outside looked utterly depressing—it felt cold just looking at it. So, no one went hunting either. Prey rarely came out in such weather, and the hunters, who used to go out daily, now only ventured out every few days. It was too cold and the hunts largely unproductive. Luckily, they had stockpiled enough food, so there was no need to worry.

The entire family now sat in the living room, huddled together. The main door was tightly shut, with every crevice stuffed with straw. They even hung thick straw mats inside, which were excellent for insulation. These mats were made by tightly bundling straw together—similar to the thermal coverings used over greenhouse crops. In rural areas, such mats were traditionally used to line beds. A thick layer could block out the cold air completely, and with mats and blankets laid over them, they made for perfect bedding.

Li Feng and the others had made quite a few of these mats. Each bed had one or two, and they even set up stone beds in the living room to use like couches, covering them with straw mats too. That way, they could sit and chat without freezing on the floor.

A brazier burned in the middle of the living room, roasting sweet potatoes. A clay pot above it boiled water, and sometimes they’d make soup to drink. The whole family sat on the straw mats around the fire. No one sat on the “sofa” stone beds because they were too far from the warmth. Being right next to the fire was so much cozier.

To prevent carbon monoxide poisoning, Li Feng made sure to crack open the window in one of the front-facing rooms for ventilation.

“Mmm, days like this are pretty great,” Nuo said, wrapped in thick animal hide clothes, her feet in bulky fur shoes, leaning against Bu while holding a freshly roasted sweet potato. “No need to go out, and we’ve got a warm house and hot food.”

“Exactly! Who would want to go out in weather like this? This is what cat-winter should be like—living like pigs!” Li Feng laughed, cuddling the baby beside him. They were all dressed warmly, the room was even warmer, and with sweet potatoes and hot soup by the fire, life couldn’t get much better.

They had prepared plenty of firewood. Though their stone axes weren’t sharp, they worked fine for chopping small branches. They regularly gathered fuel like wild grasses and fallen leaves—perfect for winter cooking. Occasionally, they’d find dried-up trees, and a few people would push or carry them back together. Over time, they’d collected enough to enjoy a fire every day throughout winter.

“Yes, this is true enjoyment. This cat-winter… what a perfect word. It’s the most comfortable winter we’ve ever had,” Li murmured as he peeled sweet potatoes for Li Feng and Mo, letting out a blissful sigh.

Li Feng took them, then carefully tucked the small fur blanket around the sleeping baby. It was great that the baby was napping in the living room—they could keep an eye on him, and it was warm. He lay on the thick straw mats, and Li Feng had even brought down the furs and blankets from the bed to lay directly on the floor. The living room was almost fully carpeted with straw mats, leaving only a clear space around the deeper fire basin to prevent stray embers. They had already replaced the brazier with a deep clay basin, which worked perfectly.

Warmth radiated throughout the room like a thick blanket. The floor felt carpeted, and walking barefoot didn’t feel cold. Mo even rolled around on the straw mats without touching the floor. If Li Feng had thought of building a chimney while constructing the house, he might’ve added a fireplace. It would’ve just been like adding a door. But it was too late now—without a chimney, it wouldn’t work. Still, the house wasn’t that big, and the brazier was enough to keep it warm. He decided to leave it be for now. Besides, a fireplace would burn through more firewood.

As for a heated bed (kang), Li Feng wouldn’t make one—nor could he. In summer, they easily attracted insects. For the baby’s safety, he wouldn’t take the risk. After all, they had no cement or tiles to keep such a setup clean. Dirt-based beds became bug-infested in summer, full of cockroaches, moths, or centipedes—just the thought gave him chills. What if something crawled into the baby’s ear? He wouldn’t risk it, not even slightly. At night, the baby slept in their arms, so there was no worry about him getting cold.

Eating roasted sweet potatoes and sipping mushroom soup—life couldn’t be sweeter. Li Feng lay back on the straw mat lined with animal hide, soft and cozy. “I’m telling you, a cat-winter should be like a cat—find a warm spot and curl up, and maybe meow a couple of times for good measure.” He laughed at his own joke. Of course, “cat-winter” didn’t actually mean that—he was just trying to tease them. But it seemed the others didn’t catch on?

“Li Feng, do you mean that kind of wildcat that looks like a little tiger?” Nuo rolled over next to him, lying on the hides as she asked. She had brought all their bed furs down here too, using them as mats and blankets.

“Yeah, that’s the one. We’re living just like that now. This is how winter should be spent.” No need to go out rain or shine, just sleep until you naturally wake up. Li Feng nodded—he was very content with this life.

“Ah, only after living like this do I realize how miserable our old winters were. Sitting in freezing caves, on cold stones by a fire that barely warmed us. Even wrapped in animal hides, we were still cold—and we didn’t have enough hides. No food, always hungry and cold… Now? Life’s too good!” Nuo cheered, leapt to her feet, and dove into Bu’s arms, knocking him over and collapsing onto his chest, laughing heartily, while Bu smiled helplessly.

“Uncle Li Feng, can we sleep out here tonight?” Mo asked, lying next to the baby and looking at Li Feng. It was so warm in the living room—it wouldn’t be cold, and the space was huge, all covered with straw mats.

“Sure! None of us has slept out here before. Let’s all sleep in the living room tonight—it’s big, and we can chat all night!” Li Feng imagined the scene—it felt like a group sleepover. Back at the orphanage, they used to lay out bedding in the hall and play games together. Of course, that was summer, and this was winter, but the fun would be the same.

Everyone agreed it sounded fun. Li didn’t mind either—he wouldn’t dare remove his warm furs in this weather anyway. Winter was definitely the worst for certain… activities.

Outside, the wind and rain howled, the cold was bitter. But inside, it was as warm as spring. They chatted and laughed, sharing stories in a cozy, blissful atmosphere.

Little did they know, would they truly sleep peacefully tonight? Or was there danger, some unexpected threat, lurking in the shadows?