Unable to farm, hunt, raise silkworms, or weave cloth—how could he possibly feed two bodies? This was a major problem. Relying on others for charity, begging like a pauper all day long, Henry Clark thought it would be better to just die.

After dawn, leaving Jack Cooper at home, Henry Clark borrowed a hatchet and went up the mountain to chop firewood. This was the only reliable way to survive he could think of after a whole night of pondering.

Chopping firewood was not as easy as Henry Clark had imagined. Other boys who went up the mountain with him had already chopped a large pile, while Henry Clark had only a small amount. The hatchet was very old, or rather, the material was poor; after a couple of chops at a dead tree, the blade would curl. For much of the deadwood, Henry Clark had to saw it off.

A sturdy boy, strong as a calf, snatched the hatchet from Henry Clark's hand, poured a little water from a bamboo tube, and began sharpening it on a stone. In no time, the hatchet was sharpened. He gripped the hatchet and chopped at an angle; the blade seemed to meet little resistance as it cut into the dead tree. The boy then handed the hatchet back to Henry Clark, telling him to chop wood as he did. The first chop wasn't great, but after three more, Henry Clark found he could finally handle the hatchet.

Perhaps this simple and noble character had already seeped into their blood. The young boys helped Henry Clark finish chopping and bundling the firewood, and only then did they sit around a small campfire, taking out their rice balls to eat. Henry Clark looked up at the sky—the sun was already high, and his stomach rumbled, but he had no extra grain to make rice balls.

He crouched by the river ditch and took a sip of water, planning to wait until the others finished eating so they could carry the firewood together to Dou Sha Pass to sell. This would be his future livelihood, so he had to figure everything out.

He declined the rice ball offered by one of the boys—they didn't have much food themselves. The mountain children were generous, though, and forced the rice ball into Henry Clark's hand before laughing and playing on the hillside, hunting for bird eggs and picking wild fruits. They even used a long blade of grass to poke at an anthill. When they lifted the grass, it was covered in termites. At first, Henry Clark thought they were just playing, but then he saw the boys scrape the termites into a small iron pot over the fire. The pot immediately crackled and popped, and soon the boys scrambled to snatch up the termites—they were eating ants.

Henry Clark knew there was an animal called an anteater that loved to eat ants, and that gorillas would also poke branches into anthills and eat the ants that climbed up. He hadn't expected that they would eat them too.

The sturdy boy pinched a handful of ants from the pot and tried to feed them to Henry Clark. Without thinking, Henry Clark opened his mouth and ate the crispy yellow ants. After chewing a couple of times, Henry Clark immediately became the most enthusiastic ant-catcher—fried ants were just too delicious: salty, with a rich, roasted aroma.

The happy time was too short. When there were no more ants climbing up the grass from the anthill, the little wild fun ended. The boys picked up their bundles of firewood, lined up in an orderly row, and went down the mountain along the narrow path.

The half-grown boys, when they saw girls in embroidered skirts, would shout out a few lines of love songs at the top of their lungs, only to be scolded by the blushing, angry girls. If they were unlucky, a mother with a black cloth wrapped around her head would come out with a broom to chase them away. Henry Clark got hit several times, but felt exhilarated inside.

Selling firewood was simple. The herbal shops in Dou Sha Pass needed large amounts of firewood every day to process medicinal herbs. As long as your firewood was dry enough, they would buy it—there was never any worry about not being able to sell it.

A load of firewood fetched three copper coins. Eight children were given twenty-one coins. There was no way the little clerk at the herbal shop could fool Henry Clark; even if he was stupid, he knew that three times eight was not twenty-one. When he saw the clerk about to hand the money to the grinning, sturdy boy, Henry Clark pressed down the boy's hand and just smiled silently at the clerk.

The clerk, feeling guilty, added three more coins. Henry Clark still smiled without saying a word. The clerk wanted to get angry, but when he saw Henry Clark about to call out to the kindly old doctor, he quickly pulled out another ten coins and slapped them into Henry Clark's hand before turning away in a huff.

“Tomorrow, let’s settle the firewood at three times eight equals twenty-seven, how about that?” Henry Clark shouted at the clerk’s back. The clerk nearly missed a step, glared fiercely at Henry Clark while holding onto the doorframe, and went into the shop.

The boys were overjoyed, crowding around Henry Clark and shouting, but Henry Clark couldn’t understand what they were saying until the sturdy boy explained, word by word. Only then did Henry Clark realize that the damned clerk was always cheating them—the promised money always shrank by the time it reached their hands.

After Henry Clark agreed to teach everyone how to count, the extra two coins were unanimously given to him. Six coins bought two jin of rice, which left him quite disappointed.

When he got home, Jack was already leaning out the window of the bamboo house, watching Henry Clark stagger back, shouting happily. He loved it when people came home and hated being alone. Ever since their mother disappeared, he had been terrified of the empty house.