The icy creek water made his feet almost numb, while the sun overhead scorched his scalp. The reeds by the creek grew long and green, brushing against his cheeks like little knives, soon leaving red marks all over his face. Alternating between cold and hot—this is exactly how one catches a cold.

Edward Carter saw a huge patch of sandy ground ahead, at least two acres wide, and hurried his pace. Just as he stepped onto the red sand, a dark shadow suddenly lunged at him. Terrified out of his wits, he instinctively swung his shovel at the shadow. With a miserable “baa,” a gray wild goat tumbled into the creek, splashing water all over him.

The goat struggled desperately in the water, trying to stand up—its leg was probably broken by the blow. It managed to get up, only to fall back into the water. Seeing its pain, Edward Carter had no choice but to raise his steel shovel again...

The rabbit leg he’d eaten that morning had long since been digested, and his stomach was growling again. A growing boy can eat his father out of house and home, and now Edward Carter was back at this awkward age. He sighed for a while, then took out his Yingjisha knife and began to dissect the poor goat. Of the goat’s organs, he kept only the heart and kidneys, burying the rest deep in the sand.

Back then, Edward Carter’s cooking skills had improved by leaps and bounds thanks to his wife’s tireless efforts. After a hearty meal of roast mutton, the spicy aftertaste still lingered in his mouth. The leftover mutton was carefully smoked with lemongrass—who would have thought that the common green grass of the northwest was the perfect material for smoking mutton?

Once again, Edward Carter felt proud of his formidable social skills. He remembered the first time he tasted roast mutton from an old Uyghur man—he nearly swallowed his tongue in delight. It took a set of Yingjisha knives and a week of free labor to coax the secret recipe out of the old man. The key ingredient was this ubiquitous grass, and the old man nearly fell out with him over it. Although using it to smoke meat might seem a bit low-class, in this early summer weather, if you didn’t process the meat in time, you’d attract every fly in the world within a few hours.

After sincerely thanking the goat, Edward Carter put on his sun-dried clothes and once again set out in search of people.

The creek turned east at the foot of the mountain—just like ninety-nine point nine percent of the world’s rivers. This little creek was no exception. Edward Carter followed it for three days. The trees grew fewer, the grass sparser, and the cities marked on the map were nowhere to be found.

Looking out, the entire basin showed no sign of human life. Green grass blanketed the earth, and occasionally a bird would shoot up into the sky from the grass with a “whoosh.” Herds of wild horses galloped and played on the grassy carpet, their manes catching the sunlight and turning into thousands of golden and silver threads. Yellow sheep grazed with heads down, then stretched their necks to gaze into the distance. Even wild pheasants flapped their wings low over the grass, then dashed off again.

The wind carried the fresh scent of grass. The air was filled with the breath of all kinds of life—nature was so beautiful.

Edward Carter was utterly devastated. What kind of lousy scenery is this? Where is my concrete jungle? Where is the roar of my cars? Where are the acidic fumes from my factories? Where are my towering heavy industry smokestacks? Where is my era-defining, much-maligned municipal building? Where have my most beloved, sky-dancing plastic bags gone? Where are those crowds I despised? Where is the city noise that drove me mad? Where is the rotting, stinking, mountainous city garbage?

My family, where are you?

Don’t leave me here alone!

Edward Carter lay on his back on the soft grass, tears streaming down like a flood. In just a dream, the seas had turned to mulberry fields.

Section Two: Man Is Inferior to Horse

The hope he’d kept deep in his heart for days was now completely shattered. He felt life had lost all meaning. A large cloud drifted by, darkening the sky—it was a rain cloud. Edward Carter let out a couple of hollow laughs. What did it matter to him whether he took in the laundry or not? What did it matter to him if it rained?

In the end, it did start to rain, though not heavily. Edward Carter felt even the heavens were mourning for him—he was truly pitiful. A warm breath brushed his ear, filling Edward Carter’s heart with emotion. Who was comforting him at his side? He decided to say thank you out loud, turned his head, and saw a gaping bloody maw, gleaming white teeth lunging for his throat.

Edward Carter shoved his steel shovel into the gaping mouth like lightning. With a crunch, those white teeth clamped down hard on the shovel. Edward Carter seized the moment to scramble up, gripping the handle tightly and shoving it outward with all his might. With a miserable howl, a spray of blood burst forth. Only then did Edward Carter realize it was a green wolf before him. Its huge mouth had been completely torn open by the serrated edge of the entrenching tool, its jaw hanging limp. Facing such a beast, not killing it completely would be courting disaster.

He quickly raised the shovel and struck the wolf’s neck hard. The wolf’s head was severed from its body, hanging by only a layer of skin, and its body convulsed as it collapsed to the ground.

The whole incident lasted barely twenty seconds, but Edward Carter felt as if he’d battled the wolf for a century. His heart pounded, and his throat burned as if it were on fire.