Published: July 11, 2025
Chapter One: Village by the Mountain
Blockhead stared wide-eyed, gazing straight up at the black roof made of thatch and mud. The old quilt covering him had turned a deep yellow, its original color unrecognizable, faintly emitting a musty smell.
Next to him lay his second brother, Han Zhu, fast asleep, letting out a steady stream of snores of varying intensity.
About half a meter away from the bed stood a wall plastered with yellow mud. Due to the passage of time, several thin cracks had appeared, from which faint sounds of Mother Han’s nagging complaints could be heard, occasionally mixed with the “pat pat” of Han Father puffing on his dry tobacco pipe.
Blockhead slowly closed his already dry and gritty eyes, forcing himself to slip into a deep sleep soon. He knew very well that if he didn’t sleep soon, he wouldn’t be able to wake up early the next day to gather firewood with the friends he had arranged to meet.
Blockhead’s real name was Han Li. Such a proper name was not given by his parents; it was actually his father who, using two coarse cornmeal buns, asked Uncle Zhang from the village to come up with a name.
Young Uncle Zhang had once been a companion and study boy for some wealthy city folk and was the only literate person in the village. Most of the village children’s names were given by him.
Han Li was called “Blockhead” by the villagers, but he was not truly foolish; on the contrary, he was the smartest child in the village. However, like other village kids, apart from his family, he rarely heard anyone call him by his real name, “Han Li.” Instead, the nickname “Blockhead” followed him everywhere.
The reason he was called “Blockhead” was simply because there was already a kid named “Dullard” in the village.
It was nothing unusual; other village kids had similar nicknames like “Doggy” or “Second Egg.” These names were no more pleasant than “Blockhead.”
So although Han Li didn’t like the nickname, he could only comfort himself by accepting it.
Han Li looked very ordinary: dark-skinned, just a typical farm boy. Yet deep inside, he was much more mature than his peers. From a young age, he longed for the rich and bustling world outside and dreamed of the day he could leave this tiny village and see the outside world Uncle Zhang often spoke of.
Han Li never dared to voice this dream to others. Otherwise, the villagers would be stunned that a mere kid had such adult-like thoughts. After all, other children his age were still running around chasing chickens and dogs, never dreaming of leaving their homeland.
Han Li’s family consisted of seven members: two elder brothers, one elder sister, and a younger sister. He was the fourth child and had just turned ten. Their life was tough; they rarely ate meals with meat and always struggled to make ends meet.
At this moment, Han Li was in that hazy state between sleep and wakefulness, still clinging to one thought: when he went to the mountain tomorrow, he must pick extra red berries for his beloved little sister.
At noon the next day, under the blazing sun, Han Li trudged home from the mountain with a pile of firewood half as tall as himself on his back, and a bag full of berries in his arms. He did not yet know that a guest had already arrived who would change his life forever.
This distinguished visitor was a close relative—his own Third Uncle.
It was said that this uncle managed a prominent restaurant in a nearby small town, a “big shot” according to Han Li’s parents. In the Han family’s hundred-year history, this Third Uncle was probably the only relative with some status.
Han Li had only seen this uncle a few times when he was very young. It was this Third Uncle who helped get Han Li’s eldest brother an apprenticeship with an old blacksmith in the city. The uncle often sent food and supplies to their family through others, showing great care, so Han Li had a good impression of him and knew his parents were very grateful, even if they never said it.