Three days after Granny Meredith's funeral, a bitter reality hit their community like a bone-chilling wind. Thomas Aldrich sat in the middle of the shelter with a crumpled scroll of paper in his hands—a list of supplies that became more dismal each day.
"Our wheat ran out yesterday," he said in a voice that tried to remain calm, though his brown eyes showed despair. "We have dried meat left for two more days if we ration it very strictly. And the preserved vegetables..." he trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence.
Li Yuan felt a familiar pressure in his chest—not just from the physical hunger that was beginning to gnaw at everyone, but from the increasingly heavy responsibility of keeping seventy souls alive in these worsening conditions.
Sixty-nine, he corrected his own thought with bitterness. Now sixty-nine souls. And if I don't do something...
In his Zhenjing, he felt the gentle presence of Granny Meredith's soul, as if the old woman was also feeling the community's worries that she once loved. Her presence was not calming—on the contrary, it reminded Li Yuan of the consequences of his decision not to interfere too much.
The weather outside was still bad. It was no longer raining heavily like in previous weeks, but a constant drizzle and thick fog made hunting almost impossible. The animals were hiding, their tracks lost in the muddy ground, and the hunters returned empty-handed day after day.
"I'm starting to think," David Miller said in a weak voice—he had lost a significant amount of weight in recent weeks, "maybe we need to consider... splitting up."
A chilling silence descended upon the shelter. These were words no one wanted to hear, but that were beginning to murmur in everyone's hearts.
Anna hugged Lila tighter, her brown eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You mean?"
"A smaller group moves faster," David explained with a cruel yet logical reasoning. "It requires less food. It has a better chance of survival."
"No," Marcus said loudly, though his voice trembled from fatigue and hunger. "We promised. We stay together."
"A promise doesn't make food appear out of thin air," Sarah Miller retorted with a bitterness never before heard in her voice. The woman who was once always optimistic now looked like a shadow of her former self.
Li Yuan watched this conversation with a heavy heart. He saw how hunger and despair eroded the bonds they had built for months. He saw how people who loved each other began to consider abandoning one another for survival.
This cannot happen, he decided with a resolve born from a mix of anger and love. I will not let this community fall apart from starvation when I have the ability to prevent it.
"There will be no split," Li Yuan said in a voice that made everyone turn. There was something in his tone that was different—a deeper authority than the leadership they had come to know.
"Yuan," Thomas said softly, "I know you want to keep us together, but—"
"There will be no split," Li Yuan repeated, this time in a tone that accepted no arguments. "Give me three days. Three days to find a solution."
"What solution?" Ben Carter asked with eyes that still held trust in Li Yuan despite the grim situation.
Li Yuan looked at the thin, tired faces around him. In his heart, he felt a firm resolution—he would use his abilities, but carefully, in a way that would not raise too many questions.
"Give me a chance to hunt in a way... I haven't tried before," he replied with a careful choice of words.
That night, when the others were asleep in their exhausting hunger, Li Yuan slipped out of the shelter. The crescent moon provided enough light to see, and for the first time in months, he allowed a little—just a little—of his true abilities to flow.
Not complex spiritual Understandings. Just a small enhancement to his senses—sharper hearing, clearer vision in the darkness, slightly faster reflexes. Abilities that could still be explained as the skills of a very experienced hunter.
He moved through the forest with an almost supernatural silence, but not completely beyond the limits of an incredibly trained human. His ears caught sounds that an ordinary hunter would never hear—the heartbeat of a deer hiding thirty meters away, the breath of a wild boar sleeping behind a thick bush.
Just a little, he reminded himself. Just enough to bring food for them.
In two hours, he had successfully hunted a large deer, two wild boars, and caught several rabbits with traps he set with a precision born from thousands of years of knowledge. More than enough food to feed their community for weeks.
But then came the next challenge—how to explain this extraordinary haul without arousing suspicion?
Li Yuan spent another hour preparing a plausible "evidence" of the hunt—footprints showing animal movements, signs of a struggle, even slightly wounding himself to show that this hunt was not easy.
When he returned to the shelter near dawn, dragging his haul with a rope made of tree bark, the community woke up with eyes wide in disbelief.
"Yuan!" Marcus shouted as he ran closer. "This... this is impossible. How could you get this much in one night?"
Li Yuan smiled with a fatigue that was partly faked, partly real from his emotional struggle. "Luck. And a little... hunting technique I haven't used before."
"What technique?" Thomas asked with eyes full of admiration and a hint of suspicion.
"Night hunting," Li Yuan explained. "With the right moon, the right weather, and enough patience... the animals come out to look for food. They don't expect humans to be hunting at those hours."
Which is technically true, he justified in his heart. I just didn't explain how I could see and hear them in the darkness.
Ben Carter observed the small wounds on Li Yuan's hands and arms. "You're hurt, Uncle Yuan."
"A big deer doesn't give up without a fight," Li Yuan replied, showing the scratches he had made himself. "But it's worth the result."
Anna approached with teary eyes—not of sadness this time, but of immense relief. "Yuan, you... you saved us."
At the cost of a little integrity, Li Yuan thought with a mix of satisfaction and guilt. But sometimes, love requires compromise.
The following days were filled with activity they hadn't seen in weeks. Meat was cut and preserved, animal hides were processed for clothing and tools, and most importantly—empty stomachs were finally filled.
There was no more talk of splitting up. Instead, the community gathered closer, grateful for the "luck" that had saved them.
But Old Pete, who sat in the corner of the shelter slowly chewing on roasted meat, looked at Li Yuan with thoughtful eyes.
"Yuan," he said one afternoon when the others were busy, "I've been hunting for fifty years. And in those fifty years, I've never seen anyone bring home that much in one night."
Li Yuan felt the familiar tension. "Luck, Pete. And a little desperation that makes a person try things they normally wouldn't."
Old Pete nodded slowly, but his gaze did not change. "Very timely luck. And very... extraordinary."
They looked at each other in a loaded silence. Li Yuan knew that this old man was starting to put the puzzle pieces together, though he hadn't seen the full picture yet.
"Pete," Li Yuan said in a low but firm voice, "do you believe that there are times when someone has to do something... out of the ordinary to protect the people they love?"
"Yes," Old Pete answered without hesitation. "I believe in that."
"And do you believe that sometimes, not all questions need to be answered, as long as the result protects the family?"
Old Pete looked at him with eyes full of deep and complex understanding.
"Yuan," he said finally with a thin smile that held a lot of meaning, "I'm old enough to know that there are things in this world that are more important than knowing all the answers. And one of those things is making sure my family stays alive and together."
Li Yuan felt the burden on his chest lessen a little. Not completely—he was still keeping a big secret. But at least he knew that Old Pete chose not to dig deeper, choosing to trust him despite not fully understanding.
Trust without complete knowledge, Li Yuan mused. Maybe that is the noblest form of love.
That night, as the community slept with full stomachs for the first time in weeks, Li Yuan sat at the threshold of the shelter and felt the gentle presence of Granny Meredith in his Zhenjing.
Did I do the right thing? he asked in his heart to the soul stored there.
And somehow, in the gentle warmth radiating from his Soul Understanding, he felt something that might have been approval—or at least, an understanding that love sometimes requires us to be flexible with our principles to protect the people who are most precious to us.
Maybe, he thought, looking at the stars that were beginning to show through the thinning clouds, being perfect in principle is not as important as being perfect in love.