Before Logan could take the net off the haystack, another flutter of wings startled him—
"Flap, flap!"
A sparrow burst from the grass, escaping into the dark sky.
"What a pity," Logan muttered, watching the faint shadow vanish into the snow-lit night. Then he carefully pulled the net down and slipped his hand inside, catching the other sparrow still trapped within.
The little bird pecked fiercely at his fingers. Logan tightened his grip just slightly—then felt a warm wetness between his fingers. The sparrow had left him a parting gift.
He smirked.
> "James, here. Hold this tight," he said, handing the small bird to his nephew. "Don't let go, or we won't have anything to eat later."
> "Got it, Uncle," James replied solemnly, clutching the sparrow as though it were treasure.
June's eyes sparkled with quiet excitement as she watched her uncle work.
Logan smiled, lifted the flashlight again, and swept the beam across the haystack.
Winter nights were harsh on sparrows. Once darkness fell, they burrowed deep into straw piles for warmth. There was always more than one hiding spot.
Sure enough, within minutes, he found another—and caught it cleanly.
June's hands trembled as she held the wriggling bird, a faint smile flickering across her face.
By the end, Logan had captured four sparrows. Two others escaped into the cold, their wings slicing through the night air.
> "Uncle, there's another haystack in front of the He family's yard!" James said eagerly, sniffling again.
> "Inside the yard or outside?" Logan asked.
> "Inside."
> "Then no," Logan said firmly. "We're not trespassing into someone's property this late just for a few sparrows."
June thought for a moment and said,
> "Uncle, what about the Gao family's place? Remember the one behind their house—the big haystack near the side shed? It's outside the fence. You can see it from the path."
> "Good memory." Logan nodded. "Let's go take a look."
Four sparrows wouldn't be enough to satisfy anyone, especially two hungry kids.
The snow outside was deep—thirty, maybe forty centimeters thick. Logan trudged ahead, leaving footprints for the children to step in. Even so, by the time they reached the Gao family's haystack, all three of their shoes were filled with snow.
But none of them complained. Even Logan felt a childish excitement at the thought of roasting their catch.
A dog barked somewhere in the yard, followed by a man's faint scolding voice. Logan flicked off the flashlight for a moment, then turned it back on and aimed it at the hay.
Within seconds, the beam caught a glimmer—tiny eyes reflecting in the dark. He didn't rush in this time. Instead, he scanned the whole pile carefully, counting nine sparrows in total.
Then, starting from the left corner, he began to strike—methodical and quiet.
By the end, he had caught six.
He couldn't hold that many alive, so he made it quick—snapping each neck cleanly and laying the bodies in the snow. There was no cruelty in his eyes, only the calm of a man who had known hunger too long.
When the last one was caught, he turned to the kids.
> "That's enough for tonight."
> "But Uncle," June said softly, "the Qin family has another haystack further back…"
> "No more," Logan interrupted gently. "Our shoes are soaked. If we stay out longer, your mother will scold all of us. Time to head back."
> "Okay…" The two children's voices carried a hint of disappointment.
Still, even sparrow meat was meat. And to children who rarely tasted any, this was a feast.
---
When they returned to the yard, Mary Liang heard them before she saw them. She hurried out of the west room, her eyes widening in the flashlight's glow.
> "Where on earth have you been? Look at your pants! You're soaked! Get inside and change your shoes right now!"
> "I'm not going," James protested, proudly holding up the two sparrows in his hands. "I want to eat meat!"
> "Alright, alright," Logan said quickly before Mary could scold further. "Go change first. Even if we're roasting them, I still have to pluck and clean them, right?"
That made sense even to James. With a nod, he handed the birds over and ran inside with June to change.
> "You spoil them too much," Mary said with a sigh, though her tone was more fond than angry. "And you—your shoes are drenched. Go change before you catch a chill!"
> "Yes, ma'am," Logan said with a grin. He went inside.
---
He slipped into his cloth shoes—the hand-stitched pair Mary had made him—and set his wet boots by the stove wall to dry. Then, rolling up his sleeves, he began to clean the sparrows.
Experience from his past life guided his hands. It was quick work.
He didn't bother plucking the feathers one by one. Instead, he twisted the head, peeled the skin down from the neck, and with one pull—off came the skin and feathers together.
Cruel? Maybe to some.
But for those who had gone winters without meat, cruelty was being hungry.
Within minutes, ten cleaned sparrows lay on the table. Logan gutted them, then swept the iron lid of the stove clean with a small straw brush.
Earlier that evening, he had banked the coal fire with ash, so the iron plate was hot—but not red-hot. Perfect for roasting.
The stove itself was homemade, built from clay bricks with four iron bars across the center. The iron sheet on top was cut from an old diesel drum.
Store-bought stoves were rare; this one was crude but functional—and most importantly, warm.
He arranged the sparrows neatly across the surface.
Just as he stood up, the children came running back in. Their eyes widened when they saw the tiny carcasses lined up, sizzling faintly against the metal.
James nearly drooled.
> "Uncle, when can we eat them?"
> "In a bit. I need salt and chili first," Logan said. "Be patient."
> "Okay!" James said quickly, surprising him with his obedience.
Logan went to the west room, where George and Mary were sitting by their own fire.
> "Sister-in-law, I'm taking some salt and chili powder."
> "Sure," Mary replied, smiling as she fetched them. She'd already guessed what he was up to.
"You're something else, Logan. Didn't think you'd manage to catch so many sparrows!"
> "Heh," Logan chuckled, scratching his head. In his previous life, he would've been too lazy or embarrassed to do something like this. But now, he only wanted to make life a little easier for the kids—his family.
He took two small bowls of seasoning and a pair of enamel plates, then headed back to his room.
Closing the door behind him, he set the bowls on the clay stove's edge and sprinkled chili and salt evenly over the roasting sparrows.
The chili flakes were homegrown; the salt, store-bought and precious. Nothing could be wasted.
He turned each bird carefully, dusting both sides. Soon, the tiny room filled with the irresistible aroma of spice and sizzling meat.
Logan took a deep breath. If only there were cumin, he thought wistfully.
Even June, usually composed, swallowed hard as the smell grew stronger. Her eyes never left the stove.
After flipping them three times, Logan finally picked two from the hot plate and placed them onto one of the enamel dishes.
> "They're done," he said, handing the plate to June. "Take these to your parents first. They deserve the first bite."
James frowned.
> "Why? I thought we were eating together."
June, older and wiser, didn't question it. She carefully balanced the plate in her hands and walked toward the west room.
Logan turned to James and asked softly,
> "James, the family hasn't had meat for a while, right?"
> "Yeah."
> "And your parents work the hardest, don't they?"
> "Uh-huh."
> "Then shouldn't they eat first?"
> "...Yeah. They should."
Logan smiled and nodded in approval. Then, as the boy's eyes lingered longingly on the stove, he picked up one cooled sparrow, tore off a leg, and held it out.
> "Here. You earned it."
James's eyes lit up as he took the tiny roasted bird in both hands.
For the first time that long winter, the taste of warm meat filled the little house with joy.
(End of Chapter 4)