Pubang's novel "The night of hunting games" published on Amazon

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Garrison officer Zhang silently entered the rear hall, lighting an incense stick before an ornate censer. Grabbing a wine bottle, he drank heavily, the liquid burning down his throat. After a long moment, he suddenly hurled the bottle to the ground, shattering it in a burst of frustration, as memories from the past flooded his mind.

In the dimly lit chamber, Li Ping, the Inspector General, whispered to him, eyes glinting with temptation. His narrow gaze concealed endless schemes. Zhang stood silent, furrowing his brow. His rough face was etched with bitterness. He weighed his options carefully, knowing full well that Li Ping wasn't simply trying to expose the general's misconduct—he had his own political motives. Yet the bright future Li promised, the allure of standing high above others, was too tempting to dismiss.

"Could you give me some time to think it over?" Zhang rasped, trying to delay the decision and lower his risk.

"Don't worry," Li Ping interrupted, his voice cutting through Zhang's hesitation."The letter you'll write is anonymous, just a suggestion for the court. But the timing is crucial. If you wait, your worth to the court may diminish. Later, they might not even look at you!"

Zhang's feelings toward the general were complex—both reverence and fear. The general had taken him, a good-for-nothing rogue, and made him an officer, always looking out for him. Zhang knew that. But lately, his own misdeeds had caught the general's attention, and he feared what would come next.

Glancing at Li Ping, who now impatiently sipped tea, Zhang could see the disdain in his eyes as he spat out the coarse tea leaves. That cold look made Zhang clench his teeth. At last, he nodded and wrote the letter, carefully hinting at the general's indiscretions—letting bandits go free, showing leniency to the soldiers.

Half an hour later, Li Ping took the letter, scanned it quickly, and frowned."Is this even useful?" he scoffed, tucking the letter into his sleeve."Rewrite it tomorrow. I'll take another look then."

With a flick of his sleeve, Li Ping left, muttering as he departed,"When the nest falls, no egg is left unbroken."

Zhang's heart pounded with anxiety, knowing it was too late to undo what he'd done. His hands trembled as he realized the weight of his actions—one letter might seem insignificant, but in the court, it could decide a man's fate.

As Zhang wrote more letters, the minor infractions he mentioned grew into grave accusations—stockpiling grain, plotting a secret raid on the Scorpion Tribe, hiding elite soldiers. His words painted the general as a man bent on rebellion.

Soon, tension filled the general's camp. Suspicion and fear grew, and eventually, the court detained the general. Zhang's letters had become key evidence in the charges against him.

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Zhang achieved his goal, becoming a high-ranking officer. But it wasn't long before everyone knew he was the hand behind the downfall. Whether Li Ping had deliberately leaked this or not, it didn't matter—Zhang became a pariah among the troops.

"I know you all look down on me! But now I'm your superior! You don't have to like it, but you better respect it!" he told himself, justifying his harsh rule. It wasn't his choice, he reasoned—it was forced upon him.

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In the days that followed, refugees flooded into the region, bringing terrifying news—the Scorpions were on the march. Any young woman would be captured, and men taller than a wagon wheel, along with the elderly, would be slaughtered. Even prisoners would be turned into food. Fear spread like wildfire, yet the refugees' progress slowed due to their swelling numbers and the lack of food.

Two of them, Mo Wen and Little Hong, spent most of their time scouring the wilderness, searching for something edible. Their confusion wasn't about the path in life anymore—it was simply about survival.

In moments of despair, Mo Wen often asked himself,"Has our spirit shrunk along with our material resources?" But the growling of his stomach quickly pulled him back to reality."I have to survive! I have to find a way back!" he repeated to himself, trying to muster hope, recalling the words of a missionary friend, though hope seemed distant.

Suddenly, something caught his eye—a half-buried rotten log. He rushed to it like a child, eagerly peeling away the bark. Beneath the seemingly solid exterior, the log had decayed, revealing fat, wriggling grubs inside. Their pale, lumpy bodies glistened, segmented like plump sausages. The tiny heads sported oversized pincers, snapping aimlessly.

Mo Wen's eyes lit up. He held one of the worms up to Little Hong, who recoiled in disgust.

"Do you know what this is? Protein," Mo Wen said with a smirk.

"What? " Little Hong looked incredulous."Routine, are you seriously going to eat that?"

"Watch the master of survival in action!" Mo Wen joked, lifting the grub higher. He decided to start with the tail, since the pincers on the head looked too intimidating. Closing his eyes, he bit down hard. The creature's insides burst in his mouth—a mix of bitter and fishy that made him gag.

Little Hong burst out laughing, falling to the ground in hysterics. For the first time since leaving home, he laughed so hard that he began to cough, spitting out the little he had in his stomach.

The two boys exchanged embarrassed glances, but a bond had formed in that moment. Mo Wen continued digging through the rotten wood, pulling out more grubs and laying them in his palm like prized treasures. He didn't want to waste this rare find, and his mind raced with ideas on how to cook them.

Little Hong, watching with a mix of disgust and curiosity, challenged Mo Wen with his eyes. Mo Wen rolled his eyes and started gathering wood shavings and dry grass, searching for a flat stone to build a fire.

Little Hong could see what Mo Wen was trying to do, and with a smirk, he grabbed two white firestones and began striking them. Mo Wen grumbled but persisted with his own method, determined not to lose. But soon, sparks flew from Little Hong's stones, and a thin plume of smoke rose from the kindling. Little Hong shot Mo Wen a smug glance.

"Bring the pot over," Little Hong called, waving him over. Mo Wen grimaced at the casual tone, but he placed the stone slab with the grubs over the fire. As the smell of roasting grubs filled the air, their stomachs growled in anticipation. Mo Wen took a cautious bite—it was much better this time, thanks to the fragrant wild herbs he'd added.

Seeing Mo Wen enjoying the food, Little Hong hesitated but eventually grabbed a grub, cautiously nibbling on it before quickly devouring the rest.

Soon, the two boys were laughing again, relishing their strange but satisfying wilderness feast.