Reborn in 1985, starting from the mountains of Northwest China

Chapter 14 Testing the Gun

Lin Xiu turned around and gently nudged Chen Feng: "You smell like rust. Go wash up. What happened to your hands?"

She noticed his swollen and red palm and fingertips.

Chen Feng pulled his hand back slightly and grinned, "It's nothing, just from grinding something. Uncle Zhang gave me some ointment, it'll be fine after applying it."

Lin Xiu, however, wouldn't have it. She took his hand and examined it closely, her eyes filled with concern: "It's blistered... Are you going again tomorrow?"

"go."

Chen Feng said firmly, "Uncle Zhang said that I can start doing the key work tomorrow. This little injury is nothing."

He knew his wife was worried, but this opportunity was hard-won.

In this area, besides Zhang Tiechui, you won't find another person who knows how to handle homemade guns.

Zhang Tiechui had a tough temper, but solid skills. In his early years, he hunted in the mountains, and his marksmanship was famous throughout the surrounding area.

Later, as he grew older and his legs became weak, he settled down to run the blacksmith shop. But his "understanding" of guns had become ingrained in his bones.

Lin Xiu didn't say anything more. She silently went to the stove, fetched a basin of warm water, and found a clean, soft cloth: "Soak it again, wash it properly. Dinner will be ready soon. I made your favorite pancakes today."

Chen Feng felt a warm glow in his heart.

He obediently sat down to soak his hands, watching his wife's busy figure by the stove.

The dim light of the oil lamp illuminated her gentle profile, and the sizzling aroma of oil and pancakes from the pan filled Chen Feng's nostrils, sweet and delightful.

The next day, Chen Feng arrived at the blacksmith's shop early with the prepared items.

"You're here?"

Zhang Tiechui had already changed into old linen clothes and was waiting for him.

Chen Feng respectfully handed the wooden tray to Zhang the blacksmith.

He glanced at it and nodded: "Not bad."

Without wasting any words, he led Chen Feng directly to a more secluded worktable in the inner room, where the polished gun barrel was already laid out, along with some small parts carefully wrapped in oiled paper, gleaming with a bluish or brass luster—springs, firing pins, flint clips, brass ferrules, and a small box of rust-preventing varnish with a unique scent.

"Watch closely."

Zhang Tiechui's voice struck Chen Fen clearly: "The barrel is the bone, the mechanism is the soul, and the stock is the flesh. The three together are what we call 'coordination'."

He directly instructed Chen Feng on how to use it: "Hold the gun barrel steady, aim here... Yes, feel that slight 'click,' and you're done. That's the connection between flesh and bone."

Chen Feng was completely focused, remembering every subtle sensation transmitted through his hands.

Zhang Tiechui's hand would occasionally cover his, his calloused fingertips pressing against the back of his hand, letting him feel the subtle pressure.

"Here, you need to leave a sliver of life. There's no trick to it; it's all about feeling."

Chen Feng followed Zhang the blacksmith's rhythm, pressing the gun step by step, constantly trying and making mistakes.

Assemble the brass ferrule, adjust the angle of the flint, and finally apply grease to the key moving parts.

Zhang Tiechui's movements were fluid and graceful, while Chen Feng held his breath and focused intently on cooperating and learning.

It was nearly nighttime when the last brass piece securing the wooden stock to the barrel was gently tapped into the groove with a small hammer.

Zhang Tiechui picked up the gun, weighed it in one hand, closed one eye, and aimed along the barrel at the withered branches of an old tree in the distance outside the window.

He didn't say anything, but the corners of his mouth were slightly raised, clearly indicating that he was extremely satisfied with Chen Feng.

"It's done."

He handed the gun back to Chen Feng, "We'll test it out later."

Both of them hadn't eaten all day, and Aunt Sun had come to urge them several times, but no matter what she did, she couldn't get them to move.

Following Zhang the blacksmith's instructions, Chen Feng loaded the gunpowder, filled the bullet, compacted it, and attached the flint step by step.

The cold gun pressed against Chen Feng's shoulder. He aimed at the target in the distance, and the world fell silent instantly.

"Thump—!!"

After the loud bang, I felt a familiar impact on my shoulder, followed by billowing white smoke.

The newly added bullet holes on the target were clearly visible; although they didn't hit the bullseye, they were firmly embedded in the wooden board.

Zhang Tiechui walked over to check the bullet impact point, then inspected the muzzle and receiver, and nodded: "It fires, it hits, and it hasn't fallen apart."

"This gun, I'm sticking with you."

Chen Feng gripped the still-warm gun tightly, his heart burning with emotion.

In his previous life, he had also learned to use a musket from his father for a period of time, and was quite adept at hunting rabbits.

After so many years, he thought he would be rusty.

But the moment the gun struck him, he felt everything return to normal.

He returned to the fearless, headstrong young man he was when he was a child, secretly vowing to protect his family.

"Go back and clean the gun thoroughly, and oil it. Take some lead pellets and gunpowder with you, and use them sparingly."

Looking at the young man with shining eyes, Zhang Tiechui finally said a few more words, "You have a gun, but when you go into the mountains, you need to bring your brain. It helps you, but it doesn't do it for you."

"Understood, Uncle!" Chen Feng nodded emphatically.

Chen Feng handed over all the money he had to Zhang the blacksmith.

He knew that the money was far from enough, and that Uncle Zhang must have secretly spent his own money, not to mention the amount of effort he had put in.

"No need, I watched you grow up. Your family isn't well-off either, keep this money for your own use..."

Zhang the blacksmith was unwilling to accept the money; he could tell the lad was a promising talent.

The blacksmith's skills were never passed on to outsiders, and when he agreed to teach Chen Feng, he already had the intention of taking the boy as his apprentice.

It seems this kid is quite good now.

The more Zhang Tiechui looked at Chen Feng, the more satisfied he became. He thought that after the New Year, he would ask Chen Laogeng if he could learn a trade from him.

"Uncle, please keep it. Without you, Feng'er wouldn't have such a handy gun!"

Chen Feng wanted to give it to Zhang Tiechui, but no matter what he said, Zhang Tiechui was determined not to accept it, so he had no choice but to give up.

Chen Feng kept this kindness in his heart; it was a heavy feeling.

He didn't say any more empty words of thanks. He just took a deep breath, folded up the few bills that had been repeatedly declined, and put them back in his pocket.

He will repay the money in another way.

Uncle Zhang's family is small, so he should come more often to keep him company and bring Xiaoshan and Xiaoyue to liven up Uncle Zhang's house.

"Uncle."

Chen Feng's voice was loud, as if he were making a promise to himself: "Then I'm off. I'll go into the mountains tomorrow, and if I'm lucky, I'll catch some wild game and bring you a hind leg to go with your drinks."

Zhang Tiechui waved his hand, the rare smile on his face not yet completely gone: "Alright, I'm waiting. Watch your step carefully on the way, keep your gun pointed downwards, and don't be reckless."

"Why!"

Chen Feng held the homemade gun, which he had carefully wrapped in old cloth, tightly in his arms.

He stood firmly on the frozen ground, each step steady and resonant.

Before he even got home, Chen Feng spotted two small figures craning their necks to look in his direction.

Those are Xiaoshan and Xiaoyue!

"Father! Father! Come back quickly!"

Xiaoshan, with his sharp eyes, was the first to spot it and immediately grabbed his younger sister, stumbling and running over.

Xiaoyue was still unsteady on her feet, and her older brother pulled her along. Her little face turned red, and she mumbled, "Daddy...Daddy!"