In the twelfth lunar month on the Loess Plateau, the wind wasn’t strong, but it was capricious and chaotic, with no discernible direction. What began as a northwest wind would swirl along the mountain ridges and through the gullies, abruptly shifting to a southeast wind. Then, after blowing past another mountain depression, it would immediately veer into a southwest wind.

The fire at the grave mound opposite flickered erratically in this disorderly wind, like a madman, swaying left and right.

Two members of Ma Yuanghai’s family, who were visiting graves, had been watching leisurely from outside the gravesite. But when they saw the fire suddenly leap to the field above, they panicked and scrambled towards it.

By the time they reached the upper field, its entire edge was already ablaze. Terrifyingly, the field had been left fallow, and a continuous stretch of dry weeds covered it.

Initially, the two tried scooping dirt with their hands to extinguish the fire. Seeing this had no effect, they began stomping on the flames with their feet, much like Du Heng had. However, the fire was too fierce and nearly engulfed them.

Having narrowly escaped, the pair, perhaps jolted awake by the heat, immediately tore off their jackets and began beating out the flames with all their might.

Their efforts had some effect. After their relentless struggle, the fire at the edge of the field hadn’t spread further in and was on the verge of being extinguished.

But just as they were about to heave a sigh of relief and looked down towards the gravesite below, they were dumbfounded.

The flames that had just been licking towards the edge of the upper field had already changed direction. They were now creeping along the left side of the gravesite, where three or four plots of land, all fallow, lay waiting.

Further to the left were mountains that had been closed for afforestation for twenty years.

This area, over a hundred meters wide, was all grassland, covered in thick, dry grass. At the mountain pass, there was a dense black thorn forest. Over the mountain ridge lay a yellow birch forest. The back of the mountain featured a continuous mixed-wood forest, sprawling across four or five peaks.

If the fire burned in the front, it wouldn’t be too bad; at most, they’d have to pay some compensation.

But if it reached the forests in the back, they might face execution by firing squad. Even if they weren’t shot, the cost of four or five mountaintops of dense forest would bankrupt them many times over; they could never afford to pay.

The older man panicked. He yelled to the younger man beside him, "You put out the fire up there!" Then, grabbing his tattered jacket, he leaped down the slope. Even though he fell flat on his face, he scrambled up without a second thought and rushed towards the flames on the left.

It’s over. When Du Heng saw the flames licking towards the upper edge of the grave mound from afar, his heart leaped into his throat.

Withered yellow grass, an erratic cold wind... if it hadn’t fully caught, it would have only taken a couple of shovelfuls of dirt to put out.

But once it really takes hold... Du Heng looked at the dull, yellowish mountains opposite and shuddered inwardly. Now, their only hope is that the snow on the mountain can halt its spread.

Du Ping also saw it and muttered, "Serves them right for not visiting the graves regularly. Burning offerings at their ancestors’ tombs, and this is what they get? Retribution!"

Despite his words, he immediately took out his cell phone, recorded a short video for the village group chat, and then shouted, "Village Head! Village Head! Ma Yuanghai’s family, visiting graves, has set the mountain on fire!"

After that, Du Ping turned to head back, telling Du Heng to take Du Yi home.

Seeing the flames spreading wider and the black smoke billowing thicker, Du Heng knew he couldn’t leave. He said to Du Yi, "Go home quickly by yourself," then turned and followed Du Ping.

The two brothers practically ran along the flat path to their own family’s grave mound, where Du Ping retrieved the iron shovel he had tossed aside earlier.

On the way up the mountain, the consequences of Du Heng’s sedentary lifestyle became apparent. Although he was ten years younger than Du Ping, Du Ping maintained a steady pace up the mountainside without any apparent effort, while Du Heng was already gasping for breath, his legs feeling like lead.

Du Ping paid Du Heng no mind, forging ahead with the iron shovel on his shoulder, never looking back.

Du Heng paused, looked up, and caught his breath. After a ten-second rest, he pushed on.

But just as he started moving again, the phone in his pocket rang. He pulled it out; it was Dong Yuezhang.

Du Heng sighed. My friend Dong Yuezhang really has terrible luck, he thought. One accident after another, and so close to the New Year. And this incident today... no matter how big the fire got, his New Year is ruined.

The directives for ’civilized worship’ and ’fire prevention’ hadn’t come from the Town Government; they were mandates issued by the Municipal Government.

"Bro, was it your big brother who reported the fire?" Dong Yuezhang’s voice was urgent.

"You already know?"

Dong Yuezhang sounded like he was about to lose his mind and had no patience for small talk. "What’s the situation now?" he asked frantically.

"Watch the video."

Du Heng hung up and immediately sent a video call request, which Dong Yuezhang accepted instantly.

Du Heng’s current position at the foot of the mountain wasn’t ideal; the mountain itself obscured a clear view of the fire.

However, the column of black smoke that billowed into the sky, filling the entire screen, was enough to tell Dong Yuezhang how large the fire was and how wide an area it covered.

Du Heng looked at Dong Yuezhang’s grim face on the screen and said nothing.

The black smoke spoke more eloquently than any words.

Dong Yuezhang, too, was silent. After staring at the screen for a few seconds, he ended the video call himself.

Du Heng shook his head, offering a silent moment of ’condolence’ for his friend, then continued his ascent.

By the time he reached the fire line, Du Heng felt his legs trembling. But seeing his big brother already battling the blaze, he took a couple of deep breaths and hurried to join in.

He had no proper tools, however. Just as he was about to take off his coat, Du Ping shouted, "Don’t take off your coat! Follow me!"

Du Heng, though a little confused, followed Du Ping.

Du Ping sprinted to the black thorn forest about a hundred meters away. He started hacking away with the iron shovel, and in a few swift strokes, a heavily branched black thorn limb was felled.

"Stop staring! Take all of them! Use these to beat it back!" Du Ping, seeing Du Heng dazed, sternly urged him to get a move on.

Du Heng mumbled an "Oh," quickly gathered the fallen branches, and dragged them towards the fire line.

By now, the fire had burned past the edge of the field and was beginning to creep up the slope. More alarmingly, the fire, fanned by the wind, began to surge uphill, its reach expanding rapidly.

The snow on the ground only slightly slowed the fire’s advance; its effect was minimal.

Ma Yuanghai and his son were now covered in so much soot they were unrecognizable. Each time they swung their makeshift beaters—their clothes—sparks flew.

Their movements were becoming sluggish; it was clear the sudden, intense exertion of firefighting had pushed them to their physical limits.

But they didn’t dare stop, not even for a moment.

Yet, the fire only seemed to grow with each attempt to control it, becoming fiercer and spreading wider.

Fortunately, others who had been visiting graves in different areas saw the persistent column of thick smoke. Regardless of whether they could see the flames or not, everyone knew a wildfire had started and rushed over to help.

When Du Heng dragged the black thorn branches over, people immediately took them from his hands.

Dong Yuezhang was frantic, repeatedly urging the driver to go faster.

Thanks to the villagers of Duke Village, who had cleared the snow from the roads, the usual half-hour drive took only sixteen minutes.

When the vehicle could go no further, Dong Yuezhang hastily jumped out.

Looking up at the raging fire and dense smoke on the opposite hillside, his face was so grim it looked like thunderclouds about to burst. The three people with him, men and women alike, dared not even breathe loudly.

Gazing at the scorched blackness that now covered the hillside from midway up, Dong Yuezhang narrowed his eyes. "Xiao Qi, you stay here," he commanded. "Everyone else, up the mountain to help fight the fire!"

With that, he led the way, scrambling up a narrow path. The men behind him, except for one woman in high heels who looked utterly lost, immediately followed.

Dong Yuezhang and his companions were not as fit as Du Heng. By the time they were halfway up the slope, they were all panting heavily. In their current state, they’d be useless for firefighting; they’d probably need rescuing themselves.

As they stood there, gasping for breath, villagers carrying iron shovels and makeshift clubs hurried past them one after another.

Each person who passed merely cast a fleeting, indifferent glance at the group, who were clearly officials, before turning their attention back to the path and continuing upwards.

Though the villagers’ expressions were impassive, Dong Yuezhang felt a profound sense of shame.

As he looked down the mountain, he saw a dense crowd of people rushing up. Among them, he spotted several white-haired old men shouldering iron shovels. They navigated the rugged, snow-covered mountain path as if it were flat ground. Within a few breaths, they had drawn much closer to Dong Yuezhang’s group.

Looking around, he saw groups of people with tools emerging on the mountain ridges to his left. Far in the distance, a line of figures, ant-like in their smallness, was ascending the ridge to his right.

Suddenly, a wave of deflation washed over Dong Yuezhang. He looked at his three companions, who were in even worse shape than he was, and gave up the idea of going up to fight the fire.

Spotting a black car speeding towards the base of the mountain, Dong Yuezhang, his face grim, muttered, "Back down. Let’s go."

Humiliation! That was his only feeling at that moment. But he couldn’t go up any further. In this state, going up wouldn’t be helping; it would be a hindrance.

Every time he passed someone heading uphill, against the flow of his retreat, he felt his face burn as if it were being scorched by the fire itself.

When they reached the foot of the mountain, the occupants of the black sedan were already waiting, their expressions dark. Dong Yuezhang glanced over and recognized the district leader.

Meanwhile, up on the mountain, Du Heng’s arms ached so badly he could barely lift them. Each swing felt like it was made with numb limbs, yet the fire around him raged on, relentlessly spreading.

They’d beat out the flames on their left, and the right would flare up. They’d extinguish a patch above, and it would reignite below.

They’d manage to suppress one area, only for an insidious gust of wind to sweep through moments after they turned their backs, coaxing flames from the supposedly extinguished grass.

At this point, Du Heng’s nasal cavity was filled not only with the smell of ash but also a scent reminiscent of the singed pigskin he had helped his sister-in-law prepare that morning.

Without looking, Du Heng knew his eyebrows and hair must have been completely singed off by now.

The heat from the surrounding flames was oppressive. When the wind gusted, it seared exposed skin and caused embers to dance on their clothing, sometimes igniting small sparks.

Even harder to bear was the constant inhalation of flying ash, which stung their oral and nasal cavities, making each breath a painful, choking effort.

The thick ash underfoot mixed with melted snow, soaking their shoes. The ground was so hot it scalded the soles of their feet, making it impossible to stand comfortably.

Just when Du Heng felt he couldn’t go on, that he was on the verge of collapse, reinforcements suddenly swarmed in from all directions. So many people arrived that he was practically squeezed out of the main firefighting line. The crowd of helpers grew larger by the second.

Du Heng breathed a sigh of relief. He, along with his big brother and the Ma father and son, finally withdrew from the front line.