It was a lazy Sunday afternoon when old Mr. Zhang came running down the dirt path, his straw hat flying off. "Wang Xiao'er's sow! It's up the oak tree!" he gasped.
Half the village dropped their chopsticks and rushed to the neighboring farm. And there she was-a fat, pink sow, perched precariously on a thick branch fifteen feet high, grunting softly as if she owned the sky.
Wang Xiao'er stood below, scratching his head. "I only left the gate open for five minutes," he muttered. "She must have been chased by the wild boar from the mountain."
The sow, named "Pearl," had always been an escape artist. But climbing? That was new. A group of children threw peanuts, trying to coax her down. The village elder declared it a sign of good fortune. Someone even took a photo for the county newspaper.
By sunset, Pearl had descended all by herself-straight into the vegetable patch, where she proceeded to eat an entire row of cabbages. Wang Xiao'er just sighed, "At least she's back on solid ground." But every villager now glanced at their own pigs with newfound suspicion. If Pearl could climb trees, what else were they capable of? The mystery remained, and the village never looked at dinner the same way again.
