The variety of medicinal herbs on Black Horse Mountain was abundant. By the time they stopped work at noon, Song Yun had gathered a huge bundle. She had also earned another batch of star coins from the herbs — medicinal herbs sold for much more than ordinary wild grass. A single plant of Fangfeng went for 30 star coins, Niuxi for 50, Platycodon for 30, Astragalus for 40, and licorice for 35.Unfortunately, she hadn’t found ginseng or fleeceflower root, which should be worth at least over 100 each.
She made about 180 star coins from medicinal herbs, added to the 1,200 from tree products earlier, for a morning total of 1,800. Now her balance stood at 2,120 star coins.
Glancing at her balance, Song Yun was in high spirits as she went down the mountain with Song Ziyi.
At the foot of the mountain, Liu Fangfang had been searching everywhere — even by the Qing River — but couldn’t find them. She was anxious and had just been about to call people to help search when she saw the siblings walking out of the forest.
“Fangfang!” Song Yun waved with a smile.
Fangfang hurried over. “You went into the mountain?”
Song Yun nodded. “I saw there wasn’t much pigweed nearby, so I took Ziyi to have a look inside the mountain.”
Fangfang’s gaze fell on the herbs in Song Yun’s hand. She frowned. “Pigs don’t eat this kind of grass.”
“I know. These are medicinal herbs. Ziyi’s health isn’t good — he keeps coughing. I saw herbs that help with coughs, so I picked some.”
Fangfang’s eyes widened. “You know medicine?”
Pulling Fangfang toward the deserted courtyard, Song Yun said, “A little. But don’t tell anyone.”
Fangfang looked at her with admiration, nodding repeatedly. “I won’t tell. You’re amazing — you know so much.”
On the way back, they passed by the deserted courtyard. Song Yun found that the weeds had been cleared, the soil turned over with a hoe, the rotting wood and broken bricks removed, and the broken doors and windows dismantled. Clearly, someone had come in the morning to clean up. She thought to herself that Captain Liu was really fast.
No one was in the yard now, probably because the helpers had gone home for lunch.
She told Ziyi to go back to the woodshed to rest, while she delivered the pigweed before returning to cook.
To get to the brigade office, she had to pass the educated youth dorm. Song Yun was carrying a full basket of pigweed on her back, with another small basket of pigweed in her hand, chatting and laughing with Fangfang. From afar, she saw Zhao Xiaomei and two other female educated youths carrying many items toward the dorm.
“Why aren’t they working?” Song Yun asked.
“My dad said new educated youths can take one or two days off to buy living supplies and rest. You didn’t know?”
She really didn’t — one of the downsides of being outside the collective circle. Still, it wasn’t too late to know now.
When handing over the pigweed, Song Yun told the record keeper she wouldn’t work in the afternoon because she needed to buy things.
Seeing that she had handed in so much pigweed on her first day — even more than Fangfang — the record keeper didn’t say anything, just credited her with two work points.
Leaving the brigade office, she happened to run into Captain Liu returning from inspecting the fields. Song Yun quickly asked him about the house repairs.
“This morning, I already had a few people clear out the debris. People have been sent to collect mud bricks from households, and I’ve arranged for the rest of the materials to be ordered. I’ve also booked the kang builders. Don’t worry — at most ten days and you’ll be living in a solid house.”
“If you’re in charge, I’m definitely at ease. Oh, I forgot to tell you yesterday — the well in the courtyard is dry. Do you know anyone who can dig a new one?”
Captain Liu smiled. “That’s no problem. My cousin’s husband specializes in digging wells. He’s in Guizi Village. I’ll have someone send him a message. When he has time, he’ll bring tools and men over. Fixing your well won’t be difficult.”
Speaking of the well, he asked, “But what about water in the meantime? Do you have buckets and a water jar? If not, come borrow some from my house.”
Song Yun thanked him, then said her plan. “I’m not working this afternoon — I was planning to buy buckets and a jar. Actually, I need to buy a lot of things. I don’t have pots, bowls, chopsticks, or even tables, chairs, beds, or stools.”
Seeing her speaking with a smile, not the least bit distressed, he guessed she had some savings. He laughed. “That’s true. Living independently means buying a lot of things. Buckets can be made by Carpenter Liu in the village — you can also order furniture from him. As for water jars, you don’t have to go to town. In the neighboring village, there’s a family that makes them. They’ve got jars, vats, and urns aplenty, cheaper than the supply store and no ration tickets needed. If you want to go, I’ll have someone call Old Zhang from the cowshed to take you by donkey cart. Just give him a bit for the ride.”
Song Yun’s eyes lit up. “Great — then I’ll buy those two things today. I’ll go to the cowshed myself to ask him. No need to trouble anyone else.”
Since she lived near the cowshed, Captain Liu let her be.
After parting ways with Captain Liu and Fangfang, Song Yun quickly returned to the courtyard, swiftly cooked a full clay pot of noodles, ate a bowl with Ziyi, then took the rest, slipped out the back door, and quietly headed to Xiangyang Slope.
It was lunchtime, the sun blazing, so no one was loitering outside. The trip was smooth — until she reached the cowshed and encountered a middle-aged woman carrying a basin of water. The woman looked sullen, gave Song Yun a wary glance, frowned at the clay pot in her hand, and turned back into her own shack.
Song Yun was glad she hadn’t brought Ziyi — that would have made people even more suspicious.
She stepped into the small yard in front of the shack and called loudly, “Uncle Zhang, are you here?”
After calling three times, a limping old man in a dark blue coarse cloth jacket came out. He was around sixty, still sprightly, with sharp eyes. His hair was a bit messy, and his patched jacket was worn but clean.
“Looking for me, girl?” he asked, studying the pretty young woman before him. She looked familiar.
Song Yun knew her face resembled Bai Qingxia from the cowshed and that someone would eventually notice, but she didn’t care. On paper, she had no relationship with Song Hao and his wife — no registered kinship, no acknowledged blood ties before they were sent down. Even if rumors flew, they couldn’t touch her.
“Uncle Zhang, Uncle Liu sent me. I need to go to the next village to buy a water jar. Could you take me there in your donkey cart this afternoon?” she asked with a smile.
“Sure! I’m free this afternoon. I’ll take the cart to the village entrance and wait for you.”
Song Yun thanked him, then asked if he’d eaten — she’d brought porridge.
He waved his hands repeatedly. “No, no. I’ve already cooked my meal. You hurry back and eat.” Then he went back to his kitchen.
Once he was gone, Song Yun headed toward her parents’ shack.