It was as if blessed by a uniquely favorable destiny…
“The second team,” Ming Zhao continued, “will specialize in hunting. Set more traps and snares in suitable nearby areas. Those familiar with bows and arrows can try hunting. The targets aren’t just large game—mountain rats, wild rabbits, birds, whatever can be caught is fine. It’s all meat, all nourishment. But remember, don’t be reckless for the sake of achievement. Stay away from potentially dangerous areas, especially the direction where the Hu cavalry might appear.”
The eyes of several retainers and scattered soldiers who were originally hunters lit up, and they responded in low voices.
“The remaining people,” Ming Zhao looked at the women and children, “as long as you can walk, come with me. We’ll dig for wild vegetables and search for anything edible. The thistle greens and wild garlic we saw today are just the beginning. In the mountains, there are fern roots, wild yams, acorns—as long as it’s edible and not poisonous, we won’t let anything go. Women and children, with less strength, should search more and search carefully. Those who are sick or injured will be responsible for gathering dry firewood near the camp, tending the fire, and looking after Grandmother.”
She allocated the limited manpower clearly and, most importantly, did not abandon anyone. Everyone was given tasks within their capabilities, and everyone was a member of the team.
“We have many people. As long as we are united and diligent, we can always carve out a way to survive in these mountains,” Ming Zhao said finally, the firelight dancing in her clear eyes. “But we must also remember that we aren’t the only ones in these mountains. There may be refugees like us, bandits taking advantage of the chaos, and even elusive Hu cavalry. So, no matter what you do when you go out, you must stay in groups, follow the leader’s commands, avoid acting alone, and don’t stray too far from the camp. Make sure to return before dark.”
She looked at Zhao Yong. “Uncle Zhao, the specific division of teams, as well as the departure time and routes for tomorrow, will need to be discussed and decided by you and the other experienced uncles.”
Zhao Yong clasped his fists. “Young mistress, rest assured. We will make proper arrangements.”
Ming Zhao nodded, said nothing more, turned, and walked back to sit beside Grandmother.
The atmosphere in the camp noticeably grew more lively.
Low murmurs arose, no longer just desperate sighs but carrying speculation about tomorrow’s actions and a faint glimmer of hope.
Several young and strong retainers and scattered soldiers had already begun checking their weapons and personal belongings.
The women whispered about the appearance of recognizable wild vegetables, recalling what the elders had said about which things were edible.
Mingshu came over and leaned close to her. Children instinctively know who can protect them better. Her mother, exhausted from protecting her younger brother, hadn’t glanced at her in all these days.
“Elder Sister, can I follow you tomorrow?”
Ming Zhao looked at her. Tomorrow, her mother would definitely stay in the camp to care for Grandmother and the young child. She nodded. “Alright, then you’ll follow me.”
Mingshu nodded heavily. “Mm!”
Ming Zhao sat by the fire, holding Mingshu in her arms, listening to the gradually revitalizing low murmurs around her. Seeing the fire about to die out, she picked up a few dry, thin branches and added them to the flames. Sparks flew, and the fire flared up again, bringing a bit of warmth.
She watched the flickering flames, her thoughts in turmoil.
“Young mistress, aren’t you resting yet?”
Ming Zhao looked at the person approaching. “Uncle Zhao, you aren’t resting either.”
Zhao Yong sighed, adding another branch to the fire. “My mind is troubled, so I cannot sleep. The young mistress’s arrangements today were excellent. Keeping everyone occupied and hopeful is the only way to sustain this group.”
“It’s merely a temporary measure,” Ming Zhao said, gazing into the flames. “Uncle Zhao, we cannot hide in these deep mountains forever. Our food won’t last long, and the weather will only grow colder. We must quickly find a relatively safe place where we can hold out for a while.”
“I understand,” Zhao Yong nodded. “I will have the scouting teams pay extra attention to terrain suitable for setting up camp, places that are easy to defend and hard to attack. If there are streams, caves, or strategic strongholds, they would make good resting points. However…”
He paused. “Young mistress, we know nothing of the general’s current whereabouts or whether he is safe. Huguan is likely in grave danger.”
Ming Zhao knew the future. “But he is certainly still alive and fighting.”
Zhao Yong fell silent for a moment. “Yes! A man of the general’s stature is sure to overcome any adversity!”
Ming Zhao could tell Zhao Yong was trying to comfort her. Fine, she thought. Whether her father was alive or dead made no difference now—she couldn’t reach him anyway. She might as well consider him dead.
Morning light pierced the thick fog between the mountains, its gray-white rays barely illuminating the muddy, cold hollow.
A night of rest and reorganization, coupled with anticipation for the day’s tasks, had breathed a bit more life into the camp’s atmosphere compared to the previous day. They had all once been respectable people, and this predicament was entirely new to them.
The group quickly divided according to the previous night’s discussion.
Zhao Yong personally led seven or eight of the most capable retainers and scattered soldiers with hunting experience, carrying ropes, sharpened wooden stakes, and the few hunting bows they had. They headed toward the eastern ridge and the southwestern rocky slope, their figures soon disappearing into the morning mist and dense forest.
Zhao Huaiyuan led another team of five or six, all agile and alert, carrying simple rations and water pouches. They set off along two different directions—following mountain ridges and deep valleys—to scout for trails and tracks. Their mission was not only to bring back food but also to gather information about the outside world.
Eight people remained in the camp to guard it, including two lightly wounded individuals and several older children, responsible for keeping watch and maintaining the fire.
Around Ming Zhao gathered the remaining thirty or so people, almost all women and children, along with a few older or physically weaker men.
They held crude wooden sticks, worn-out baskets, and cloth bags in their hands, their eyes filled with both hope and anxiety toward the unknown forest.
“We won’t go far. We’ll search carefully on the sunny slopes and valley floors nearby,” Ming Zhao’s voice was especially clear in the chilly morning breeze. “Work in pairs, watch out for each other, and don’t separate. If you see unfamiliar plants, it’s better to leave them than risk eating them. If you find anything, call out loudly so we can all dig it up together.”
Holding Mingshu’s small hand, she led the way toward a relatively gentle, south-facing slope covered with withered grass outside the camp. Qing Niang, who had been caring for her, and two other quick-handed servant women followed closely by her side.
The initial search did not go smoothly.
The frozen ground was hard, and beneath the withered grass lay mostly rotten or shriveled plant roots, utterly worthless as food. Occasionally, they discovered a few clusters of what looked like familiar wild vegetables, but digging them up revealed them to be thin and withered, barely worth the effort.
The group’s enthusiasm was quickly dampened by the cold reality and the fruitless exertion. Ming Zhao pressed her lips together, her eyes carefully scanning every inch of the ground, not missing any unusual mounds or changes in color.
She was anxious too but forced herself to stay calm.
She knew that although these mountain forests were barren in winter, it was impossible that they had only found what little they did yesterday.
There must have been overlooked corners.
“Sister, this place seems a bit different.” Mingshu tugged at her hand, pointing to a shady, damp depression partially hidden by several large rocks at the bottom of the slope.
There, thick layers of half-rotted leaves had accumulated, their color darker than the surrounding area.
Ming Zhao’s heart stirred. Holding Mingshu’s hand, she carefully made her way down. In the soft humus soil, she saw clusters of thick, glossy dark green leaves growing close to the ground, heart-shaped with fine serrated edges.
Is this… shepherd’s purse? And not just any shepherd’s purse—this was fresh, tender, and plump shepherd’s purse that had survived the winter! In the harsh winter of the Northern Region’s mountains, this was almost a miracle!
“It’s shepherd’s purse! It’s edible! And it tastes wonderful!” Ming Zhao’s voice carried a note of delight.
She remembered clearly: shepherd’s purse was cold-resistant, even capable of surviving beneath snow. Its tender leaves were rich in nutrients, delicious in flavor, and an excellent wild vegetable.
Her exclamation immediately drew the attention of those nearby. Everyone gathered around, and seeing the patches of vibrant green stubbornly growing amidst the decaying leaves, their eyes lit up with hope.
“Quickly! Dig carefully.” Ming Zhao instructed, crouching down first herself and digging up one plant, roots and soil intact.
The depression was quite large, and the thirty or so people immediately spread out, carefully digging.
Soon, everyone’s baskets or cloth bags were filled with handfuls of fresh, tender shepherd’s purse. Though not enough to fill their stomachs, it was a tangible, unexpected, and delicious harvest.
Morale lifted instantly.
The way everyone looked at Ming Zhao held even more trust and admiration. The young mistress truly had an eye for things!
After finishing with the shepherd’s purse, Ming Zhao led the group further down the slope, arriving at a gravel bank formed by a stream’s erosion.
The stream water was icy cold, but between several large, water-worn rounded stones, her sharp eyes caught sight of some dark reddish-purple lichen clinging tightly to the rock surfaces.
Though inconspicuous, this lichen could be dried and stored. When boiled into soup or mixed with other foods, it provided some gelatinous texture and trace nutrients.
Ming Zhao pointed at the lichen. “We can take this too. Peel it off carefully.”
Though the women didn’t quite recognize it, seeing the young mistress speak with certainty, they carefully used stone flakes to scrape it off.
Just as everyone was busy collecting the lichen, Ming Zhao’s gaze was drawn to a half-withered old tree on the opposite bank of the stream. The tree was gnarled and twisted, half of its trunk already hollowed out. In the shady tree hollow, something seemed to glimmer faintly in the dim light.
Her heart gave an inexplicable leap. This sixth sense felt somewhat similar to yesterday, just before discovering the red ganoderma.
“Pass me the wooden spear Brother Huaiyuan left.” She said to a servant woman beside her who was digging for lichen. Taking the relatively sturdy wooden spear, she tested the depth of the stream. It wasn’t deep, only up to her calves.
But the weather was cold. Better to hop across using the large stones nearby. Don’t want to fall ill before Grandmother recovers.
Ming Zhao cherished her healthy, vigorous body.
As she approached the hollow of the withered tree, the glimmering object became clearer. It wasn’t metal, nor jade, but clusters of golden-yellow, branching fungi growing on the rotten wood, shaped like coral or antlers—golden ear fungus!
And so much of it! Like the red ganoderma, this was also an extremely precious fungus, with a smooth texture, high nutritional value, and nourishing properties.
What was going on today?
After the red ganoderma, there were patches of overwintering shepherd’s purse, followed by rare edible lichen, and now they had actually discovered golden tremella!
Had Heaven finally been scolded into a guilty conscience by her?
She took a deep breath, suppressing the excitement in her heart, and carefully peeled the golden tremella off the decaying wood. It felt warm and soft to the touch, carrying the unique fragrance of fungi.
There was quite a lot of it, enough to fill a large handful.
She placed the brilliantly golden tremella into her basket. When she returned to the other side of the river, everyone stared wide-eyed. Although they didn’t know what it was, the color—and the fact that it was a fungus—was a bit frightening.
You couldn’t just eat anything.
Qing Niang had heard that the prettier the fungus, the more likely it was to be inedible and could kill people. “Is this… edible too?”
“Yes, it’s a good thing. This is golden tremella, similar to yesterday’s red ganoderma but milder. It’s suitable for stewing in soups or porridge to nourish everyone.”
Alright then. The group hesitated, wanting to say something but ultimately deciding against it. In these times, dying from eating mushrooms was still better than starving to death. If not for fear, they wouldn’t have much desire to live anyway.
However, the successive discoveries had thoroughly invigorated this originally low-morale group of women and children.
The way they looked at Ming Zhao was filled with reverence, as if she were a celestial being. The young mistress’s luck seemed as if guided by the mountain god!
It was as if she were a uniquely favored child of destiny.
Ming Zhao herself was also murmuring doubts in her heart.
Since crossing over, aside from a healthy body and fragmented memories of her past life, she hadn’t felt the presence of any golden finger or system. Yet the discoveries of the past two days were almost too coincidental, and she couldn’t be certain.
But no matter what, these discoveries were real and life-saving.
“Keep searching! Be thorough!” She pushed aside her thoughts and encouraged loudly, “Look, everyone, it’s not that there’s no food in the mountains—we just haven’t been looking in the right places or carefully enough! Keep your eyes sharp and your hands and feet diligent. We can find more.”
As long as they could survive this winter, once everything revived, they could live off hunting and fishing alone. Ming Zhao was also waiting—waiting for Zhao Zhen to win the first battle in the war affairs. By then, refugees would flock to him, and they would have news