Sure enough, where the trail ended, there was a pit. The surrounding plants had been flattened, bending inward toward the opening. Holding up her torch to light the inside, Yu Qiu saw the two children huddled together at the bottom, trembling. Their faces were deathly pale, their eyes wide with terror.
The moment they saw her, Liu Xiaomi’s lips trembled, and she finally began to cry—though even in fear she kept her sobs quiet, not daring to make a sound.
Liu Liang choked out, “Sister-in-law!”
Yu Qiu nodded, soothing them with gentle words. “Don’t be afraid, I’m here. Are you hurt? Hungry?”
Even as she spoke, her mind was racing, trying to figure out how to bring them up.
The pit was more than two meters deep. She couldn’t reveal her powers, so she needed to find long vines to haul them out.
“I only have some scratches. My sister twisted her ankle. Thank you for coming, Sister-in-law.” His voice cracked as he sniffled—clearly, he’d been crying.
Yu Qiu’s chest tightened. How terrified the two of them must have been, trapped for hours in the dark. And when they’d heard her movements approaching, how frightened they must have been that it wasn’t a person at all. At least, she thought with relief, they’d fallen into a pit and not down a cliff.
She set her basket down, took out some wild vegetable cakes and red fruits, wrapped them in cloth, and tossed them into the pit.
“Here, some food. Eat first. Keep the torch with you. I’ll go find a vine to pull you up.”
“Thank you, Sister-in-law. We’ll wait. Please be careful,” Liu Liang answered.
The mountain had no shortage of vines. By the time she returned, the children had just finished eating.
“Tie the vine securely around your sister. Make sure the knot is tight.”
She fastened one end to a tree and tossed the other into the pit.
“All set, Sister-in-law,” came Liu Liang’s hushed call.
Yu Qiu hauled Xiaomi up first, setting her gently aside, then repeated the process to pull Liu Liang up.
“This time you were lucky—just a pit. But next time, don’t you dare enter the mountains so lightly. Understand?” Her face was stern, though her heart ached for them.
Both nodded quickly.
“We won’t dare again. It’s too scary here,” Liu Liang admitted, wiping his tears with the back of his hand, ashamed.
Yu Qiu sighed softly, then bent to ask Xiaomi, “Does your foot still hurt?”
Xiaomi shook her head, then thought better of it and nodded. She opened her mouth but no sound came out.
Afraid Yu Qiu might be upset, Liu Liang explained hurriedly, “My sister’s like my mother—when she’s frightened, she can’t speak.”
“I’m not upset,” Yu Qiu reassured gently. “Can you walk?” Then, realizing the child might be too timid to say, she corrected herself: “Forget it, I’ll carry you. Your father came looking for you and was injured. I placed him in a shelter I dug. We’ll spend the night there and figure out how to get out at dawn.”
With the two children stumbling alongside her, she brought them to the shelter where she had hidden Uncle Liu.
Inside, she settled Xiaomi down and covered the entrance. The children’s eyes welled up again at the sight of their father’s injuries.
Yu Qiu looked away, unwilling to watch their grief. “I’ll step out for a bit.” She took the torch and slipped outside.
She gathered broad leaves and herbs to reduce bruising, then returned.
“I checked—his injuries are only external. As long as the bleeding’s stopped, he’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” She handed the torch to Liu Liang and crouched in front of Xiaomi. “Show me your foot.”
The ankle was swollen and red. Yu Qiu frowned. “So serious, and you still said it didn’t hurt? Bear with me. I’ll put medicine on it—it’ll heal faster.”
Xiaomi nodded firmly, though her brow beaded with sweat from the pain.
“All done. Lay some leaves under you. If you’re hungry, eat more cakes. If you’re thirsty, have fruit. If you’re tired, sleep. Don’t worry.” She spread the food on a large leaf in the center, then added, “We can’t light a fire in here. I’ll sit at the entrance. Call me if you need anything.”
The children nodded obediently. Yu Qiu went to the cave mouth, spread some leaves, sat down, and extinguished the torch.
They passed the night in this way.
At dawn, Yu Qiu woke easily, accustomed to such environments.
But she knew the children, having been frightened, might develop fevers. They needed to get down the mountain quickly.
Thankfully, this was only the outer range. If she brought others back along the path she’d cleared, it would be safe enough.
Uncle Liu was still unconscious. Yu Qiu turned to Liu Liang. “Feed your father some fruit. I’ll go down and bring help. Stay in the cave, and nothing will happen.”
Liu Liang nodded, watching her leave with both fear and gratitude.
He didn’t know how long passed, only that neither his father nor sister had stirred, when he heard noises outside. He tensed—until voices followed, and he exhaled in relief, sweat dampening his brow.
Yu Qiu had returned with their grandfather and uncle. Meng Ping was with them too.
“Liangzi, pack up and bring your sister out,” Yu Qiu called, moving aside the grass covering the cave entrance.
Seeing Liu Liang’s tear-streaked face, Meng Ping ruffled his hair. “Scared you, didn’t it?”
Liu Liang ducked his head, not wanting anyone to see his reddened eyes. “Mm.”
“It’s all right now. Xiaomi, I’ll carry you home.” Meng Ping placed her in his basket and slung her onto his back.
Old Liu and Liu Yi went inside and carried Liu Zhong out.
Led by a slender girl, the group slowly made their way down the rugged path.
It had ended without greater disaster.
Once they were safely down, Yu Qiu parted ways with a word of thanks to Meng Ping. She had done what she could. The rest was their family’s affair, and she had no desire to interfere.
Back at home, she was welcomed by Madam Li and the two children with warm care. They washed her, handed her bowls and chopsticks, and fussed over her.
Her plans had been disrupted, but losing just one night was acceptable. Without resting, despite Madam Li’s protests and the siblings’ pleas, she prepared to head into the back mountain again.
Their household was only just getting on track, and now with taxes looming, she couldn’t afford to pause—certainly not when building a new house alone would consume so much silver.
It could be done step by step, but what she was about to attempt couldn’t be known to others. Better to finish it all in one go and have peace of mind later.
Though it meant hardship now.
There were still plenty of wild vegetable cakes left—more than ten from the day before.
So there was little else she needed to prepare.
Carrying her basket, she made her way toward the far side of the back mountain, planning to enter the deeper forest from there.
Everywhere she passed, she planted red fruit as a reserve for the future.
At the base of the back mountain, the ring of thorny ghost-needle grass had already grown thick.
Almost impassable for others.
But not for her.