In the courtyard, Mai Sui turned away from the west room’s doorway. As she passed the kitchen, a glance from the corner of her eye caught Gu Xiaoya squatting in the corner, winking and making faces at her. The little face was frozen red as a monkey’s butt, and she was still wearing yesterday’s broken cotton shoes with the toes poking out, snot nearly running into her mouth.
Mai Sui walked over, and Gu Xiaoya sprang up in a flash, pressing close to her ear and lowering her voice: ”Sister-in-law, I saw Second Sister-in-law sneaking into Aunt Zhang’s house! The two of them huddled at the front gate whispering for ages, saying they were going to find the village chief!”
The bowl in Mai Sui’s hands paused.
Well, well—a gossip and a troublemaker. Put those two together, and they could turn white into black, and talk a dead man back to life.
If they really brought the village chief over, those soft-hearted old couple in the Gu family probably wouldn’t dare let out so much as a squeak in protest.
She had to sort everything out clearly before Aunt Zhang, that plague god, came knocking.
She looked down and ruffled Xiaoya’s head—her head of yellow hair was prickly to the touch. “Did anyone else see?”
“No!” Xiaoya puffed out her little chest, face full of pride. “I ran into them on the way back from gathering fertilizer with Mom. Mom was too busy working to even glance that way.”
“Good girl.”
Mai Sui straightened up, her gaze passing over the courtyard wall and landing on the hill to the east. It was almost noon, and the sunlight was melting the snow on the rooftops, water dripping down.
She had only been in this world for two days, but she had already gotten a good sense of things. To break this rotten situation, sharp ears and a quick mind weren’t enough—she needed to make money.
Mai Sui went back to her room and changed into thick socks, slung the broken basket lying under the window over her shoulder, and grabbed a chipped little hoe from the stove.
“Sister-in-law, where are you going?” Xiaoya trailed after her like a little shadow.
“Up the mountain.”
“I’m coming too!”
Mai Sui glanced down at the broken cotton shoes with gaping mouths on Xiaoya’s feet. The snow on the mountain was deep enough to bury her calves—in those shoes, she’d be soaked through within ten steps. Just as Mai Sui opened her mouth to refuse, Xiaoya jumped in first: “I’ll wait for you at the foot of the mountain! I won’t go in deep!”
Mai Sui looked at her for two seconds, then reached out and broke the remaining cornmeal flatbread on the stove in half, tucking one half into her own jacket and stuffing the other into Xiaoya’s hand. “Take it. Eat it if you get hungry on the way.”
Just as the two of them turned around, they saw Gu Qingye walking in from outside the courtyard, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing two lean, wiry arms. Seeing the big one and the little one bundled up like zongzi, he frowned. “Where are you two going?”
“Up the mountain.”
“What for?”
“To look around.” Mai Sui didn’t mention the animal-language thing—if she told him, he’d think her brain had been smashed in a door. “I heard there are wild mushrooms on the mountain. Sure, it’s a bit late in the season, but if I can dig some up, they can be sold for money.”
Gu Qingye gave her a look.
There was a flash of surprise in his eyes—apparently he hadn’t expected that on her second day in the family, the new bride wouldn’t be crying and homesick, but instead plotting to go up the mountain to make money.
“The mountain path isn’t easy.” His face was stern.
“My legs work fine.” Mai Sui shot back without missing a beat.
“There are wild beasts.”
“I run fast.”
Gu Qingye was left gaping, choked speechless by her answers. After two seconds of silence, he looked down at Gu Xiaoya. “And what are you going along for?”
Gu Xiaoya grinned wide, gap-toothed smile on full display: “I’m going to protect Big Sister-in-law!”
Gu Qingye’s mouth twitched, and he turned and went into the inner room.
Mai Sui thought he wasn’t going to bother, and was just about to step outside when she heard the sound of things being rummaged through inside the house.
The next second he came out, holding something in his hand.
A hatchet.
An old one—the handle was worn smooth with years of use—but the blade gleamed bright.
He handed the hatchet over, handle toward her, blade toward himself.
“Take it.”
Mai Sui took it and weighed it in her hand. Neither heavy nor light—it fit just right.
“The mountain path is slippery. Take the sunny slope, don’t go too deep into the woods, and come down before dark.” He spoke as if issuing a military order, gruff and hard. “If you’re not back before the sun sets, I’m coming to find you.”
Then he turned to look at Gu Xiaoya. “You wait at the foot of the mountain. No going up. You’ve got short legs—you can’t run fast.”
Gu Xiaoya was young, but she wasn’t stupid. She could hear that her big brother’s words were all barbs, but for the chance to get out of the house, she nodded like a little chick pecking at rice.
Mai Sui smiled and took Xiaoya’s hand, leading her outside.
The snow on the mountain was much deeper than in the village. It hadn’t melted at all in the shade of the trees, and it crunched underfoot, up to her ankles. It was colder than the village, but the air was crisp and sweet—one breath and she felt refreshed from the inside out.
Xiaoya trailed behind Mai Sui, huffing and puffing, white puffs of breath escaping her mouth. “Sister-in-law, what are we looking for up the mountain anyway?”
“Something good.”
“What good thing?”
Mai Sui settled Gu Xiaoya beside a big rock at the foot of the mountain, then dug a piece of old burlap sack out of her basket to put under her. “Wait here like a good girl. Sister-in-law will be back down soon. If you see a stranger, hide, got it?”
“Yep!” Xiaoya nodded hard.
With Xiaoya settled, Mai Sui headed up the mountain alone.
In her past life, she had visited mountain ingredient bases to develop new dishes and had learned from old farmers how to identify mushrooms—which trees had matsutake growing beneath them, which moss hid mushrooms underneath. She had a good mental map.
But having a map was one thing; actually walking the mountain, she realized it was wilder than she’d imagined—dense and tangled, the woods far deeper than she’d thought.
Halfway up the slope, a fork in the path appeared before her.
Mai Sui looked left and right and was just about to step toward the left when a burst of chattering suddenly exploded overhead, a full-blown argument!
“I buried it there! This pine tree is my territory!” A gray squirrel, its tail bristling, was practically spitting as it spoke.
“Squeak! You buried it under that crooked tree! This one’s mine! Are you going senile in your old age?” The other squirrel, brown-furred, had an even louder voice, its tail whirling like a pinwheel—clearly the hot-tempered type.
“Garbage! Just yesterday you said you’d forgotten where you buried it!”
“So I remembered today! Is that a crime? What’s it to you? What’s it to you?”
The two squirrels hopped and bounced along the branch, claws nearly raking each other’s faces.
Mai Sui looked up at the fine show and couldn’t help laughing out loud.
She pulled the half piece of cornmeal flatbread from her jacket, broke off a chunk, and scattered it on the big rock. “Stop arguing. Whoever leads me to mountain goods gets the bigger share.”
Both squirrels shut up at once.
They poked their heads down from the tree, four black-bean eyes fixed squarely on Mai Sui, staring for a long while.
“Sh-she-she… she can understand what we’re saying!” The gray one on the left shrieked and nearly fell off the branch.
“Well, that’s it then. From now on we’ll have to go around her place when we steal corn.” The brown-furred one on the right was the calmer of the two, its little eyes darting about as it already started calculating how to minimize the losses.
“Stealing corn?” Mai Sui laughed, pushing the crumbs of her flatbread forward a little. “You two do that sort of thing?”
“Chirp! There’s nothing to eat in winter!” the gray-furred one said righteously. “The corn at Old Man Wang’s place at the east end of the village is the best—sweet and sticky! And those Two-legged Beasts can never finish it all anyway!”
“All right, enough chatter. Take me to find the good stuff first. From now on, I’ve got your backs—it’ll definitely beat stealing corn.”
The two squirrels exchanged a look, then exchanged another, and suddenly both turned and darted deep into the forest, their fluffy big tails swinging between the branches, glancing back at her from time to time as if annoyed she was so slow.
“Two-legged Beasts have such long legs, how can they walk so slow? Chirp!”
“Right, right! Even Mute Granny walks faster than that!”
Mai Sui followed them weaving through the woods for about the time it takes an incense stick to burn, when suddenly her eyes lit up.
Ahead was a mountain hollow, surrounded by hills on three sides, facing the sun on one side. The ground was covered in a thick layer of pine needles, and the air carried a damp smell of rotting leaves. She knew that smell well—it was a great spot for mushrooms.
She was crouching on the ground digging winter mushrooms when footsteps suddenly sounded behind her.
Very light, rustling on the pine needles, but Mai Sui’s ears were sharp and she heard it at once.
She turned her head and saw a person walking out of the forest.
It was an old woman, looking to be past seventy, back slightly hunched, a head of white hair braided into one big plait. She wore a dusty old padded jacket and carried a woven basket on her arm, filled with several bunches of root-like things—not food, by the look of them, but medicinal herbs.
But the old woman’s eyes were not cloudy in the least—perfectly clear, not what you’d expect at her age.
Mai Sui stood up, brushed the dirt off her hands, and nodded to the old woman. “Hello, Granny.”
The old woman gave her a look and said nothing.
She walked over beside Mai Sui, glanced down at the winter mushrooms she’d dug, then looked at the muddy ground nearby, and stretched out a foot to kick a rotten leaf aside.
Beneath the leaf, another cluster of winter mushrooms was revealed—bigger than the ones she’d been digging.
Mai Sui was a little surprised and glanced at the woman’s basket. “You’re gathering herbs?”
The old woman still said nothing. She set the basket on the ground, pulled out a small trowel, and crouched down.
Her digging technique was practiced—the blade went in at an angle, following along the root. One thrust of the trowel, and a finger-thick root came out whole, its skin earthy yellow, its flesh snow white, not a single break.
Wild mountain yam.
“This yam is really fine quality,” Mai Sui said, crouching down to pick mushrooms as she spoke.
The old woman put the yam into her basket and dug two more shovelfuls before she finally spoke, her voice hoarse, as if she hadn’t talked to anyone in a long time. “There’s nothing in the mountains in winter. You’re looking in the wrong places.”
Mai Sui smiled. “Winter mushrooms and yam—aren’t those both something?”
The old woman’s hands paused for half a beat, and she turned her head to look at her.
There was scrutiny in her eyes, appraisal, and something else besides.
“Whose family are you from?” the old woman suddenly asked.
“The Gu family at the west end of the village. Just married in.” Mai Sui paused. “Do you often come through this part of the mountain, Granny?”
The old woman was silent for a while, turning the yams in her hands over and examining them. Then, suddenly, she reached out and placed those fine-quality yams into Mai Sui’s basket.
“There are wood ear mushrooms on the north slope, under fallen logs, covered by snow. You’ll have to dig them out yourself.”
Mai Sui looked down at the Chinese yams in her basket, then up at the old woman. The old woman was looking at her too, and something flickered briefly in those clear eyes, as if she were confirming something.
Mai Sui didn’t ask why. She only said, “Thank you, Granny.”
The corner of the old woman’s mouth twitched—whether that counted as a smile, who could say.
Then she picked up her basket, turned, and walked away, her dusty gray figure quickly vanishing into the tree shadows.
A squirrel suddenly leaped down from a tree and perched on a root, making faces at Mai Sui. “Chirp chirp… Mute Granny gave you yams? She’s got a terrible temper! When villagers talk to her, she doesn’t even lift an eyelid. What kind of dog-shit luck did you step in?”
“Mute Granny?”
“Chirp! She doesn’t like talking, so the villagers call her Mute Granny. Actually her ears are sharp as anything, and her eyes are even sharper—she just can’t be bothered with idiots, chirp chirp! You’re smart, so she must like you!”
Mai Sui didn’t take the bait. She bent down and tidied up her basket.
Instead of heading straight for the north slope, she went back the way she’d come, down to the foot of the mountain.
From a distance she could see Xiaoya squatting beside a rock, drawing little figures in the snow with a stick, her small face red from the cold.
“Sister-in-law!” Xiaoya jumped up the moment she saw her and came sprinting over, grabbing the edge of the basket to peer inside. “What did you find? Wow! So much!”
“Winter mushrooms, and Chinese yams.” Mai Sui took off her scarf and wrapped it around Xiaoya. “Come on, let’s go home first. Tomorrow I’ll bring you here again.”
“What else is in the mountains?”
Mai Sui didn’t answer, just glanced back at the mountain behind her.
The treetops rustled in the wind, and a brown squirrel suddenly bounced down from a tree and perched on a big rock by the path. “Chirp chirp… Are you still going to the north slope or not? You promised I’d show you the way!”
“Tomorrow.” Mai Sui reached out and patted its little head, her fingertips brushing that soft, fluffy fur. “This time tomorrow, wait for me here.”
“Chirp! It’s a deal!”
Xiaoya looked at the squirrel in wonder and tilted her face up. “Sister-in-law, will there be rabbits in the mountains tomorrow?”
“There will.”
“Can we catch them?”
Mai Sui looked down at Xiaoya. The girl’s eyes were sparkling, full of pure greed. She laughed and flicked Xiaoya on the forehead. “First, let’s fill our bellies. Once I’ve earned some money, I’ll buy you meat.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Mai Sui carried a basket full of mountain goods on her back and led Xiaoya by the hand toward home.
She looked at the unfamiliar, dirt-poor village ahead.
This life was poor, it was hard, it was one big mess.
But so what?
In her last life, the thing Mai Sui believed in least was fate—and this life was no different!