Watching everyone busily processing the wild boar, Nangong An remembered the Chinese yam Yunxi had mentioned. He borrowed a hoe, a shovel, and a sickle from Lin Hai, then prepared to go dig up some of the yams with Yang Yunxi.
When Lin Hai heard that it was a kind of food that could fill their stomachs, he immediately told the men who had stayed behind to rest to pick up all the hoes and shovels and go along with them. Several women also joined the group.
After walking for about a quarter of an hour, they finally reached the spot where the yams had been discovered.
They looked up at the vine-covered area and saw round, ball-like fruits hanging from the vines. They thought to themselves that this must be the “huai shan” Nangong’s wife had mentioned.
But why would something like this need hoes?
Looking at the tangled mass of yam vines on the ground, Yang Yunxi felt a bit of a headache. Still, she patiently explained, “These vines are Chinese yam vines. The fruits on the vines are called yam bulbils. They’re edible and can also be used as seeds. But what we really want to dig today is the yam underground. Before digging, we need to find the root. Only after finding the root can we dig up the yam.”
Yunxi paused, pulled at a vine in front of her, and continued, “First, we follow the vine to find the root. Time is limited, so let’s get moving!”
With such a large patch of vines, finding the root was like searching for a needle in the sea.
After a great deal of effort, they finally located it.
Then they began digging about ten centimeters away from the root.
Because it hadn’t rained in a long time, the soil on the mountain was extremely hard. Each swing of the hoe took great effort. After digging for quite a while, they finally unearthed something round and stick-like.
Seeing this small root, one of the men started to feel a bit disappointed.
He complained, “Nangong’s wife, look at this. Is this really the huai shan you were talking about? Why does it look like this? It’s so small—it’s not even enough for one bite!”
Looking at the familiar yam head, Yunxi smiled and explained calmly, “Don’t rush. Keep digging down. There will be an unexpected surprise.”
Everyone thought that since they had already dug for so long, digging a bit more wouldn’t hurt.
As they dug deeper and deeper, the yam gradually changed from a round shape into a flatter form.
Looking at these wild yams, Yunxi thought that in modern times, these would be priceless and impossible to buy even with money. Later, she planned to put some into her space supermarket.
Since it was everyone’s first time digging yams, even though Yunxi had explained the method, it still took them the time of one incense stick to dig out the first one.
Because they lacked experience, the first yam was dug up in broken pieces, but at least they managed to get it out.
Nangong An’s yam, however, was dug out perfectly intact—a whole piece more than a meter long, weighing over ten jin.
Just this one alone would be enough for the two of them to eat for a month.
While no one was paying attention, Yunxi quietly put it into her supermarket space. At the same time, she also picked up some yam bulbils and put them away as well. These could be planted once they settled down.
Everyone kept their heads down digging yams, and no one noticed the sky. By the time they finished digging the ones in their hands, the light had already begun to fade.
They hurriedly tied the intact yams with vines, while the broken pieces were packed into cloth bags.
Just as they were about to head down the mountain, one man looked at the tender yam and couldn’t help wanting to put it into his mouth. Luckily, Yunxi noticed in time.
“These yams can’t be eaten raw. They have to be cooked first. Eating them raw will make your throat itchy. Also, people with sensitive skin should try not to eat them.”
One of the women looked confused. They had never heard of such things before, and naturally, this was also their first time seeing Chinese yam. “Nangong’s wife, what does sensitive skin mean?”
Yunxi organized her thoughts and explained, “Sensitive skin means red rashes or blisters appearing on the surface of the skin. It can be localized or spread over the whole body. In severe cases, it can even be life-threatening.”
“Also, people with sensitive skin shouldn’t eat foods with a strong ‘fishy’ flavor, like fish, shrimp, or eggs.”
Hearing this, the woman suddenly remembered a boy from her village who once broke out in rashes all over after eating an egg. So that had been a food allergy.
“Alright, speed up. Once it gets dark, the road will be hard to walk, and there might even be wild animals,” Nangong An reminded them.
They say it’s easy to go up a mountain but hard to come down, especially when carrying heavy loads.
Yet no one slowed down, because the joy of the harvest made them forget their fatigue.
Finally, before the sky completely darkened, they returned to the river.
By this time, the people who had stayed behind to process the pork had already finished cleaning and cutting the boar. Everything that needed to go into the pot had been chopped and was ready to be stewed.
Yunxi had them take the broken yams to the river to wash them clean, scrape off the skin, cut them into small pieces, and stew them together with the pork bones. This way, it could serve as both a dish and a staple food.
Looking at these unfamiliar things, Lin Hai wondered whether they could really fill their stomachs.
If they could, then they might stay here for a few days, dig up more, and bring them along to eat on the road.
After the time of one incense stick, the riverbank was filled with the aroma of pork. The smell made everyone’s mouths water.
Fortunately, no other refugees appeared, or it would have caused trouble.
Everyone lined up in an orderly manner, holding their bowls, waiting for Lin Hai to distribute the food.
Lin Hai was very fair. The amount in each bowl was basically the same, with no noticeable difference.
Yunxi thought that it was precisely because of this fairness and justice that they were able to fare better than others on the refugee road.
Yunxi couldn’t stand the gamey smell of wild boar meat, so she didn’t eat the stewed pork. She only took a bowl of pork bone and Chinese yam soup.
The snow-white yams and milky-white broth had been simmered for a long time. The meat on the pork bones was soft and tender, and the yams were fluffy and powdery. A bite of yam, a sip of bone soup—there was no describing how satisfying it was.
“Mmm, this Chinese yam is much tastier than wild vegetable buns. It’s filling too. It’s really a good thing,” Lin Hai said as he ate, sharing his thoughts on the yam.
“Nangong’s wife, how did you know this Chinese yam was edible? Does your hometown grow it?”
“No. I read about it in a travel book. We just happened to come across it in the mountains today, so I recognized it.”
Lin Hai sighed with emotion. “Ah, you literate people really have it good. There’s a saying—something like ‘in books there are houses of gold, in books there are beauties like jade,’ right?”
Yunxi naturally understood how much people in ancient times respected the literate, especially women. “Brother Lin, you flatter me. Haha. Every carrot has its own hole—everyone has their own role. Three parts are destined by heaven, seven parts depend on oneself.”
“That’s true. In times like these, who knows whether these children will still have a chance to study and learn to read,” he said. He wasn’t a rigid man; he hoped these children could study, become successful, and bring honor to their families. But on this difficult and perilous refugee journey, being able to stay alive was the greatest wealth of all.