“Tear down the house?” Sun Shouzheng looked at the little bean sprout who wasn’t even as tall as a brick, his beard twitching twice. “Little girl, killing people is against the law.”
Meng Yaya ignored him, dragging the brick to the back of the crowd.
Wang Guifen was still howling, her voice as loud as a freshly slaughtered pig: “Everyone, look! This shameless woman is squatting in the house and refusing to leave, and she even wants to wipe out our whole family!”
Liu Zhaodi sat on the ground slapping her thighs, about to curse out “Heaven has no eyes,” when suddenly she felt a chill run down the back of her neck.
“Auntie, isn’t your throat sore?”
The voice wasn’t loud, but it pierced Liu Zhaodi’s ears like shards of ice. She turned around and saw the red brick in Meng Yaya’s hand, aimed right at her forehead.
Liu Zhaodi shuddered in fright. Just as she was about to open her mouth to curse, the brick in Meng Yaya’s hand suddenly pressed downward.
“Thud!”
The brick smashed into the empty ground between Liu Zhaodi’s legs, missing her crotch by only two fingers’ width. Dust splattered all over her pant legs.
The entire scene fell dead silent.
“I’ll count to three.” Meng Yaya patted the dust off her hands, her tone as calm as if she were commenting on the weather. “Anyone who keeps shouting at my doorstep, I can’t guarantee where the next brick will land.”
“One.”
Meng Jingui shrank his neck, the excruciating pain of having his wrist snapped last night still echoing in his mind.
“Two.”
Wang Guifen’s mouth hung open, her throat seemingly blocked by something, unable to utter a single word. This damned girl’s eyes were too sinister—those pitch-black pupils stared at whoever they landed on, making them feel as if they were being watched by a wolf.
“Three…”
Before Meng Yaya could finish counting, the surrounding villagers seemed to snap back to reality, scattering several meters away in a rush. Watching the spectacle was important, but their lives were more important. Ever since waking up from her fever, this girl from the Meng family really dared to take action!
“Fine… you win!” Wang Guifen pointed at Lin Wanrou, her finger trembling uncontrollably. “Just you wait, the brigade leader will be back tomorrow. We’ll settle this at the commune!”
After saying this, she gave her two sons a meaningful look, and the whole wretched family scurried back into the main room, even bolting the door tightly behind them.
Lin Wanrou watched this dramatic scene unfold, forgetting to put down the broom in her hand.
“Mom, let’s go inside.” Meng Yaya picked up the bamboo basket on the ground—it contained all her belongings.
Sun Shouzheng stood to the side, watching as this old and young pair of troublemakers were subdued by a three-year-old child. He couldn’t help but shake his head. This wasn’t a three-year-old; this was a little demon king.
Once inside, Lin Wanrou noticed an old man who looked like a beggar following them.
“Ya Ya, who is this…” Lin Wanrou pulled her daughter behind her, her guard up.
“This is the new hired hand, Old Man Sun.” Meng Yaya pointed at Sun Shouzheng. “He’ll treat your illness from now on and help with odd jobs.”
Sun Shouzheng’s beard bristled with anger. “I am Sun Shouzheng! A doctor! Not a hired hand!”
Hearing he was a doctor, Lin Wanrou’s eyes lit up, and she quickly stepped aside. “Doctor Sun, please have a seat. The house is a mess—please don’t mind.”
Sun Shouzheng waved his hand dismissively and, without standing on ceremony, plopped down on the broken-legged bench. His gaze fell on the bamboo basket—the one he had personally watched this little girl carry out from the deep mountains.
“Little girl, take out what’s inside,” Sun Shouzheng said. “That thing is delicate. If it stays out of the soil for too long, its medicinal properties will fade.”
Meng Yaya didn't hide anything, directly pulling out that old Fifth-Grade Leaf wild ginseng and casually tossing it onto the table.
"Good heavens, my ancestor!" Sun Shouzheng nearly jumped up in distress, hurriedly scooping up the ginseng. "This is a life-saving treasure, how can you just throw it like that!"
He carefully placed the ginseng on a clean piece of tattered cloth and pulled a magnifying glass from his pocket.
Through the magnifying glass, Sun Shouzheng meticulously examined the ginseng's fibrous roots.
The more he looked, the more expressive his face became.
Every hair-thin rootlet was perfectly preserved, and even the soil's protective wrapping was just right—it shielded the root system without damaging the surface.
This kind of technique—not even a three-year-old child could manage it, let alone the apprentice who had studied under him for ten years.
"Girl." Sun Shouzheng set down the magnifying glass, his expression turning serious. "Did you really dig up this ginseng yourself?"
Meng Yaya was gnawing on a dry, hard corn cake and mumbled an indistinct "Mm-hmm" in response.
"How did you know which way its roots grew?"
Sun Shouzheng pressed further, leaning forward and staring intently at Meng Yaya.
"Don't tell me it was luck. This ginseng grew in a pile of rubble, its root system extremely complex. Anyone who doesn't understand its patterns would break the roots with the first shovel."
Meng Yaya paused mid-chew as she ate her cake.
This old man was too sharp.
In the Post-apocalyptic world, she had awakened Wood-element Perception and Strength Dual-Ability. Plants appeared to her as having "light." How the roots spread, where the nodes were—she could see it all with her eyes closed. But there was no way to explain this.
"What's so hard about it?" Meng Yaya swallowed her cake and casually made something up. "I looked at the leaves on top—where the leaf tips pointed, that's where the roots grew. And the soil—where it was looser, the roots grew longer. It's common sense."
Sun Shouzheng was stunned.
Leaf tips pointing the way? Soil softness?
It sounded like a child's playful talk, but in traditional Chinese medicine, this precisely aligned with the profound principles of "Qi-Observation" and "Soil-Discernment"! All things grow according to patterns. Ordinary people see a mountain as just a mountain, but in the eyes of a genius, a mountain is a network of veins.
"Shennong Bloodline… this must be the legendary Shennong Bloodline!" Sun Shouzheng trembled with excitement, lost in his own imagination. "A natural affinity for plants and herbs, understanding without being taught—this is a once-in-centuries medical prodigy!"
Meng Yaya looked at him as if he were a fool. "Old man, are you starving to the point of delirium?"
"I'm not delirious! I'm perfectly clear-headed!" Sun Shouzheng grabbed Meng Yaya's small hand, still covered in cake crumbs, his gaze burning with intensity. "Girl, do you want to learn medicine? No, do you want to learn how to turn the grass roots and tree bark in these mountains into life-saving gold?"
Meng Yaya had been about to pull her hand back, but hearing the latter part, she stopped.
Turn things into gold? That sounded appealing.
"Can it be exchanged for money?" Meng Yaya asked.
"Yes! Absolutely!" Sun Shouzheng pointed at the ginseng. "Just this one plant, if properly processed and sold to someone who knows its value, could buy you and your mother a small courtyard in Beiping!"
Meng Yaya's eyes lit up.
"Teach me," she decided immediately.
For the next hour, the dilapidated east room of the Meng household became a temporary classroom.
Sun Shouzheng completely forgot his identity as a "farmhand" and, adopting the demeanor he once used when treating high-ranking officials in the capital, pointed at the remaining herbs in the basket, speaking with animated fervor.
"This is Half-Lotus, a sacred remedy for snake venom, but it also comes in male and female varieties. Look at the patterns on the back of these leaves…"
"This is Seven-Leaf One-Flower, a type of Paris Polyphylla. Look, girl—see how the calyx resembles a plate? Remember, when harvesting, avoid noon when the yang energy is too strong, as the medicinal properties become too harsh…"
Meng Yaya listened attentively. In the Post-apocalyptic world, she could sense plants, but only to determine whether they were edible or deadly. This systematic knowledge of pharmacology was entirely new to her.
Her memory was exceptional. Sun Shouzheng only needed to explain once, and she could accurately repeat it, even extrapolating further.
"If this Half-Lotus is combined with that purple thorny grass, would it make wounds fester faster?" Meng Yaya suddenly pointed to a weed growing by the wall outside the window.
Sun Shouzheng followed her finger and his pupils contracted.
That was "Ghost-Needle Grass," slightly toxic. Used alone, it could reduce swelling, but if mixed with Half-Lotus, the conflicting properties would indeed cause ulceration.
This girl not only understood medicine but also poisons!
"Correct! But that’s too toxic!" Sun Shouzheng wiped cold sweat from his forehead. "A healer’s heart should be like that of a parent. We study medicine to save lives, not harm them."
"Saving lives costs money; harming people doesn’t," Meng Yaya retorted matter-of-factly. "First, secure your life, then talk about a parent’s heart."
Sun Shouzheng was left speechless, but inwardly, his estimation of the girl rose another notch. In chaotic times, harsh measures were needed. Though wild in temperament, she saw things clearly—far better than those bookworms who only knew dead theories.
"Alright, that’s enough for today." Sun Shouzheng noticed the sky darkening, and his stomach growled uncooperatively.
Lin Wanrou happened to enter carrying a pot of wild vegetable porridge, with a few pieces of luncheon meat still floating inside. She set out the bowls and chopsticks somewhat awkwardly.
"Doctor Sun, we don’t have much at home. Please make do."
Sun Shouzheng stared at the bowl of meat porridge, his throat tightening. Having lived in the cowshed for over half a year, he hadn’t eaten meat—or even a full meal.
He picked up the bowl and, ignoring the heat, gulped it down. The warm porchard filled his stomach, and even his long-chilled heart began to thaw.
After the meal, Meng Yaya wrapped the ginseng and tucked it into her clothes.
"We’ll head into the city first thing tomorrow," Meng Yaya said, looking at Sun Shouzheng. "You know where to sell this, right?"
Sun Shouzheng set down his bowl, his expression turning grave.
"In these times, private trading is speculation and profiteering. Getting caught means jail time," he whispered. "But I have an old acquaintance in the county town who owes me his life. He now manages a special channel called 'Gezi-shi.'"
Gezi-shi—the black market.
"Lead the way," Meng Yaya said succinctly.
Sun Shouzheng sighed, looking into her fearless, newborn-calf eyes. "Fine, but I must set three rules. Once there, observe but don’t speak. Follow my lead. That place is a mixed bag—all sorts of ruthless characters gather there."
"As long as they don’t provoke me," Meng Yaya said, pulling a pebble from her pocket. With a light pinch of her fingers, the hard stone crumbled into powder, scattering down. "Otherwise, I’ll show them what ruthless really means."
Sun Shouzheng’s eyelids twitched.
Suddenly, he felt that tomorrow, the ones to worry about might not be this girl, but the unlucky souls at Gezi-shi.