The room was small and very quiet—even the slightest sound could be heard clearly.
“Crackle!” It was the sound of burning charcoal.
This tranquil scene, this pleasant environment, should have been perfect for falling asleep, but Jiang Zhu found herself unable to drift off at the moment.
Perhaps it was because there was another living person beside her now. She had kept her eyes closed for a while but still couldn’t fall asleep.
Last night she had slept soundly because Fu Shiwen had been unconscious, but now Fu Shiwen was awake, and the feeling was completely different.
Jiang Zhu felt a bit nervous inside, though she didn’t know what she was nervous about.
Could it be that she hadn’t been around another living person for too long?
Fu Shiwen was even less able to sleep. He had slept for most of the day today and was now full of energy, with nothing to do to burn it off. He had no idea when he would finally fall asleep.
Without realizing it, his gaze drifted to the chair nearby. He couldn’t make out her face, only a shadowy figure lying in the chair.
The room was too dark—only the faint glow of the burning charcoal cast a dim, indistinct light that couldn’t illuminate anything clearly.
Jiang Zhu turned her head to the side, watching the charcoal burn quietly. It was serene and beautiful.
She had been too exhausted today after all. After watching the charcoal for a while, she drifted into dreamland.
Fu Shiwen was still watching her, bored and alone.
The night passed with excruciating slowness. He waited for a long time but dawn never seemed to come, until finally he fell asleep.
After a full night’s rest, Jiang Zhu had recovered her energy. When dawn broke and the charcoal in the stove had nearly burned out, she quickly added more.
She washed up and prepared breakfast, trying her best not to make too much noise for fear of waking Fu Shiwen.
For breakfast, she made flatbreads—extra ones, since she would need to take some down the mountain later.
She ate her breakfast in silence, then her gaze fell upon Fu Shiwen. He still hadn’t woken up; he must have gone to sleep very late last night.
That made sense—he had slept so much during the day that he wouldn’t have been able to sleep at night. And with nothing on the mountain to pass the time, the hours must have dragged by painfully.
Perhaps she should buy something to help him pass the time.
Jiang Zhu dressed herself neatly, then left a note for Fu Shiwen, telling him she had gone down the mountain, that he could eat the flatbreads if he got hungry, and that she would probably be back around noon.
She took all the money in the house, went out again, fed the chickens and the donkey, then led the donkey down the mountain.
Cold gusts of wind blew over from time to time. Jiang Zhu pulled her hat down tighter and wrapped her face covering securely to ward off the chill.
She had only been walking for half an hour when light snow began to drift down from the sky—the first snowfall of the year had arrived.
But Jiang Zhu had no mind to admire the snowy scenery. Instead, she quickened her pace down the mountain.
She needed to finish her business and get back up the mountain while the snow was still light. If the snow fell harder and blocked the path, she wouldn’t be able to return.
She could stay at Li Shan’s place down below if needed, but Fu Shiwen alone up on the mountain… he probably wouldn’t survive.
Hurrying as fast as she could, Jiang Zhu finally made it down the mountain. Her body was warm all over, no longer cold at all. She even took off her face covering to breathe in the fresh air.
But the air was cold too, and breathing it in was a bit uncomfortable.
She went straight to Li Shan’s house with practiced ease, returned the donkey to him, and gave him some medicinal herbs as thanks.
Li Shan tried to persuade her to stay: “Have lunch before you go.”
Jiang Zhu shook her head, her cheeks flushed red, and said, “It’s snowing.”
“Then wait a moment.” He went inside and came back with a bag of cured meat. “Here, you’re too thin.”
Jiang Zhu waved her hand in refusal. “No, no need. I have meat at home.”
Li Shan pressed it firmly into her hands. “Take it. You’ll be up on the mountain for months. When the weather turns nice one day, I’ll go up to see you.”
Unable to refuse, Jiang Zhu had no choice but to accept it. “Thank you. Next year, I’ll give you medicine.”
“We’ll talk about next year when it comes. You should head up the mountain now—the snow’s about to get heavier. Goodbye, Azhu.”
“Goodbye.” Jiang Zhu slung the cured meat diagonally across her shoulder, holding Li Shan’s kindness close to her heart.
He was her only friend, someone she’d known since childhood. Through all these years, he was the only one who never looked down on her as a jinx.
After her family members passed away one after another, he still often helped her, brought her meat, lent her his donkey, and even the hen she had at home was a gift from him.
If not for Li Shan, Jiang Zhu’s life over the years would have been much harder.
Of course, she wasn’t the kind of person to forget a kindness. Whenever she came down the mountain, she would always bring Li Shan some processed medicinal herbs as a gift in return.
Li Shan watched her retreating figure, let out a sigh, and turned back into the house.
He had also advised Jiang Zhu to move down from the mountain so life would be more convenient, but she wouldn’t listen. She insisted on staying at the summit, living alone.
Fortunately, there were no man-eating beasts on the mountain—only small animals—so he could rest a little easier.
Jiang Zhu didn’t head straight up the mountain. Instead, she made a trip to the only bookstore in the market, bought a few novels, and also picked up a box of the cheapest chess set before setting off on her way home.
On the way back, the snow fell even harder, settling in a thin layer on Jiang Zhu’s shoulders and hat.
She wore thick gloves on her hands, yet she was still cold. One hand went into her pocket, the other carried a plastic bag, and a sack of cured meat hung across her back.
The journey was dull and monotonous, with only the sound of her footsteps to keep her company.
But she had long grown accustomed to such solitude and boredom—going up and down the mountain alone, never complaining.
This was the lifestyle she had chosen for herself, so there was nothing to complain about. At least now, her life wasn’t too bad, was it?
She had enough to eat and warm clothes to wear. Living alone on the mountain, no one would disturb her, she wouldn’t hear voices cursing her, and she wouldn’t see malicious glares. That was already good enough.
Jiang Zhu had covered more than half the journey when she sat down, panting, on a rock by the roadside. Feeling a bit hungry, she took out a flatbread to eat.
The bread was frozen rock-hard, so she could only gnaw at it bit by bit, washing it down with hot water. It took over ten minutes to finish just half of it.
She put the bread away, screwed the lid back on her canteen, and continued on her way.
After more than half an hour, she finally reached the summit and saw her little wooden cabin. Instantly, a wave of reassurance welled up from the bottom of her heart.
She went to check the chicken coop. The three hens were all staying quietly inside, huddled together for warmth. When they saw her, they clucked a few times.
Jiang Zhu reached out and patted their heads. “Be good, good girls.”
She felt around for eggs but came up empty. Somewhat disappointed, she withdrew her hand and said to them, “You need to lay eggs, obediently.”
The hens clucked a few more times, not understanding a word she said.
Jiang Zhu stepped out of the chicken coop, pushed open the wooden door, and entered the house, closing the door quickly behind her to keep the cold air out.
The first thing she did upon entering was look toward the bed to see if Fu Shiwen had woken up.
He was already awake, lying in bed, and said, “You’re back.”
Jiang Zhu hummed in acknowledgment, then asked, “When… did… you… wake up? Are… you… hungry?”