The aroma was a delicate fragrance tinged with the numbing spice of Sichuan peppercorns.
Xia Qingyue surmised there must be Sichuan peppercorn trees nearby.
She had inquired about the price of Sichuan peppercorns in town earlier and found them quite expensive, so she hadn’t bought any, figuring she could find some on the mountain.
Temporarily abandoning her termite mushroom digging, she stood up, looked around, sniffed the air, and followed the scent to a Sichuan peppercorn tree.
The tree, glistening with water droplets, stood over three meters tall with lush, leafy branches. Each branch was laden with clusters of vibrant green peppercorns.
The numbing spice was intense.
The peppercorns were still unripe; they wouldn’t turn red until July or August.
Xia Qingyue snapped off several branches, peppercorns still attached, to take home and use in cooking. She planned to return to harvest them once they ripened.
She stuffed several large handfuls into her vegetable basket, enough to last her a while.
Having finished, she scanned the area around the tree for saplings she could dig up and plant in the sinkhole.
To her surprise, she discovered two young Sichuan peppercorn trees not far from the mature one: one knee-high and the other thigh-high.
Using her shovel, she carefully dug up both saplings. Turning back, she resumed digging for termite Mushrooms.
The termite mushrooms were plentiful; she could dig all morning and still not exhaust the supply.
After filling a back basket and the vegetable basket she’d brought, Xia Qingyue decided to head back for lunch and return later.
The rain had stopped, the dark clouds had dispersed, and the sun blazed brilliantly in the sky. Wisps of mist drifted through the mountain forest, creating a scene reminiscent of a celestial realm.
When Xia Qingyue returned to the sinkhole, the rainwater on the ground had evaporated under the intense sunlight.
She spread out the bamboo shoots, bamboo fungus, and water celery that hadn’t dried completely yesterday, along with the freshly dug termite mushrooms, to sun-dry.
The chickens and ducks in the pen heard her return and began clucking and quacking excitedly. She fetched the leftover small fish and shrimp from yesterday and fed them.
By this point, she had acquired two adult wild chickens (a male and a female), twelve chicks, four adult wild ducks (two males and two females), and five ducklings.
While the fowl were occupied with their meal, she swept the chicken and duck droppings into a pile. Combined with the previous sweepings, the pile had grown into a small hill.
These dried droppings would make excellent fertilizer.
After finishing her chores, she washed her hands, boiled a large pot of water, and scrubbed two heavily dust-covered jars with the boiling water before placing them in the sun to dry.
She planned to make pickled water celery and ferment a jar of sour bamboo shoots—both refreshing, appetite-stimulating dishes that could be eaten on their own or used as flavorful ingredients in stir-fries.
The water celery, wilted from drying in the sun, was rinsed clean in the amount needed for pickling and left to air dry in the sunlight.
By the time she finished, she was so hungry her stomach was growling.
She quickly peeled some cassava to cook rice and sliced a portion of well-cured pork belly, tasting it for saltiness, to prepare for lunch.
She pan-fried the pork belly slices until the fat rendered out, then added the mushrooms to the pan, stir-frying briskly.
Given the meat’s saltiness, she only added a splash of soy sauce, quickly stir-fried everything, and transferred it to a plate.
After washing the wok again, she melted a bit of lard in the pan, added water, and brought it to a simmer. Just before it came to a boil, she added shepherd’s purse and cooked until tender.
She whisked two duck eggs and poured them into the simmering broth.
Her meal was complete: one dish and one soup.
Xia Qingyue divided half her meal for Heihei. After a busy morning, sitting down to eat felt especially satisfying.
The excess fat rendered from the pork belly made it crisp and not greasy at all, with just the right amount of salt.
The termite Mmushrooms were succulent and flavorful, their rich broth making an excellent sauce for the rice.
She finished a bowl and a half of cassava rice and drained every drop of the soup, leaving only a few bits of meat and mushrooms.
After washing the dishes, she repeatedly scrubbed the iron wok with hot water to remove all traces of oil. Then, she boiled a large pot of salted water, moved it aside to cool, and set it aside for later use.
The two young peppercorn trees remained unplanted. Xia Qingyue shouldered her hoe and, carrying some ginger, set out to cultivate more of the sandy patch where she’d planted pumpkins and gourds a few days earlier.
She tilled the soil, removed weeds, dug planting holes, placed the peppercorn trees, added ginger chunks to each hole, and covered them with earth.
She planted fifteen rows of ginger, knowing she used it frequently in her cooking.
The soil was still moist from the recent rain, so she didn’t water the plants.
By the time she finished, the brine had cooled, and the water celery had dried thoroughly in the sun.
Xia Qingyue packed the water celery tightly into a jar, leaving about two finger-widths of space below the rim.
She poured in a measured amount of baijiu (white liquor) and brine, added water to the jar’s rim, sealed it tightly, and placed it in a cool, dark place to ferment. It would be ready to eat in half a month.
Pickled bamboo shoots were made the same way as pickled mustard greens: she stuffed partially dried bamboo shoots into jars, poured in baijiu and brine, and sealed the lids.
Although the two large jars of pickled mustard greens and bamboo shoots used a fair amount of salt, Xia Qingyue deemed it worth the investment.
She looked forward to future meals of pickled fish stew, stir-fried pickled meat, and luosifen (river snail rice noodles).
The pickled bamboo shoots are the soul of luosifen, an indispensable ingredient. Now that she had them, she needed to expedite making the noodles themselves.
Her current plan was to use cassava flour for the noodles. The process was complex, requiring time and effort she’d have to set aside later.
Without taking a midday break, Xia Qingyue packed her gear and set out to dig for Termite Mushrooms.
After digging for over two hours and making two round trips to the sinkhole, she finally finished harvesting all the mushrooms.
By three in the afternoon, Xia Qingyue continued her trek upstream along the creek. As she washed her hands by the water’s edge, she noticed pine needles drifting downstream.
Given the season, where there were pine trees, there might also be Matsutake Mushrooms. She decided to try her luck.
As she ventured further upstream, the creek widened, its bed strewn with rocks of all sizes.
Seeing those rocks reminded Xia Qingyue of a similar creek from her childhood in the countryside—a place where crabs often hid beneath the stones.
Catching crabs as a child had been a thrilling and rewarding experience. Her family was poor, unable to afford snacks. They would build a bonfire in the wild and roast the crabs they caught—a simple yet delicious treat.
“I wonder if I can find any crabs here,” she mused, her curiosity piqued.
She called Heihei over, changed course to the creek, and stood on a rock. The water was crystal clear, neither too shallow nor too deep, allowing her to see schools of tiny fish darting about.
Hitching up her pants legs, Xia Qingyue stepped into the creek, steadying herself against a rock. Spotting a promising stone, she tilted her vegetable basket against its edge, wedging it with her foot while using both hands to lift the stone.
As she lifted the stone, the stream water churned, stirring up sediment and clouding slightly. Still, she spotted dark shadows darting across the streambed.
Using her foot, she nudged the vegetable basket into the water, holding the stone aloft with one hand while scooping up the basket with the other.
Water dripped sparsely through the basket’s gaps, leaving behind three river shrimp—two with black shells, resembling miniature lobsters.
“Oh, it’s crayfish!”
She was also amazed by the size of the shrimp, three or four times larger than the ones she usually caught in her fish traps.
Each one was as long as her middle finger, and the shells over their bellies appeared thin, revealing plump, fleshy bodies beneath.
It was spawning season for female river shrimp, so the ones without eggs must be males.
The upstream environment must be ideal for raising these shrimp, she thought.
Shrimp this size could be dried to make shrimp jerky.
If she caught more crayfish, she could prepare them using the same methods as for lobsters—that would be quite good.
“Sigh, if only I’d brought a bucket.”
Xia Qingyue still wanted to check for crabs. She selected another stone and lifted it. A dark shadow scuttled sideways through the water.
With lightning reflexes, she plunged her hand into the water and snatched it.