It had rained a few nights ago, and in just a few days, many more bamboo shoots and fungi had sprouted. Xia Qingyue collected them with delight, completely absorbed in the work.
After some time, a long, clear whistle suddenly rang out.
“Master is here.” She stood up, gathering her things to leave.
The white dog’s eyes lit up at the sound.
Seeing Xia Qingyue and Heihei preparing to go, it tilted its head, looking at them with a puzzled, pleading gaze, as if saying, My master is here… why are you leaving?
Xia Qingyue ran swiftly. As her figure disappeared along with Heihei, the white dog barked loudly after them.
Over ten minutes later, a man with a tall, upright posture, carrying a bow and arrows slung across his back, entered the bamboo grove and found the white dog.
He immediately noticed the dog’s injured hind leg and his eyes softened with concern. The wound was wrapped with two sky-blue cloth strips, clearly treated by someone.
Finally, his gaze fell on the pile of hemostatic herbs beside the dog.
“Wuwuwu,” the white dog relaxed completely, nuzzling the man with soft, playful barks.
“Xiao Bai.” The man crouched before his dog, his tanned, long fingers gently stroking its back.
His sleeves were rolled up, revealing a well-toned arm, every line exuding strength.
“Someone saved you… who was it?”
….
Under the blazing sun, Xia Qingyue returned to the sinkhole.
With such good weather, she spread out bamboo shoots, fungi, ferns, water celery, mulberry leaves, and loquat leaves to dry—drying them further would help preserve them longer.
She looked up at the sky, shielding her eyes with one hand. “If it stays this sunny, that would be perfect… time to gather more firewood.”
After a short rest and some water, she chopped wild grass. She hadn’t been to the reed marsh for a few days, so she gathered wild grass to mix with rice bran for feeding the chickens and ducks.
After feeding the poultry, she prepared lunch. Lately, she’d been busy, so she cooked more at noon to have leftovers for the evening—simple and convenient.
The grass carp hadn’t been eaten yet, and if kept longer, it might get thinner. She cleaned and gutted it, scored the flesh, and pan-fried it until both sides were golden, then set it aside.
Small fish, about the size of a thumb, were gutted and marinated with salt, ginger, soy sauce, and yellow wine for a short while.
When ready to fry, she removed the ginger, coated the fish in flour, and fried them in batches. Once cooked and firm, she fried them a second time in hotter oil.
Unable to resist, she tasted one—it was crispy outside, tender inside, the bones soft enough to crumble, and richly fragrant.
After frying the small fish, she drained the excess oil and braised the grass carp.
She soaked some dried water celery in warm water, cleaned and cut it, smashed two garlic cloves, and chopped some dried chili. Once the oil was hot, she sautéed the garlic and chili, added the dried water celery, and stir-fried it.
For a slightly dry, crisp texture, she seasoned with salt, soy sauce, and a little sugar, then quickly removed it from the pan. For a softer but still crisp version, a little water could be added and briefly simmered.
She preferred the first method, so she removed it from the heat quickly.
She continued eating the millet porridge from the morning. The salty, spicy water celery paired perfectly with the fragrant fried small fish, making them especially appetizing.
She ate more of these two dishes, barely touching the braised fish.
After washing the dishes and tidying the kitchen, it was still early, around noon. She washed her hands and feet, changed into clean clothes, and took a nap.
An hour later, she woke up feeling groggy, splashed her face with cold water a few times, and regained her energy.
In the afternoon, it was time to plant rice. With the sun high, she put on a straw hat for shade.
She first went to the vegetable plot and pulled up the grown rice seedlings, roots and all, estimating how many she could plant that afternoon.
She placed the seedlings in a basket and carried them to the paddy field. Using a wooden stick and a rope tied to it, she measured across the field to check if the rows would be straight.
Handling this alone inevitably caused minor deviations. She didn’t seek perfection, just that the seedlings wouldn’t look too messy.
Having a straight line to guide her planting made the field appear neater.
With the rope set, Xia Qingyue rolled up her pant legs and worked backward from the start, planting seedlings at proper intervals until she reached the end.
Her feet sank into the wet, sticky mud. One wrong step and she could slip into the water.
Even with her careful attention, she fell twice. Most of her body was wet, hands and face smeared with mud.
She recalled planting rice with her grandmother in her past life. The fields then had leeches—she used to play with them as a child, but as she grew older, just seeing them made her nauseous.
On rainy days, besides leeches, there were also worms, which would give her goosebumps every time.
Here, she had checked both paddies—no leeches—so she felt safe walking in the water.
When moving to a new row, she also moved the guide rope and repeated the process.
By midday, she had planted about one-third of the field. For the next three and a half days, she stayed in the sinkhole, focused on planting.
Single-handedly, she managed over two acres of paddy.
It was exhausting, but she didn’t stop for rest—there was still much to do.
With clear weather, the temperature had risen. Daytime reached about thirty degrees, and nights cooled to around twenty-three. The dry firewood outside had little moisture, perfect for collection.
Carrying a large basket, a sack, and a vegetable basket, Xia Qingyue headed out. Mushrooms in the mountains would decrease if it didn’t rain, so she needed to gather as many as possible while they were still available.
The previously collected mushrooms had been dried and sealed in sacks—miscellaneous mushrooms weighed around eighty to ninety jin, and matsutake over ten jin.
She went upstream along a creek she hadn’t visited for a while, avoiding the area where bandits had attacked a deliveryman.
She intended to check the pine forest for more matsutake, and then gather firewood closer to the sinkhole on her way back.
Fresh or dried, matsutake were incredibly delicious. A few days ago, during the busy farming season, she had used rehydrated dried matsutake to stew with marinated horse meat.
The savory flavor was unforgettable. Horse meat, like pork, had been cured and smoked along with preserved meat.
Besides cooking with the matsutake, she also wanted to make some matsutake seasoning, a natural flavor enhancer similar to chicken essence or MSG.
In the pine forest, damp areas still had matsutake. After circling the forest, she gathered a full basket—quite a good haul. She also collected one and a half baskets of miscellaneous mushrooms.
With nothing else to find, she was about to leave when a red fruit atop a green plant in a patch of lush grass caught her eye. If she wasn’t mistaken, it wasn’t…