Days passed quickly in the rhythm of repeated labor. In the blink of an eye, Zhong Yizhu had already been in Liushan Village for nearly half a month. The villagers gradually grew accustomed to his presence, no longer treating every appearance of his as something novel.
After days of rest, Sun Yun-niang’s illness had improved greatly. She no longer needed constant care. With rain falling the day before, Zhong Yizhu packed his basket and planned to head up the mountain to gather mushrooms.
Ever since the Wu family had sent a matchmaker to propose a few days ago, other villagers had begun dropping by as well, probing Sun Yun-niang’s intentions.
The Wu family’s proposal had been firmly rejected, of course. But the others were more subtle—some came under the pretense of visiting her while she was ill, others asked her to look at embroidery patterns.
Zhong Yizhu had frowned and wanted to drive them away, but Sun Yun-niang stopped him.
The Wu family’s intentions were obvious—they couldn’t accept losing the farmland and wanted to reclaim it through underhanded means. Everyone in the village could see that, so turning their matchmaker away wouldn’t draw criticism. But neighbors visiting one another was perfectly normal; driving them out would only invite gossip.
Sun Yun-niang understood their motives clearly. She simply sent Zhong Yizhu out and handled them herself.
Zhong Yizhu spent an entire afternoon sitting by his father’s grave. On the way back, Zhou Shaofen ran into him, and they returned together. The next day, she sent her young husband to invite him to the mountains to pick mushrooms.
Zhong Yizhu had grown up in the prefectural city—activities like this in the wilderness were entirely new to him. He wandered around enthusiastically, filling a whole basket with mushrooms others had discarded—only to later learn they were poisonous. Even so, it didn’t dampen his spirits. He seemed more lively than ever.
Zhou Shaofen’s young husband was named Liu Mingtao, fifteen this year. Everyone called him Tao-ge’er. He had a gentle, delicate appearance, but a lively personality.
Mingtao spent quite a while helping Zhong Yizhu sort the mushrooms, teaching him which ones were edible. In the end, he even poured half his own basket into Zhong Yizhu’s.
Zhong Yizhu felt embarrassed to accept, but Mingtao insisted. Zhou Shaofen smiled from the side.
“Just take it, Zhug-er. He wouldn’t give them to just anyone.”
Looking at Mingtao’s bright, eager eyes, Zhong Yizhu smiled.
“Then thank you, Tao-ge’er. I’ll make you a sachet next time—you’ll definitely like it.”
He turned to Zhou Shaofen.
“And one for you too, Auntie. Thank you.”
Zhou Shaofen patted his shoulder gently. “Good child.”
Over the next few days, Zhong Yizhu spent most of his time outdoors. He learned how to pick mushrooms, gather wild vegetables, and even harvested soap pods, discovering how to use them for washing clothes.
The mushrooms Mingtao had given him were made into soup. Both he and his mother loved the rich flavor, and after finishing it, they found themselves craving more.
Today, Mingtao had gone to his maternal grandparents’ home in Heibian Village. Having already memorized the path, Zhong Yizhu decided to go up the mountain alone.
The mountain behind the village stretched wide. They usually entered from the western side, where the forest was shallow and the paths easy to remember. Zhou Shaofen and Mingtao had both warned him not to venture into the deep forest. Zhong Yizhu kept that firmly in mind, not taking even a single step further in.
Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on his side today. After searching carefully for a long time, he found only a few scattered mushrooms. He had come full of ambition but ended up listless, picking up some firewood just to fill his basket—so he wouldn’t look foolish returning empty-handed.
Seeing the sun beginning to set, he finally gave up and turned to head down the mountain.
The ground was damp and slippery. He walked carefully, but suddenly something darted past him, startling him so badly that he grabbed onto a branch to keep from falling.
A sharp whoosh of an arrow cutting through the air rang out.
Before he could even see what had startled him, he noticed a man walking down from above.
It was the one who had saved him from the river.
Pei Mu stepped forward, picked up the rabbit he had shot, and tossed it into his basket. When he turned and saw Zhong Yizhu standing there, he paused briefly.
Zhong Yizhu’s eyes lit up. “It’s you.”
He hadn’t been able to ask around after that day—without any clues, inquiring about a strange man would only invite suspicion. Meeting him here was entirely unexpected.
Zhong Yizhu touched the pouch at his waist.
If the man didn’t want to be disturbed, then paying him would settle things. Better to clear the debt than carry it in his heart.
Even recognizing him now as the Zhong family’s young master, Pei Mu showed no change in expression. He gave a brief nod and turned to leave.
“Wait,” Zhong Yizhu called out.
“Can I trade this basket of firewood for a few fruits?”
Beside Pei Mu’s bamboo basket was a cloth bag filled with small pinkish-red wild berries—the sweetest of the season. But the ones near the outer forest had long been picked clean. Only deep in the mountains could fresh ones still be found.
Pei Mu turned back, glancing at the half-damp firewood in the basket. He said nothing.
Zhong Yizhu stepped forward slightly, worried he might refuse. His pale hands, marked with scratches, stood out starkly.
“I only want two,” he said softly. “Can we trade?”
Pei Mu reached into the bag.
Just as Zhong Yizhu was about to hand over the basket and take the fruit, he suddenly felt it grow heavier.
By the time he came to his senses, Pei Mu had already withdrawn his hand and walked away down the mountain.
“Hey—” Zhong Yizhu hurried after him but stumbled, barely managing to steady himself.
When he looked up again, Pei Mu had already disappeared into the forest.
Holding the basket, Zhong Yizhu stared at the fruits resting atop the firewood. Heat rose from his cheeks to his ears.
He had meant to slip money into the basket, thinking the man wouldn’t accept it directly.
But now—not only had he failed to give the money, he had taken the fruit for free.
How shameless.
After returning home and putting away the basket, Zhong Yizhu went straight to the village head’s house.
Mingtao had already returned and was about to take the ducks out. Seeing Zhong Yizhu, he waved enthusiastically. After greeting Aunt Zhou, Zhong Yizhu followed him to the river.
They sat beneath the shade of a tree, letting the ducks forage in the water.
The breeze in May was cool and pleasant.
After chatting for a while, Zhong Yizhu asked casually,
“Mingtao, do we have hunters in the village?”
“Yes,” Mingtao nodded.
“How many?”
“Just one now. His name is Pei Mu. He came back from the army—my father says he’s very capable.”
Pei Mu…
Zhong Yizhu repeated the name silently.
“But he’s very fierce,” Mingtao added.
Zhong Yizhu thought back to their encounters—once he had been saved, once given fruit. Cold, yes—but not cruel.
“How fierce?”
Mingtao lowered his voice and began recounting Pei Mu’s past…
By the time they parted, Zhong Yizhu’s thoughts were heavy.
On the way home, he counted the wildflowers blooming along the roadside.
He knew now—he would likely never find a chance to repay that silver.
A man who had lived through so much, who chose to live apart from others, clearly didn’t want to be disturbed.
And he himself… carried too many troubles.
Better to keep his distance.