2
If she weren’t so weak at this moment, so fragile that she might faint at any second, she would have plunged straight into those alluring mountains right now to explore.
Patience, she told herself, calming the restless surge within her. She had already crossed over; there would be plenty of time to explore. The immediate priority was to recover some strength and nurse this body back to health. At the very least, she couldn’t remain in this state were walking a few steps nearly killed her.
The night wind howled once more, sweeping through her thin, coarse-woven clothes making He Tian shiver.
The shiver struck her as both novel and absurd.
She was a soldier who had once moved freely through minus-forty-degree weather in nothing but a single layer. This kind of frailty was a first.
Ordinary people were weaker than she had imagined.
The body she now inhabited was ordinary. But judging from the way she had sensed the mountains earlier, she guessed that once she recovered, she might regain some of her former physical prowess.
She stood a moment longer, trembling to the very marrow of her bones. The cold had become unbearable, and she had no choice but to head back inside.
Before closing the door, she cast one more look at the silent, mysterious mountains stretching endlessly into the distance. It was as if she were speaking to them without words: Wait for me.
She had just shut the door and shuffled back to the bed when—
“Tiantian?” Liu Erniang’s feeble voice came from the inner side of the room.
He Tian paused for a moment before realizing Liu Erniang was calling her.
She opened her mouth. At last, she uttered a single word: “Mother.”
“You’re awake?” Liu Erniang’s weak voice was brimming with relief.
“Mm,” He Tian replied. “I’m awake. I’m already feeling much better. Don’t worry about me. Go back to sleep.”
Liu Erniang’s condition was only marginally better than her daughter’s. She, too, couldn’t afford to overexert herself.
But Liu Erniang stubbornly pushed herself into a sitting position. “Did you just go outside?”
“I was a little thirsty,” He Tian said. “I went out for some water.”
Liu Erniang wanted to say: Come here, let me see you. But then she thought better of it. Her daughter had only just woken after days of illness; it would be too much to make her get up again after she’d already lain down. She swallowed the words and asked instead, “How are you feeling now?”
“I’m fine,” He Tian said. “I feel all right. The fever’s gone. Mother, truly, don’t worry. Please sleep.”
Her tone was calm, her voice not as faint as before. Liu Erniang finally relaxed. “Good, good. The fever’s gone that’s wonderful. Sleep, dear, get some rest. I won’t disturb you.”
With that, she remained propped up for a long moment, quietly gazing at her daughter. Only then did she lie back down.
Even after lying down, she glanced over several more times. As if, if she didn’t look now, she might never see her again.
He Tian was aware of her gaze the entire time. She didn’t respond, because she couldn’t.
That gaze was a mother’s care for her daughter, but she was not that daughter. She couldn’t deceive a mother’s heart. Besides, she had never had parents herself and didn’t know how a daughter was supposed to act around them. So, she simply lay still.
Fortunately, Liu Erniang soon fell asleep.
He Tian looked out the window at the full moon quietly suspended in the sky. The moon here was so bright, so round. She gazed at it for a long time, until exhaustion finally overcame her and she closed her eyes to rest and recover.
When she opened them again, it was a misty dawn.
The newly risen sun cast a soft, golden-red glow, gently enveloping the land and enveloping He Tian, who dwelled upon it.
She blinked her sleepy eyes and caught sight of the morning glow in the east. Unconsciously, a curve formed at the corners of her lips.
How lovely, she thought.
This feeling—she liked it, too.
If not for the hunger relentlessly gnawing at her consciousness, she would have loved to just lie there and bask in the sun.
Well, never mind. There would be days to lie around in the future, days to soak up the sun. If she starved to death, there would be none of that.
She sat up briskly. Before she could even get off the bed, Liu Erniang’s voice came again: “Tiantian?”
He Tian got down from the bed and responded, “Mm. Mother, are you hungry? Wait for me a moment. I’ll go up the mountain to find something to eat. I’ll be back soon to cook.”
Liu Erniang was indeed hungry, but right now, she didn’t feel at ease letting her daughter go up the mountain. “You’ve only just recovered. Rest a little longer before heading up.”
“I’m fine now,” He Tian said. She didn’t tell her the truth. “Going up the mountain to forage won’t be a problem.”
“But—”
He Tian cut her off. “Mother, truly, I’m all right. I’ve been lying down for so many days, it’s time I got up and moved around a bit. It won’t take long. I’ll come right back and make breakfast.”
Knowing she couldn’t dissuade her, Liu Erniang could only caution, “Be careful, then. Don’t go too deep into the mountain.”
He Tian acknowledged her with a sound, then picked up a worn-out wicker basket and headed out.
Just as she was about to leave, she spotted a cleaver lying against the base of the wall, long since rusted over. After a moment’s thought, she picked it up as well.
At this hour, many villagers were heading up the mountain—some to hunt, some to chop wood, others to forage for wild goods. When they saw He Tian, surprise flickered across every face.
She had… actually pulled through?
Crescent Village was neither very small nor very large. During He Tian’s illness, word had spread throughout. Most people whispered among themselves that she probably wouldn’t make it. They had braced themselves for news of her death at any time.
So young, dying before her time and with all the misfortune her family had suffered lately, the villagers couldn’t help but sigh and lament in private.
But against all expectations, gravely ill as she was, she had survived. And now…
“Tiantian,” Auntie Li, who was heading up the mountain to cut pigweed, asked gently. “Are you better now?”
He Tian’s body hadn’t recovered much yet, and her memories were still somewhat jumbled. She couldn’t immediately place the villager speaking to her. But the woman had a round, smiling face and a tone full of care, with no ill intent. He Tian nodded. “Mm. The fever’s gone.”
Auntie Li murmured a prayer of thanks to the gods. “The fever’s broken, thank goodness. You’re heading up the mountain?”
He Tian nodded again. “Mm.”
Seeing how gaunt she was, Auntie Li wanted to say she should rest a while longer but then she thought of He Tian’s circumstances and swallowed the words. Instead, she said, “It’s good to get out and move around a bit. Just don’t overexert yourself. Your mother still needs you.”
She didn’t offer anything else. No volunteered help. Not because Crescent Village lacked neighborly compassion.
These past days, the villagers had done quite a lot for their family. But every household had its own troubles. Each family had many mouths to feed, and winter was fast approaching. Winter clothing and food stores for the cold months were enormous expenses. No one had more to give to Liu Erniang and He Tian, who seemed to swallow aid like a bottomless pit.
Relying on others was no solution, in any case. One had to stand on one’s own feet, didn’t one?
He Tian didn’t fault them for this attitude. Liu Erniang and her daughter had already received considerable care from the villagers. By now, everyone understood that their neighbors had done all they could. Liu Erniang and the girl could only feel grateful.
“Mm,” He Tian said, after a pause. She offered Auntie Li a small smile. “Thank you for your concern. I understand.”
A once-plump, lovely little girl, now reduced to skin and bones. Her smile only made her skeletal frame more pronounced. Auntie Li’s heart ached at the sight. “Ah, don’t mention it.”
When they reached the foot of the mountain, their paths diverged.
Auntie Li had meant to say that she would be chopping wood later, and after she finished gathering pigweed, she could help He Tian chop some too. But seeing the determined look in the girl’s eyes as she struck off down another trail, Auntie Li understood she had business to attend to on the mountain and said nothing more.
It was true, the household had no firewood left. He Tian did intend to chop some on this trip but her main goal was to find food.
The path Auntie Li had taken was the route most villagers used when going up the mountain. It was well-traveled and safer.
But precisely because so many people walked it, any edible plants along the way had long been picked clean. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t find anything if she took that route; it would just be harder, and she’d have to venture deeper. With her current strength and gnawing hunger, she didn’t have the time or energy to go far into the mountains. Better to take an alternate path.
She parted ways with Auntie Li and walked a bit further, then sat down on a rock to rest. Her stamina was depleted; she had only walked this far and already couldn’t go on. This experience of being so weak and utterly helpless irritated He Tian immensely.
She needed to recover. Quickly.
In the past, if she needed to find something, she only had to extend her senses and she could pinpoint its exact location. Why resort to this inefficient, exhausting grid search?
Even now, her senses were still sharper than an ordinary person’s. But her body was too frail, and after walking so far on the mountain path, she could no longer project her perception outward. Even if she could sense something, it would only be a vague direction, not an exact spot. She would still have to rely on her legs to track it down.
She was too hungry. She reached out and grabbed a handful of non-toxic leaves, stuffing them into her mouth to chew.
They were just leaves, but they weren’t unpleasant. They even carried a fresh, green fragrance, something the apocalypse had never known.
The more she chewed, the better they tasted, strangely enough. She grabbed another handful, swallowed it all in one go, and chewed slowly, as if savoring a delicacy.
As she chewed, a faint gnawing sound—crunch, crunch, crunch—drifted over from nearby. Rodents, chewing on something.
He Tian stopped chewing. She held her breath and listened.
Crunch, crunch, crunch… The sound grew clearer.
It was accompanied by tiny squeaks.
A thought occurred to her. She rose at once and hurried toward the source of the noise.
She didn’t have far to go before she found it.
Two small squirrels, gnawing on chestnuts.
He Tian’s eyes lit up.
At the sight of her, the squirrels exchanged glances. They abandoned their chestnuts and hastily scampered up the tree, fleeing.
He Tian looked at the bristly chestnut husks scattered across the ground, then up at the heavily laden chestnut tree.
She smiled.
**