4
Liu Erniang listened to the sounds from the yard. The grief that had consumed her expression eased, just slightly but then she thought of her husband, then her son. In the end, she closed her eyes in sorrow once more.
He Tian was in the middle of cracking chestnuts when she noticed the little gray rabbit had finally eaten its fill of the nameless grass. It was pawing the ground with its front legs, trying to hop toward her.
She considered for a moment, then closed the courtyard door and, with one swift chop of her cleaver, cut the vines binding the rabbit’s hind legs.
The little gray rabbit didn’t run. It simply hopped in circles around He Tian.
“Silly rabbit,” He Tian murmured, nudging it lightly with her toe.
The rabbit didn’t understand. It just kept circling her.
The few chestnuts she’d eaten on the mountain had long since been burned off by the labor of climbing up and down. Now, with a basin full of plump, ivory-white chestnut kernels before her, she was determined to have a proper meal.
The household had run out of food long ago, and naturally, there was no oil, grain, or seasoning to be found.
Fortunately, chestnut porridge required nothing else—just water and a long, slow simmer until the chestnuts were soft and tender.
The iron pot, unused for so long, was covered in rust. He Tian scrubbed it clean before filling it with water and the washed chestnut kernels. She brought it to a boil over high heat, then reduced the flame to let it simmer.
Chestnuts especially fresh, shelled ones cooked fairly quickly. But considering Liu Erniang’s condition, He Tian decided to stew them until they were soft and easy to digest.
As she fed the fire, a thought struck her. She hurried into the yard and grabbed a handful of unpeeled chestnuts, tossing them directly into the hearth.
According to Yao Yao’s journal, roasted chestnuts were one of life’s great delicacies—delicious and nutritious.
And the preparation was simple. All you needed was fire.
The pot bubbled away, steam rising in sweet, fragrant clouds. Each breath stoked her appetite. He Tian, already hungry, licked her lips.
Inside the hearth, flames licked at the blackened shells. A toasty, smoky aroma began to drift out.
Delicious.
Whether boiled or roasted, both seemed equally wonderful.
The little gray rabbit hopped around the yard for a while before eventually picking up a mouthful of its nameless grass and bounding into the kitchen.
It had come looking for He Tian.
The sound of a rodent chewing wasn’t particularly loud but to someone with He Tian’s sharp hearing, it was far from quiet. Crunch, crunch, crunch. It sounded almost appetizing. He Tian plucked a blade of the grass, snapped it in half, and put it in her mouth.
She couldn’t quite describe the taste.
Not unpleasant, but compared to chestnuts, nothing special. Fresh, in an odd way.
She handed the remaining grass back to the rabbit and turned her attention to the chestnuts roasting in the hearth. The fire was hot; she had to turn them frequently to keep them from burning.
When she judged them ready, she fished one out.
It was blackened by smoke and flame, but that didn’t matter. She cracked the shell open, revealing the soft, golden-yellow flesh within. The rich fragrance hit her all at once, so intense it made her eyes go wide.
He Tian inhaled sharply, her eyes bright and animated full of surprise and wonder.
No wonder Yao Yao had written that roasted chestnuts were a delicacy. Just the smell alone was enough to make her dizzy with delight.
She ate it while it was hot. Soft, sweet, sticky even better than she had imagined.
She ate quickly. Soon, the chestnuts she’d tossed into the hearth were gone. She went out and dragged the entire basket of chestnuts back into the kitchen. She would roast more.
She tossed in thirty or forty at once, until the hearth could hold no more. Only then did she stop.
The porridge had long since come to a boil; all it needed was a gentle simmer. The roasting chestnuts didn’t require constant turning either. She lifted the lid and stirred the porridge now and then to keep it from sticking, adding water when it boiled down.
The kitchen was thick with steam and fragrance. Outside, thin wisps of cooking smoke curled upward with the wind, trailing against the vast, sunlit sky. This, surely, was the essence of a simple, warm home.
When the chestnut porridge had cooked down until it was completely soft and mushy, easy even for Liu Erniang to eat He Tian extinguished the fire.
Not wanting to waste the residual heat, she buried two more handfuls of chestnuts in the warm ashes. Then she washed a bowl and ladled out the porridge.
“Mother,” she said, carrying a bowl to Liu Erniang. “I made soft chestnut porridge. Please sit up and eat some.”
Liu Erniang had been lying with her eyes closed, but she hadn’t been asleep. She had heard her daughter moving about in the kitchen. It wasn’t that she wasn’t hungry. She simply had no appetite.
With her daughter’s help, she sat up. She glanced at the steaming bowl. “That’s too much. I can’t eat all that. Scoop some out for yourself. Just a small half-bowl is enough for me.”
She hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days. She was ill, and she was a grown woman. A half-bowl wouldn’t do.
“You need to eat well to recover,” He Tian disagreed. “Please eat, Mother.”
Liu Erniang didn’t reach for the bowl. “What difference does it make, whether I recover or not?”
Living now was a hundred times more painful than dying.
He Tian caught the note of resignation—the desire for death. Her brow furrowed faintly.
Liu Erniang’s illness was born of grief. He Tian’s life had been nothing but training and missions. She had rarely interacted with others. At this moment, she didn’t know how to comfort her.
The dead were gone. Words were useless.
But that didn’t mean life should stop.
Every day in the apocalypse had deepened her understanding of one truth: Life is precious. Cherish the present.
But this was a realization Liu Erniang who lived in a world before the apocalypse, whose life had never been under constant threat could not feel or comprehend.
Just as He Tian could not understand why Liu Erniang would rather die just because her family members had passed away.
Neither spoke. The room fell into profound silence, broken only by the soft sounds of the little rabbit hopping about and chewing its grass.
The chestnut porridge in her hands was growing cold. He Tian sighed inwardly. “People often say fallen leaves return to their roots,” she said. “I am deeply saddened by my brother’s death too…”
The original He Tian had been close to her brother. The grief was real. He Tian was not speaking idly.
At the mention of her lost son, Liu Erniang’s lashes trembled.
“Once you’re well,” He Tian continued, “we’ll go to the northwest together and bring my brother home. A family should be together. It wouldn’t be right to leave him alone in that cold, desolate place.”
Liu Erniang’s breath caught. She lifted her head and stared at her daughter in disbelief.
He Tian met her gaze calmly. “We’ll go together,” she repeated. “We’ll bring my brother home.”
Certain that she hadn’t misheard, Liu Erniang’s tears spilled over.
There was agitation in her tears. But even more, grief.
Yet this grief was different from the death-wish despair of moments ago.
He Tian knew she had reached her.
“The northwest is far,” He Tian pressed on, seizing the moment. “Mother is ill now, not fit for travel. The most urgent task is for you to regain your strength. I’ll find a way to get you a doctor and medicine. But eating well is just as important.”
She placed the still-warm bowl of porridge into Liu Erniang’s hands. “It’s just right for eating now. Please, eat before it gets cold.”
Liu Erniang’s heart was full. She didn’t know what to say. She could only weep, nodding as the tears streamed down her face.
Yes. She would eat. She would get well quickly, and she would bring her son home. Her family would be together.
That thought became the anchor that pulled her back toward the will to live.
Tears fell into the bowl, but Liu Erniang paid them no mind. She ate with fierce determination.
Sweet, soft chestnut porridge, mixed with tears—Liu Erniang consumed every bite as if it were a task she had to complete.
He Tian didn’t press her further. As long as she wanted to live, as long as she could eat, that was enough.
What came later could be dealt with later. And she hadn’t been deceiving Liu Erniang. When the time was right, she would keep her promise. She would go with Liu Erniang to the northwest and bring He Dong’s remains home. Let his leaves fall by their roots.
But right now, there were more urgent matters than traveling northwest.
Her own body.
And Liu Erniang’s illness.
Liu Erniang was genuinely ill. Food alone wouldn’t heal her. She needed a doctor and medicine and that would cost money she didn’t have.
Her stomach growled. He Tian thought to herself: One step at a time. Everything will get better.
With her spirits somewhat restored, she cheerfully ladled herself a bowl of chestnut porridge. This was the first meal she had ever cooked—in either of her lives.
She raised the bowl to her lips and took a sip. The world seemed to grow a little brighter.
Things from before the apocalypse were simply too delicious. She slurped loudly, gulping down porridge, marveling inwardly with every mouthful.
Though Liu Erniang had regained her will to live, her body was still weak from her long illness. Her appetite was poor. One bowl of porridge was all she could manage. He Tian took care of the rest.
She didn’t even step away from the stove. She stood right there, ladling bowl after bowl. Before long, most of the pot was empty.
She felt full, yes—but that didn’t stop her from eating more.
When the bowl was clean, she licked the last traces from its surface. Setting it down, her eyes landed on the thin crust of scorched porridge stuck to the bottom of the pot. An idea sparked. She carefully scraped it off with the spatula.
One bite. Crisp, toasty, fragrant—a completely different kind of delicious from the porridge itself.
He Tian’s eyes went wide.
There wasn’t much crust. It was gone in a few bites. She looked at the clean-scraped pot and licked her lips with regret. If only she had known how good this was, she would have saved more porridge and used the residual heat to crisp it into crust.
She would do exactly that when she cooked dinner tonight!
She washed the pot and bowls, but instead of retreating inside to rest, she went to deal with the firewood she’d gathered that morning.
The damp pieces she laid out in the yard to dry. The ones ready to burn, she split and stacked for later use.
She was sitting on a stone block, splitting wood with her now-rust-free cleaver, when the little gray rabbit, fully rested, began hopping around her feet again. It clutched a mouthful of the nameless grass she’d brought from the mountain, nibbling with satisfaction.
Watching it squat by her feet, holding a blade of green grass in its tiny front paws and munching away, He Tian found the sight unexpectedly amusing.
A small smile crossed her face.
She turned back to her task and froze.
Her hand, gripping the cleaver, halted mid-air.
Hm?
Her gaze returned to the rabbit.
No—to the nameless green grass clutched in its tiny paws.
This grass… It looked familiar. As if she had seen it somewhere before…
**