On the first day, after consuming part of the harvest, the remaining meat was divided equally between the two families.
Originally, Xiaoman's grandfather had said his family didn’t want any.
Since obtaining this meat was Jiang Zhi’s idea, and his family only contributed Xiaoman’s labor while the whole family had already eaten their fill—more than enough—he felt it would be wrong to take advantage further.
But Jiang Zhi insisted, “Since Uncle Changgeng has already said that from now on, everything will be decided by me, then dividing the meat must also follow my decision. We can discuss future matters once we’ve survived this crisis.”
Specific situations require specific analysis. Xiaoman’s grandparents weren’t lazy or trying to avoid work.
Both were elderly, and walking around on these steep, mountainous slopes was dangerous. Moreover, they needed to care for the sick and the children at home.
The fact that Xu Da Zhu hadn’t developed bedsores was also because he needed to be turned over every hour.
Additionally, Xiaoman was very sensible, always eager to take on tasks, which pleased Jiang Zhi greatly.
Having rules is good, but being overly calculative isn’t. Everyone needs help at times.
They brought back half of the meat, scattered in five or six pieces, totaling only about three or four jin.
To be honest, wild game isn’t particularly tasty—much like wild vegetables. It’s mostly modern people, already well-fed, who praise it for the sake of novelty.
If wild pheasants and boars were truly delicious, why would agriculturalists work so hard to breed superior varieties?
When you’re starving, lacking oil and fat, and forced to fill your stomach with wild vegetables every day until your face turns ashen, you wouldn’t call it delicious.
Wild pheasants and rabbits don’t grow meat with a perfect balance of lean and fat just to satisfy human tastes.
The meat lacks fat, making it impossible to braise without ample oil and seasonings, and stewing it only makes it tough and dry.
Of course, this criticism also stems from Jiang Zhi’s past visit to Sichuan, famously known as a place where “no rabbit can leave,” which made her particularly discerning about flavors.
For Xu Errui and the others, however, this wild game was precious meat—a lifesaving source of sustenance.
Jiang Zhi planned to smoke the meat and later dry it for emergencies.
That night, with one room burned down, the family of three squeezed into the remaining room.
Qiaoyun and Jiang Zhi slept on the kang, while Xu Errui made a bed of dry grass on the floor.
Youth has its advantages: well-fed and content, they fell asleep as soon as they lay down, soon snoring softly. Jiang Zhi, however, tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
During the day, no one had mentioned the village below the mountain, but the thought of those two corpses left exposed in the wilderness, unable to be laid to rest, weighed heavily on her conscience.
“Ah! If you’ve become wandering spirits, make sure to seek vengeance on the right culprits. We’d like to help you, but these chaotic times won’t allow it. All we can do is burn more paper money and ingots for you when we eventually gather your bones.”
Jiang Zhi couldn’t risk endangering the two families on the mountain for the sake of two corpses, yet she couldn’t help feeling sorrow for those wronged souls. After murmuring these thoughts in her heart, she finally drifted off to sleep.
Early the next morning, after breakfast, Xiaoman came to find Xu Errui to go collect the meat. Jiang Zhi repeatedly warned them not to go down the mountain and especially not to enter the fire site.
Xiaoman’s grandfather had also given Xiaoman the same warning. Only after receiving their assurances did Jiang Zhi let them go.
With the two boys out searching for food, Jiang Zhi prepared to set out as well.
Although reclaiming land and repairing the house were urgent tasks, she still needed to find more edible resources. Having food at home brings peace of mind, and only then could she focus on rebuilding.
This mountain range stretched across several peaks, locally known as Wufeng Mountain.
Apart from weathered cliffs, the mountain was mostly composed of yellow soil mixed with gravel—poor and barren. As a result, it was dominated by drought-resistant and hardy blue oak trees, interspersed with shrubs and miscellaneous trees.
Encountering an unusually dry and prolonged winter, the landscape remained desolate and barren.
There were no ginseng or lingzhi mushrooms to be found, nor any wild vegetables to dig up.
Yet between the mountain peaks, there were streams and small alluvial flats, where the vegetation was more diverse compared to the monotonous forests.
Having previously gained a general understanding of these mountains from Xiaoman's grandfather, Jiang Zhi first located a mostly dried-up ditch and then followed the water's edge deeper into the hills.
This area had seen occasional visitors in the past, leaving a narrow path still passable.
The cliffs on either side of the ditch were initially covered in withered grass, but gradually, patches of green appeared on the stone walls.
These were creeping vines clinging to the rocks, with sparse, ovate, opposite leaves extending dryly from either side of the stems.
Jiang Zhi casually identified them: Sweet Potato Vine, also known as Centipede Vine or Golden Carpet.
In herbal medicine, it was called Ground Loquat.
This plant was the most common ground-creeping species in the southwestern regions.
It thrived in sparse forests, along ditches, and in wild grasslands, remaining evergreen year-round, flowering from April to June and fruiting from June to September.
The ripe fruits, half-buried in the soil, resembled small loquats, with a reddish-brown or dark red hue and a sweet, enticing fragrance. When split open, they were filled with seeds, making them a favorite snack for mountain children.
During the hottest days of summer vacation, Jiang Zhi would venture into the mountains to pick these fruits.
Besides serving as a snack or fruit, Sweet Potato Vine was also a target for housewives gathering firewood in winter.
By cutting the main vine with a knife and pulling it in the opposite direction, they could harvest a net-like tangle of vines, bundling them into small bundles that burned well once dried.
As the saying goes, "The land shapes its people." In the hearts of the Chinese, every plant has its unique purpose.
Non-toxic plants are food, toxic ones are medicine, and those that are old, non-toxic, and inedible become timber.
But this unassuming Sweet Potato Vine had multiple uses—edible, combustible, and medicinal—truly a treasure in every sense.
Sweet Potato Vine could treat lung heat with cough and asthma, edema, rheumatism, and injuries from falls or blows.
Boiling three liang of the ripe fruits in water could treat simple indigestion in children.
Boiling fresh vines and leaves to wash affected areas could treat scabies and urticaria, while drinking the decoction could expel roundworms.
But now… Jiang Zhi plucked a Sweet Potato Vine, watching the white sap ooze from the broken end with regret.
The timing was off; aside from using it as firewood, it was of little use.
To collect Sweet Potato Vine for medicinal purposes, it needed to be harvested between September and October, cleaned, and dried for storage.
Though the vine was useless now, Jiang Zhi soon discovered another plant that filled her with delight.
In the sandy soil beside the ditch, last year's floodwaters had deposited layers of withered grass and branches.
She cleared away the partially decomposed debris, hoping to find hibernating frogs or crabs, but instead, her eyes fell upon a cluster of reddish-brown sprouts just emerging from the ground.
For people from the southwest, this was almost an addictive delicacy.
Jiang Zhi immediately set down her back basket and, reluctant to use her hoe, took out a sickle and lay on the ground, carefully digging around the sprouts.
Just by looking at the plump tips, she could already predict the thickness and length of the roots below—surely of tyrannosaurus-level quality. In the past, she would have had to dig through several ridges to find such specimens.
As the sandy soil was peeled away layer by layer, the roots were revealed: a row of tender, plump Houttuynia cordata roots, standing straight like chopsticks thrust into the earth.
Jiang Zhi hurriedly dug deeper, eager to see just how long and deep they went, careful not to break these extraordinary treasures.
This is a true treasure, with both medicinal and edible properties. Its medicinal effects go without saying.
It clears heat and detoxifies, an excellent remedy for upper respiratory infections, and it also has anti-radiation properties, making it a sacred item in the hearts of food enthusiasts.
She feels that, at certain times, the reverent digging action for Termitomyces mushrooms, Houttuynia cordata root, and ginseng is essentially the same.
She just wonders if people living by the sea feel the same way when they go tide-pooling.
The first batch of Houttuynia cordata root in spring is like the first cup of milk tea in autumn—it’s not for eating but for showing off on social media.
Perhaps it’s about carrying it in a basket past the neighbors and, amid their envious and jealous inquiries, casually replying: "I dug it up by the ditch, and I’ve already taken it all!"
Then walking away without sparing even a single root.
There’s a lot of Houttuynia cordata root here.
You don’t realize it until you start digging, but the crevices between rocks and the grass patches are full of it. It looks like the first leaves will sprout in at most five or six days.
Considering the timing, if it weren’t for the long winter, they should have sprouted much earlier.
But this spot is sheltered from the wind, with heavy moisture and a thick layer of weeds providing warmth, so it grows better here than elsewhere. The longest roots are nearly a meter long.
Jiang Zhi placed the large handful of Houttuynia cordata root she had dug into her back basket, leaving the rest untouched. She worried that digging too much at once would be a waste if she couldn’t finish it all, so she decided to save some for later.
Besides, on this trip into the mountains, digging Houttuynia cordata root was just a side task. She also needed to find some plants that could serve as staple food for everyone.