After lunch, Lu Zhanye cleaned up the dishes and brought out two baskets from the house—handing the smaller one to Lin Wan while he slung the larger one over his back.
“Let’s go,” he said. “I’ll take you up the mountain for a walk.”
Lin Wan took the basket and put it over her shoulder, feeling a small surge of excitement. In her past life, when she worked in Northeast China, she loved going into the mountains to pick wild vegetables and mushrooms. It was a kind of joy city life could never offer.
Lu Zhanye also took a machete and a coil of hemp rope. He checked the shoes on Lin Wan’s feet—they were liberation shoes she had brought from Beijing, already faded from washing but still sturdy.
“Shoes are fine,” he nodded, then reached out and took her hand. “Let’s go.”
Lin Wan’s hand was wrapped in his warm grip, and her heart trembled slightly, though she didn’t pull away.
They left the courtyard and followed the path behind the village toward the mountains. At the end of April, the northeastern forest was already showing signs of spring. The poplar and willow trees along the road had sprouted fresh green leaves, and the grass had begun to turn green again. The air carried a crisp scent of plants mixed with the earthy smell of soil.
“Don’t go into the mountains alone,” Lu Zhanye said as they walked. His voice was especially clear in the quiet forest. “There are wolves, wild boars, and even black bears up there. There are fewer than before in recent years, but you can still run into them. It’s dangerous.”
Lin Wan nodded. “I’ll remember.”
“And don’t go too deep into the mountains,” he pointed ahead to a relatively gentle slope. “We usually pick wild vegetables around here. It’s safe enough. Go further in and the forest gets too dense—you can easily get lost.”
While he spoke, they had already reached the slope. Sunlight filtered through the sparse canopy, casting dappled shadows on the ground. The forest floor was covered in lush green wild plants.
Lin Wan’s eyes lit up.
She saw shepherd’s purse, dandelion greens, wild garlic, and small wild garlic shoots—all at their freshest. In her past life, she loved these things. Every spring she would go to the market early to buy wild greens for dumpling filling. But what sold in the city could never compare to the freshness of just-picked ones.
“I haven’t had wild vegetables this authentic in a long time,” she said softly, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.
Lu Zhanye glanced at her, slightly surprised. “You know how to cook them?”
“Yes.” Lin Wan squatted down and took a small digging tool from her basket. “Shepherd’s purse for dumplings, dandelion greens for cold salad or dipping sauce, wild garlic with scrambled eggs—they’re all good.”
She began working quickly and skillfully. Shepherd’s purse had to be dug out with its roots intact and the soil shaken off. Dandelions were picked when young and tender. Wild garlic had to be handled carefully so the stems wouldn’t break.
Lu Zhanye stood watching for a moment, then said, “I’ll go chop some firewood ahead. You can see me from here. If anything happens, just call out.”
He pointed toward a nearby thicket. It really wasn’t far—less than fifty meters in a straight line.
Lin Wan nodded. “Okay. I’ll come find you after I finish.”
Lu Zhanye slung his large basket over his back and walked off with his machete. Soon, the steady rhythm of chopping wood echoed through the forest—calm and powerful.
Lin Wan kept digging. The slope was full of tender wild vegetables, and soon she had half a basket. She carefully left some of the youngest shoots behind and covered the soil again—so the plants wouldn’t be wiped out completely.
After finishing, she walked toward Lu Zhanye.
He had already bundled a large pile of firewood. Thick branches were tightly tied together with hemp rope. He was trimming off excess twigs with his machete, his movements fast and steady, the muscles in his arms shifting with each motion.
By the time Lin Wan arrived, he had already finished.
“Done picking?” he asked, straightening up. There was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.
“Mm.” Lin Wan patted her basket. “Enough for two or three meals. We can come back in a few days for the rest.”
Lu Zhanye looked at her basket and nodded. “Leave the firewood here for now. I’ll take you to another spot. Let’s see if the young shoots and fiddlehead ferns are out yet—and whether they’re tender.”
They placed the firewood in a visible spot. Lu Zhanye slung the empty basket again and led her to the other side of the slope.
This part of the forest was denser, but sunlight still managed to slip through. The ground was soft with thick humus, sinking slightly under each step.
“Look,” Lu Zhanye said, crouching and parting a clump of bushes.
Lin Wan leaned in—and saw fiddlehead ferns just sprouting from the ground, still tightly curled like little fists, bright and tender green.
“They’re here!” she said happily. “And they’re so tender!”
“There are more over there,” Lu Zhanye pointed further ahead. “That’s where the aralia shoots are.”