The two of them split up to gather. Lu Zhanye picked fiddlehead ferns while Lin Wan searched for aralia shoots—a wild mountain vegetable unique to Northeast China, known for its nutrition and distinctive taste.
Soon Lin Wan found a cluster. The aralia shoots looked somewhat like toon sprouts but were thicker, with tiny tender thorns at the tips. She carefully broke off the youngest parts and placed them into the basket.
Over half an hour, their baskets gradually filled.
The fiddleheads were emerald green, the aralia shoots pale yellow, all mixed together—fresh and vibrant, pleasing to the eye.
..
Home
After dinner, Lu Zhanye’s hands paused mid–dishwashing. He looked up at Lin Wan. “I’m going out tonight. Don’t wait for me—go to bed early.”
Lin Wan stopped wiping the table. She understood what he meant without needing details. Over the past half month, he had gone out two or three times at night—always leaving after it was completely dark, and returning when dawn was near. She had never asked, but she knew in her heart.
“Alright.” She nodded calmly. “Be careful. Stay safe.”
Lu Zhanye looked at her, his gaze gentle. “Don’t worry. I’m just moving some goods around. Nothing will happen.”
Lin Wan stepped closer, looked up at him, and lowered her voice. “If you see anyone wearing a red armband, just throw everything away and run. Nothing matters more than a person’s life. Got it?”
He froze for a moment, then smiled—rare and genuine, faint lines appearing at the corners of his eyes. “Got it. I’ll listen to my wife.”
Lin Wan’s face warmed slightly. She turned away and continued tidying up.
After night fully fell, Lu Zhanye changed into dark old clothes, slung on a large wicker backpack, and checked the small cloth pouch at his waist—money and trading tickets inside.
“I’m going.” His voice was low.
“Mm.” Lin Wan stood at the door. “Come back early.”
His figure quickly disappeared into the night. Lin Wan closed the courtyard gate and returned inside, but she couldn’t fall asleep.
She didn’t blow out the kerosene lamp. The tiny flame flickered inside the glass shade. Sitting on the edge of the kang bed, she picked up a needle and thread, intending to mend clothes—but she didn’t stitch a single line. Her ears stayed alert to every sound outside: wind, distant dogs barking, occasional night birds.
Her heart felt like it was stuffed with a restless rabbit.
She knew Lu Zhanye was experienced—he had been doing this for years, familiar with the routes. But in times like these, the situation could tighten or loosen overnight. What if… what if he ran into inspections tonight?
The more she thought, the less she could sit still. She stood up and paced inside the room.
No. Waiting like this would make her sick with worry.
Then she thought of how hard he would be running around all night, likely hungry and exhausted. She might as well make something warm for him—so when he came back, he could at least eat something hot.
Decision made, she went into the kitchen and lit the lamp. The weak light illuminated the stove.
She took out wild greens picked yesterday, selected the tender parts, washed them carefully, and chopped them finely. Then she took out an egg—there weren’t many at home, but tonight was special.
Half a bowl of corn flour was mixed with water into a batter. She added the chopped greens and beaten egg, sprinkled in a little salt, and stirred evenly.
Water boiled in the pot.
She scooped spoonfuls of batter into it. The batter solidified on contact with heat, forming small green-and-golden dumplings that tumbled in the boiling water.