Chapter 25

Breakfast was easy to make today because Uncle Liu had wrapped extra dumplings last night, leaving them half a steamer basket's worth.

Chen Jue picked the dumplings onto a steaming rack, just needing to heat them up.

He cooked a small pot of millet porridge. Thinking of the golden millet porridge paired with gourd-and-egg dumplings with a crab-roe flavor—mm, another delicious meal.

That Huo Lin helped him carry in an armful of firewood, and Chen Jue fed the stove stick by stick. He stirred occasionally with a ladle. He'd gotten pretty good at making porridge and big stews—no more scorching the pot.

The two of them finished the small pot of porridge and two large bowls of dumplings.

Huo Lin went to wash the dishes.

Chen Jue watched him squatting in front of the water channel made of bamboo, washing dishes kind of clumsily, and thought to himself—this guy had clearly never done this kind of chore before. He was only doing it now because Chen Jue couldn't bend over.

He hoped Huo Lin would get used to it, since he'd probably have to do it himself later.

Chen Jue thought about when he would leave. His original plan was to go to the county when the child was over eight months old and he could no longer gather herbs, and hire a wet nurse.

But with Uncle Liu, Zhang Yan, and the milk goat Xiao Hua here, Chen Jue had been putting off leaving the village more and more.

Just the other day, he was thinking maybe he'd wait until the baby was born and spring came before heading out. After all, even if he went to the county for the lying-in period, he couldn't do much there either.

Here, during the lying-in period, the baby would still have milk to drink.

Zhou Qingzhu told him he'd handle the child's cloth diapers; Uncle Liu said he'd kill a chicken a day for him, and his six chicks would be all grown by then;

Zhang Yan said that once the baby was born, whether it was a boy or a girl, they'd set up a betrothal. Zhou Qingzhu joked that the two kids would've been raised on the same goat's milk, so they'd be like brothers.

...

People get trapped bit by bit by comfort. Chen Jue thought.

But now that Huo Lin was back, he still had to leave sooner, so he needed to stash away some silver fast.

Chen Jue picked up his machete, shouldered his basket, and grabbed his water pouch.

Xiao Hua saw his getup and immediately nudged her basket. Chen Jue tied the two small baskets onto her back. This little goat was greedy and picky—let her go find her own grub up the mountain.

Whether Chen Jue admitted it or not, Xiao Hua had become a good buddy, keeping him company while he lived here alone.

"Going up the mountain?" Huo Lin asked from behind.

Chen Jue grunted in acknowledgment: "I'll be back by noon."

He'd come back at noon to eat, since he was getting more harvests now and would make a midday trip back.

"I'll go with you," Huo Lin said.

He also shouldered a basket—there was no shortage of those at home; they were common gear for going up the mountain.

Chen Jue figured he was a hunter and probably used to going up the mountain with others, so he didn't say anything more. The two of them and the goat set off in the pale morning light.

Before heading up the mountain, Chen Jue first took this Huo Lin to visit his memorial grave. Huo Lin squatted in front of his own grave, stared at it for a bit, then slowly ran his fingers over the characters Chen Jue had carved.

Chen Jue blinked. He'd carved those himself. They were in traditional characters and he'd tried to make them neat, but the handwriting didn't match a craftsman's engraving.

Village Head Zhou had hired craftsmen to carve all the tombstones for a proper burial. The lettering was neat and even—nothing like his own.

But did this Huo Lin really need to study it that closely?

Couldn't he just carve a few characters and call it done?

"Leave it. Later, when I... get buried here," Huo Lin said.

Chen Jue figured the word he'd cut off was "we"—but he sure as hell wasn't going to be buried here with him.

"Let's go," he said. The two of them headed up the mountain.

In the mountains in the eighth lunar month, the early morning was still chilly, and dew clung to the grass.

To be safe, Chen Jue didn't walk fast. He still leaned on his machete, and Huo Lin carried a hoe.

After these past few months, Chen Jue knew this mountain like the palm of his hand. Today he was going to dig up notoginseng.

It was on the north slope, a good ways off.

Notoginseng was tough to grow—took three years to be worth anything—but it was valuable.

Chen Jue had found this little patch of notoginseng months ago and had waited until the leaves yellowed, the flowers were about to drop, and the seeds hadn't formed yet. That was the best time to harvest it.

Huo Lin looked at the small patch of plants with three branches and red flower heads and was surprised too: "Notoginseng?"

Chen Jue wasn't all that surprised he recognized it, since he knew how to gather herbs too.

But when he pinched the dug-up root and said "six years," Chen Jue shot him a look. He was pretty spot-on.

Notoginseng couldn't be used medicinally until three years, and seven years was when it was most potent. Of course, six years was still great, and Chen Jue couldn't wait until next year to dig it up.

Notoginseng was a root herb, so the two of them squatted down and dug carefully.

When he was digging for treasure, Chen Jue didn't feel the weight of his belly. It was like how you can't carry twenty pounds of bricks but can carry twenty pounds of gold.

He knelt on one knee in front of a notoginseng plant and dug with a little hoe.

Wild notoginseng didn't grow in neat rows like the farmed kind—one here, a clump there. As he dug, he felt Huo Lin watching him from over there.

Chen Jue looked back, and Huo Lin, staring at his belly, said, "Sit for a bit. I'll dig."

Chen Jue put the one he'd dug into his basket. Before Huo Lin came back, he'd been digging herbs alone, and he knew his own body.

But since he'd offered, Chen Jue sat down on a nearby rock.

Beside him, Xiao Hua was nibbling on a wolfberry bush. There weren't many berries left, just a few hanging here and there, but they were her favorite snack, so she craned her neck to nibble them one by one, not minding the effort.

Chen Jue didn't laugh at her. He picked some for her and put them in a cloth pouch to take home—he could eat them himself too.

At some point, their tastes had started to match.

On this mountain with more plants than meat, Chen Jue was practically turning into a goat himself.

He had to admit, with Huo Lin's help, they dug the herbs way faster. In less than half an hour, they'd nearly cleared the patch—twenty roots in all. Some were under three years, and Huo Lin left those. He really knew his herbs.

Chen Jue carefully scraped the dirt off the notoginseng, put them in a bag, tucked it at the bottom of his basket, and covered it with the other herbs.

Notoginseng would be the most valuable herb he'd gathered today—he couldn't let Xiao Hua grab it and eat it.

Huo Lin's eyes flickered at what he did, but he didn't say a word.

After Chen Jue carefully stashed the medicinal herbs on himself, he helped carry them on his back, and along the way, he gathered some other herbs, since it was autumn, when everything ripened.

Besides Notoginseng, other tuberous herbs like Angelica, Kudzu Root, and fleeceflower vine were all ready to be harvested.

Whenever he came across ones that had matured along the way, Chen Jue would dig them up.

The mountain was too vast, and climbing up wasn't easy. With his belly as big as it was now, he couldn't cover several peaks in a day like he used to.

Now he could only manage one peak a morning, so he collected whatever looked good enough.

By mid-morning, his basket was full.

And so was Huo Lin's basket.

And Xiao Hua's too.

"Sit and pick," Huo Lin said, cutting off a few branches of dogwood laden with fruit and placing them on the ground.

This season, the forest was beautiful—though not yet a sea of red, the leaves had begun to turn various shades of yellow, and fruits hung heavy from the branches.

Wolfberries were sparse now, but the bright red dogwood berries clinging to the shrubs gleamed like rubies. They looked good enough to eat.

However, the dogwood trees on the mountain were fairly tall.

Xiao Hua couldn't reach them, so Chen Jue picked some for her, placing handfuls into her basket while she stretched her neck to eat from it.

Seeing that Huo Lin had cut the branches down, Chen Jue realized his arms were indeed a bit tired from stretching, so he didn't hold back and thanked him.

Huo Lin sat down too and said, "No need for thanks. We're hus—band and wife."

He stumbled slightly over that word, and Chen Jue found it odd too, especially since this man had the face he least wanted to see.

Even though a few strands of hair had fallen loose across his forehead today, softening his sharp, imposing look when they fluttered in the wind.

Chen Jue still couldn't get past that face.

So he didn't respond, and Huo Lin went quiet too.

They sat in silence for a while.

Only Xiao Hua was excited, burying her head in the fruit-laden branches, taking a bite here and a nibble there.

Sheep were such annoying creatures—picky eaters and champions at wasting food.

Even with berries from the same branch, she'd still pick out the best ones, spitting some out after putting them in her mouth.

Chen Jue gave her a light smack on the snout.

Xiao Hua let out a goofy bleat, as if she thought she was being praised.

Chen Jue couldn't be bothered with her, so he picked another branch of dogwood she hadn't messed up—it was also a medicinal herb.

Dogwood, when dried and used in medicine, could strengthen the kidneys.

It treated lower back and knee soreness, impotence, nocturnal emission, bedwetting, and frequent urination...

A man's special remedy.

It fetched a good price at the pharmacy. Last time he went to sell herbs, Shopkeeper Li had mentioned it to him.

After he finished picking that branch, Huo Lin cut off a few more for him, and Chen Jue continued gathering.

As he picked, he glanced at the spatholobus stem that Huo Lin was whittling.

Spatholobus stem was a common vine on the mountain, with many roots as thick as a child's arm.

Huo Lin had taken just a section and was now paring it with his machete. The fresh vine was still oozing sap—thick, bright-red liquid dripping down the blade.

Huo Lin stared at it expressionlessly, his brows sharp and his eyes dark as ink.

He looked completely cold-blooded, like a killer wiping blood from his blade after a kill.

Chen Jue thought to himself, thank goodness Zhou Qingshan wasn't here, or he'd lose it again. Their family didn't even dare kill chickens now—when Uncle Liu rarely slaughtered one, he had to sneak around to do it.

Both men had returned from war, yet this Huo Lin seemed completely unaffected.

He appeared to be a tough one.

Though Huo Lin came from a hunter's background and was used to blood, Zhou Qingshan was also a hunter. But Zhou had PTSD because he was soft-hearted—not ruthless or cold enough.

As Chen Jue studied him with that strange look, Huo Lin noticed, of course, and lifted his head to meet his gaze. Chen Jue quickly looked away.

The sun was nearly overhead; it would be time to head down soon.

Though home was at the foot of the mountain, the walk down still took more than half an hour.

Chen Jue pulled out his water pouch and drank. After he finished, he saw Huo Lin still staring at him—no, at his water pouch.

They only had one water pouch.

This kind of leather pouch was quite expensive in the county. Huo Lin's was made of deerskin, soft and sturdy, so Chen Jue had kept using it.

Now the issue was obvious.

There was only one pouch between them.

Chen Jue had already drunk from it, so he couldn't offer it to him now. Even if this man was his nominal husband, even though the pouch was his.

They stared at each other for a moment, until finally Chen Jue pointed at the oak leaves nearby. This was a northern broadleaf tree, its leaves carrying a distinctive fragrance. The locals used them to wrap zongzi—rice dumplings—folding two leaves together to form large rectangular ones. One was enough to fill you up.

When Chen Jue first heard Zhang Yan say their family only made six zongzi, he imagined those fist-sized triangular ones—how could one fill anyone up?

But when he saw the huge zongzi later, he understood.

After eating one, he found it delicious, with a rich, robust leaf aroma that the faint scent of reed leaves couldn't hold a candle to.

"I'll pour you some," Chen Jue said, motioning for him to come over.

Huo Lin glanced at him, picked a wide leaf from a nearby plant, and curled it into a funnel shape.

After shaping it himself, he still asked, "This isn't how you used to drink, is it?"

Chen Jue ignored him and just poured water into the leaf. The past was the past. Things were different now.

Before, he'd had a husband. Now, he didn't.