Walking along the narrow path up the mountain, Zhao Yan found the edges overgrown with weeds.
Spotting some mugwort by the wayside, he plucked a few leaves, crushed them between his palms, and smeared the extracted juice onto his exposed skin—his neck, arms, and ankles.
The mountain was teeming with mosquitoes in swarms, and Zhao Yan had no desire to be bitten all over for no reason, so he made thorough preparations against the insects.
The outer fringes of the mountain showed obvious signs of logging, leading Zhao Yan to guess that villagers frequently came here to chop firewood.
Fortunately, this was ancient times where cutting down trees was no crime. In the modern era, chopping down trees indiscriminately would land you straight in a prison cell.
The deeper he walked into the mountain, the fewer artificial traces remained. To keep from getting lost, Zhao Yan picked up a small stone and carved symbols onto the trees along the way.
The gifts of nature were both alluring and fraught with danger.
Zhao Yan dared not take any chances; he needed absolute certainty before making a move in the mountains.
The woods were dense with bushes and fir trees, rustling whenever a gust of wind blew past, but Zhao Yan felt no fear.
The sound of his footsteps startled a pheasant not far away. Zhao Yan had only time for a fleeting glance before the bird vanished without a trace.
That pheasant looked about the size of a modern fried chicken—rather lean, but the mere thought of stewed pheasant with mushrooms made Zhao Yan's mouth water as he imagined its intoxicating aroma.
Regrettably, Zhao Yan knew no martial arts and couldn't bring down a wild bird with a single pebble, leaving him to watch helplessly as the pheasant scurried away.
Still, while catching a chicken was out of the question, there was no shortage of mushrooms.
A fallen tree trunk not far away was covered in wood ear mushrooms; because no one had picked them, many had already rotted.
Zhao Yan could only sigh at the waste. With so many wood ears left unharvested—and this wasn't even deep in the mountains, since villagers still came here for firewood—there was only one possible explanation.
The locals simply didn't know these mushrooms were edible.
Zhao Yan plucked the remaining healthy portion and found the yield quite substantial. Wood ears could be sun-dried, so he had no fear of picking too many and having them spoil, allowing him to harvest with a completely clear conscience.
In no time at all, he cleared the spot of wood ears, deliberately leaving a few behind so they could continue to propagate.
A person shouldn't be too greedy; one always had to leave a way out for the future.
Moving further along, Zhao Yan discovered shiitake and oyster mushrooms in similarly impressive quantities.
This only reinforced his belief that the villagers genuinely had no idea these mushrooms were edible.
Thanks to his professional background, Zhao Yan could easily distinguish between poisonous, inedible mushrooms and safe ones.
By this point, the small back-basket he had brought was already two-thirds full.
The haul was decent enough; at the very least, they would have an extra dish for dinner.
Zhao Yan was quite satisfied.
Though his original intent in coming for wild mushrooms was to supplement their meals, his primary objective remained finding medicinal herbs.
Herbs could be used at home or sold to an apothecary.
With four people in the household, everyone needed recuperation, and medicine was a necessity in any era.
Thus, Zhao Yan felt an urgent desire to find medicinal herbs.
Along the way, he had indeed spotted some common herbs like peppermint and honeysuckle.
Zhao Yan wasn't in a hurry to harvest them. Common herbs commanded relatively low prices and weren't currently on his radar.
Still, gathering a few to keep as household reserves was a sound choice.
Despite the canopy of trees, Zhao Yan could feel the searing heat of the sun.
Sweat streamed down his cheeks, and large drops even fell directly onto the ground.
Raising a hand to wipe his brow, he looked at the direction of the tree shadows and estimated it must be noon.
Yet his current harvest consisted solely of mushrooms, leaving Zhao Yan somewhat unsatisfied.
After walking a little further, he finally spotted a patch of white peony root. Approaching it, he saw the roots were thick, cylindrical, and dark brown.
Without a doubt, it was white peony.
The root was used medicinally; after removing the rhizomes, fibrous roots, and dirt, it was sun-dried and sliced for use.
Bitter in taste and slightly cold in nature, it entered the liver meridian and possessed the properties of clearing heat, cooling blood, promoting circulation, and removing blood stasis.
White peony was a commonly used medicine, though somewhat higher in priced. In this unfamiliar era, however, Zhao Yan had no grasp of market values and could only make rough guesses.
Since waking up, he hadn't even set foot outside the village, let alone visited the town.
Finding the white peony felt like a propitious start.
Zhao Yan searched the surrounding area carefully and, as expected, found a few more white peony plants.
Carefully digging up the roots and placing them in his basket, he pressed onward.
The next find went smoothly: eleuthero.
Eleuthero was more precious than white peony, known for invigorating Qi, strengthening the spleen, tonifying the kidneys, and calming the mind. It was useful for physical debility, fatigue, and poor appetite.
It generally grew in sunny, well-draining sandy loam with a deep humus layer.
Because eleuthero shared pharmacological effects and clinical efficacy similar to ginseng, it could serve as a substitute when people couldn't afford ginseng.
Consequently, the status of eleuthero had risen accordingly.
This particular eleuthero plant looked young, but it had reached harvestable age—its only drawback was a relatively smaller yield.
Zhao Yan didn't care about that; as long as it existed, he wasn't picky. His immediate priority was making money to improve their livelihood.
In his eyes, all these herbs were benevolent financial backers, regardless of size.
He searched the vicinity thoroughly; the yield wasn't as high as the white peony, but it was still respectable.
Having walked for the better part of the day without lunch, Zhao Yan was starving.
What could be done? The family was poor; they couldn't even afford to make a flatbread. There was simply no alternative.
Fortunately, the mountain held a few persimmon trees. They weren't tall, and though fruit was scarce—with many eaten by birds—a few remained.
Zhao Yun picked several ripe ones that he could reach.
After eating three and satisfying his immediate hunger, Zhao Yan's eyes lit up.
He suddenly thought of dried persimmons. Although consuming too much was cooling to the stomach, moderate amounts were fine.
Dried persimmons were also easy to carry; he could take a couple with him as rations when going out, and their high sugar content would help replenish his energy.
The ripe persimmons on the tree had either been eaten by Zhao Yan or the birds, leaving only unripe ones behind.
This played right into his hands, as dried persimmons required unripe fruit for their preparation.
Finding a branch, he nudged it carefully until a few persimmons dropped. Putting more strength into it, he brought down several more.
He gathered them into his basket, which quickly filled up. Without being greedy, he figured he could always return another day—there was no need to finish everything today.
Any more, and his frail body wouldn't be able to carry the load.
He snapped off some leaves and laid them across the top of the basket to conceal the contents.
Fearing that villagers might ask questions on his way back, Zhao Yan decided to take precautions beforehand.
Yesterday's formal severing of family ties had been explosive news in the village, and whether people were close to them or not, everyone was subconsciously watching their household.
If someone discovered he had ventured into the mountain and hauled back so much loot, it was hard to guarantee no one would grow envious. For safety's sake, this secret had to remain hidden.
With the basket full and traveling alone, Zhao Yan couldn't hoist it onto his back in one smooth motion.
He set the basket on the ground, sat down beside it, and used the ground for leverage to get it onto his back.
Though exhausted, he was deeply gratified by the bountiful harvest. Today's arduous trek had not been in vain.
Following the marks he had carved on the trees, Zhao Yan kept a general sense of direction and soon reached the outer fringe of the mountain.
He didn't encounter a single villager on the way home, which let him heave a sigh of relief.
That way, he avoided discovery and the need to invent tiresome explanations.
Returning home around three in the afternoon, he found the house completely empty—he had no idea where Madam Chen and his younger sister had gone.
Utterly exhausted, Zhao Yan hurriedly unloaded the basket, took out the persimmons, and sorted the medicinal herbs.
He hauled the remaining mushrooms and wood ears over to the kitchen area, intending to wash and dry them.
Then he remembered the household didn't even possess a winnowing basket for drying mushrooms. No matter how clean he washed them, it was useless without something to spread them out on.
A clever housewife could make a meal without rice, but this was pushing it.
With no other option, Zhao Yan washed only the mushrooms he planned to cook that evening.
Doing preparatory work beforehand was never a mistake.
Just as he finished washing the mushrooms, Zhao Yan heard the voices of Madam Chen and Zhao Yun talking.