The mountain breeze swept by, ruffling a few strands of loose hair.

”Come here and look.”

Huo Ling pointed to the knife-carved markings on the charred tree trunk. The upper part showed several crossed forks, while the lower section displayed a few horizontal bars.

“The crosses represent the number of people,” he explained. “The bars indicate the number of leaves on the ginseng root.”

Yan Qi leaned closer, counting carefully. “Seven crosses and four bars? So seven people dug up a four-leaf ginseng root?”

Huo Ling nodded. “Four-leaf ginseng is called ‘Four-Grade Leaf.’ It’s at least fifty years old. Above that is ‘Five-Grade Leaf,’ which takes a hundred or eighty years to grow. Since my grandfather’s generation, we’ve only heard of it, never seen it.”

He ran his fingers over the bark with a nostalgic touch. “This ‘old omen’ was left by my father. He was the ‘ginseng foreman’ of that original digging crew. It was precisely this root that earned enough silver to build a house and buy land down the mountain.”

The mountain-hunters had deliberately charred the bark to make carving easier, but time had faded the marks to a faint, mottled pattern.

“After that, I never heard of any ‘Four-Grade Leaf’ turning up nearby again—certainly not at Baojia Town’s market.”

Unexpectedly, this place was connected to his father-in-law, whom he had never met. Yan Qi pondered for a moment before asking again, “Then was this mark left for future generations to see?”

“Not for descendants, but for later mountain runners.”

Huo Ling pointed to the forest path beneath the trees. “Mountain-runners have their ways when digging ginseng. They take the large roots, not the small ones. They harvest the ginseng, but leave the seeds. Wherever a ginseng root grows, if you take one plant, decades later, another will sprout in its original spot.”

“Let me say something—don’t laugh at me.” Yan Qi frowned in confusion. “If such a good thing exists, why not dig it up quietly and leave a mark only you can understand? When the time is right, you could come back and get another ginseng root, couldn’t you?”

“What’s so funny about that?”

Seeing a strand of hair about to fall into the ger’s eye, Huo Ling gently flicked it aside with his cleaner little finger.

“I understand your point. Never mind something as valuable as wild ginseng—even if you found a patch of mushrooms or wild greens in the mountains, you wouldn’t easily tell anyone unless they were close to you.”

But the rules for mountain foragers are different. When it comes to digging ginseng, it’s all about those who came before planting the trees so those who come after can enjoy the shade.

“It takes far too long for a ginseng seed to grow into a plant. By the time it’s ready to be harvested, the original finder might not even be alive anymore. Rather than hoarding it, it’s better to write it down here. Whether it’s found years later by oneself, one’s children, or even a complete stranger, it’s all about fate.”

Yan Qi listened, utterly absorbed. Every line held its own rules and customs. When he looked at the tree trunk again, his gaze had changed.

After leaving, the two continued forward. Deep in the mountains, there was nothing that could be called a path—at best, there were animal trails, marked by trampled vegetation and scattered droppings along the way.

“Be careful. Hold my hand and step on the stones.”

Midway, they encountered a murmuring mountain stream, narrower than the one by their home. Large stones had been placed across it. Yan Qi gripped Huo Ling’s hand tightly, carefully stepping from stone to stone until they reached the opposite bank.

“In a few months, the water will be full of forest frogs. Have you ever seen them?”

Seeing Yan Qi shake his head in confusion, he explained, “They’re actually a kind of small mountain insect, the ‘hechongmo’. Don’t be afraid of them. When the season comes, many people at the market string them up to sell dried forest frogs. They’re sold by the string, and one string is a whole long row.”

“Some folks are scared of these things and won’t go to the market. My sister-in-law, for instance, hates them. She says they’re slimy and squishy when alive, and after drying, they look like giant worms—even scarier.”

Yan Qi had thought forest frogs were medicinal herbs. Only after asking did he learn they were edible, suitable for braising or stewing.

“But if she won’t look at them, would she eat them?”

“How do you know she’d eat them despite her fear? She says they don’t look like that once cooked.”

Yan Qi’s eyes crinkled with laughter.

“It reminds me of my grandmother. She feared snakes, but once my father and uncle brought one back from the mountains. Cooked, she devoured it with relish, saying the stewed mess suited her perfectly. When asked if she was afraid, she replied, ‘Once it’s dead and in the pot, it’s just meat.’”

Though mountain paths meant constant climbing and wading, they weren’t in a hurry. Huo Ling walked slowly, and with someone to chat and laugh with, the journey didn’t feel tiring at all.

“There’s a large patch of monkey leg vegetables up ahead. I come here every year, but this is my first time this season.”

He led the ger around several trees, revealing a gently sloping hillside where monkey leg vegetables stood upright, their curled tops all green.

This wild vegetable wasn’t found in Yan Qi’s hometown, so it seemed novel to him. He reached out and tugged at one of the curled tips, discovering its surface felt soft and fuzzy to the touch.

“How do you eat this?”

“Stir-fried with meat or tossed in a cold salad. Wild vegetables are pretty much all prepared the same way.”

Huo Ling set down his basket and wiped sweat from his brow with his sleeve. The mountains had grown noticeably warmer since April began. To guard against ticks, his clothes were tightly tucked in, leaving him sweltering.

“This should only grow in the mountains, near water. It won’t thrive in dry areas.”

He showed Yan Qi how to pick them. Monkey leg vegetables didn’t need digging up with a hoe; you could just snap them off by hand.

The two squatted together, plucking the wild greens. For a while, the crisp snapping sounds filled their ears.

Dager found a spot nearby to sit down. He occasionally turned his ears, maintaining a serious, sentry-like expression.

The monkey leg vegetables were so tender that snapping them off required almost no effort. Worried they might scatter and get crushed in the basket, they bundled them together, tied each bundle with a blade of grass, and placed them side by side.

For Huo Ling, gathering wild greens was practically slacking off. He told Yan Qi that if he got tired, he could sit down nearby for a while while he kept working.

“My back hurts from squatting too long.”

Recalling yesterday’s own backache, Yan Qi silently plucked another blade of grass to bundle the greens.

“It’s just a little work, not tiring. I’ll help you.”

Seeing this, Huo Ling said no more, though his hands moved faster.

“Dager, you want some?”

By the time they finished gathering this patch, quite a bit of time had passed. Yan Qi looked at the basket brimming with monkey leg vegetables, feeling thoroughly satisfied.

He picked up a stray piece, tapped Dager’s nose with it, and Dager sneezed. Turning, he fetched a branch to play with them.

So Huo Ling and Yan Qi took turns holding one end of the stick while Dager tugged on the other. Whenever they couldn’t pull it back and the stick slipped from their grasp, he’d bark excitedly at it.

“Dager’s eyes are better now. Maybe we should give him a bath tomorrow.”

Yan Qi had been meaning to bathe Dager. Big dogs weren’t washed often, and he still carried that distinct doggy scent. Both he and Huo Ling loved dogs—they weren’t bothered by the smell—but since he came indoors every day, it would definitely be better if he were cleaner.

“Then I’ll come back early tomorrow, and we’ll bathe him together.”

Yan Qi felt an itch at the back of his neck. As he reached to scratch it, he heard Huo Ling’s suggestion and asked, “Aren’t we supposed to go into the mountains tomorrow to dig wild vegetables?”

“Going every day is exhausting. If you want to come, we can go every other day.”

He followed the ger’s gesture to look at the back of his neck. Better not to have looked—there was a tick that had just latched on.

“Don’t move,” he said, immediately yanking it off and crushing it dead.

“These ticks are everywhere.”

When it bit him before, Huo Ling hadn’t found the insect so irritating. But now, seeing it clinging to Yan Qi’s skin, he felt a surge of rage that crushing it wouldn’t satisfy.

“Let me check for any others.”

He gently pressed the ger’s head down, making him lower his chin, and tugged his collar open.

But the medicine pouch seemed to work—only this one was found; no others were visible for now.

“When we get back, we should both undress and check each other.”

Yan Qi murmured a vague “Mm.” Huo Ling caught the implication and couldn’t help but laugh deliberately, “What? Did I get the wrong idea?”

“Not at all.”

The ger blushed, stammering as he turned away, only to be pulled back by Huo Ling’s hand on his back.

The sunlight in the mountain forest felt different from outside, as if a canopy of overlapping tree branches formed a roof overhead—bright yet not harsh.

The man leaned in, but only kissed his ear.

Gazing into the light, the young ger’s earlobe was fringed with a soft, downy hair. Comparing it to monkey leg vegetables might be a bit of a downer, but it was undeniably captivating.

I want to bite it.

After a short rest, Huo Ling decided to look for the prickly thorn buds he remembered. Halfway there, luck struck—he stumbled upon some wild mountain celery.

The celery carried a distinctive, refreshing fragrance, detectable even from a distance.

“This makes the best dumplings.”

Huo Ling pinched a sprig of leaves to smell it, his mouth watering at the scent.

“It’s just too hot now to carry pork up the mountain, or we could make celery and pork dumplings.”

Yan Qi crouched down to examine the roots of the wild celery. “What if we dug them up with the roots intact, planted them in the ground, and watered them? Could they survive? If they could, we’d dig them up again when we descend the mountain and bring them home. I’d make you dumplings with them.”

Though they could return to the mountains a few days before leaving to search for more wild celery, the timing of their mountain descent rarely aligned so perfectly.

Unlike monkey leg vegetables or wild mallow, which grew in dense patches, wild celery was scattered here and there.

He added, “Even if it doesn’t survive, no big deal. If it starts wilting, we’ll just dig it up again. I’ll figure out a way to make some plain dumplings.”

Compared to Huo Ling, he wasn’t skilled at much, but cooking was one of his few talents. So whenever Huo Ling craved something, he always wanted to get it to him quickly.

“Alright, let’s give it a try. It’s no trouble.”

Huo Ling wouldn’t dare contradict his husband. He fetched a hoe and carefully dug a couple of times, pulling up roots still clinging to clumps of earth.

“Next time we’re in the mountains and see more, dig them up and transplant them back. We can sell the surplus at the market—you won’t find these easily down below.”

Yan Qi nodded. “The rarer it is, the more those city folk covet it.”

“Exactly. Those with deep pockets eat fine things daily, yet they crave this wild mountain flavor.”

The wild mountain celery grew tall and sturdy, its leaves a vibrant green, small and clustered in a messy, yet pleasingly dense mass.

Carrying two baskets of greens, the pair wound through several mountain bends and climbed two slopes before finally spotting three prickly ash trees.

At first glance, the trees resembled dead branches, covered entirely in thorns. Only where buds emerged did clusters of leaves sprout, somewhat resembling Chinese toon sprouts.

“Still too small. Picking them now would be a waste.”

Huo Ling gestured to indicate the size. Yan Qi replied, “Perfect. We’ll come back to pick them the day before we descend the mountain.”

Burdock shoots are the most valuable wild greens. If they were to lose value because they weren’t quite fresh enough, that would be a huge loss.