Chapter Bonanza (9/10)

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The few members of the Huo family each held a pastry, eating and blowing on them in the kitchen.

Huo Ling looked down and took a small bite. Steam billowed out from inside, and the small piece of dough in his mouth was lightly seasoned with the filling, but there was so little of it that he couldn’t really taste anything.

Once it had cooled a bit, he took a big bite. The outer layer of the pastry was slightly crispy, while the inside was thin and soft—unlike the leavened pastries at the market, which were just dry dough. Yan Qi’s pastries let you taste the filling in a single bite.

The vegetarian three-delicacy filling was perfectly seasoned, with just the right amount of moisture. Each bun was a palm-sized circle, and even after finishing one, they still wanted more.

“This is the first time I’ve ever had such a delicious vegetarian bun.”

Like Huo Ling, Huo Feng finished one in just a few bites and said to Yan Qi, “If you sold these, you wouldn’t have to worry at all—people would definitely buy them.”

Ye Suping had only half of hers left. “Plus, this method of kneading the dough saves time—no need to get up early to let the dough rise. I heard the vendors selling buns and wontons for breakfast in town have to get up at the first watch to prepare.”

Huo Ying was eating with a piece of chive leaf hanging from the corner of her mouth, and Yan Qi smiled and urged her to have another one.

The first batch yielded eight stuffed buns. Since they were for the family, they were generously stuffed—they used up an entire large bowl of filling. If they were selling them, they’d certainly have to be a bit more sparing, but they couldn’t be too stingy either.

Yan Qi estimated that spreading the filling evenly would make about twelve buns.

After his older brother’s family left, Huo Ling heard his ger ask him, “What do you think?”

Huo Ling replied, “Even if you asked me a hundred times, I’d still say they’re delicious. Just like my older brother said, there’s definitely money to be made at the market.”

Although they could only sell them twice a month, as long as the food was good, there would certainly be people who’d keep coming back.

This was originally intended as a livelihood for when the mountains were closed off in winter. They’d treat the initial attempts as a trial run. If things went smoothly, he thought it might be better not to stay in the mountains permanently during the winter. He’d just go up occasionally when the snow stopped to tidy up the house, check the animal traps, and see if there were any catches—that would be enough.

The mountains are cool in summer, but by comparison, winter is harder to endure.

To sell pastries, he needed to procure a few items: at the very least, a stove, a pot, and a handcart, plus he had to buy plenty of white flour to stockpile.

The vegetables for the filling were the least urgent; he could use what he had at home for now. Both up in the mountains and down below, they’d planted plenty of chives—cut one batch, and another would grow in its place.

Huo Ling had made preparations long ago; he’d come down from the mountain with fifteen taels of silver. Yan Qi had followed him all the way, feeling anxious every time money was spent.

“What if business is bad…”

Huo Ling squeezed his hand and said, “Don’t dwell on such discouraging thoughts—the more you think about them, the more likely they are to come true. Just think: even if business really doesn’t go well, or if we stop doing this someday, we won’t be losing anything.”

He listed them off one by one: “The stove isn’t worth much, and while the iron pot is pricey, it’ll still fetch a good price if we resell it later. The handcart is something we’ve always needed at home—I’ve wanted to buy one for ages, but never got around to it. As for the flour, that goes without saying—we’ll need it for ourselves anyway. Since we’re buying in bulk from that grain shop this time, we can even haggle for a better price.”

Yan Qi realized that Huo Ling always had a way of persuading people. Whatever matter came before him, he turned major issues into minor ones and resolved them completely. After breaking it down and analyzing it thoroughly, he felt that all his worries were self-inflicted.

Seeing the young man’s expression soften slightly, Huo Ling said earnestly, “As I’ve said before, this is our business. If anything goes wrong, we’ll solve it together—it’s not your fault alone. You just focus on making the pastries; leave the rest to me.”

Yan Qi lowered his gaze for a moment, then reached out and embraced Huo Ling.

This was the first time the ger had ever initiated a hug outside their home. Even though they were in a secluded spot on a street corner where few people passed by, Huo Ling knew full well that, given Yan Qi’s temperament, he must have mustered up a great deal of courage to do so.

He returned the embrace, then turned around, presenting his back to passersby to shield his shorter husband.

In such a situation, even if someone passed by, they would only cast a quick glance before continuing on their way. Huo Ling was tall and imposing—clearly not someone to mess with—so who would go out of their way to provoke trouble just to see what the two of them were doing there?

After a long while, Yan Qi slowly let go, his ears already bright red.

“Shall we head to the grain shop next?”

They had already ordered an iron pot and bought a ready-made charcoal stove; they still needed to find Old Man Mu for the remaining wooden cart—it was cheaper there than in town—so all that was left was to buy the flour.

Huo Ling raised his hand to straighten the slightly askew deer-bone hairpin in the ger’s topknot, then nodded. “Yeah, let’s go to Liang’s. Their prices are fair, and the shop assistant is easy to deal with.”

Thirty catties of white flour filled a single sack to the brim. Huo Ling hoisted it onto his shoulder and handed the shop assistant six wen.

With the iron pot and charcoal stove included, they had already spent ten taels of silver. Of course, the iron pot was the most expensive item; the rest was just pocket change.

“Let’s see if Old Man Mu has a ready-made handcart. If so, we can just load all this onto it and push it back to the village.”

As for the iron pot, Huo Ling planned to mention it to his older brother when he got home, asking him to make a trip to town in a few days to pick up the finished one. That way, the next time he and Yan Qi went down the mountain, they could use it right away.

Having spent over ten taels of capital, Yan Qi could barely sleep that night. Huo Ling “had to” fulfill some of the duties expected of a husband, which drained the young man of nearly all his energy; in the end, he fell fast asleep before he could even wash up properly.

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The day after returning to the mountains, Yan Qi felt a sense of relief wash over him.

His worries about whether selling the pastries would cover his costs seemed to have temporarily faded. Early in the morning, he tightened his cuffs and pant legs, slung the new medicine pouch he’d bought from Bearded Ma over his shoulder, and followed Huo Ling into the mountains to dig for gastrodia.

“Gastrodia grows underground with no leaves on the surface. By the time its roots break through the soil, it’s already half-empty and not worth much. Some people take advantage of the uninitiated and pass off such Gastrodia as the real thing.”

Bailong Mountain is so rich in resources, yet every item has its own set of rules. No wonder most mountain hunters come from families with a tradition of the trade—without a master to guide you in, you’d be like a headless fly once you’re in the mountains.

“If there are no leaves, how do you know there’s gastrodia in the ground?”

Huo Ling chopped off a slanting branch blocking their path. Usually, they headed for the sunny slopes, but today they were following the mountain stream, specifically seeking out damp, shady spots that rarely saw sunlight.

“It’s hard to say. It’s like looking for ginseng—after a while, you’ll be able to spot ginseng leaves among a pile of green foliage, or see a patch of soil and just know there’s ginseng beneath it.”

Having said this, Huo Ling chuckled to himself. “But there’s far more gastrodia than wild ginger. They don’t like light or heat; they specifically choose damp, shady spots to grow. As long as you find the right spot, you’ll usually be able to dig some up.”

However, the places where gastrodia thrives were clearly favored by another kind of mountain creature as well.

While they were still some distance away, Yan Qi vaguely sensed a long object hanging in midair. He initially assumed it was just a tree branch, like the ones they’d passed earlier. It wasn’t until Dager looked up and shouted, blocking the path to stop them from proceeding, that he realized it wasn’t a branch at all—it was clearly a long snake dangling down.

“It’s a dull gray, looks like a ‘dirt ball’—far more venomous than other snakes.”

The “dirtball” is the most common venomous snake in Bailong Mountain; if it bites you, not even a divine immortal could save you.

Huo Ling furrowed his brow and motioned for Dager and Huang Ya’er to keep barking. Even a venomous snake wouldn’t attack without provocation; the hunting dogs’ loud barking would scare it off after a while.

As the serpent’s form slid down the tree trunk and slipped away silently among the boulders, Huo Ling held Yan Qi’s hand tightly and stepped around the massive tree.

Yan Qi touched the back of his neck and realized he’d broken out in a cold sweat after encountering the snake.

He silently wiped it away with the back of his hand and shook his head when Huo Ling looked over, indicating he was fine.

Venomous snakes have their own territories; two rarely appear in the same small area at the same time. Now that the dirtball snake had left, this spot was temporarily safe.

Huo Ling used a twig to probe the soil nearby, sweeping away fallen leaves and decaying wood. If there was gastrodia beneath, the area would generally be free of weeds and relatively clean.

After a moment, he spotted a promising spot. Yan Qi stepped forward to join him. First, they used the twig to brush away the top layer of loose, soft soil, then used a small trowel to gently dig along the edges, working from the outside in.

Every stroke had to be done with great care; otherwise, a single shovel strike could easily damage the outer skin of the gastrodia or sever it entirely, rendering it unsellable.

After digging like this for quite some time, Huo Ling suddenly called a halt and traced a circle in the air, saying, “It should all be right here.”

Yan Qi looked at Huo Ling in amazement. He watched as Huo Ling dug into the soil with his bare hands a couple of times and actually unearthed several clumps of earth that resembled old ginger.