“Whoa, it is ginseng.”

Huo Feng gave Yan Qi a thumbs-up. “It’s your first time, and you’ve hit the jackpot.”

Yan Qi smiled. Xiao Mingming and Lin Changshui walked over together and squatted down on the ground to examine the ginseng.

Huo Ling took out a “hammer lock”—a red string with copper coins attached to both ends—from his ginseng bag. He tied one end to his treasure-hunting staff and the other gently to a ginseng leaf. Then he surveyed the area, made a quick assessment, and pulled out a small pickaxe, tossing it lightly in his hand.

The soil around the wild ginseng was quickly loosened, and any easily removable weeds were pulled out by hand, clearing a patch of open ground.

The green leaves of the wild ginseng stood tall and graceful. Facing the object they had been longing for over the past few days, all three suppressed their excitement and patiently waited for Huo Ling to dig up the ginseng.

This was meticulous work—it could take anywhere from half an hour to an hour. After confirming that no help was needed, Huo Feng took Lin Changshui and Xiao Mingming for a walk around the area, intending to see if there were any other mountain treasures, and took Dager along for the ride.

Huang Yae, who wasn’t very close with the Huo Feng family, stayed behind to watch over Huo Ling and Yan Qi.

Huo Ling, a tall and burly man, was now practically lying flat on the ground, carefully digging through the soil. Yan Qi stood by the ginseng basket, handing him tools—they had to be changed frequently, and there was no room for carelessness.

Every time he dug a few shovelfuls and hit a rock or a grass root, he had to clear it away. The deeper he went, the harder it became, and he had to be careful not to damage the ginseng roots while removing the weeds.

The surroundings were quiet. Huang Yae sniffed the air a few times, but seeing that his master had no time to pay him any mind, he obediently stood on higher ground to keep watch, glancing left and right from time to time.

The hole in front of them grew deeper and deeper. Huo Ling had initially dug straight down along the ginseng’s growth path to expose the entire plant’s side. Now, they could see the ginseng’s roots—thin and long—firmly anchored in the soil, with lush green leaves at the top and winding roots stretching beneath the earth.

The thought that this ginseng had been growing quietly here for decades—older than both himself and Huo Ling—could not help but move Yan Qi.

Digging it up from there was somewhat easier. Huo Ling no longer used any other tools, relying solely on a deer bone pick as he lay on the ground, carefully scraping away the ginseng roots bit by bit.

After nearly another incense stick’s worth of time had passed, all the ginseng roots had been separated from the soil, and Huo Feng and the others had returned.

“Is it done?” he asked.

“It’s done.”

Huo Feng and his two companions had gone out to gather some mountain produce, and they’d also brought back a sheet of green moss peeled from a tree—this was for wrapping the ginseng. He’d searched several trees before finding a suitable one.

Wrapping the ginseng tightly in this and carrying it down the mountain ensured it still carried a fresh, earthy scent when sold at the market.

“Lift the bundle—”

The mountain ginseng, wrapped in moss and tied into a small bundle, was secured by Huo Ling, who undid the “bundle knot” and stowed the ginseng pouch away.

Though the moss bundle was small, the five of them present each reached out to lift it in turn, before finally placing it carefully into the backpack.

But the process wasn’t over yet. Huo Ling picked out the tree closest to the ginseng, pulled out his dagger, and began peeling the bark.

Yan Qi suddenly realized that it was now their turn to leave a “mark” in the forest.

It still felt somewhat unreal.

The freshly peeled bark was still pure white; they couldn’t write on it yet—it had to be blackened by smoke first.

Huo Feng carefully tended the flame; when he blew it out, only wisps of blue smoke remained.

Huo Ling raised his dagger, first carving five crosses, then moving to the next row to etch three horizontal lines—signifying that five people had found a three-leaf clubmoss.

Finally, he drew a small circle in the corner, and above this circle, right next to it on both sides, were two more pointed-cornered symbols.

Yan Qi had never seen this mark before and asked in confusion, “What does this mean?”

Huo Feng glanced at him. “Didn’t Second tell you?”

Yan Qi shook his head.

Huo Feng chuckled. “He probably didn’t want to say.”

Huo Ling, overhearing their conversation, cleared his throat. “This is… my mark. Whenever I carve an old omen, I always draw this.”

Yan Qi really wanted to ask about the origin of this symbol, but the longer he looked at it, the more familiar it seemed.

“Could it be Dager?”

A circle with two ear-like protrusions on top—wasn’t that just a dog?

Huo Ling smiled faintly and nodded. After a moment’s thought, he turned the dagger around, pointing the tip at himself.

“Since we’re here, let’s each leave a mark.”

“Old marks” were meant to guide those who came after; barring any mishaps, they might endure on tree trunks in the mountains for decades. The thought of leaving a mark uniquely their own in the vast expanse of Bailong Mountain was quite exhilarating.

Xiao Mingming couldn’t help but ask, “Is that according to the rules?”

“The rules aren’t that rigid.”

Huo Feng chimed in, “Actually, quite a few mountain workers have their own marks; it’s just that outsiders rarely notice them.”

Huo Feng was the first to take the dagger. He carved a long, slender shape with two protruding points at the top and bottom, explaining that it was a bird.

“Back when Old Two and I used to run wild in the mountains, we’d carve this all over the place just for fun.”

When the dagger was passed to Yan Qi, he couldn’t think of a suitable design at first. After racking his brain for a moment, he tried drawing a fish—a crooked, lopsided one that no one else could recognize, and even he laughed at it.

Next was Xiao Mingming. He drew a small flower. Lin Changshui scratched his head for a while, then carved three blades of grass next to the flower—essentially just three slanted lines placed side by side.

This series of designs was much smaller than the markings above, carved close to the edge, but they were all deeply etched, leaving distinct ridges that could be felt with a finger.

It seemed Yan Qi and Xiao Mingming didn’t have much strength, so Huo Ling helped touch them up. Only if they were deep enough would they last long enough; otherwise, in a few years, they’d be worn smooth by wind and sun—after all, wood isn’t as durable as stone.

Later that evening, the ginseng was brought home and examined again on the table.

Huo Ling estimated its value and said, “A ginseng root of this caliber at this time of year can fetch at least fifteen taels.”

Ginseng harvesting involves many superstitions: removing odd-numbered sections and leaving even-numbered ones, and marking the “auspicious signs” with the names of several people, so the proceeds must be divided accordingly.

Although Lin Changshui and Xiao Mingming had joined the group under Huo Ling’s leadership, he would not take a cut of their share.

If sold for fifteen taels, he, Yan Qi, and the Lin family would each receive six taels, while his older brother, Huo Feng, would get three.

However, they wouldn’t know the exact selling price until they went down the mountain to the market.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

The stream babbled gently. With their descent scheduled for tomorrow, they hurried into the water to catch crayfish before then.

The men were all bare-chested, and the two ger had rolled up their sleeves and pant legs high to avoid getting soaked through and catching a chill.

Crayfish were easy to find; they were everywhere in the crystal-clear stream. They were at their plumpest and most tender right now. Compared to foraging for wild produce in the mountains, catching crayfish in the water was practically a gift.

Huo Ling flipped over a rock and grabbed a large and a small one from beneath it. When catching crayfish, you have to pinch their bodies; otherwise, you’re likely to get pinched by the two small claws on their front.

Huo Feng was thinking of Ye Suping’s craving for them, while Huo Ling and Lin Changshui were thinking the same thing—their husbands had never tasted them before, claiming they weren’t available back home.

Back home, what they could catch in the water was mostly small fish and shrimp, or loaches from the paddy fields.

So the three men were all caught up in the excitement of catching them, not even lifting their heads, let alone stopping to talk.

Yan Qi and Xiao Mingming also wanted to focus on finding crayfish; catching them was quite fun. Walking back and forth in the stream and turning over rocks felt like a treasure hunt.

Every now and then, fish would swim past, bumping against their calves and ankles, leaving a slippery, icy-cold sensation.

But Dager and Huang Yae had gotten a bit too carried away. Not daring to provoke Huo Ling, they kept circling Yan Qi, darting in and out of the water, splashing water everywhere as they shook themselves dry.

“Dager, Huang Yae, listen up!”

Huo Ling heard the commotion behind him, picked up a twig lying on the shore, pointed it at the two dogs, and then gestured toward the bank.

“Get out of the water!”

Dager had hardly ever been hit by Huo Ling since he was a puppy, but the sight of the twig still made them cower in fear.

The two dogs scurried ashore with their tails tucked between their legs. Their soggy appearance and pitiful expressions left Yan Qi both amused and exasperated.

After a while, he felt the water getting a bit cold, so he climbed out first and teased the dogs with a crayfish. Huang Yae got too close and had its nose pinched by the crayfish’s claws.

He let out a yelp, took several steps back, and no matter how much he called him, he refused to come forward.

It wasn’t until Huo Ling came ashore and passed by Huang Yae that he grabbed the skin on the back of his neck, forcibly pulled him forward to examine his nose, rubbed it a couple of times, and then said to Yan Qi, “It’s fine; the skin isn’t even broken.”

The group dumped all the mole crickets they’d caught into a single basin; they were packed tightly together, numbering nearly seventy or eighty.

That was enough for a meal for the five of them, though they still needed to set some aside to take down the mountain.

To do this, they went back and forth to the stream twice. On the final trip, Huo Ling didn’t let Yan Qi come along; they’d already combed through the stream right by their front door, and if they wanted to catch more, they’d have to go farther.

“Then we’ll stay here to cook. We’ll have a ready-made meal waiting for you when you get back.”

The two gers washed and sorted the vegetables—all picked from the yard or gathered from the mountains.

One dish was braised red mushrooms in soy sauce, another was bitter greens with minced garlic, and they also stir-fried eggs with wood ear mushrooms.

Since there were so many people this time, they’d brought plenty of eggs up the mountain, and quite a few were left over. They’d saved them up gradually, so Yan Qi was worried they might spoil if left too long. Therefore, he bit the bullet and used three eggs for the stir-fry. After finishing that, there were three left, which he planned to save for making egg pancakes tomorrow morning.

The only meat dish was blanched mole crickets. Mole cricket and tofu don’t actually require tofu—it can be made up in the mountains—but it’s a bit of a hassle to prepare. Yan Qi wasn’t sure how to do it and feared he might ruin the ingredients, so he decided to save it for when they got back down the mountain.

Huo Ling’s intention was also to let the two of them sample the authentic flavor first—he guaranteed they’d never forget it after just one taste.

It was said that many traveling merchants from out of town made a point of coming to the frontier during this season to eat crayfish. Since they couldn’t be transported, the only way to enjoy them was right here, so naturally, everyone had their eyes on them.

As dusk fell, Huo Ling and his companions hurried back, their haul quite substantial.

At a glance, there were at least a hundred crayfish in the bucket.

“We’ll keep half for our family, and you can take the other half home, Changshui, so your mother can try some too.”

Lin Changshui kept waving his hands. “No, no need.”

“We caught them together—how can you not take any? If you don’t, count it as my share and Xiaoqi’s. We guard the mountain; we can eat as many as we want.”

With that settled, they washed their hands and faces before going inside to eat. Holding the crickets—which had been boiled in plain water—they peeled off the shells to reveal the plump, juicy meat inside. Biting into them from the tail end, they felt thoroughly satisfied.

“How’s it taste? Good?”

Huo Ling peeled several for Yan Qi, who kept eating, yet the bowl in front of him never ran out of peeled ones.

The ger nodded while chewing, one cheek slightly puffed out.

“Delicious.”