Chapter Twenty: The First Ascent

“My mother’s hands are rougher than mine, and in winter, they crack open with deep, painful fissures,” Xinliu sighed. “Xier, have you ever looked at your mother’s hands?”

“I haven’t really paid attention to them,” Anyi lied. In fact, she had long noticed how Mrs. Luo’s hands differed from those of other village women. Mrs. Luo’s hands were smooth and soft, and she would sometimes soak them overnight in water left from rinsing rice. But since they rarely ate white rice, the water was not often available, so she would usually apply soybean dregs to her hands every few days. Anyi had once asked about it and learned it was a family tradition, handed down from her ancestors.

“By the way, Xier, why has your aunt started raising ducks? Doesn’t she do embroidery anymore?” Xinliu asked curiously.

“My aunt doesn’t like embroidery,” Anyi replied, recalling how Luo Xiaoxia had just recently poured out her grievances to Mrs. Luo. A soft smile played on her lips.

The Luo girls owed their skill in needlework to a stroke of fortune brought by Luo Fugui’s grandfather. In his youth, he had rescued a stranded girl from an embroidery workshop while chopping wood in the mountains. By a twist of fate, he later married her, and ever since then, the girls in their branch of the Luo family had been spared hard farm labor and learned embroidery from childhood.

Embroidery required talent. While not every girl in the Luo family could embroider as exquisitely as Mrs. Luo, their floral patterns were still far superior to those of ordinary seamstresses, and could fetch enough money to help with household expenses, giving them a more comfortable life than most peasant women. Luo Xiaoxia, though clever and lively, never managed to master embroidery, even after five or six years of trying. Since last year, she’d refused to practice any longer and insisted on raising ducks with her uncle instead. Luo Guangzong and his wife, Zhou, had no choice but to help her by catching a dozen or so ducklings from her uncle’s house.

“So many people want to learn, but there’s nowhere to study. Embroidery is wonderful—you can sit indoors, sheltered from wind, rain, and sun,” Xinliu remarked softly.

Anyi glanced at her but made no reply.

The two girls stood chatting beneath the big jujube tree at the village entrance, waiting for their companions. From time to time, groups of villagers passed them by, heading into the mountains. Xinliu grew anxious from waiting and kept craning her neck to look back toward the village.

After about a quarter of an hour, Daya, Nini, and Qiao’er finally came running over, carrying baskets and slings.

“You’re all so slow! The sun is already high in the sky,” Xinliu couldn’t help complaining. She had mushrooms to pick and a pile of chores still waiting at home.

“What’s the rush? The mushrooms aren’t going anywhere,” Qiao’er retorted, rolling her eyes.

“Enough, let’s get going,” Nini said quickly, worried they’d start bickering again. She reached out to take Anyi’s hand.

But Anyi, pretending to help Xinliu with her basket, turned aside so that Nini’s hand caught only air. It wasn’t that she disliked Nini or minded her rough hands—she simply wasn’t used to being touched by others and avoided it whenever she could.

Nini didn’t notice Anyi’s evasion and simply withdrew her hand as if nothing had happened.

The five of them left the village and began to climb the hill by a small path to the left. Jingtang Village was encircled on three sides by mountains, with water on the fourth. The villagers didn’t know the official names of the hills as written in books; the elders had always called the one by the entrance Little East Mountain, and the taller, more distant peak behind it, Great East Mountain.

Most villagers foraged only in the area around Little East Mountain. Only a few hunting families would venture deeper into Great East Mountain, where, it was rumored, wolves and tigers still prowled.

After climbing about two hundred meters, they entered untamed woodland. The mountain was thick with trees of every kind—some in groves, others growing wild and tangled. The villagers revered the mountain spirits and guardian gods, so they dared not cut trees recklessly. The forest thrived, tall and lush.

Anyi’s gaze softened as she took in the unspoiled landscape. Superstition, she mused, was not always a bad thing. After her soul had crossed into this new world, she was half convinced that gods might truly exist, and that every mountain and stream had its own spirit.

Mushrooms thrived best in damp places, and the steady spring rains had nourished them well. There was no need to poke around with sticks—clusters of mushrooms were easy to spot. Fallen logs were carpeted with fragrant, edible fungi. Those who’d come up early moved quickly, and had already filled more than half their baskets.

With all the easy pickings gone, Xinliu’s face darkened, and she shot a resentful glance at Qiao’er. She wasn’t gathering mushrooms for food but to sell them at the city restaurant for silver to help her family. Picking up her basket, she headed toward a quieter part of the woods.

Qiao’er spat in Xinliu’s direction and huffed, “Daya, Xier, Nini, I’m telling you, if you want to call her, don’t call me. Hmph.” With that, she turned and stomped off in the opposite direction, basket on her back.

Anyi wasn’t bothered by the spat between the two younger girls. She didn’t know Qiao’er well and, without thinking, followed after Xinliu. Daya and Nini exchanged a glance—one went after Qiao’er, the other caught up with Xinliu and Anyi.

Though mushrooms were plentiful on the mountain, not all were edible. Anyi had studied poisonous fungi in her previous life, and she knew well that those growing in dark, damp places, with vivid and pretty colors, were often deadly. Just like that vile woman—outwardly gentle and refined, but behind closed doors, shameful deeds that had driven her mother to a fatal heart attack.

Xinliu and the others were well-versed in foraging, able to tell poisonous from safe mushrooms. Anyi, seeing this, said nothing more and followed quietly, using her little hoe to gently lift the earth as she searched.

A young wife nearby clicked her tongue and remarked, “Whose girl is that? She doesn’t look like she knows what work is—using a hoe to pick mushrooms! Acting like a city lady in the countryside.”

Anyi frowned slightly but made no response, stepping away from the group.

A woman beside her laughed, “Wuqiji’s wife, you’re new here, don’t speak out of turn. Xier may be younger than you, but she’s your aunt.”

Wuqiji’s wife was skeptical and eyed Anyi, “Are you joking, Auntie? Which branch is she from? I’ve never seen her before.”

“Why would I joke about family? Xier’s mother is Luo Qiumei. When you married in, Qiumei gave you two pieces of embroidered silk. Xier was ill at the time and couldn’t attend, and during the New Year, you were at your mother’s house, so of course you haven’t met her,” another woman explained with a smile.

Jingtang Village was large, with over three hundred households—more than half bearing the surname Luo. Luo Wuqiji’s great-grandfather and Luo Fugui were cousins, making them blood relatives, not just kin by marriage. Wuqiji’s wife flushed red with embarrassment, wishing she could slap herself for speaking out of turn and offending a younger elder on her first mushroom outing. She kept her head down and said no more.

A while later, when no one was looking, Wuqiji’s wife sidled up to Anyi, her face full of embarrassed smiles. “Aunt Xier, I… I didn’t recognize you and spoke out of turn. Please don’t mind a junior’s mistake. Next time, I’ll buy you some sweets.”

“It’s nothing—I won’t hold a grudge over such a trivial matter,” Anyi replied coolly with a gentle smile. It really was nothing worth fussing over.

Wuqiji’s wife glanced at the small basket by Anyi’s side. “Aunt Xier, you haven’t gathered much yet. Would you like me to share some of mine?”

“No, thank you,” Anyi replied. She wasn’t concerned about the number of mushrooms—she was searching for something else she needed.

Wuqiji’s wife gave a couple of awkward laughs. “Well, then… Aunt Xier, I’ll go look over there.”

Anyi nodded her head, eyes lowered.