Deep in the old forest, there is not even a gas boiler, let alone other decent cooking equipnt.
The neatly chopped firewood had been stacked up into a small mound, placed smack in the center of the room. That spot was specifically ant for cooking, with no straw or wooden boards laid down, just an ordinary firebrick-paved well in the floor.
A soot-blackened pot hanging from above, its color obscured by darkness. Scrubbed carelessly with snow water and then filled with frozen rabbit at, water, chopped potatoes and beans, and a sprinkle of salt, it beca a straightforward soup.
After seeing such living conditions, Xiao Xian couldn’t help but remark that compared to these, the living standards in District C are practically middle class. He thought that Zhang Yiyi should take a look at this; it would guarantee she wouldn’t bemoan her past life in District C as unfit for human residence.
"Has it gotten dark, and the adults still haven’t returned ho?" The bubbling sounds of boiling had started in the pot, while outside, only the whistling of the snowy wind could be heard.
"No rush. I suspect these folks might live off ginseng harvesting. With weather like this, the snow might just hide their tracks well. Look, the child isn’t anxious for dinner either; the parents are probably about to return," Zhou Ziang observed carefully, considering the environnt of the house.
Nowadays, most mountain farrs have relocated to better conditions in nearby mountain villages or towns. A single mountain might only be left with a caretaker.
Those willing to live on the Changbai Mountain North Slope are either ginseng collectors or hunters. Initially, upon seeing the big white dog, Zhou Ziang thought this was a hunter’s family. But considering the family’s als and the child’s tattered clothes, they didn’t resemble hunters. He had not seen any extra animal pelts or at in the house, nor any hunting rifle barrels. On the contrary, there stood rows of cleaned small hoes in the corner. These were specially crafted herb hoes, and judging by the owner’s ticulous care, and living in the ginseng belt, the adults must be ginseng collectors.
"Let’s wait a bit longer," Xiao Xian, touching the ice blade fragnt in her arms, wondered if it was because they were nearing Changbai Mountain, the fragnt seed to have its ’heartbeat’ growing more vigorous.
As Xiao Xian and Zhou Ziang reached the Northern Country Peak, the heaviest snowfall of the winter began to fall in Beijing.
Early in the morning, the old eaves of Plum Rice Ball shed the accumulated snow, forming several hanging icicles, which cast rainbow hues in the sunlight.
Pharmacist Huang Yaoshi had the apprentices at the drugstore clean up the snow at the entrance early on, expecting custors.
To ensure the ginseng harvested from Wanlin Hills reached its optimal state, he waited over a dozen days until the moisture in the ginseng was thoroughly dried out and the appearance was at its best before he invited the custors who had contacted him earlier to co and see the ginseng.
What he didn’t expect was that while he had invited one person, several arrived. What surprised Huang Yaoshi even more was that among those who ca, so faces were familiar, while a few were completely new to the trade.
"Master Huang, sorry to disturb," Mr. Pang, who had arranged with Huang Yaoshi to co over and view the dicine, entered with two n and two won. One of them was none other than Xu Lan Ya, who had sold fake ginseng to Huang Yaoshi before.
Really trying to take advantage of an old man’s bad mory, thought Huang Yaoshi, tugging at his bushy white beard. Yet, his face still bore a Maitreya Buddha-like smile as he spoke, "Not at all, it’s quite lively today."
Mr. Pang, who walked in, looked to be in his fifties, not yet sixty, a friendly-looking boss. When he saw Huang Yaoshi, he too seed a bit embarrassed. "Plum Rice Ball" primarily dealt in wholesale, whereas he was a well-known retail drug material rchant in Beijing, owning the nationwide chain "People’s Pharmacy."
He had known people from the Xu Family for a long ti, mostly dealing in Western dicine, and hadn’t dealt much in traditional Chinese dicine. Previously, he would always get his ginseng from "Plum Rice Ball," but this year the drugstore couldn’t keep up with the demand for ginseng. Low-quality garden ginseng was manageable, but better quality wild ginseng had stumped him.
Having finally arranged a viewing with Huang Yaoshi, the old man, known for keeping his word, unexpectedly changed his tune midway. Mr. Pang discreetly inquired and found out that Boss i had gone to the northeast, and even after the new year had passed, he hadn’t yet returned. Considering the recent news of violent and bloody conflicts between ginseng collectors in the northeast over Wild Ginseng, his suspicions were piqued.
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