Chapter 8: Not Even Pigs Would Eat It

The mountain forest was dense and filled with morning mist. From the distance, the faint roars of wild beasts could be heard, adding a sense of profound terror to Woniu Mountain. Though terrifying, the forest was also generous; various fungi grew vigorously among the rotting leaves at the base of the trees, and wild fruits and unknown flowers and plants grew in patches.

After walking through the forest for about the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, Zhu Shouyi gradually slowed his pace. He carefully examined the ground around him, then signaled for Zhu Ping'an and his brother to stand still. Immediately after, Zhu Shouyi set down the basket he was carrying, placed it gently in the grass to the side, and took out some ropes from within.

"These footprints belong to a wild hare. Hares don't like to take detours; they always stick to one path until the end, hopping along. So, when setting a trap, you have to place it a bit higher. Don't disturb the surrounding flowers and grass; keep everything as it was. Rabbits are very timid; if the plants are disturbed, they won't dare to pass through..." As Zhu Shouyi set the trap, he explained to his two sons how to snare a hare. "Rabbits hop along quickly and won't notice the traps we set. As long as they run into the snare, they won't be able to get out."

Zhu Ping'an noticed that the traps his father set were very simple, made from materials found on the spot—wooden sticks, branches, and rope. He made two loops. The first loop was for catching the hare; once the rabbit plunged into it, it would be tightly constricted. The second loop was a safety snare; it could block the first loop, leaving only a minimal opening to protect the rabbit's life. These linked snares were indispensable; the first caught the rabbit, and the second ensured that the rabbit remained alive.

After setting three traps, Father Zhu led his two sons along a different path, saying that if they were lucky, they might see some fat rabbits when they came back down the mountain later.

Slowly, the trio began to reap rewards: two pheasants, caught after Father Zhu found a pheasant nest and set traps outside it; five large carp weighing two or three catties each, caught in a mountain stream. The water was shallow, and they had used stones to block off a pool where many fish were gathered. They had only picked the heavy ones; otherwise, they could have caught over a dozen. They also gathered about ten catties of wild mushrooms and wood ear fungus, with Zhu Ping'an contributing about one catty himself.

While passing a bamboo grove, Zhu Ping'an thought of the bamboo shoots mentioned in *A Bite of China* and began clamoring to eat them. Father Zhu’s eyes lit up at the suggestion. He readily set down his bamboo basket and took out a pointed hoe.

Father Zhu was an expert at digging for bamboo shoots. He could tell where the shoots were and how large they were just by the color of the bamboo leaves. Before long, he had dug up eight or nine shoots. They were the short, thick kind, each about twenty centimeters long—perfectly tender and ready to eat. They had cured meat at home, and nothing tasted better than bamboo shoots stir-fried with cured meat.

They ate lunch on the mountain. They gathered some wild fruits and roasted three slightly larger fish they caught in the stream over a fire. They also had the dry rations they brought from home. Most surprisingly, their father even found a gourd, cut it open, cleaned it, and used the stream water to make a fish soup. The milky-white soup bubbled inside the gourd, and the pure, natural aroma was simply irresistible. Their father’s basket was like Doraemon’s pocket—he even had salt!

With greasy lips and full bellies, Zhu Ping'an felt this was the most satisfying and best meal he had eaten since arriving in the Ming Dynasty—a hundred times better than what they ate at home.

After eating and resting for a while, they began looking for more treasures in the mountains.

The small animals in the mountains were very alert, perhaps having been frightened by hunters; they were as cunning as spirits, disappearing without a trace at the slightest disturbance. At this moment, Zhu Ping'an deeply missed the "silly roe deer" from the show *Where Are We Going, Dad?* from his distant past. If one were here, it would surely be an easy catch.

Unfortunately, this was the Anhui and Hubei region; there were no silly roe deer. Although there were no roe deer, Zhu Ping'an discovered something else good: a large patch of white and golden flowers blooming under a tree.

It was honeysuckle! Zhu Ping'an’s eyes lit up, and he trotted over excitedly.

"Zhi'er, don't run around," Father Zhu hurried to follow.

Zhu Ping'an reached the honeysuckle and carefully confirmed it. The flowers in this patch were shaped like sticks—thick at the top and thin at the bottom—with a slight curve. The surface of the flowers was yellowish-white or greenish-white, covered in a layer of fine fuzz. After observing for a while, Zhu Ping'an confirmed it was indeed the honeysuckle described in the *Compendium of Materia Medica*. According to what he had read, honeysuckle was one of the easiest medicinal herbs to process; simple sun-drying or shade-drying was enough to make it usable for medical purposes. The *Compendium of Materia Medica* recorded: "Bitter, cold in nature, excellent for clearing toxins from the upper burner and the skin." Anything recorded in the *Compendium* wouldn't be too cheap.

If they picked these, dried them at home, and sold them to a pharmacy, it might be a decent way to make money.

Zhu Ping'an marked the spot. If he could sell them this time, he could come back to pick more in the future. There was plenty of honeysuckle here, so Zhu Ping'an picked only the best—the flower buds. This method yielded top-quality honeysuckle, which was the most valuable.

When Father Zhu caught up, worried, he found Zhu Ping'an bent over, picking flowers with great enthusiasm. He looked incredibly happy.

Picking flowers?

Father Zhu’s eyelid twitched. Could his youngest son be a playboy who hung around women?!

"Why are you picking flowers? Come on, Dad will take you to pick fruit!" Father Zhu felt it was his duty to nip his son's bad habits in the bud.

Zhu Ping'an looked up at his father, shook his head, and continued picking.

"The fruit is very sweet and delicious," Father Zhu persisted.

"This can be sold for money," Zhu Ping'an muttered while picking.

Father Zhu curled his lip. What kind of money could wild flowers fetch? The mountains were covered in wild flowers and weeds, and he had never seen anyone sell them! He patiently told his son, "City people only buy good flowers like peonies or roses, not these. Even pigs won't eat these flowers!"

Even pigs won't eat them?

See? This is why the villagers were dirt poor!

Whether something could be sold for money shouldn't be judged by a pig!

"Little brother, I'll help you." Zhu Pingchuan, feeling sorry for his brother, set down his basket and helped pick the flowers.

His thinking was simple: whatever his little brother wanted, he would help him get.

"Then you can only pick this kind of flower, okay?" Zhu Ping'an showed Zhu Pingchuan a standard, top-quality honeysuckle flower.

"Mm." The simple and honest older brother nodded and began helping to pick the honeysuckle.

(End of chapter)