Chapter 21: A Misstep

After lunch, Qin Huiyin led Li Peach Blossom and the Tang siblings to continue grinding peas, turning them into pea flour. In the pot, pig’s head meat, offal, tail, and other trimmings were simmering. While tidying up the kitchen, she noticed the leftover bird eggs and decided to braise them all together.

By the time they had ground the peas into a slurry, it was about four or five in the afternoon. At this point, exhaustion had overtaken them all, and no one wanted to move. However, they had yet to carve bamboo buckets—a task requiring even more effort.

“Mother,” Qin Huiyin said to Li Peach Blossom, “I really can’t do any more. Why don’t we hire someone to help? Ten bamboo buckets for one coin, just buy them directly from the villagers. The bamboo grows on the mountain, costs nothing, only effort, and people can earn a little with their labor. I believe plenty in the village would be interested. If it’s just us, we’ll wear ourselves out and still never finish.”

Li Peach Blossom barely hesitated before approving her proposal. The only adult man in the house was still confined to bed, leaving only women and children—how could they handle such heavy work?

As for purchasing bamboo buckets and bowls, Tang Yixiao had to handle that. He took a sample and left, returning not long after.

“How did it go?” Tang Green Reed asked.

“As long as there’s money, people will work,” Tang Yixiao replied. “I’m going to fetch water. You should rest a bit; you did the lion’s share of the work grinding the peas.”

“I’m not tired.” Tang Green Reed snatched the water bucket from his hands. “I’m the older sister; let me do it. You stay home and help—Huiyin can’t manage it all alone.”

When Qin Huiyin returned to find the siblings squabbling over the water bucket, she teased, “Stop fighting or you’ll break it. You’re all worn out, so I’ve asked Uncle Tan and Aunt Jade to help. Uncle Tan will fetch water for us—two coins for two full buckets. Aunt Jade will carry firewood, one coin per load. Let’s rest today. When we’re not so tired, we can fight over housework again.”

Tang Yixiao was right—if you pay, there will always be willing hands.

In less than an hour, the woodshed was full, the water jar brimmed, and they’d gathered enough bamboo bowls and buckets—a full two hundred.

Qin Huiyin well understood the importance of leading a team. No matter how capable she was, she couldn’t work tirelessly without end. Besides, one person’s strength is limited. Only by knowing how to lead others could she amplify their efforts many times over.

Tang Dafu listened to the voices outside, itching to join in. He pounded his legs, frustrated by his own helplessness.

Still, he was grateful—grateful that his wife no longer seemed intent on leaving. From her recent behavior, she no longer seemed to dislike Green Reed and Yixiao. In this, he was luckier than Song Yi. When Song Yi was alive, Li Peach Blossom’s dislike for Song Ruizhe was public knowledge and, in the end, she had never accepted that “coffin child.”

That day, Qin Huiyin used three pounds of pea flour, estimating she could make about twenty pounds of cold noodles—enough for around one hundred and fifty bowls, especially since she’d promised to increase tomorrow’s servings.

She went to the garden, pulled up two cabbages, shredded them finely, and washed them several times to ensure they were perfectly clean. When she sold cold noodles tomorrow, she’d add cabbage shreds, not only increasing the portion but improving the texture and taste.

She decided to try her luck in the mountains again, hoping to find more seasonings. In truth, the mountains held many treasures, though people seldom recognized their value. Some wild fruits, for example, though tart and astringent, offered juices perfect for flavoring.

Crouched before a trap, Qin Huiyin watched a rabbit struggle within, her eyes burning with desire.

“Rabbit, oh rabbit, if you manage to leap out of that trap, I’ll take you home. What’s the use of lying there? If you want to change your fate, you’ll have to work for it yourself. Or do you expect me to rescue you from the tiger’s den? Out of the question! Anyone can tell whose trap this is—I wouldn’t dare steal from that lord even if I had ten times the courage.”

Stricken with an irrepressible craving for rabbit, Qin Huiyin muttered endlessly to the half-dead animal. But the rabbit was resigned to its fate, unmoved by her cajoling. Eventually, seeing it would not leap into her basket of its own accord, she left in disappointment.

After she left, a figure dropped silently from a tree.

Song Ruizhe had just hunted a wild goat deep in the mountains, carried it home, and returned to the forest. Perhaps because his wounds hadn’t fully healed, he felt suddenly weary and had climbed a tree to rest—never expecting to encounter her again.

She had changed a great deal.

Before, whenever she met him, she was either sarcastic or trembling with fear. He had never seen her so relaxed, playful, and childlike.

Hah! But who could blame her? He was the “coffin child” no one liked.

Yet last time, she’d dared approach him and even helped him find antidotal herbs—something he hadn’t anticipated.

“Help... Help...” came a cry from not far off.

Song Ruizhe paused, recognizing the familiar voice.

“Is anyone there? Help!”

Qin Huiyin was now sitting at the bottom of a deep pit, looking up.

Many parts of the mountain were covered with loose soil, with only a thin surface layer. Step wrong and you’d fall into a natural pit, and today she’d stumbled into just such a trap.

This was deep in the mountains. Villagers rarely ventured here; only one person might pass by. Even if he happened to be near, the odds he’d help were slim—perhaps one percent.

That one percent existed only because she had helped him before; maybe, recalling her good deed, he’d show mercy and leave her a shred of kindness.

Regret flickered through her mind. “I didn’t tell anyone I was going out. If I’d said something, and didn’t return for a long time, maybe someone would come look for me. Are there wolves in these mountains? Will I be dragged off by wolves?”

“The most terrifying thing in this world is dying, then living again, dying once more, never knowing if you’ll live or die. Thus, you endure endless waiting, all for an uncertain outcome.”

Song Ruizhe stood above, gazing down at the noisy young woman in the pit.

He didn’t know why he had come.

Those two women had hearts of stone—unworthy of the old man’s kindness. He hadn’t killed them himself only to spare the old man grief, not out of any desire to repay evil with good.

He turned away.

Stopped.

A memory flashed of the girl searching for antidote herbs for him—her clear eyes raised, filled with worry and concern.

Hah!

Both mother and daughter were born actresses.

Meanwhile, below, Qin Huiyin was contemplating the possibility of starting a fire by friction. She feared the dark and the poisonous creatures of the mountains—fire would bring a measure of safety.

Suddenly, a vine dangled down from above, landing right in front of her, within arm’s reach.