Chapter Two: The Bittersweet Life After Crossing Over—Encounter with Wolves
The sweet dream lingered; he dreamt of that ghostly girl. Ah, her eyes glowed with a mesmerizing, soul-snatching light as she parted her enticing crimson lips... and spat out a rat, which lunged straight for his face!
With a startled cry, Feng Xiaobao awoke. It was merely his bargain father, shaking him awake and urging him to rise!
Peering outside through the half-open window of the Mountain God’s temple, he guessed it was just before dawn; the sky was still strewn with stars. A sudden plume of dense smoke wafted in, making Feng Xiaobao cough as he reluctantly opened his eyes. He saw Feng Dabao returning to the little red clay stove, busy with cooking porridge.
Ah, the millet porridge had tasted wonderful the first time, but now it seemed rather ordinary. Still, having food was lucky enough—what was there to complain about?
After eating and resting for a short while, they took out the medicine hoe, basket, and sack, prepared some flatbread, and readied themselves to climb the mountain for herbs.
Children of the poor do not know the pleasures of leisure; they can only work desperately.
Following a mountain path, they set out, venturing farther and farther, gradually entering the depths of the mountains. The sky grew faintly brighter, and the world began to unfold its beauty.
The “Eight Hundred Miles of Qin Chuan”—the Guanzhong Plain, which nurtured the glorious Han and Tang dynasties of China—lay to the south, bordered by the Qinling Mountains, renowned for countless legends and stories. This immense range stretches east to west across central China, its countless peaks rising and falling unpredictably, with treacherous cliffs and daunting trails that often halt the boldest travelers.
It was truly a place of pristine green, rarely trodden by man—in later times, even in the wildest hills, one could spot traces of people. Between the towering ridges and dense forests, waterfalls cascaded, pools were abundant, the verdure intoxicated and the waters were crystal-clear, with fish leaping about; it was a landscape of rare delight. Yet Feng Dabao had no leisure to enjoy it, urging Xiaobao to hasten his pace and gather herbs before the dew evaporated.
There were secrets to harvesting medicinal plants; herbs picked with dew had different properties than those gathered after it was gone.
The mountain was high and the air cold, but Xiaobao’s whole body steamed with heat as he walked. His body and feet seemed unaffected—their former owner was clearly used to such journeys, and now, with a new soul, the body still felt at ease. Long treks were but routine. After two hours, Xiaobao grew restless, but he had no choice—no work meant no money!
At last they found a densely vegetated slope and stopped. Picking up the medicine hoe, basket, and sack, Xiaobao rolled up his sleeves and began to work.
The Qinling Mountains are a treasure trove of medicinal herbs, home to wild gastrodia, poria, yellow ginger, jujube skin, gynostemma, bellflower, honeysuckle, Qin party root, lilies, bupleurum, polygonatum, poria, chestnut, cornelian cherry, poria, Qinling beans, and more. Clearly, no one had visited this slope before—it was untouched, with herbs everywhere, countless in number, every few steps yielding new finds.
More herbs meant more income, but it also meant more work—so much so that he barely had time to straighten his back!
“Hard labor, day after day!”
He carefully harvested herbs, picking leaves, digging roots, gathering stems, or uprooting whole plants as needed and placing them in the basket. Xiaobao moved naturally; he knew exactly what to do, as though the memories of his predecessor had blended into him.
Some herbs were for their own medicine, some to sell at the pharmacy, and others for food.
By a mountain spring, Feng Dabao pulled Xiaobao over, and together they washed and peeled a heap of wild polygonatum, poria, and yam before devouring them.
These items were worth a fortune in later times—expensive and often counterfeit—but now, they ate them freely.
Wild and cultivated herbs simply weren’t priced the same!
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Chewing the sweet poria, Xiaobao finally understood why his seemingly ordinary body felt so light and nimble—it was these nourishing foods!
After eating, he felt his body filled with strength and an unusual sense of comfort. He stretched, then hurried to catch up.
The brief pleasure of eating passed, and it was back to work, gathering herbs without pause.
Only occasionally did he rest, sipping water or eating a few pieces of flatbread.
The sun climbed higher, generously spilling its radiance everywhere, tanning and heating the laborers. The mountain mist evaporated, and those working gradually felt stifled, their bodies drenched in sweat.
Ah, so tiring!
Xiaobao pounded his sore, numb feet, shaking his head helplessly.
After midday, they hurried back, needing to sell some herbs before sunset. At that time, all shops closed when the sun went down. (Though not always—if they had more herbs to process, they might return in the afternoon and store them in the Mountain God’s temple, going to the town’s pharmacy every few days.)
Carrying their haul, they made their way back, exhausted but pleased with their harvest.
Feng Dabao carried most of the herbs, while Xiaobao shouldered a small portion. Seeing the man ahead, burdened with a mountain of herbs, Xiaobao’s heart ached, and tears nearly welled up.
He had come to the Great Tang and adapted—this man was now his father.
He quickened his pace to catch up, pulling a large bundle of herbs onto his own back.
Arriving in town, they encountered honest folk and weren’t afraid of being cheated by the pharmacy. The cost of living was low; selling herbs brought a little money, but not much.
Today’s earnings were decent. Feng Dabao happily bought two coins worth of wine and half a pound of braised meat to enjoy back at the Mountain God’s temple.
They had also gathered some wild vegetables, which were blanched in hot water, salted, and added to porridge—a fine dinner!
Soups and sauces—Xiaobao licked the last of the gravy clean, lamenting, “My abalone, sea cucumber, and shark’s fin—when will I ever taste you again?”
After a day’s toil and a hearty meal, could they finally rest?
Not so fast!
Feng Dabao started up the stove to boil medicine, processing herbs into dog skin plasters for injuries and powerful pills for health.
The herbs were freshly gathered; the dog skin came from a butcher in town who’d set aside some, in exchange for a share of the finished medicine.
As they worked, the whole Mountain God’s temple reeked of medicinal odors. Xiaobao fanned the fire, cut herbs, crushed them in a mortar—busy as ever, just as during the day!
They worked past midnight, finally producing a batch of dog skin plasters and powerful pills, leaving them utterly exhausted.
And then, at dawn the next day, the cycle began again!
For the next several days, their routine was the same. Each night, they slept no more than four hours; Feng Dabao often only two or three.
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Because they had angered the local riffraff before, resulting in the loss of their wares, now they had to make up for it.
Xiaobao was still young, and the intense labor left his feet aching and hands sore; every day he collapsed into “bed” and fell straight asleep.
About three days later, they went back into the mountains as usual.
They ventured ever farther from the Mountain God’s temple, not beginning to gather herbs until midday, with plans to camp out and not return that night.
Children of the poor mature early—Xiaobao now took charge, identifying and gathering herbs with confidence.
To work more efficiently, he and Dabao eventually separated, each foraging on their own.
As the sun was about to set, they hurried to collect more before dusk.
Just as he was busy, Xiaobao suddenly sensed movement nearby. Turning his head, he exclaimed with delight, “What a beautiful dog!”
Somehow, a dog had wandered up to him. It was large, spirited, majestic, its coat glossy and sleek. Xiaobao, a lifelong dog lover who’d raised many pedigrees before, couldn’t resist reaching out to stroke its fur.
The dog grunted a few times; Xiaobao found its bark peculiar—was this how native dogs sounded in this era? Moreover, its gaze was oddly intense.
It watched him rather foolishly. Xiaobao, acting on instinct, petted its head, tousled its fur, twisted open its mouth, treating it like a toy and cuddling it—the dog docilely allowed him to do as he pleased.
“Dumb dog!” Xiaobao patted it, chuckling.
“Xiao... Bao!” came Feng Dabao’s alarmed voice.
Childlike, Xiaobao called out, “Dad, look what a beautiful dog! Can we adopt it?”
Feng Dabao shook his head, panic written all over his face.
Their eyes met, and Xiaobao saw Dabao’s tense expression as he whispered, “Xiaobao, slowly come over here—right toward it, slowly, come, come to Dad!”
Though puzzled by Dabao’s words, Xiaobao trusted him completely and obeyed.
Once within Dabao’s reach, Dabao quickly pulled him into a tight embrace.
Seeing his father nearly weeping with relief, Xiaobao asked in surprise, “Dad, what’s wrong?!”
Dabao whispered, “Silly child, that’s not a dog—it’s a wolf!”
“What?!”
Father and son stared in terror at the creature Xiaobao had mistaken for a dog. The wolf seemed unimpressed by them, circled them once, growled twice, then bounded into the depths of the forest. By then, darkness had nearly fallen.
It spared Xiaobao!
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