With a sharp headache, Li Xiaohan suddenly recalled memories of her previous life. She had once been the director of a large, joint herb cultivation base, but unfortunately died in an earthquake after being trapped. After death, she found herself transmigrated into a book she had read—a novel centered on the imperial examination. 

She now held memories from both lives. However, until this moment, she had not remembered anything from her past. 

And this name—Li Zhiyuan—was far too familiar. In her past life, he had been her younger male cousin; in this life, he was her older cousin. 

Pingshan Village. Li Zhiyuan. He studied under Scholar Zhu alongside the novel’s male lead. The male lead was intelligent and self-disciplined, smoothly climbing the ranks to become a jinshi (advanced scholar) and ultimately achieving top honors. Li Zhiyuan, on the other hand, repeatedly failed the exams and only ever reached the rank of xiucai (entry-level scholar), thus highlighting just how exceptional the male lead was by comparison. 

To be placed as a foil to the male lead early in the story, Li Zhiyuan had to have some redeeming traits. Beyond the fact that he lived in the same time and space as the main character, his greatest strength was filial piety. 

According to the novel, Li Zhiyuan’s eldest uncle, Li Xiandong, was childless. In his desperation for a son, he ventured deep into the mountains to search for ginseng, where he was fatally bitten by a venomous snake. 

However, in this region, only fake ginseng existed—there was no real ginseng to be found. Because of his ignorance, Li Zhiyuan’s uncle had died in vain. 

At the time, Li Zhiyuan was the eldest grandson of the Li family. He wore mourning clothes, performed the funeral rites for his uncle, and observed an extended mourning period of twenty-seven months. In doing so, he even delayed his own examination schedule. 

Only after completing the mourning period did he resume taking the imperial exams, earning the title of xiucai while still very young. 

The book described Li Zhiyuan as having a profound influence on the Li family. It even suggested that his rise brought fortune to the whole clan. The Li family eventually bought a house in town and opened a small shop, establishing themselves there. 

As the eldest son of the second branch, Li Zhiyuan took on the responsibilities of the main branch. He conducted the funeral for his uncle, cared for his grandfather and father until their deaths, and continued supporting his youngest uncle’s family. Truly, he was a paragon of filial piety and virtue. 

As for the wife and daughter of the late Li Xiandong, the book said that Li Zhiyuan had wanted to bring them to live comfortably in the city. But his aunt insisted on staying behind in the village with her daughter. That winter, the two of them tragically fell into a river and froze to death. 

The book even noted that Li Zhiyuan, ever the filial son, had wished to observe mourning for his aunt as well. But everyone around him discouraged it, saying that such a short-lived, ill-fated woman did not deserve the honor. Only then did Li Zhiyuan let it go. 

Thus, people from the surrounding villages all respected Li Zhiyuan. Though they admitted he lacked the male lead’s talents, they agreed that in terms of virtue—especially filial piety—he surpassed him. 

After all, once the male lead became successful, he reportedly humiliated the clan elders who had once bullied his family and refused to help any of his relatives. His reputation within the clan had become quite complicated. 

Li Xiaohan felt dizzy. 

So she hadn’t just transmigrated—she had entered a book. And not even as a named character, but as one of those unremarkable side characters who come and go without notice. 

Worse, her entire family existed only to serve as a stepping stone for the male supporting character, her cousin. 

Wasn’t that exactly it? Her family’s sacrifice had built up her cousin’s reputation for filial piety. 

Li Xiaohan’s limbs went weak, and she collapsed in front of the grave, her hands brushing against the stone tablet of her paternal grandmother, Madam Luo. 

The rough stone scraped her skin, jolting her back to clarity. 

She fought the dizziness in her mind and tried to make sense of things. 

If the Li Zhiyuan in the book really was her cousin, then when did his uncle—the eldest son of the family—die? 

Li Zhiyuan was thirteen this year. That’s right—it was this year. 

Her grandfather had recently divided the family, and their portion of land and silver had been pitifully small. Her father, clinging to a sliver of hope, had gone into the mountains to look for ginseng. 

The mountains here were rumored to have ginseng, but the book said it was fake. 

Her father must have wanted to take a chance, hoping to sell the ginseng for money to treat Madam Wang’s illness, to build a house that could keep out wind and rain, and to buy a bit more land so they wouldn’t starve. But instead, he lost his life. 

Li Xiaohan felt even weaker as she looked at her father sobbing silently beside her. 

He was probably bottling up all that frustration. 

She had to stop him from going. He couldn’t enter those mountains and die from a snakebite. 

In a feudal, male-dominated society, and with no brothers, if her father died, she and her mother would be left to the mercy of others. 

Didn’t the original story say that she and her mother froze to death after falling into a river in the dead of winter? 

She had struggled for three days in an earthquake—cold, hungry, surviving only by drinking dirty rainwater. She had nearly been rescued, only to perish in an aftershock. 

She knew all too well what it meant to be at the brink of life and death. 

She wanted to live. 

She didn’t care about transmigration or whether she had entered a novel—her memories from birth to the present remained perfectly clear 

This was her new life, and no one—not even the author—had the right to take it from her. 

But… what should she do now? 

Li Xiaohan sat collapsed in front of the grave, struggling to recall the contents of the book, searching for a way to break the deadlock. 

She didn’t know how long had passed. The sun gradually rose higher, and the heat made people more and more irritable. 

Perhaps it was the last shred of a man’s dignity that kept Li Xiandong from breaking down and sobbing in front of his wife and daughter. He simply sat there in a daze, while Madam Wang had no such reservations. She lay on the ground, weeping in despair. 

The blow of the family separation didn’t just hit Li Xiandong—it hit Madam Wang even harder. 

If they had even one son, even if he wasn’t as promising as Li Changrong, they wouldn’t have been kicked out like this, with nowhere to turn for justice. 

Madam Wang cried not just over the separation, but over her bitter and tragic life. 

Li Xiaohan lifted her head and looked at her parents, realizing that what they lacked wasn’t just the property from the division. It was the pride they’d been forced to swallow—and the little bit of hope they had for the future. 

Looking farther into the distance, the forest was silent and stretched endlessly. In the mountain range behind Pingshan Village, there were rumors of fake ginseng. Some said it only looked like ginseng but wasn’t real. Others claimed there really were wild ginseng plants in the deep mountains and the so-called fake ginseng was just nature’s way of concealing its treasure. 

Regardless of whether the legends were true, it was common knowledge that fake ginseng was worthless. 

But… Li Xiaohan had seen fake ginseng while gathering pigweed with her mother… 

Fake ginseng?! 

Li Xiaohan shook her head hard, as if that would make her think more clearly. “Father, just now I bumped my head on Grandmother’s gravestone, and in a daze I think I heard Grandmother tell me that fake ginseng is actually a medicinal herb called sanqi—it can be sold for money. She told you to gather it, sell it at the pharmacy, and use the money to see a doctor with Mother to have a son.” 

Hic. 

Madam Wang, who had been crying as if she couldn’t breathe, suddenly stopped. She slowly lifted her head and looked at her daughter. 

Li Xiaohan was already thirteen years old, but due to long-term malnutrition she was short and skinny. Years of gathering pigweed with her mother had left her skin tanned and sallow. 

Only her eyes were bright and clear, large and shining, full of unmistakable cleverness and intelligence. 

Madam Wang had always known her daughter would amount to more than she had. She wasn’t timid like her mother, nor silent and blindly hardworking like her father. 

But no matter how smart, she had still been a child she raised herself—so how did she suddenly… start seeing ghosts? 

Meanwhile, the dazed Li Xiandong, who had been sitting like a soul had left his body, also seemed to come back to life. His gaze darted between his mother’s grave and his daughter’s face. 

He couldn’t believe it—but he was full of hope. 

“Father, maybe I misheard? What fake ginseng and real sanqi? Selling it for money and seeing a doctor? In broad daylight, Grandmother… she couldn’t really come back, right?” 

Sometimes, taking a step back is the best way forward. When hope is dangled in front of someone, they might not dare believe it—but the moment it’s threatened, human instinct kicks in and they grab hold for dear life. 

Sure enough, just as Li Xiaohan finished speaking, Madam Wang cried out sharply, “No—it must have been Mother who told us! It had to be! She saw how we were kicked out, so she gave us this guidance. Otherwise, how would a child like you know about sanqi or doctors?” 

The more Madam Wang spoke, the more convinced she became, her eyes growing brighter and brighter. She suddenly grabbed Li Xiandong by the hand and, with a burst of energy, pulled him to his feet. “Child’s father, I know where there’s fake ginseng. I know!” 

Madam Wang had spent years gathering in the forest and had even told Li Xiaohan about the fake ginseng. But at the time, Li Xiaohan hadn’t regained her memories of her past life and had just taken it as a funny story. 

Now, pulled up by her mother, the two of them ran off quickly. Li Xiaohan scrambled to her feet and followed behind. 

Perhaps because they had hope, Madam Wang soon found the area where the fake ginseng grew. 

Li Xiaohan followed, panting. When she saw the patch of fake ginseng, she stepped forward and crouched beside one plant, brushing away the decaying leaves around it. 

But her brow furrowed deeper and deeper, and suddenly she yanked the plant out of the soil. 

Its small leaves were lance-shaped, more than five times as long as they were wide. Its rhizome was like a bamboo whip, with bead-like joints.  

This wasn’t sanqi. This was narrowleaf fake ginseng! 

Li Xiaohan gasped. She felt a chill sink into her bones. 

Don’t be fooled by the name—it might have “ginseng” in it and look similar to sanqi, but it was actually a variant in the Panax family. Later generations confirmed its medicinal value was mainly in the Tibetan system of medicine; elsewhere, it was just an ornamental garden plant. 

No wonder the locals said fake ginseng was useless. So that was why. It made sense now. Someone must have brought it to the pharmacy thinking it was real, only to be told it was worthless. And that’s how the rumors spread. 

In an instant, despair flickered in Li Xiaohan’s eyes. But both Li Xiandong and Madam Wang were staring at her eagerly, their expressions full of hope—making it hard to say the truth. 

Wait… no. Li Xiaohan closed her eyes, frowned, held her forehead. This wasn’t the “fake ginseng” she remembered. There was another place! 

Li Xiaohan jumped up. “Father, Mother, this isn’t the one. Come on!” 

Following the directions in her memory, she marched forward. It felt both fast and slow, but at last, she brought her parents to the spot she remembered. 

“Umbel flower clusters at the stem tip, approximately twenty centimeters long; dark red fruit, currently in the ripening season. Four palm-shaped compound leaves, each with five leaflets; dark green with pinnate veins, fine white bristles along the margins, and serrated edges…” 

As she observed the plant closely, Li Xiaohan muttered to herself, comparing each trait to what she remembered of sanqi from her previous life. 

Li Xiandong and Madam Wang watched her every movement with wide eyes. They saw Li Xiaohan carefully pick the red fruit of the plant, glance around, and say, “Father, Mother, get me a big leaf.” 

Li Xiandong quickly picked a large leaf and handed it to her. Li Xiaohan wrapped the fruit inside and stored it carefully. “Alright, this is a seed. We’ll need it later.” 

After putting the seed away, she continued, “Father, Mother, let’s dig up the sanqi root. Be careful not to break it.” 

The difference in her attitude was obvious. Li Xiandong and Madam Wang could tell this time was different. Working together, the three soon unearthed the root. 

“Conical main root, about five centimeters long; four stem scars at the top—four years old; knobby protrusions around it; dense and firm texture, hard to break, grayish yellow, faint scent, bitter at first then sweet.”  

Li Xiaohan admired the sanqi root as if she were looking at a money tree. 

Beautiful! 

Four-year-old wild sanqi, the best medicinal variety—this was the flagship product of her medicinal herb farm in her previous life. 

“Father, Mother, this is it.” 

As her words fell, both Li Xiandong and Madam Wang finally breathed a sigh of relief. It was true. What Grandmother said was real. Heaven had given them a way out. 

Madam Wang wiped her tears with a smile. “I see more around us. Let’s dig them all up.” 

“Yes, let’s dig them all,” Li Xiaohan said crisply. 

This heaven-sent wealth—she would claim it herself. 

After all, sanqi had been used as medicine for thousands of years, and from what she could tell, this was an ancient society with a culture and development very similar to China.