October 14 – Beginning of Winter.

In Pingshan Village, the start of winter was a modest yet meaningful tradition. It marked the end of the autumn harvest and the beginning of preparations for the colder months ahead.

Early that morning, Li Xiaohan’s family sat down to breakfast.

A warm bowl of goat milk had become a daily staple in the Li household. Based on what was in the kitchen, it could be mixed with almond powder, chestnut powder, eggs, red dates, or longan—there was a different combination every day.

Sweet, warm, and fragrant, it was the perfect way to start the morning on a cheerful note.

Today’s main dishes included red bean and milk-scented steamed buns, goat milk egg custard, and a pot of millet porridge simmered until a creamy layer formed on top. On the side were crisp, tangy pickled cucumbers to balance out the richness.

Life didn’t get much better than this.

After breakfast, Madam Wang tidied the dishes. Li Xiaohan took out the eucommia seeds and set them under the eaves to dry. Li Xiandong, without being told, filled up the water jars—since the well-digger hadn’t arrived yet, he was increasingly convinced that digging their own well was a necessity.

Once all that was done, Madam Wang stayed home to sew new bedding, while Li Xiandong and Li Xiaohan packed up their tools and headed to the mountain fields to check on the first batch of Sanqi seedlings.

When they arrived, Li Xiaohan squatted down and observed the seedlings closely. Some of the faster-growing ones were already the size of a palm, even sprouting five little leaves. A few weaker ones, however, had only one or two small leaves and were trembling in the cold wind.

These weaker seedlings likely wouldn’t survive the coming winter. That’s just how nature worked—only the strong survived.

Even so, Li Xiaohan still carefully watered each seedling, hoping they would grow stronger before the cold set in and make it through the winter.

After watering, Li Xiaohan straightened up and said, “Father, did you get a chance to talk to the clan head about us buying more mountain land?”

Next spring, the Sanqi seedlings from the home vegetable garden would need to be transplanted, and the eucommia seeds they’d collected needed planting too. The mountain land assigned to Li Xiandong by the clan wouldn’t be enough anymore.

“I did. The clan head said he already sent the documents to the village head, but there’s been a lot going on lately. With everyone making money from selling eucommia, a lot of people want to buy land. The village head said he’ll wait until after the festival to take everything to the yamen and get it stamped.”

In truth, the village head was busy harvesting eucommia himself. He didn’t want to keep making trips to the yamen just to file one or two documents at a time—who would cover the travel costs? The village head certainly didn’t mind earning more money himself.

“That’s fine. I was thinking, next spring we’ll need to separate the Sanqi seedlings and sow the eucommia. We definitely need more land. At that point, planting Sanqi under eucommia trees would be a perfect match.”

“Mm, mm.” Li Xiandong nodded in agreement.

His daughter had already managed to grow a valuable medicinal herb like Sanqi, so surely she could handle eucommia too.

And now that they had money, buying land was no big deal. There wasn’t much fertile farmland left near Pingshan Village, but the mountain land was still quite good.

The ancestors had been right—nothing was more reliable than land. Hope lies in the soil.

After carefully watering all the Sanqi seedlings, the two prepared to pick fruit.

The mountain land assigned to Li Xiandong by the clan had about twenty fruit trees.

Most of them were persimmons. These trees weren’t picky about soil or conditions, easy to grow, and the fruit could be dried into persimmon cakes that lasted all winter. They were perfect for gifts or hosting guests during the New Year.

Next came jujube trees. Jujubes could also be dried and stored for a long time, and they were sweet—city people liked them, so they could fetch a good price.

Lastly, there were pear trees. Pears in Pingshan Village ripened late, making them ideal for making frozen pears in winter.

These fruits from the mountain land could provide the Li family with fresh fruit year-round and dried goods for the New Year.

Frugal families would carefully select the best fruits to sell in town, keeping only a small portion for themselves. Over the year, that added up to a considerable income.

Even though mountain land couldn’t grow staple grains like farmland could, it was still incredibly valuable.

“Father, pass me one of those bamboo poles you made,” Li Xiaohan said, standing up and eyeing the tall persimmon tree.

After awakening the memories of her past life, Li Xiaohan realized that fruit trees were still managed in a rough and basic way. People didn’t prune or trim the tops because they believed it would hurt the trees.

As a result, the fruit trees in the village, especially the older ones, had grown tall and sturdy. Take the one before them—it had probably been planted when Li Xiandong was still a child. Calling it “a towering canopy” wasn’t an exaggeration.

Traditionally, villagers would climb up into the branches to pick fruit. With careful hands, they’d pluck the fruit and place them into cloth bags, then lower them down with ropes.

This was the best way to avoid bruising the fruit, ensuring they sold well in town or looked presentable when gifted.

But this method required extreme caution. If someone accidentally stepped on a dead branch or slipped, the consequences could be serious.

Now that she had a second chance at life, Li Xiaohan had no intention of letting anyone in her family fall from a tree. Besides, with so few people in the family, at this rate they wouldn’t be done picking fruit until the next lunar new year.

“Here.” Li Xiandong handed over a bamboo pole. It was actually a long bamboo rod, one end split and woven into a basket-like shape that could hold two or three fist-sized fruits. Inside was a layer of worn cloth for cushioning.

This was just like the fruit pickers used in her past life. (If you search “fruit picker” on Taobao, you’ll see what it looks like.) The medicinal forest base where Li Xiaohan had worked had several kinds bought from Taobao—different models for dates, autumn pears, and so on. But in this era, all she could do was instruct Li Xiandong to weave one out of bamboo for her. It wasn’t difficult to make, and she didn’t understand why no one in this life had thought of it yet.

Maybe it was because people in this era treasured anything edible too much, and harvesting had to be done with their own hands.

“Why did you ask me to make this?” Li Xiandong asked in confusion.

“I wanted to see if there’s an easier way to pick fruit.”

Li Xiaohan took the fruit picker, raised the pole, aimed at a persimmon on a branch, hooked and pulled—the branch was instantly bare, and the fruit dropped safely into the tube.

The fruit picker worked.

Thanks to the cloth padding inside, the fruit wasn’t scratched at all.

Li Xiaohan beamed and picked three more persimmons in a row. She didn’t notice that beside her, Li Xiandong was standing there in shock. 

To think something so simple could solve what used to be such a difficult and dangerous task.

“Father, it worked!” Li Xiaohan turned around, only to see her father still hadn’t recovered from the surprise.

“Father, why don’t you try it?” she said, smiling and handing him the picker.

Li Xiandong mimicked her movements. He wasn’t very skilled at first, but after a few tries, he successfully picked a persimmon.

“This thing is impressive,” he said, touching the fruit picker with wonder.

Now convinced, the two worked together. In less than an hour, they had filled a back basket with fruit.

“Alright, Xiaohan, let’s head back. You carry the empty bucket; I’ll carry the fruit.”

“Okay, Father.”

When Li Xiandong and Li Xiaohan returned home, Madam Wang asked in surprise, “Why are you back so soon?”

“Mother, we used the fruit picker. It made things much faster. After the festival, let’s all go picking together.”

“Alright.” Madam Wang didn’t ask how the fruit picker could make such a big difference. Her daughter had always been clever. And since both father and daughter returned safely, she felt at ease.

“Father, since the fruit picker works so well, why don’t you make a few more and send them to Grandfather, the clan head, and Third Great-Uncle’s households as a gesture of filial respect?

Now that she understood the best strategy for her family was to tie themselves to the clan, Li Xiaohan began putting in real effort to boost their influence and importance within it. As for her grandfather, that was just along the way—small things like this were a way to build up a reputation for being filial.

“Alright.” Li Xiandong set down the fruit and picked up his bamboo knife. For a small item like this, he could easily make several in under half an hour.

Li Xiaohan took a wooden tray, filled it with water from the jar, and began washing the persimmons and other fruits clean, then laid them out in the fruit basket to dry.

“Father, did you arrange for someone to dig the well? When are they coming?” Li Xiaohan wanted easier access to water. If not running water, then at least the freedom to use well water as they pleased.

“I did. The well digger said he’ll come right after the festival—so that’s tomorrow.”

“That’s great!”

As they talked, their hands kept moving, and the work was done in no time.

About half an hour later, Li Xiandong went out with several fruit pickers. Li Xiaohan arranged the pears and jujubes, took a small knife, and began peeling the persimmons.

The golden persimmon peels curled off in evenly cut strips, circling downward and finally falling away.

Li Xiaohan picked the ripest and plumpest one, cut the flesh into chunks, and handed a piece to Madam Wang, who was kneading noodles. Then she bit into one herself. “Mm, crisp and sweet.”

Madam Wang smiled gently. In the past, when the family had fruit, the three of them could only look at it or taste one or two pieces. The rest had to be sold, used for gifts, or saved for the New Year… and somehow, they never actually ate any even then. By the time the New Year came, the fruit was usually all gone.

“If you like it, eat as much as you want. This year, all the fruit from our home is for us to eat,” Madam Wang said generously.

“Okay, Mother!” Li Xiaohan responded loudly.

They had eaten so much fruit that by lunchtime, Li Xiaohan barely had room for more food and felt a little embarrassed.

But if given the chance, she’d make the same choice again—especially with Madam Wang beside her, urging her to eat more. It satisfied not only her appetite but also her mother’s heart. It was all just a matter of doing what felt right.

Fortunately, the best meal was saved for the evening.

As the sun set and the sky dimmed, the evening breeze blew gently and birds returned to their nests.

Li Xiaohan stood in the main room, watching as Li Xiandong stood on a stool and lit the candle inside the lantern. The soft red glow gently illuminated the space, giving the night a sense of warmth.

Li Xiaohan was briefly lost in thought.

It had been like this in her past life too. During traditional festivals, her parents would hang red lanterns and decorate the windows. Everything was a festive red.

Her father had a strong sense of ceremony. Her mother used to say, “Not every festival is New Year’s. Why do you always make it feel like it is?”

But her father would argue back, “Because we’re living life—and life is remembered by these moments, not by the calendar.”

Later, while she was in college, her parents had gone on a geology trip and were caught in a landslide. They both died.

Their final message had read:

“Xiaohan, Mom and Dad love you. Promise us you’ll live well, okay?”

That was their last farewell and reminder.

And she had lived well. It’s just that after that, there was no one left to celebrate or remember life with.

Was she dreaming of being someone else, or was someone else dreaming of being her? Was she Li Xiaohan, or Li Xiaohan of the past?

“How’s it look? Straight enough?” Li Xiandong asked.

“It’s perfect. Looks great,” Li Xiaohan replied with a bright smile.

Live well.

“Come eat.”

For dinner, Madam Wang cooked white rice, stewed chicken with mushrooms, braised ribs, steamed cured meat, made fish, and stir-fried greens. The three of them sat around the table together.

“Father, Mother, this is the first time our family has celebrated a festival together. I’ll use tea instead of wine to toast to our future—may our days only get better and better,” Li Xiaohan said, lifting her teacup and smiling as she stood up. She raised the cup to them and drank it in one go.

“Good! Good! Better and better!”

Li Xiandong’s face turned red, his eyes filled with emotion as he drank a cup of tea with the posture of someone downing liquor.

Meanwhile, Madam Wang smiled silently, watching the father and daughter pair while quietly placing a piece of pork rib on each of their plates.

Early the next morning, on the fifteenth, the well digger they had arranged for still hadn’t arrived—but the villagers had.

It turned out that word had spread that Li Xiandong had come up with a tool that made picking fruit both easy and safe, so people came flocking to see the novelty.

“Since it was just after the start of winter, no one came empty-handed. Many had recently made a decent profit from selling eucommia bark. The wealthier ones brought pastries bought from the city, while others brought fruit from their own homes—items they had been saving for themselves.

A large crowd gathered around Li Xiandong, all curious about the bamboo fruit picker.

“How does this thing work?”

“You hold up the bamboo pole and fit the tube over the fruit. Give it a twist, and the fruit drops right into the tube.”

The concept was very simple. Those who were quick-witted understood it in no time. Even those a little slower, though they couldn’t grasp the principle immediately, could tell it was a workable idea.

Besides, it doesn’t matter if they don’t understand it right away. The bamboo tube looks pretty simple. After looking at it a few more times and thinking it through, people who’ve spent years weaving winnowing trays, baskets, and back carriers will soon figure out how to make one. Once they try making it, everything will become clear.

Still, this was something Li Xiandong had come up with. Learning it in silence and copying it directly felt a bit inappropriate.

For a moment, no one quite knew how to ask.

The people closest to Li Xiandong—Li Deyou, Li Xinhe, and a few others—weren’t present today. In terms of seniority or relationship, everyone there quietly measured themselves and felt they didn’t quite have the standing to bring it up.

Finally, a middle-aged man in worn-out clothes stepped forward from the crowd. “Xiandong, would you be willing to teach us how to make this fruit picker?”

“It’s nothing hard. Just by watching, you can get the idea,” said Li Xiandong generously. “But I was thinking yesterday, if we made the bamboo tube with a wide bottom that narrows at the top, it could hold even more.”

“Exactly, that makes perfect sense!” someone in the crowd immediately chimed in. “Xiandong, you really are meticulous.”

“It’s not even my idea, actually,” Li Xiandong added. “This whole thing was my daughter Xiaohan’s idea. She even thought of lining the inside with a bit of thin cloth, so the fruit doesn’t get scratched when you pick it.”

“Oh wow, Xiaohan really is clever,” someone responded right away.

“She really is. No wonder she’s part of the Li family—so capable and smart. My wife tried to learn how to roast eucommia bark from her and ended up ruining three whole batches. I was heartbroken, but I couldn’t say anything. She claimed she had over ten years of experience cooking, too! But Xiaohan learned it just by listening to the doctor at the medical shop once and figured it out on her own. How is she so good at this?”

“How could your wife compare to Xiaohan? Mine ruined three batches too. Thank goodness we listened to Xiaohan’s tip about using less bark at first, or the loss would’ve been worse. I told her I should’ve done it instead.”

Standing nearby, Li Xiaohan felt a little awkward. She wasn’t used to such blunt and unrefined praise.

“Come on, Li Zhuzi, don’t exaggerate,” someone interrupted from the crowd. “Your wife said you were so confident that you insisted on doing it yourself. Sure, you only ruined one batch, but you used up enough for three. She told you to use less, and you said it was fine, but look how that turned out!”

“Li Dunzi, do you still consider me your brother?!”

“Hahaha.” The crowd burst into laughter. With money earned and a new skill picked up, life was starting to feel hopeful.

Only the old man who had first spoken kept staring at the fruit picker, his eyes faintly glistening—as if with tears. But the moment passed so quickly it was hard to tell if it had really been there.

The crowd chatted for a while longer, then dispersed. It was just the right time to harvest fruit to store for the New Year, and they were eager to go home and try making the fruit picker themselves.

After everyone had left, Li Xiaohan finally noticed that the man who had first asked about the fruit picker walked with a slight limp.

“Father, who was that man who spoke to you?” she asked quietly once the crowd was gone.

“That’s your Uncle Dashu,” Li Xiandong said with a sigh. “He and Aunt Dashu were both hardworking back in the day, and they had a lot of fruit trees. I think it was around ten years ago—your uncle fell from a tree while picking fruit, and your aunt ran over to catch him but got hit straight on.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that? What happened afterward?”

“Uncle Dashu ran for help, dragging his injured leg. They got a doctor from Renhetang, but Aunt Dashu was badly injured—internal bleeding in her organs. Even with ginseng, she couldn’t be saved. Uncle Dashu’s leg was never the same. That’s how he ended up like you saw today.”

Given the medical standards of the time, Li Xiaohan had already sensed it wouldn’t be a good ending—but to hear it laid out so plainly still hit her hard. Her heart ached.

The room fell silent.

After a long moment, Madam Wang finally spoke. “Their house is right next to ours, and yet I have no memory of him at all.”

“After Aunt Dashu died, Uncle Dashu changed a lot. He never remarried. His two sons, Dazhuang and Erzhuang, still aren’t married either. You’ve just never had a chance to interact with them.”

“That’s strange. How did they process their eucommia bark? I don’t recall any man from their family coming to learn from me,” Li Xiaohan said with a frown.

Even though they were relatives, there was still a division between men and women. And since it involved kitchen work, the clan had quietly agreed that only the household’s women would come to learn the skill.

Surely they wouldn’t sell unroasted bark just because of that?

Li Xiandong frowned and thought for a moment. “I think they paid your Aunt Dashan to do it. Dashan and Dashu are cousins, after all.”

Li Xiaohan wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or not. But it made sense—almost everyone in the Li clan was related somehow. Her father and the clan head were cousins too.

“You’re still young, don’t sigh like that. I didn’t think of it yesterday, but since your Uncle Dashu asked today, I told everyone how it worked. That’s a good deed for your future. It’ll bring you blessings and smooth your path ahead.”

“Mm, I understand, Father.”

Though he told her not to sigh, Li Xiaohan was still deeply shaken by the story.

For a brief moment, it struck her that just being healthy and alive in times like these was already a rare kind of luck.