Chapter 53: Ginseng

“Grandma, I want to go dig wild vegetables too.”

The holes she and her brothers had found while catching bugs were already filled with eggs.

Jiang Fubao planned to find another spot. The mugwort (huanghuahao) they’d eaten was finished, and last night she overheard her grandma and the others say they would go gather more wild greens today.

She thought she could help.

“Alright, Fubao, you can go wherever you like. Come wash your face first. Once we’ve eaten, we’ll head to the mountain early—finding wild greens today will take some work.”

As she spoke, Zhang Jinlan had already prepared hot water.

Half an hour later—

The five-person wild-vegetable-digging team reached the border between the inner and outer mountain ranges.

“Mother… should we go inside?”

Sun Pingmei’s voice trembled.

She had never been to this area before, and fear gnawed at her.

“Fubao, should we go in?”

Instead of answering, Zhang Jinlan turned and asked her granddaughter—
as though Jiang Fubao were the head of the household.

“Yes! Let’s go dig wild veggies!”

Jiang Fubao had not heard the sounds of any large animals.

That meant there was no danger.

She stretched out her short little legs and marched in first.

The four women—grandmother and daughters-in-law—hurried after her.

They passed through a patch of forest and climbed uphill for another quarter hour before stopping.

Because right ahead lay a small hollow, covered in young sprouts.

So many that they could never finish digging them all.

Though sprouts weren’t as tasty as mugwort, at this season, anything edible was a blessing. The Jiang family wasn’t picky.

By the time Jiang Fubao turned around, her family was already squatting and digging happily.

“Fubao, stay nearby and play—don’t run off too far.”

Zhang Jinlan knew her granddaughter’s luck was extraordinary. Keeping her tied down wasn’t wise, but she also worried she might wander too far, so she reminded her again.

“Got it, Grandma.” Fubao wasn’t annoyed—she answered cheerfully, then began to wander.

This area didn’t have many rocks, but lots of trees, and the soil was damp.

【Chirp chirp chirp—there’s fruit here!】

Suddenly, a bird’s voice reached her ears.

Following the sound, Fubao walked toward it.

After about two hundred meters, she stopped.

In front of her stood a tree covered in small yellow fruits, each only the size of a soybean. She didn’t recognize them.

A bird flitted among the branches, chirping praises of how delicious they were.

But the tree was too tall for Fubao to reach.

Besides, such tiny fruits didn’t interest her.

She decided to head back.

But halfway, she froze.

Her eyes were drawn to a plant ahead—
a stalk bearing clusters of red berries.

From afar she couldn’t see clearly.

So she walked closer.

The ground beneath her grew wetter, her steps sinking into soft mud—like unformed clay.

Her shoes were soon caked in muck, sticking stubbornly with each step.

But when she reached the plant and squatted down, her heart thudded wildly.

Five seconds later—

Excitement surged through her whole body.

It was ginseng!

Yes, ginseng favored cool regions, with strict requirements: moist soil, rich nutrients, higher elevation.

No wonder—after climbing so far up the mountain—she found it here.

Fubao gently touched the berries, red as blood.

Inside were seeds.

Normally, this season shouldn’t yield ripe red berries…

She was curious, but didn’t overthink it. She had already traveled through time—if snow suddenly fell from the sky now, she wouldn’t be surprised.

But she had no tools to dig ginseng.

So she shouted loudly:

“Grandma—!”

“Mother—!”

“Auntie—!”

“Second Aunt—!”

“Come quick—!”

For the first time, Fubao was this excited.

Because in ancient times, ginseng was extremely valuable.

Even a two- or three-year-old root could fetch two taels of silver.

And the one before her was no less than ten years old. She didn’t know the exact price in this dynasty, but it couldn’t be too far off.

A ten-year ginseng could easily sell for ten taels of silver.

The older the root, the higher the price.

If it were a century-old ginseng—

and if they found a wealthy buyer—
it could fetch more than a hundred taels.

But hundred-year ginseng was vanishingly rare.

Almost impossible to encounter.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong—?”

“Fubao, did you fall?”

Within moments, the four women came running, faces full of panic, tools still clutched in their hands.

Seeing Fubao crouched on the ground, Zhang Jinlan nearly collapsed, thinking her granddaughter had broken her leg.

“Grandma, is this the ginseng that the traveling doctor talked about?” Fubao once again invoked the memory of that old physician.

“What ginseng?”

Relieved to see her granddaughter unharmed, Zhang Jinlan exhaled—
but at the mention of ginseng, her heart began to race.

“The doctor said ginseng is super expensive. He told me if I ever found a plant with red berries on the mountain, digging it up would mean it’s ginseng. Look, Grandma—these are red berries. Is this ginseng?”

Fubao pointed at the berries, eyes wide with innocence.

“I don’t know either…” Zhang Jinlan squatted, carefully digging with her trowel.

Zhu Yingqiu and the others crowded around.

Everyone held their breath, afraid to make a sound.

They’d heard that ginseng could “run away.”

If startled, it might vanish.

Luckily Fubao couldn’t hear people’s thoughts, or she would’ve laughed like a pig.

Ginseng didn’t have legs—
how could it run?

The rumor came from the fact that ginseng absorbed soil nutrients aggressively. As resources dwindled, the root would slowly shift deeper or sideways, so when people returned years later, they couldn’t find the same root—thus the tale of “running ginseng.”

“It is… it really is ginseng!”

A quarter hour later—

Sun Pingmei’s lips trembled with excitement.

Half the root was exposed.

Zhang Jinlan didn’t dare breathe too hard.

She’d heard that even breaking a single fine root would drastically cut its value.

So she discarded the trowel and began gently clawing away soil with her hands.

Another quarter hour passed—

At last, the ginseng was fully unearthed.

Zhang Jinlan cradled it carefully in her hands, too thrilled for words.

“Mother, can this ginseng sell for a lot? Let’s go back quickly and show Father. He’s seen more of the world—he’ll know best.”

Zhu Yingqiu urged anxiously.

“Yes, yes, let’s hurry back. If ginseng has to be sold fresh, Dahe can run to the town. Come, let’s head down the mountain.”

Zhang Jinlan nodded.

She stood, but her legs, numb from crouching too long, nearly gave way—she almost fell.

Luckily her daughters-in-law caught her in time.

Because the ginseng was so precious, Zhang Jinlan pulled out a handkerchief, wrapped it layer by layer, and tucked it into her basket.

She covered it with sprouts on top, and padded it with sprouts below—

afraid even the jostle of walking might harm it.