Chapter 37: Chapter 37: Good People and Bad People, Chicken Stewed with Mushrooms

Qian Caihua didn’t take Gu Qinghuan’s warning to heart at all, but she wasn’t angry either.

“Huai’an’s wife, to be honest, if I’d known you were so filial, I really should have proposed a marriage between you and my Qiulin. Don’t talk about a hundred yuan, I’d pay a hundred and one! It’s such a pity about you, so young—what will you do in the future?”

Gu Qinghuan could barely keep from laughing. A hundred and one yuan, and she could say it with a straight face. She couldn’t be bothered to reply, just hefted the sack onto her shoulder and got ready to head down the mountain with the two kids.

Seeing that she was really leaving, Qian Caihua hurriedly slung her own bundle of firewood onto her back and chased after them, calling out, “If you eat too many of those red berries, you’ll get hiccups, acid reflux, stomach pain, and feel weak all over. Don’t go treating them like real food!”

People in the mountains know what’s edible and what’s not. Otherwise, with so many berries around, why would no one else want them? Qian Caihua was just worried that this city girl, who couldn’t tell wheat from millet, might not know any better and end up getting sick.

That’s just the kind of person Qian Caihua was. She could be mean, but never truly malicious. At worst, she had some of the typical faults of rural women: loved to gossip, had a sharp tongue, and liked to meddle, but she never meant real harm.

Seeing how anxious she was, Gu Qinghuan had to stop and answer her properly.

“I got it, you take it slow.” Wouldn’t want her to fall and blame it on her.

Only when Qian Caihua saw she was listening did she slow down herself.

On the way back, Gu Qinghuan walked briskly.

Maybe because he noticed Gu Qinghuan didn’t like Qian Caihua much, Dabao whispered, “Mom, Grandma Qian isn’t a bad person. Once, when I was hungry for days, she secretly gave me a piece of black bread.”

That was one of the few acts of kindness Dabao had ever received.

Times were hard—no one had any extra food. Even a piece of black bread was a big favor.

Gu Qinghuan felt a jumble of emotions inside.

Everyone has many sides. Qian Caihua could be annoying, gossipy, and meddlesome, but her life shouldn’t be manipulated by Lin Xiaomeng.

Just for the fact that she’d chased after her to offer that warning, Gu Qinghuan felt she owed her some help. But how to help, she hadn’t figured out yet.

She couldn’t just rush up and say, “Don’t drink Lin Xiaomeng’s water, or your luck will be stolen,” could she?

Sigh. She’d just have to take things one step at a time.

—

When they got home, Zhong Zijun had already steamed the rice.

The pot of chicken stewed with mushrooms was giving off a rich aroma that made everyone’s mouth water.

Seeing her daughter struggling with the heavy sack, Zhong Zijun’s heart ached. She hurried over to help, only to remember her own hands weren’t up to it.

Gu Qinghuan tossed the sack onto the floor.

“Dabao, Beibei, go fetch some water and wash your hands. We’re having chicken and mushroom stew today!”

Everyone’s faces lit up with joy.

As usual, lunch was eaten on the kang in the east room.

Zhong Zijun fairly divided the two drumsticks between the two kids, gave the wings to her daughter and son-in-law, and gnawed happily on the chicken head herself.

Don’t talk about chicken heads being inedible—these days, anything with a bit of fat is a treat. Even the chicken’s tail is considered a delicacy.

The wild chicken, plucked and cleaned, weighed just over two jin (a little over a kilo). With the mushrooms, it made a full pot. The whole family ate every last drop, mixing the rich broth into their rice. Xu Huai’an was eating noticeably faster than usual.

After the meal, sitting on the kang, Gu Qinghuan was already thinking about when to take out the other wild chicken she had in her space. Wild mountain chicken, pure and flavorful—damn, it was delicious.

She’d have to find a way to get more wild game from the mountains using the spiritual spring water, stash it in her space, and eat it slowly. But she’d have to be careful with the bigger wild animals—she’d need a long-term plan.

Speaking of which, she remembered the seafood in the villa’s kitchen. If she didn’t eat it soon, it would go bad.

But with Zhong Zijun around, it wasn’t convenient. Besides, they were eating well every meal; it wouldn’t be right to cook something extra just for herself.

She wondered if the spiritual spring water could be used to raise sea fish and shrimp. If so, she could keep them alive for now—maybe they’d even multiply.

“Huanhuan, are you sure those schisandra berries can really be sold for money?” Zhong Zijun asked. She’d seen schisandra before, but only dried, never fresh.

“Don’t worry, it’ll work. I know someone who specializes in buying medicinal herbs. I’ll go back this afternoon and pick more, then take them to sell first thing tomorrow,” Gu Qinghuan said, stifling a yawn. She was getting sleepy.

Seeing this, Zhong Zijun quickly got up to tidy up. “Go take a nap. I’ll clean up. I can’t help with your big tasks, but I can handle these little chores.”

Gu Qinghuan didn’t quite trust her, so she shot the two kids a look. They immediately got the hint and scampered over to help Zhong Zijun.

Gu Qinghuan went back to the west room and locked the door.

She didn’t go to sleep right away, but entered her space instead. Since Zhong Zijun had arrived, she hadn’t had time to go in.

First things first: she harvested the persimmons and chestnuts she’d transplanted, and put them up for sale in the vending machine.

Inside the space, she could control everything with her mind, so harvesting only took a moment.

From a dozen persimmon trees, she got a pile of fruit as high as a small mountain.

There was also a small heap of chestnuts, already shelled.

Gu Qinghuan tasted a “chicken heart” persimmon—thin-skinned, juicy, sweet, and seedless. Delicious. Maybe it was the spiritual spring water, but it had a special, refreshing sweetness.

She set aside enough for the family to eat over the winter, and put the rest up for sale in the vending machine.

These persimmons were so good, she couldn’t sell them too cheap—thirty cents a jin would do.

After weighing, the vending machine showed 1,450 jin of persimmons. With the ones she kept, it was about 2,000 jin in total.

That meant each tree produced over a hundred jin of fruit. For wild, untended trees, that was pretty impressive.

There were far fewer chestnuts—just about a hundred jin in total.

Gu Qinghuan decided not to sell those, but keep them for the family.

With 1,450 jin of persimmons on the shelf, she’d soon have over four hundred yuan coming in. Gu Qinghuan was in a good mood.

After dealing with the fruit trees, Gu Qinghuan went to the kitchen and found that the fish, shrimp, and crabs in the sink were still alive.

No time to waste—she picked a suitable spot in her space, dug a big pit, and filled it with spiritual spring water, getting ready to start her own little fish farm.

But spiritual spring water alone wouldn’t be enough. She planned to go to the river that afternoon and bring back some river water for her space.

While she was at it, she’d collect more types of fish—couldn’t have too many.

Then, whenever she wanted to eat, she could just scoop one out with a net. Just thinking about it made her happy.

She’d also need to plant some grains and vegetables, so she wouldn’t have to spend money on them in the future.

She was still daydreaming when Zhong Zijun knocked on the door.

“Huanhuan, are you asleep? Why’d you lock the door just for a nap?”

Gu Qinghuan scrambled out of the space and hurried to open the door.

Oh, Mom, your timing is just perfect."