Chapter 20: It Started to Rain

Jiang Yuan had a hearty appetite. Since he couldn't eat his fill of meat, he had to supplement his meals with flatbreads and vegetables.

That was why Xie Wangniang had not only stir-fried a large basin of mixed vegetables, but also made a pot of braised rabbit with green beans, where at least seventy percent of the dish was beans, leaving less than thirty percent for the rabbit meat, which was nonetheless enticing in both color and aroma.

Once Jiang Yuan had taken the braised rabbit with beans and the stir-fried vegetables to the main room, Xie Wangniang opened the pickle jar and retrieved some cucumber and radish pickles.

Jiang Yuan had already prepared the bowls, chopsticks, and warm water. After Xie Wangniang carried in the pickles and extinguished the stove, the two sat opposite each other to enjoy their evening meal after a long day of labor.

Unlike most families in the village, who only ate three meals a day during the busy spring plowing and autumn harvest seasons or on holidays, Jiang Yuan had been eating three meals a day ever since he could remember.

His foster mother had suffered health issues after giving birth to Wang Xiaozhi. With only two children in the family—himself and Wang Xiaozhi—they didn't need to be as frugal with food and clothing as couples who had three, four, five, or even seven children. Furthermore, Hao Yu would occasionally use the excuse of having his foster mother and sister help with chores to provide them with extra grain and meat, so they were never short of food. They didn't eat lavishly, but at the very least, they had plenty of vegetables and coarse grains, and occasionally, they could enjoy some fine grains or a bit of oil and meat.

Of course, this was also largely due to the relative stability of Mingfu Village. Although, like the Xie Village where Xie Wangniang had grown up, Mingfu Village had occasionally been visited by refugees and bandits and had borne the burden of heavy levies and taxes, their lives were still far better than those of the commoners living in the so-called "contested battlegrounds," which were constantly fought over by various warlords and frequently plundered by soldiers and bandits.

Like him, Xie Wangniang was fortunate to have the deep foundations of the Xie family. Although she was born in a Taoist temple and raised in the countryside, she rarely faced the embarrassment of lacking food or clothing. As a result, neither of them felt that their habit of eating three meals a day was anything out of the ordinary.

They finished their meal by the last light of day. One of them rushed to the kitchen to scrub pots, wash dishes, boil water, and store the cooled meat sauce and dried meat, while the other darted back and forth, moving stack after stack of baskets containing medicinal herbs into the house.

After working up a sweat and washing up, Xie Wangniang pushed open the window and instructed Jiang Yuan, "A-Yuan, wake me up earlier tomorrow. I want to use the leftover bones to make broth and cook noodles."

Jiang Yuan gave a grunt of acknowledgment, but he did not wake Xie Wangniang early the next morning. The reason was simple: it had started raining in the middle of the night.

The rain here was never incessant, and the rainfall was significantly less than in the south, but Jiang Yuan felt it was better for Xie Wangniang to avoid the mountains after a rainfall. As for himself, he just slipped on his straw sandals and didn't mind the water or the mud.

Moving as quietly as possible, he readied himself, left a note on the stove for Xie Wangniang that read "I've gone up the mountain," and then ate two flatbreads and a few pieces of dried meat for breakfast before lightly opening the courtyard gate and slipping out.

He rose exceptionally early, and since rainy weather wasn't suitable for field work, even the few villagers who were as early a riser as he was were staying put at home, waiting for a hot breakfast. Thus, no one noticed Jiang Yuan’s departure.

After locking the gate, Jiang Yuan walked quickly and steadily toward the low mountain nearest to Mingfu Village. The vegetation on the mountain was still drenched. Few animals were out foraging, so Jiang Yuan wasn't in a hurry to hunt. He cast his gaze around, first digging up some tender, succulent wild vegetables and gathering some non-toxic mushrooms he recognized, such as straw mushrooms, chicken leg mushrooms, and porcini.

When the sun came out and the rainwater on the plants gradually evaporated and the ground dried under the sunlight, Jiang Yuan hid his basket in the branches of an apricot tree and took his bow and arrows to scout for pheasants and hares coming out to forage.

Xie Wangniang, having slept soundly all night, opened her eyes when the first ray of sunlight hit her face. The bright daylight outside made her realize that she had definitely overslept.

Stretching her aching limbs and knocking on her sore back and waist, Xie Wangniang dressed slowly, tidied her bedding, stepped off the heated brick bed, opened the door, and went into the courtyard to see what was going on. The damp marks on the ground caught her eye, and she realized in retrospect, "So it rained last night."

She stretched and walked into the kitchen, where she saw the note Jiang Yuan had left in a prominent spot on the stove. She picked it up, glanced at it, and let out a soft laugh.

The style was as concise and to the point as ever. The neat but plain charcoal writing showed none of the flair or spirit her foster father had always championed. Of course, Xie Wangniang was the same; she could copy any of her foster father’s calligraphy manuals with uncanny accuracy, but she could never develop a personal style of her own, and her writing completely lacked what others called "spirit and bone."

Her foster father would sigh because of this, but she didn't care at all, even secretly joking that if her foster father were a transmigrator, he would likely have nicknamed her a "human photocopier."

Thinking of this, Xie Wangniang boiled a pot of water, scooped it into an earthen jar to cool, and then heated two flatbreads, spreading them with meat sauce to eat. After finishing her meal and washing the dishes, she prepared the bones left over from the night before, threw them into the pot, added water, and simmered them over a low flame.

Since it had rained last night and she had been left at home, Jiang Yuan likely wouldn't go far today. Since she hadn't been able to use those bones in the morning, she decided to make bone broth noodles for lunch. If she fried a couple of eggs and added plenty of baby spinach, the taste would surely be delicious enough to make one’s eyebrows fall off. If that felt too plain, they could pair it with some dried fish or meat, or add a bit more meat sauce. Just thinking about it made Xie Wangniang swallow her saliva.

After setting the broth to simmer, Xie Wangniang saw that the courtyard had dried out, so she went to the main room and moved her baskets of medicinal herbs back into the sun, one by one. The racks the carpenter had made for her at Jiang Yuan's request were smooth and sturdy; it was clear that he had put his heart into them. Every time she moved the baskets onto them, Xie Wangniang couldn't help but marvel at how honest the craftsmen of this era were—no matter what they made, they never cut corners or did a shoddy job.

Panting after moving all the baskets, Xie Wangniang leaned against the doorframe, breathing heavily, and once again envied Jiang Yuan’s great strength. If only Jiang Yuan were here—he could have moved these baskets in a flash. Unlike her, moving them one by one had left her nearly exhausted.

What Xie Wangniang didn't know was that Jiang the "Strongman" Yuan, whom she was thinking of, was actually quite exhausted himself. Once the sun had finally evaporated the remaining moisture from the ground and plants, the small animals had all come out to forage. He had to seize this opportunity to make up for the losses caused by his bad luck the day before. While racing through the mountains after pheasants and hares, he also had to shoot, retrieve his game, and collect his arrows—it was, to say the least, a significant drain on his stamina.