Zhao Guangran gathered the branches that had fallen on the ground.
Zhao Xuran, holding a machete, went to chop some branches. If he spotted any fruits or mushrooms, he would say, "Nizi, there are mushrooms here."
"Nizi, there are black fungi here."
Every time she heard this, Gong Ruini would happily scurry over, picking them cheerfully and gently placing them into her basket.
Once dried, these ingredients would turn into a delicious treat for winter. If used to stew chicken, they would be exceptionally tasty.
Gong Ruini licked her lips carefully, thinking how wonderful it would be to catch a pheasant. She used to think pheasant was a type of fish, but later realized it was a kind of wild chicken, renowned for its exquisite flavor.
In the past, she had only heard of pheasants, but due to excessive human hunting, their numbers dwindled drastically. For someone like Gong Ruini, it remained a dish she had heard of but never had the chance to taste.
