Ji Liansong set down the bundle from his shoulder, stammering for a long while before finally explaining why he'd come.
"…Eat these for now. When you run out, I'll find another way to get you more."
Ji Huan stared at the half-sack of dried sweet potato strips, momentarily at a loss for words.
After her parents, the heads of the second branch, passed away, the only person in the entire Ji Family who treated young Ji Huan with any kindness was this uncle. That was why she had been willing to open the door for him just now.
After the family split, no one from the Ji Family cared whether she lived or died. They seemed certain she would soon perish in this dilapidated shack. Only this uncle would sneak over in the dead of night to bring her a few rations.
If she wasn't mistaken, he had probably "stolen" this half-sack of dried sweet potato strips as well.
The Ji Family's food stores were kept under lock and key by Aunt Kang in the eastern room of the main house, where she and Ji Qingshan lived. Whoever was on cooking duty had to go to her the night before to collect the next day's ingredients. They could only cook the exact amount they were given—not one extra grain of rice—and they had to make sure the porridge in her and Ji Qingshan's bowls was the thickest.
The family only had meat on the rare occasion that Ji Liantang returned from town. Aunt Kang would act like it was the New Year, slaughtering a chicken and carving up meat. She'd pile all the best cuts onto her precious son's plate, and if anyone else so much as took an extra piece, she'd shoot them a look that could skin them alive.
Not long ago, the younger Ji Huan and her aunt, Yang, had spent days slicing these very sweet potatoes. They had been left to dry in the courtyard, which was how Ji Liansong had managed to get his hands on them. Even so, he must have been terrified. After all, her uncle was honest to a fault.
Ji Huan wanted nothing more to do with the Ji Family, but she could sense a deep guilt and bitterness radiating from this quiet, rustic man.
She also remembered that on the night Aunt Kang had them carry her to this dilapidated shack, he had tried to stop it.
After a moment's hesitation, she accepted them.
Ji Liansong could be considered separate from the rest of the Ji Family. Besides, her current situation didn't allow for the luxury of pride. She would have to accept this kindness and owe him a favor for now.
"Thank… you, Uncle."
Ji Liansong visibly relaxed when he saw that she not only accepted the food but also still called him "Uncle."
He then hurriedly pulled another package from his robes, carefully unwrapping it layer by layer. "Don't think it's too little. I'm not good for much, this is all I have… When the sun comes up, go find a doctor and get some medicine. You can't let an illness linger… If it's not enough, tell him you'll pay him later. Later… I'll come and pay the rest."
Ten copper coins lay in his palm, wrapped in several layers of coarse cloth. It was clear they had been painstakingly saved up in secret.
Ji Huan stared at his chapped palm with a storm of emotions. After a long moment, she reached out, took the coins, and slowly closed her hand around them.
After Ji Liansong left, Ji Huan lay back down on the bed, but now she was wide awake.
She wondered if her uncle had made it back safely. If Aunt Kang caught him, there would surely be hell to pay.
Normally, the eldest son and his line should be the most highly valued, yet the first branch's life wasn't much better than the second branch's had been.
'It wasn't entirely fair to say he was useless, though.'
The Ji Family owned over thirty mu of land. Ji Qingshan was too old to do much work, and Ji Lianhuai was so lazy he wouldn't bother to right an oil jar if it tipped over right in front of him. Ever since Ji Lianbai's death, Ji Liansong had been shouldering nearly all the work himself.
But no matter how diligent or skilled he was at farming, you couldn't dig gold from the dirt. How could he ever compare to Ji Liantang, who was destined for a future of limitless glory?
Ji Liansong and Yang had a son and a daughter. The eldest daughter, Ji Xuelan, was already married. Their son, Ji Mingfang, was born bright, but unfortunately, at the age of eight, his leg was permanently injured. He couldn't study, nor could he do heavy labor.
Aunt Kang had never thought much of this son to begin with. After Ji Mingfang's leg was crippled, their branch of the family lost any say they ever had. They simply toiled away day after day, living like ghosts. Even then, they had to endure Aunt Kang's constant tirades and thinly veiled insults, like "useless trash," "little devil here to collect debts," and "a whole nest of good-for-nothings"...
'For a man so used to being oppressed, he had truly done his best for her.' Ji Huan gratefully accepted his kindness.
As soon as the sun rose, Ji Huan opened the door and circled the shack several times, checking both the front and the back. She even checked the ash pit beneath the stove, but she didn't find anything.
'That's not right…' Unwilling to give up, Ji Huan checked two more times. Still nothing.
A chill ran down Ji Huan's spine.
Last night, her mind had been racing, and it had taken her ages to fall asleep, only to be woken in the dead of night.
The sound came from beyond the wall, a muffled whimpering. It sounded like someone crying, but also like someone whispering just outside her window. It was utterly terrifying.
Ji Huan wanted to go out and look, but she lost her nerve. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will herself back to sleep. Thankfully, the noise faded away after a short while.
Just as she started to relax, hovering on the edge of sleep, the sound returned!
Unable to take it anymore, she shouted, "Who's out there playing tricks?!"
Outside, it suddenly fell silent.
The moment she lay back down, the whimpering began again!
This happened several more times until Ji Huan was a nervous wreck. Now, sporting heavy dark circles under her eyes, she faced the rising sun and began to question everything.
'Could there really be a ghost…?'
'Considering her own miraculous experience of dying and coming back to life, maybe her atheism wasn't so well-founded...'
'Maybe there are no gods, but that doesn't mean there aren't any ghosts...'
It turns out that while it can take a decade to build a belief system, it only takes a single night for it to come crashing down.
Ji Huan felt completely deflated.
But no matter how much she was questioning reality, she still had to eat breakfast.
There was no iron wok, but thankfully, there was a clay tripod pot. Ironware was expensive in this era, so poorer families who couldn't afford woks still used these traditional pots for cooking.
She had scrubbed the earthenware-colored tripod pot clean yesterday, but getting water was a problem.
The better-off families in the village, like the Ji Family, had mostly hired someone to dig a private well in their courtyards.
But most households had to rely on the two large wells, one in the center of the village and one at the southern end. Every morning, there was a queue to draw water, like a modern-day rush hour, which was highly inconvenient.
Ji Huan didn't even own a bucket, so she didn't bother joining the crowd. Instead, she grabbed a handful of dried sweet potato strips, took her black earthenware jar, and went to the nearby stream. She was in no position to be picky.
She filled the jar halfway with water and put the rinsed sweet potato strips in to soak. Once they had softened, she changed the water and poured everything into the tripod pot, which was already hanging over the hearth, and started cooking.
Last night, Ji Liansong had also left her a candle stub and a fire-starter before he left. She went out and cut a bundle of dry grass. She managed to get a fire going, but she wasn't used to this kind of earthen stove and accidentally put it out several times, filling the entire kitchen area with thick smoke. It was a good thing the shack was open-sided; otherwise, she would have choked.
When the water in the tripod pot began to bubble, she pulled away the firewood to let the fire die down.
With no bowl, Ji Huan broke off two thin twigs to use as chopsticks and began to eat directly from the pot.
Surprisingly, the boiled sweet potato strips were quite tasty—soft and glutinous, with the natural sweet fragrance of a fresh crop.
'If only I had some flour,' she thought. 'Sweet potato congee is delicious too.'
Having eaten her fill, Ji Huan decided it was time to get down to business.
At this time of year, the autumn harvest and planting were mostly finished. Her three mu of wasteland were bare, so she couldn't rely on them for now. Her only option was to explore the mountains and see if she could find something useful.
There were plenty of hills and mountains of varying sizes near Dafeng Village, though none were particularly large or imposing.
The villagers typically named them based on their shapes, giving them names like Chicken Crown Mountain, Turtle Shell Mountain, and Dog Tail Mountain.
Ji Huan decided to start with the closest one: Guai Mountain, which rose up right behind her dilapidated shack.