Chapter 12: Chapter Twelve: Life in an Ancient Mountain Village

“Fa… Gu Young Master!”

Gu Zhao had just stepped out of the forest when he saw He Xiuniang waiting at the village entrance, craning her neck.

Seeing Gu Zhao, her eyes brightened instantly; she rose onto her toes, waved at him, then ran over, panting, until she reached his side, her cheeks flushed as she pulled out an egg and offered it to him.

Gu Zhao asked curiously, “Where did this egg come from?”

He Xiuniang beamed, “Old Lady Li gave it to me—she keeps a few hens. Young Master, eat it while it’s warm; we’ve saved your dinner at home.”

“Good!” Gu Zhao didn’t refuse; he’d been testing spells in the forest all day and was truly hungry.

He reached for the egg and unconsciously asked, “Have you eaten yet?”

He Xiuniang froze, nodding rapidly—but before she could speak, her stomach let out a loud “gurgle.”

Her face flushed red; she hurriedly said, “I really did eat breakfast—I’m just about to eat dinner.”

Gu Zhao blinked, “How many meals do you have in a day?”

“Two,” He Xiuniang whispered. “My grandfather and I don’t work the fields, so breakfast and dinner are enough.”

Gu Zhao fell silent for a moment, then gently squeezed the egg—still warm and fragrant with her scent—until its shell cracked. He peeled it and ate it bit by bit. “Delicious.”

He Xiuniang’s face lit up instantly; she grabbed Gu Zhao’s hand and pulled him toward home, even skipping in tiny steps.

As Gu Zhao entered the village, he found it had returned to calm—the dozens of bandit corpses had been cleared away. It was nearing You Hour; smoke curled from many rooftops.

“Master Fa!”

“Gu… Gu Young Master!”

Seeing Gu Zhao return, villagers who had learned from He Laozhang that he’d be staying in the village warmly greeted him, their eyes filled with both affection and awe—and a hint of envy toward He Xiuniang.

Gu Zhao nodded in reply and soon reached He Laozhang’s home, just as three or four boys tumbled out of the courtyard, laughing and chasing each other.

They nearly collided with Gu Zhao; when they looked up and recognized his face, they froze in shock, instantly standing stiffly, unsure how to react.

Gu Zhao waved them off. “Go play.”

“Yes!”

Hearing his permission, the children exhaled sharply and bolted away like the wind.

Seeing Gu Zhao, He Laozhang, who had followed them out, also relaxed. He gave He Xiuniang a fond look and explained, “They’ve finished their chores and come here to learn characters and arithmetic.”

Learn characters…

Right—this was ancient times. No nine-year compulsory education. Many people never learned to count or read in their entire lives.

“Ping Niao brought some cured pork today; I steamed some buns. Young Master, come inside quickly,” He Laozhang urged.

Gu Zhao stepped into the courtyard and saw a low table beneath an old tree, holding two porcelain bowls and a bamboo basket.

One bowl held half a portion of cured pork; another held some unknown black pickled vegetable; the basket held five or six dark-yellow steamed buns, palm-sized.

“Young Master, sit. The porridge is still warm—I’ll serve you some,” He Laozhang said.

“I’ll get it!” He Xiuniang interrupted, brushing past He Laozhang and dashing into the kitchen. Soon she returned, both hands holding a bowl of porridge, placing it before Gu Zhao.

Moments later, Gu Zhao stared at the bowl of millet porridge before him—thicker and far more generous than He Laozhang’s or He Xiuniang’s—and fell silent.

Yesterday he’d been too rushed—overwhelmed by excitement and fear of arriving in another world, his mind full of ghosts, cultivation, exploration. He’d barely noticed the outside world, and even when he did, it was superficial.

Today, after testing spells in the forest all day, he felt more grounded, his mood relaxed—and only then did he remember his promise to return to the village.

Life in this ancient mountain village was vastly different from what Gu Zhao had imagined.

Crumbling huts, patched clothes, meager meals, crude tools… they did have food, but barely enough to survive.

Seeing his silence, He Xiuniang’s eyes grew timid; she lowered her head in shame. He Laozhang’s lips twitched twice, then he whispered, “Young Master, forgive us—the mountains offer little. Today, please make do. Tomorrow I’ll send someone to the county to buy meat, vegetables, and fruit.”

Gu Zhao snapped out of it, glancing at He Xiuniang and He Laozhang’s expressions, then waved his hand with a bright laugh, “You misunderstand, Old Man. I was thinking—He Xiuniang poured me too much porridge. If I can’t finish it, I’d be wasting her kindness.”

He Xiuniang giggled, lifting her head; her cheeks flushed pink as she teased, “Young Master is a great Master Fa—you expend spirit daily, and today you haven’t eaten since morning. How could you not finish a bowl of porridge?”

“To be honest, I ate very well at noon—I’m still full now,” Gu Zhao smiled.

He’d visited the City God Temple and Yuanfa Palace in the morning. Though eager to come here for experiments, he’d still eaten a pork trotter rice meal with half a roasted goose—definitely full.

He Xiuniang couldn’t help laughing. “Did you hunt a giant wild boar in the mountains?”

Gu Zhao shook his head. “Wild boar meat is sour and tough. Not tasty at all.”

“But it’s delicious?” He Xiuniang instinctively glanced at the porcelain bowl on the table—the cured pork from Li Erping, the village hunter who’d killed a giant wild boar.

Li Erping had given them pork before; He Xiuniang remembered it being delicious, leaving a lingering taste for days. This pork hadn’t been eaten yet, but it looked good too.

“That’s true—wild game isn’t something you get to eat often,” Gu Zhao nodded.

Wild boars were still on modern protection lists; hunting one was illegal, let alone eating it. So this was his first taste of exotic meat in this world?

Thinking of it, Gu Zhao felt cheerful again. He poured half a bowl of porridge for He Xiuniang and half for He Laozhang, then picked up a steamed bun and added a chopstick of pork. “Come on, let’s eat.”

…

Gu Zhao didn’t eat much. Because of what had happened, He Laozhang dared not urge him—but he watched as Gu Zhao urged He Xiuniang to eat more, and his eyes began to shimmer again.

After dinner, He Xiuniang brought out a book from the main room and, while the sunset still lingered, sat in the courtyard reading.

He Laozhang approached Gu Zhao, cautiously probing, “When I was young, I worked as an accountant in Xiuyue County. After He Xiuniang’s parents passed, I taught the village children to read, count, and manage a household. He Xiuniang listened and learned while weaving bamboo during the day—now she can read, write, and is well-mannered.”

Gu Zhao nodded, but his gaze wandered, distracted. “Try to read during daylight—poor light harms the eyes.”

He Laozhang, “….”

He Laozhang opened his mouth as if to speak, but thought better of it and stayed silent.

Gu Zhao glanced at He Xiuniang’s book—the characters resembled traditional Chinese script from Blue Star’s ancient past. He read two lines, lost interest, wandered to the kitchen, warned them not to disturb him, then returned to his room to rest.

“I remember Jin Dama’s Fresh Store used to stay open until eleven?”