Chapter 42: Seeking Medicine in the Midnight Mountains

The setting sun cast a sliver of lingering light across the sky, stretching the tiny figure's shadow extremely long.

Hu Xiaocao was almost crushed under the load on her back, which besides pigweed also held firewood.

She walked unsteadily along the mountain path, her left hand holding a dry branch she had picked up as a makeshift cane, occasionally pushing aside vines or plants blocking the way.

She carefully examined her surroundings, her right hand holding a sheet of paper, comparing it from time to time in the faint moonlight, as if searching for something.

The paper depicted a plant that somewhat resembled the night-blooming cereus.

"The old man Wu who treats Mother's illness said we must find this kind of herb that blooms at night; I've searched all day and still haven't seen it."

Hu Xiaocao muttered to herself, the mountain path was hard to travel, and besides it was night, the light dim and unclear, she stumbled along the way.

Both her hands and feet were covered with countless tiny scratches, all from being cut by those sharp, finely spined plants.

Hu Xiaocao seemed oblivious to the pain, her gaze focused, not noticing that her clothes had snagged on a nearby branch.

"Rip—"

In the quiet night, the sound of tearing cloth was especially noticeable.

Seeing her sleeve torn open a large gash by the branch beside her, Hu Xiaocao couldn't help but look distressed: "I'll have to mend my clothes again when I get back."

Hu Xiaocao couldn't help but sigh, feeling a bit discouraged.

"I don't know where the night-blooming herb Old Man Wu spoke of actually is."

The mountain forest at night is completely different from daytime, as if transformed into another form; all things have yin and yang aspects, without exception.

By day it is lush and green, trees forming shade, but by night everything is soaked in the night's dark ink, the outlines of the tall trees gradually becoming blurred.

Like lurking shadows in the dark, preparing to stir, they stared down at Hu Xiaocao below with tigerish vigilance.

No matter how precocious, she was still just a half-grown child.

A chill rose behind Hu Xiaocao, and she suddenly recalled the various mountain spirit and monster tales the village elders used to tell.

"If you don't behave, the mountain sprites will snatch you away! They love to grab crying, noisy children."

Such sayings were originally meant to scare children into behaving quietly.

But given the setting and location, Hu Xiaocao, already dressed thinly, felt the night mountain wind as if someone were blowing cold air on the back of her neck.

The surrounding tree shadows swayed, rustling like clapping hands, ghostly shadows layered thickly.

Hu Xiaocao couldn't help but shiver, feeling the urge to retreat: "Forget it, maybe I should just go back."

No sooner had that thought arisen than Hu Xiaocao recalled her mother lying ill in bed, and boundless courage welled up in her heart.

She instinctively clenched her small fists, her eyes full of resolve.

"No! I must find the night-blooming herb, bring it back to cure Mother's illness, so she can recover quickly and no longer have to drink those foul medicines."

Hu Xiaocao looked up at the bright moon and bowed with her palms together.

"Little Grass, you're so well-behaved and obedient, Mountain God Grandfather, you'll surely bless me, right? Since you're not speaking, I'll take your silence as agreement!"

Under the silver light, Hu Xiaocao steadied her steps; her tiny body bore the weight of all life's burdens.

……

Meanwhile, at the southeastern edge of Longyuan Village, in the farthest corner, stood a dilapidated thatched hut.

The house's exterior was utterly dilapidated—one could say it was drafty on all sides, its windows merely paper-pasted, as if a gust would blow it over.

Inside, a bean-sized candle flickered, barely illuminating the surroundings: aside from a broken bed, there were chairs missing legs, leaning askew, and several shattered bowls piled on the floor.

There was nothing else left; it could be said the family had bare walls.

The room was further filled with a strong medicinal odor, a brown earthenware pot simmering nearby, the smell emanating from within.

A pallid woman struggled to rise from the bed, leaning against the doorframe and gazing anxiously, her expression full of worry.

"Little Grass said she was going to cut pigweed; why hasn't she returned yet? Could something have happened?"

"Cough cough! No, I have to go see."

The woman, cane in hand, had just stepped outside when she bumped into Wu Yuan.

Wu Yuan looked at the woman, frowned, and said, "Older sister, why are you out? Didn't I tell you to stay in bed and rest?"

In his youth Wu Yuan had followed a barefoot doctor and learned a bit of medicine; he was fairly capable, and villagers with headaches or fevers would come to him.

"Uncle Wu—"

"Cough cough cough!"

As the woman opened her mouth, whether from a draft or not, a violent cough burst from her throat, as if her five viscera and six bowels were about to be coughed up.

Wu Yuan quickly helped her inside, then poured a bowl of the liquid from the earthenware pot for her—a thick, brownish brew with a strange taste.

The woman drank it without changing expression, evidently accustomed to it.

"I told you, your condition can't withstand wind; if it worsens, I won't be able to help."

After drinking it, her cough indeed lessened, but her complexion remained poor.

She grabbed Wu Yuan's hand, her eyes full of panic, her body gaunt as if skin clung to bone, with veins standing out.

"Uncle Wu, Little Grass has gone missing; she said she was going to cut pigweed today, but she hasn't returned yet—could something have happened?"

Wu Yuan, not knowing what he'd thought of, his face suddenly changed: "Oh no! Little Grass mustn't have gone up the mountain, right?"

"A few days ago she kept pestering me to draw her my medicinal herbs; I thought it was just a child's curiosity and didn't think much of it, so I drew them for her."

In traditional Chinese medicine this herb is called "Evening Primrose," a plant of the Evening Primrose genus in the willowherb family; it blooms at dusk or evening, hence its name, and both petals and rhizome can be used medicinally, as a primer.

The woman's medicine lacked exactly such a primer, but Evening Primrose is scarce here, and Wu Yuan had no stock, so he could only substitute something else.

Upon hearing this, the woman's vision darkened, she nearly fainted: "You mean Little Grass went up the mountain to gather herbs for me?!"

With her emotions surging, the woman's chest heaved violently, her eyes about to roll white.

Seeing the situation was wrong, Wu Yuan quickly pressed her philtrum and gave her another mouthful of medicine, after which she improved somewhat.

The woman's eye sockets reddened, she sobbed without cease: "What, what can we do? The mountains are so dangerous, I have only Little Grass as my daughter; if anything happens to her, I won't want to live."

Wu Yuan comforted: "Older sister, don't worry; I'll now bring people to look for Little Grass. That girl is smart and clever; good people have their own heavenly favor—she'll surely be fine."

"Then it's troublesome for you, Uncle Wu, we've caused you trouble again."

Wu Yuan waved his hand indifferently, "You're being too formal; we're all fellow villagers."

The woman nodded with tears in her eyes, silently praying for the little grass in her heart.

(End of chapter)