The mountain pepper tree stood straight and tall, its leaves soft and delicate. In the spring months, clusters of small yellow blossoms would bloom, each bunch fragrant and fresh—distinctly different in scent from the mature mountain pepper fruits.
The fruits themselves were smooth and rounded, unlike the green pepper fruits that often bore small bumps. Their flavor was spicy and pungent—those who loved them were deeply fond, while those who didn’t found the taste hard to bear.
The green pepper tree, on the other hand, had broad, spreading branches. Its fruits hung in tight clusters like bunches of grapes. But the branches were covered with thorns, sharp enough to prick like a bee sting, causing a fierce, burning pain.
When planting them long ago, Father Fan kept the green pepper trees spaced apart, wary that if the trees grew too tall and tangled, harvesting would be difficult. He regularly pruned the branches, keeping the trees well-managed so their limbs never formed an impenetrable mesh.
Kang He called Fan Jing to pick mountain pepper. Jing bent low and crawled under the green pepper tree, stooping to harvest. He even snapped off small branches without hesitation.
At first, the scent beneath the green pepper tree was tingling and numbing, but soon his nose became so numb he could barely smell anything.
“Kang San-ge, the spices your family grows are truly excellent. Normally, the village doesn’t have much scent to speak of, but as soon as you start picking, the fragrance carries far and wide.”
A young woman working nearby noticed Kang He’s basket hanging from his chest, filled with green peppers. She came over and chatted with him for a while.
Praising the quality of the spices and how well Father Fan cared for the trees, she then shamelessly asked Kang He for some fresh pepper to eat.
Kang He knew exactly why she came. If he refused, he’d seem stingy. But if he gave in, others might hear and come asking as well.
Though the green peppers grew plentifully in clusters, he couldn’t afford to give them away for free; outside they sold for a high price by weight.
After a brief hesitation, Kang He still grabbed a handful of green peppers and gave them to the young woman, saying, “These trees have been planted for a few years. This field hasn’t produced anything for several years, and people were close to giving up. Luckily, this year it finally bore fruit.”
“Please tell your relatives and friends that this year we have fresh-picked green pepper and mountain pepper. The village folks can get good prices for them.”
The young woman happily accepted the fresh spices and assured him she’d spread the word. Not having noticed Fan Jing still busy in the field, she smiled and invited Kang He over to visit her home sometime.
At that moment, Fan Jing emerged quietly from the bushes, not saying a word. Only the sound of snapping mountain pepper branches came from his direction.
Startled, the young woman quickly tried to call Fan Jing over to visit, but he ignored her. She left in a huff.
Seeing she was gone, Fan Jing threw a worm-eaten mountain pepper fruit straight at Kang He’s forehead.
Kang He rubbed his brow. “Just because I gave you some green peppers, you’re not happy?”
Fan Jing said, “I’m afraid what people want isn’t just a few spices.”
Kang He clicked his tongue. “Why do you talk like that? I’m stingy enough to give you green peppers, let alone give them to others.”
Fan Jing shot Kang He a sidelong glance. “Men stingy with gifts? I’ve seen plenty rushing to give.”
Kang He suddenly laughed. “Don’t get all philosophical on me. If you say that, I’ll tell you—I’m only happy to give to you.”
Fan Jing didn’t respond further. Talking more would only embarrass them both.
They picked roughly four or five pounds of spices and went home. Kang He slaughtered a chicken for stew, tossed in two clusters of fresh green pepper, and the whole pot of chicken broth instantly released a fresh, appetizing aroma that made mouths water.
At midday, the family ate heartily.
Even Dafu, after devouring a large chicken leg, still felt unsatisfied and went on to eat a plump wing.
Chen Sanfang took some mountain pepper to make pickled vegetables. If the mountain pepper was crushed before flowering and used as a dipping sauce, the flavor was endlessly rich—perfect for dipping eggplant or thick-skinned greens.
Now that the fruits were mature, the pepper was either used as seasoning for meat dishes or pressed into mountain pepper oil for storage. Unlike green peppers, which remained fragrant even when dried, mountain pepper had to be eaten fresh.
Kang He planned to process the spices in three ways: first, to pick fresh daily and sell them at the shop; second, to dry and store the surplus; and third, to press some into fragrant oil.
Spices were rare and valuable, so selling them was never a problem.
That day, he laid out two baskets of green peppers and mountain pepper at his stall, and people came asking immediately.
“Do you get these spices straight from the mountain? Or do you collect them from wild farmers nearby? The fruits are big and fresh, and that numbing fragrance…”
Kang He replied, “They’re homegrown, planted and tended for years. Finally, they’re bearing fruit. We just picked these yesterday afternoon; the leaves still look vibrant.”
It was the autumn harvest season, and the market was bustling with produce. Kang He wasn’t the only one selling spices—many farmers ventured into the mountains to gather wild goods like green and mountain peppers. Such rare items fetched good prices, so they were popular.
But wild spices were hard to find. Some farmers, trying to make harvesting easier, even chopped down the trees.
A single spice tree took two or three years to mature and bear fruit, so they couldn’t afford to cut them all down. The mountain supply was dwindling.
Some farmers dreamed of planting spices like Kang He, but lacked the know-how to care for them, or the land to spare. They’d have to wait three to five years to see any harvest, and many young trees would die before then. Ordinary households couldn’t afford such risks.
Larger-scale growers, unable to buy seedlings from dedicated sellers, had to sow and nurture seeds themselves, but the work was slow and tedious, so few wanted to do it.
Farmers often traveled around, picking up a few seedlings here and there, tending to them gradually.
Even though spices were sold in many markets during the season, they still sold well.
“Put two liang on the scale for me. An old man at the vegetable market brought a few jin to sell. I went past just as they were gone.”
The customer said, “These spices are best eaten fresh during the season. They’re wonderful for cooking fish and stews. The dried ones stored for the off-season just don’t compare in flavor.”
Kang He swiftly weighed the goods, chatting with the buyer who was clearly a connoisseur. “We still have some growing at home. If my shop sells out, just let me know. I’ll bring fresh-picked spices the next day.”
One jin of fresh green pepper sold for two hundred and eighty qian; dried peppers could fetch up to five hundred qian per jin.
Because mountain pepper couldn’t be dried for storage, it was sold fresh only. This season it was priced even higher than the fresh green peppers—three hundred qian per jin.
Though the prices sounded high by the jin, by the liang, twenty or thirty qian was reasonable.
Spices weren’t like ordinary vegetables or meats—they were seasoning, with strong aromas, and a little went a long way.
After about half an hour of selling loose, buyers from local eateries arrived, eager to purchase in bulk.
Kang He, having just started selling these spices that day, had planned to sell slowly to spread word of their availability. But it was still early, and the buyers insisted on buying all at once, which Kang He hesitated over.
He negotiated with the buyers, “I didn’t pick much today. Do you think it’s too little? If you want, I can bring enough tomorrow. If you’re not in a rush, I’ll bring even fresher ones then.”
The buyer asked, “You still have stock?”
“Yes, we planted a few trees ourselves. I don’t usually go up the mountain, but now is the perfect time to harvest.”
The buyer was pleased and gave Kang He a string of coins as a deposit, ordering three jin each of green and mountain pepper.
Kang He accepted happily, noted down the buyer’s name and shop location, promising to deliver the next day.
“This good stuff never worries about selling.”
He Xiao-qiu noticed many people asking about the spices that morning; most bought some amount.
Besides being rare, the aroma was truly enticing.
Two years ago, he’d developed a new spiced meat recipe, using large yellow-footed chickens weighing two or three jin. After marinating them, he added lots of dried green pepper, resulting in a spicy, fragrant flavor loved by many drinkers.
Every day, taverns would come by to order a few.
But because the spices were expensive, only a few bought them regularly. He made only a small number of these spicy chickens each day—usually two or three—and stopped once sold out. He’d only make more if someone specifically ordered.
Kang He agreed, “Exactly.”
“Once you’re done here, come inside and try the new duck recipe I made.”
Kang He raised his eyebrows. “A new flavor again?”
He Xiao-qiu smiled and led him inside to find Fan Jing cleaning up spilled mung beans for a customer.
He Xiao-qiu placed a food box on the small table and helped Fan Jing tidy up the beans. Then he went to wash his hands before sitting down to eat.
Fan Jing opened the food box to find a large plate of dark-sauced duck meat.
The duck looked like it had been braised, but the skin was coated with a layer of sauce that made it appear moist and glossy.
He Xiao-qiu picked up a whole sliced duck leg and offered it to Fan Jing. “Try this.”
Fan Jing didn’t hesitate and took a bite.
The duck had the familiar aroma of He Xiao-qiu’s braised dishes but, unlike the usual braised flavors in the shop, this one had a distinct sweetness.
Fan Jing found the taste unusual. There was no gamey smell—just a combination of sweet, numbing, and spicy flavors. He finished the entire duck leg in just a few bites.
“How is it? Do you like it?”
Fan Jing nodded and took another piece.
He Xiao-qiu laughed. “I knew you’d like this flavor.”
By the time Kang He came in, Fan Jing had already eaten quite a bit of the duck.
“So delicious? You ate that much all by yourself?”
Hearing this, Fan Jing picked up a piece and handed it to Kang He.
Kang He ate some and then took another piece. “This sweet-skinned duck tastes great. I haven’t seen it sold anywhere else. Xiao-qiu, you should make more to try selling.”
He Xiao-qiu was pleased that not only Fan Jing liked the taste. He promised to start selling it in a few days.
Fan Jing asked him to make another one of these sweet ducks so he could bring some home to his family fresh.
Dafu was somewhat easygoing and liked sweet flavors. If he got to eat sweet duck meat, he might like it.
The kid went to bed early and woke early to study. After less than two months, he had already lost a little weight.
He Xiao-qiu happily said, “Even if you didn’t mention it, I was going to give you and Dafu some anyway.”
That afternoon, Kang He was cleaning up after closing, while Fan Jing went over to He Xiao-qiu’s shop to pick up the sweet-skinned duck. Entering the back room, he immediately smelled the fragrance of orchid grass.
Under the eaves in the back room, he saw a pot of blooming orchid grass. From his years in the mountains, Fan Jing recognized it as the kind that grew wild there.
He Xiao-qiu had just finished preparing the duck and noticed Fan Jing looking at the orchid grass in the back. Feeling slightly embarrassed, he said, “Bought it at the flower house outside. It smelled so nice in bloom and wasn’t expensive, so I picked up a plant.”
Fan Jing’s brow twitched. He thought, flower houses wouldn’t sell wild orchids cheaply. Knowing their usual ways, they’d dress them up with a fancy story and sell them to educated types at a high price.
But he didn’t press further, simply nodded and took the sweet-skinned duck to leave.
At home, the two called the family to quickly pick the few jin of spices ordered for the next day’s delivery.
After a busy day, night had already fallen by dinner time.
Dafu had some trouble studying at Fan Xin’s place today. He learned twenty new characters, but could only write fifteen to eighteen of them correctly. Still, he was the best among them.
After reciting once to the two men, he grew sleepy from eating so much sweet-skinned duck. Fan Jing helped him wash up, and as he sat soaking in the basin, his eyes slowly closed.
Fan Jing quickly dried him, carried him to bed, and then went to wash up himself.
After Kang He finished checking the family accounts, he went to bathe. Wearing a towel over his shoulder and bare-chested, he came out of the washroom.
Seeing Fan Jing lying on the bed, he said, “I washed your underwear. How will you thank me?”
Usually, their clothes were taken by Xiao Xiang to wash, but both men felt bad asking a girl to wash their underclothes. So they washed these themselves after bathing.
When Zhen’er was still at home, sometimes when they were busy and clothes soaked in the basin, she would wash everything.
Kang He felt embarrassed. Since that time, he left outerwear to be washed but would wash intimate clothes by hand himself.
Fan Jing stretched out his legs and rested his head on folded arms, looking at Kang He. “Yesterday, wasn’t it me who washed yours? You didn’t thank me.”
Kang He threw the towel on the face-washing rack and jumped onto the bed.
He cuddled close to Fan Jing. “I left it for you on purpose, thinking you washed mine twice. That means today I gave it to you for free—as thanks.”
Fan Jing reached out to push the man off. “How was that giving for free?”
“If you say that, it means you want to settle old scores. But I clearly said I would pay you. You never gave me the money afterward.”
Kang He spread out his hands. “Then give me the money.”
Fan Jing kicked Kang He. “Are you worth that much?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? Didn’t you enjoy it? If not, why did you stay silent for half the night? You sure know how to live.”
Kang He squinted. “Do you know what that’s called? It’s called freeloading!”
“Freeloading?”
Fan Jing was silent for a moment. That was a new one. “Then go ahead and sue me.”
Kang He snorted. “You’re getting more shameless by the day. I’ll have to teach you a lesson.”
With that, Kang He pinned Fan Jing beneath him, teasing him.
Fan Jing could hardly withstand the provocation. The man was skilled in martial arts. When they lived in the old, cramped house with many people around, they restrained themselves to keep things quiet. Often, Dafu slept with them, so they rarely had time alone.
Kang He grumbled for a while about wanting to live in the mountains.
But going to the mountains didn’t make much difference—it was basically telling everyone in the family that they were going there for that reason.
Now that the new house was finished and spacious, no one passed by the door. They figured no one could hear their noise inside.
After fooling around for a while, they washed up and lay down. Satisfied but a little tired, Kang He touched Fan Jing’s still-flushed ears.
“If only we had another kid.”
Fan Jing said, “Then we’ll have another.”
Kang He happily kissed him, feeling as if he was already expecting. Seeing Fan Jing’s attitude made him glad.
Fan Jing gently pushed Kang He off and began talking about the happenings at He Xiao-qiu’s shop earlier.
Usually, Fan Jing wouldn’t bother with such small matters, but because it involved He Xiao-qiu, he paid more attention.
“Brother He’s been alone for many years. If some man brought him a pot of flowers, it wouldn’t be surprising. He just hides it out of embarrassment.”
Fan Jing said, “I don’t know who Brother He usually hangs out with. Who would go to the mountains and dig up orchid grass for him?”
Kang He’s eyes flickered. “You mean…”
Fan Jing remained silent.
Kang He suddenly sat up. “I thought Zhang Shiguai had suddenly taken to cleanliness. I don’t remember when, but when he came to the shop, he was not only dressed cleanly, his beard was shaved, face washed, and hair tied neatly.”
“I thought he looked ten years younger. I even praised him, saying he used to be a handsome man. I figured he finally listened and learned to tidy himself up.”
“A while ago when he came down the mountain, I asked him to treat me to donkey meat, but he refused, saying it was too expensive. Such a generous man—never heard him say ‘expensive’ before.”
“I thought maybe things were tough in the mountains lately. When I left, I gave him ten jin of pork.”
Kang He suddenly had an epiphany, slapping his thigh. He felt Zhang Shiguai had been playing them.
Fan Jing had some dealings with Zhang Shiguai but never as close as Kang He was. Hearing all this, he recalled a few things.
Once, Zhang Shiguai had injured his leg hunting and stayed in the county for several days of treatment.
Kang He thought it would cost a lot to stay out, so he let Zhang Shiguai sleep in the back room of the shop.
During those days, Fan Jing noticed He Xiao-qiu looked unwell, but when asked, he only said he had heatstroke and wasn’t feeling well.
Fan Jing didn’t think much of it—summer heat was intense.
Later, when Zhang Shiguai’s leg healed and he went back to the mountains, Kang He and Fan Jing found it strange that after lying injured for days, the man looked healthier, not thinner.
Now looking back, those two had likely been involved for some time.
But over the past two or three years, they’d been busy with the fields and livestock business and not always at the shop. They hadn’t noticed when the two grew so close.
If those two could get along well, Kang He would be happy for them, but he still had doubts.
“If they liked each other, why the delay in making it official? Maybe we’re overthinking.”
Fan Jing said, “Let’s watch and wait. If something happens, we’ll know soon enough.”
He liked He Xiao-qiu but hoped nothing like the trouble they’d had with Fan Xin would happen again.
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.