Li Xiang had grown up in the mountains and was an expert at finding and identifying mushrooms.
Soon, he had harvested some small mushrooms and big-foot mushrooms.
The big-foot mushrooms were especially noteworthy—they were not only delicious but also had some medicinal value. The mushroom got its name because the base of its stem was swollen, resembling a large foot. It was a common edible mushroom in the mountainous regions of Sichuan Province.
It also had several other names, like White Boletus, Mountain Black Fungus, and White Ox-head. Some people just called it 'mushroom'.
"Ooh, that spot looks promising!"
Li Xiang noticed several cracks in the soil about two meters to his left. It looked as if something was about to burst through the earth, which immediately piqued his interest.
The area was thick with weeds. Li Xiang used his long stick to beat the grass nearby, scaring away any snakes that might be lurking, before cautiously approaching.
He squatted, set down his stick, and used his hands to dig into the soft soil. Sure enough, he uncovered several black, lumpy masses. They were about the size of potatoes, but they clearly weren't potatoes.
They were soft and squishy, with a satisfyingly fleshy feel in his hand.
He dug up seven or eight of them in total. After wiping one clean, he could see exquisite, black, marble-like patterns on its surface.
"Black Truffle!"
The corners of Li Xiang's mouth lifted into a knowing smile.
This type of Black Truffle was actually quite precious, especially in Europe, where the French and Italians loved it. There was a saying: "a gram of Truffle for a gram of gold." A single kilogram could sell for over ten thousand yuan, with some fetching even several times that amount, earning it the nickname "black diamond." In China, however… well, it had a more common name: 'pig-snout mushroom.' It used to be pig feed.
Once people learned of the exorbitant prices abroad, its value in China shot up as well, and it came to be regarded as a "delicacy." Many Europeans would come over to secretly purchase them, then sell them in Europe for a massive profit.
The name 'pig-snout mushroom' was actually quite fitting. Pigs loved to find and eat them, using their snouts to root around in the dirt until they unearthed them and devoured them.
Wild boars aren't known for their refined palates, and similarly, the pig-snout mushroom wasn't considered much of a delicacy in China back then. Among all the mushrooms in the Southwest, it ranked outside the top twenty, at least.
But there was a catch: not just any pig could find them or liked to eat them. Only sows did.
Therefore, the best way to find pig-snout mushrooms was to bring a sow up into the mountains.
This was because pig-snout mushrooms emitted a scent similar to the pheromones of a boar in heat, which was irresistible to sows.
Some people claimed that European Truffles had a hint of a gasoline-like smell, and that this was a unique selling point—that people ate them *for* that specific aroma. They argued that without this "soul scent," Chinese Truffles were only fit for pigs and couldn't possibly compare to those grown in Europe.
But that wasn't true. Li Xiang had discovered that if Chinese Truffles were left to sit for too long and lost their freshness, they also developed that same unpleasant, gasoline-like odor.
'A gasoline smell as a selling point? Seriously? Had they run out of positive adjectives?'
'Then again, who knows? Some people are into that sort of thing.'
In reality, Chinese Truffles and European Truffles were quite similar in appearance, texture, and nutritional value. The only real difference was likely their maturity.
Because of the high prices abroad, the harvesting times and standards were much better controlled—they were a valuable commodity, after all. In China, however, people dug them up indiscriminately. Some were harvested when they were still tiny, which naturally affected the texture.
Li Xiang suspected that some Europeans refused to acknowledge Chinese Truffles because they feared that a massive influx from China would crash the price of their local varieties.
'They'd be dirt cheap then, wouldn't they?'
Of course, where there was profit, there would be exports. It was just like with diamonds—the supply was intentionally controlled.
Although the pig-snout mushrooms weren't exceptionally delicious, and Li Xiang himself wasn't a huge fan, he put them in his basket anyway. Considering they currently sold for five or six hundred yuan a jin, they were worth keeping.
There were plenty of other mushrooms on the mountain, but Li Xiang's basket was already more than half full. He checked his phone and decided to head back. If he didn't leave soon, he'd be late to make his chicken and mushroom stew.
Oh, wait. 'I mean, I'd be late to make Gossipy Dragon stew with big-foot mushrooms and Black Truffles!'
"My Gossipy Dragon!" Li Xiang clutched his chest, feeling a pang of heartache and infinite regret. He couldn't help but wipe away the... sorrowful tears... from the corner of his mouth.
'Such a fine future Spirit Pet, a beast for Beast Taming... how could its life be cut so short, ending up in a cooking pot?'
'Just imagine it: the Apocalypse arrives. Amidst the endless darkness, I'd be riding a Gossipy Dragon that had reawakened its ancient dinosaur bloodline. We'd cross mountains and valleys as if they were flat plains. With a casual swipe of its claw, it would flip a Lamborghini. How majestic would that be!'
'A Lamborghini's chassis is too low, making it far too limited. It would be useless in the Apocalypse. It couldn't even compare to my real dream vehicle: a four-wheel-drive farm tractor.'
...
On his way down the mountain, Li Xiang also chopped a bundle of firewood to carry back. The weather would turn cold in a month or two, so he needed to stock up. If he gathered it bundle by bundle now, he wouldn't have to make the arduous trip up the mountain in the dead of winter.
Of course, there was an art to chopping firewood. The best choices were dead branches and trees. Pine, chestnut, fir, and birch were all excellent options.
Pine and chestnut were prime choices. Pine has a high resin content, making it easy to light; every part of it made for the best firewood. Pine needles, in particular, were the best kindling, earning them the nickname "the lazy man's love."
Chestnut wood was dense and slow-burning, producing a long-lasting, intense heat. There was a rural saying: "There's no good fire without chestnut wood, and no closer kin than a mother's brother."
Fir produced a medium amount of heat, but it left behind very little ash, making it ideal for tabletop hot pot.
Birch didn't burn as long as the other woods, but its advantage was that it burned quickly, releasing a burst of intense heat. Plus, it was plentiful and easy to find. The trees weren't valuable, so there was no heartache in burning them.
Chopping that one bundle of firewood nearly ruined Li Xiang's hatchet.
'A craftsman must first sharpen his tools if he is to do good work. Looks like I need to forge a new, sharp hatchet.'
The hatchet in Li Xiang's hand had been around for many years; he remembered seeing it even as a child. Its design was utterly unremarkable. It was no more than thirty centimeters long and six or seven millimeters thick, weighing perhaps three or four hundred grams. It was flat-tipped and conventional, but its main advantage was being small and portable. He actually preferred a High-Density Blade.
When Li Xiang got home, it was nearly ten o'clock. He started a fire to cook.
The kitchen was in a small, tile-roofed building off to the side of the front yard. His grandmother tended the fire while he took charge of the cooking.
His grandmother had wanted to cook herself, but Li Xiang stopped her. "Grandma, your grandson is home now. You don't need to be the one cooking! Just watch me!"
He had come home to take care of his grandmother in her golden years, not to be waited on by her.
Today's main course was, of course, the Gossipy Dragon.
He blanched the old hen in a pot of cold water, then rinsed it and set it aside. He heated a small amount of rapeseed oil in a wok, stir-fried the hen, then added water, ginger, and a pinch of salt. After a brief simmer, he transferred everything to a clay pot and set it over a charcoal fire to stew slowly.
Then Li Xiang started on the vegetables.
The hen had been slaughtered that morning, and the vegetables were freshly picked from the garden out front. Ingredients this fresh rarely needed much seasoning.
As for the small mushrooms, big-foot mushrooms, and Black Truffles, they were also freshly foraged from the mountain. He would add them to the pot once the chicken was nearly done, letting them simmer for another ten minutes.
The Black Truffles were especially beautiful once washed and sliced, revealing their intricate patterns.
He even cooked the rice over the wood fire. Real wood-fired rice was far more fragrant than anything made in an electric cooker.
At the dinner table, Li Xiang gazed at the plated Gossipy Dragon and decided to observe a moment of silence.
"My future Spirit Pet, what a tragic death... Your master has failed you..."
A minute later, Li Xiang couldn't stop eating. 'Damn, this is delicious!'