Many people, when they dig it up, often mistake it for ginseng.
It's known by many names: night-call, mountain radish, never-aging root… but most commonly, it's called Shanglu.
This wild plant has strong medicinal properties. It's not the same as American ginseng, but it looks very similar, so even today, people sometimes take it by mistake.
The poisonous part of Shanglu is in its root—but that's also where the healing power is.
It can fight bacteria and viruses, boost the immune system, reduce inflammation, clear phlegm, and help with breathing issues.
In ancient times, Shanglu also had mystical uses.
Taoist priests believed that if a Shanglu root looked like a person, it could bring long life. There was even a ritual used to predict the future using Shanglu, called the "Zhang Liu Ear Report."
"Zhang Liu" is another name for Shanglu.
The ritual involved frying owl meat at night as an offering. When ghostly lights appeared, you would dig up the root and take it home to refine with a charm. After seven days, the root could "speak." That's how it got the name "night-call."
Anzhi had planned to prepare the root herself or sell it to a medicine shop. But when she saw how large and human-shaped the Shanglu root was, she got another idea.
She decided to go into town to try selling it to a temple.
In this matriarchal country, no single belief dominates. There's a mix of many, like a hundred schools of thought blooming together. Still, Daoism and Buddhism are the main ones. Daoist temples usually serve the rich and powerful, while Buddhist temples treat everyone more equally.
Selling to a Daoist temple could bring a better price. The rich wouldn't care about paying an extra silver or two.
She searched the area more and, perhaps inspired by the good luck of finding the Shanglu, discovered other useful plants like plantain and dandelions—wild greens that help clear heat and detoxify. She also found a handful of ripe, juicy raspberries.
With her arms full of herbs and fruit, Anzhi headed back to the ruined temple, satisfied with her harvest.
Now she felt more confident. She wouldn't run out of food by just sitting around.
She decided to take Yan into town with her, sell the herbs, and rent a small place to live. Going back and forth was too much trouble, and there wasn't anything worth staying behind for.
As for the idea of bringing the boy with her…
She couldn't just leave him behind. Even though Yan hadn't said much about his situation, and she didn't ask, it was clear his home was no longer an option.
There were charity shelters in ancient times, but they only took in children and the elderly. Yan was too old to be accepted.
In this world, men were the weaker gender. Given his situation, Anzhi couldn't just abandon him.
At the very least, she needed to find a trustworthy family to take him in.
She mentally listed all the things she needed to buy as she stepped into the temple.
Then her heart jumped.
The temple was empty. The gentle, jade-like boy who had been sitting there when she left was gone.
The fire was out too.
Her mind raced with possibilities—someone could've taken him, or he might've left on his own, or maybe he went to look for her since she was gone too long.
If it was the last case, it wasn't too bad. But if someone took him, that would be terrible.
Anzhi immediately regretted leaving him alone. She shouldn't have left him behind just to save time. Even if he was weak and had trouble walking, she should have brought him along.
To her, the sick and fragile boy was her responsibility now.
Blaming herself wouldn't change anything.
Anzhi forced herself to stay calm and think quickly. She touched the cold ashes in the fire pit—there was still a bit of warmth, meaning it hadn't been long since the fire went out.
Whether someone took him or he left on his own, he couldn't have gone far.
The straw on the ground showed no signs of a struggle, which made her feel a little better.
Still, she needed to find him fast.
She set down her things and was about to walk out of the temple when she heard a soft noise. It came from behind the broken clay statue of a Buddha.
Who was there?
Anzhi's expression turned sharp.
"Come out!" she shouted.
No answer. But after a moment, the sound came again.
Maybe it was just a little animal that wandered into the temple.
The sky was getting darker. The setting sun cast long shadows on the cracked but peaceful face of the statue. A chill wind blew in. The whole scene had a strange, haunted feel.
Anzhi held her breath and slowly walked toward the back of the statue.
Could this be related to Yan's disappearance?
"Mm… you're back~"
Yan turned over when he heard the sound. Suddenly remembering something, he sat up in shock. When he saw it was Anzhi, he let out a sigh of relief.
He had waited for a long time. The fire had gone out. He didn't know how to start one. His mind kept thinking of the scary stories he'd read about ghosts and fox demons.
He was so scared, he hid behind the statue and ended up falling asleep.
The ghosts never came—but Anzhi did.
"You're finally back~ I waited so long. The sun went down, and I was really scared." Thinking about it, Yan couldn't hold it in anymore. Everything that had happened recently was too much for him.
He was truly afraid.
"Wuuu~"
Anzhi had been angry and frightened from the scare, but the moment she saw Yan's tearful, helpless face, her anger disappeared.
She wanted to wipe his tears but looked down and realized she was filthy from head to toe. After a moment of hesitation, she gently used her sleeve to dab his cheeks.
"Don't cry. It's my fault. All my fault."
"It is your fault!" Yan sniffled. With someone there to comfort him, he let his feelings show.
Anzhi didn't argue. She knew most of the blame really was on her.
"Grrr~"
Yan's stomach growled. He sniffed again and blinked his watery eyes. "I'm so hungry."
"Here."
Anzhi walked back to their resting spot and took out a bundle wrapped in large leaves.
Yan took it, peeled open the dry leaves, and found bright red wild berries inside. A few were crushed, and the juice gave off a rich, sweet scent.
"Eat up. These are raspberries. I picked all the good ones, and I washed them too. You can eat them as they are."
There were around forty or fifty, but they were small—just one bite each.
"You eat first." He pouted a little but tried to act mature.
"You kids like this kind of thing. I don't." Anzhi didn't even turn her head as she started preparing dinner.
"I'm not a kid. I'm already sixteen." At his age, many boys already had a wife. Some even had kids.
Yan mumbled to himself and popped a berry into his mouth. It was juicy, sweet, and a little sour—delicious.
But after eating one, he paused.
A few days ago, he wouldn't even glance at wild berries like this. He only ate the expensive fruits brought from far away—and even then, only a few bites before tossing the rest.
Thinking about all the fruit he had wasted, he suddenly felt regret.
It wasn't that he missed luxury. He just wished he could let the person in front of him taste those fruits too.
Still, when he thought about it, the berry in his mouth tasted even sweeter.
"An… Anzhi."
Anzhi was arranging the firewood and didn't react right away when he called her name.
"What?" The firelight danced across her face, soft and shadowed.
It was the first time he'd called her that.
"Can I go beg with you from now on? I'm good-looking, so people will feel sorry for me. I'll listen to you. I want to stay with you, but I don't want to be your husband—can I just be your little brother?" Yan looked down, fiddling with a loose thread on his clothes. He bit his lip and forced himself to say it all.