Chapter 2: Ostrich Fern
Once life grew busy, Ying Kongtu soon put the man who had brought a cat to worship the mountain god out of his mind.
After he received the mountain forest ownership certificates, it rained for several more days in a row.
As soon as the rain stopped, he packed his back basket and prepared to go up the mountain for an inspection.
Managing the mountain forest was not only his duty as a mountain god, but also his obligation as the owner of the mountain forest.
Now that he had the ownership certificates, he had management responsibilities over the mountains.
It had rained for so long. If he did not inspect the mountains, identify and clear away hidden dangers, and a landslide occurred, causing major losses of life and property, then even if he was a mountain god, he could still be sued.
The current Bureau managed things much more strictly than in the past. Ying Kongtu had been reminded of this when he applied for the ownership certificates.
Because of this, he had carefully read the laws and regulations related to mountain forest management, as well as the management rules of the Abnormality Management Bureau.
If something really happened, even as a mountain god, he would be locked up in a special prison.
Early in the morning, Ying Kongtu walked to the foot of Wuchuan Mountain and began climbing from this mountain as before.
The mountain was a little large. Today, he planned to inspect Wuchuan Mountain, then inspect the neighboring Qingfang Mountain tomorrow.
After the rain, the mountain forest was wet and slippery, and the soil was soft.
Ying Kongtu did not fall, but his shoes and trousers were stained with quite a bit of mud.
As he inspected the mountain along the way, he took notes in a notebook.
After being awake for nearly half a year, Ying Kongtu had learned how to use modern hard-tipped pens, but the characters he wrote were still in traditional script.
He recorded several hidden danger spots in his notebook.
Places where the soil had loosened needed retaining slopes and earth walls to prevent landslides.
Places where the trees were too dense needed to be thinned out when possible, letting in sunlight and maintaining ventilation to prevent diseases and pests.
Places piled with dead branches and fallen leaves needed to be cleared as well, lest a fire start one day and burn the entire mountain down.
Spring was a high-risk season for local mountain fires. If too much debris such as dead branches and fallen leaves accumulated on the mountain, and the high heat from fermentation caused them to ignite spontaneously and burn the forest, the relevant departments would hold the mountain forest manager responsible.
Of course, if the mountain forest owner had managed things properly and disasters such as mountain fires or landslides still occurred, then the government would take responsibility.
Wuchuan Mountain and the other mountains had previously been barren mountains. They had been unmanaged for many years, and their conditions were relatively poor. Now that Ying Kongtu had taken back this stretch of mountains, he would have to put in considerable effort to manage them.
While making his notes, Ying Kongtu looked up at the dense, disorderly woods and decided to cut down a few more trees.
The management regulations required paths in the mountain forest so that rescue teams could enter in case of emergencies.
He had to weed, fell trees, and clear out the paths in the forest again.
It truly was a major project.
Ying Kongtu sighed silently, put away his pen and notebook, and continued forward with the back basket on his back.
This mountain was considered a barren mountain, but that did not mean it was truly desolate. On the contrary, it was full of vitality, with lush grass and trees.
As Ying Kongtu walked through it, he could sense the existence of all kinds of living creatures in the mountain forest.
It was just that his strength was much weaker than before, so he could only vaguely sense that there were living creatures. He could no longer distinguish exactly what they were.
He followed the slope all the way upward. He had originally already passed by, but suddenly sensed that some plant beneath the weeds was growing with vigorous vitality, so he stopped and stepped back.
In front of him was a patch of weeds. Thick pine needles and all kinds of fallen leaves covered the roots of the weeds. At first glance, Ying Kongtu could not see anything.
He crouched down and gently pushed aside the weeds and fallen leaves. Only then did he discover that hidden underneath was a patch of lush green fiddleheads.
These fiddleheads had only just grown out. Their fronds had not yet unfurled, and they looked especially plump, tender, and translucent.
No wonder he had sensed such strong vitality.
Ying Kongtu gently snapped one off. The chubby fiddlehead broke with a crisp sound, giving off the fresh scent of wild grass, along with a faint cucumber-like fragrance.
He raised the fiddlehead and sniffed it lightly. Its rich, clean aroma instantly awakened his entire sense of smell.
“It’s actually ostrich fern.”
Ying Kongtu’s eyes brightened. He sniffed it again, and a smile appeared on his face.
There were many kinds of ferns on the mountain, and not every kind was edible.
Among the edible ferns, many were bitter, astringent, and coarse, not very pleasant to eat.
But the ostrich fern he had gathered now tasted excellent—tender, fragrant, and fresh.
In the past, Ying Kongtu had simply called it fern and had not distinguished its specific name. The name “ostrich fern” was something he had only recently learned from books.
These few fiddleheads were truly delightful.
Ying Kongtu sniffed the ostrich fern in his hand, then began selecting and snapping off quite a number of ostrich ferns from the grass.
The same kind of wild vegetable would have different flavors depending on where it grew and at what stage it was harvested.
He tried his best to pick the ones with the best flavor.
Ying Kongtu carefully searched the nearby area.
In spring, many wild vegetables had sprouted, and quite a few ostrich ferns had grown in the mountains as well.
He searched and picked at the same time, taking only the crispest, tenderest, and freshest batch.
After he had gathered a bundle, he used what was available on the mountain, pulling up wild grass nearby to tie the ostrich ferns in his hands together.
After inspecting the mountain for an entire day, when Ying Kongtu descended in the afternoon, his back basket was filled to the brim with ostrich ferns. They were all about three inches long and as thick as a finger, their tender leaves curled into tight little coils, fresh green and fragrant—excellent fiddleheads.
He carried the ostrich ferns on his back as he walked along the road, and quite a few people turned to look, usually more than once.
For the first time, these people were not particularly focused on him. All their attention was on that back basket of ostrich ferns, and their eyes were full of envy.
“Young man, those fiddleheads are so tender.”
“They look so nice.”
“I’ve never seen fiddleheads this fresh and juicy before. Where did you pick them?”
Once an outgoing auntie spoke up, the surrounding crowd began gathering around.
Ying Kongtu answered that they were fiddleheads from his own mountain.
As soon as the people around him heard this, they immediately said, “Did you pick them to sell? How much per jin (500 grams)?”
Ying Kongtu was surrounded and could only answer, “They’re not for sale. I picked them for myself.”
“Sell some.”
“You’ve got such a huge basket. You won’t be able to finish them all yourself.”
“Exactly. It would be a shame to dry such good fiddleheads into preserved goods.”
Everyone chimed in one after another and even began calling out prices, slowly raising the offer from ten yuan to fifty.
As they called out prices, they also tried to persuade Ying Kongtu to sell these first and then go pick more.
Ying Kongtu had never thought before that wild vegetables could be sold.
After hearing the prices, he hesitated a little.
When he went up the mountain today for inspection, he had seen quite a few hidden danger spots.
To deal with these dangers, he had to buy materials and hire workers.
And right now, his main income was the five-thousand-yuan monthly subsidy issued by the Abnormality Management Bureau. So far, his savings were less than fifteen thousand yuan.
He did indeed need to think of a way to earn some money.
Seeing Ying Kongtu hesitate, an auntie immediately helped borrow a scale from a nearby vendor and started weighing them right there on the street.
Ostrich ferns at fifty yuan per jin. Once they were weighed, everyone paid swiftly, without the slightest delay, as if afraid Ying Kongtu would change his mind.
Conveniently, Ying Kongtu had already tied the ostrich ferns with grass. They did not even need bags. Once they had been weighed, people could simply take a bundle in hand and bring it home.
Ying Kongtu had not expected his first time doing business to happen like this. The warm-hearted aunties and uncles picked the vegetables themselves, weighed them themselves, and paid by themselves.
He was only responsible for taking money, giving change, showing the QR code on his phone, and at most giving each customer two extra fiddleheads.
This batch of ostrich ferns was even more popular than Ying Kongtu had imagined. A full back basket was nearly sold out in less than half an hour.
The cash and mobile payments Ying Kongtu had received added up to six hundred and thirty yuan, enough for him to buy a batch of tools to clear the mountain forest.
There were two bundles of fiddleheads left in the basket. Ying Kongtu hurriedly protected them and closed up his little stall to go home.
These were the first fiddleheads he had picked after awakening. No matter what, he had to taste them.
After returning home, Ying Kongtu carried the ostrich ferns straight into the kitchen.
He scooped a basin of well water, took a small stool, and sat in the courtyard to trim and wash them.
The curled leaves of the ostrich ferns were covered in fine fuzz. The fuzz had to be washed off first, then the ferns had to be blanched and rinsed.
Night fell, but Ying Kongtu was not in a hurry at all.
After washing the ostrich ferns clean, he carried them into the kitchen, put them inside, and lit a fire in the stove.
This stove had only recently been built.
When he had first awakened, Ying Kongtu had not been used to modern life.
Although the small courtyard assigned to him by the Abnormality Management Bureau had an indoor kitchen, he could never quite get used to using it.
Later, his liaison officer Xing Chang helped him apply for it and found a mason to build an additional kitchen in the courtyard.
This kitchen burned firewood and used a large stove. When it was filled with wood, the fire was very strong, and the water in the large pot could quickly come to a boil.
Using such a pot to blanch the ostrich ferns, Ying Kongtu soon blanched them thoroughly.
He scooped the ostrich ferns out, placed them in a large basin, added two big ladles of cool well water, and began soaking and rinsing them.
They had only just been blanched, yet the ostrich ferns in the basin were already very fragrant. Ying Kongtu tasted one and found that its flavor was exactly as he had imagined.
Good fiddleheads had to be stir-fried with good cured pork.
There was cured pork in the refrigerator, given to him by Xing Chang.
Ying Kongtu took out a piece, placed it into the freshly cleaned large pot, and simmered it to remove some salt so that it would not be too salty.
After the cured pork was cooked through, he picked it up, washed it clean, and placed it on the chopping board to slice it thinly.
This was a piece of cured pork belly. After being salted and preserved, the fatty portion was like yellow rock sugar, showing a translucent texture, while the lean portion had been fully permeated by the fat, glossy and rich with oil.
He picked up a piece and tasted it on its own. He could clearly taste the special meaty fragrance that had fermented through time.
As Ying Kongtu ate the cured pork, he took out the rinsed fiddleheads, squeezed out the water, and tore them into strips.
In the firewood stove, the wood burned fiercely, continuously supplying heat to the large iron wok.
Standing beside it, Ying Kongtu could feel the hot air against his skin.
After the wok had accumulated a great deal of heat, Ying Kongtu added a little oil to coat it, then put in the cured pork belly. With a loud sizzle, the aroma immediately drifted out.
The fat in the cured pork belly was rendered out, and the flavors accumulated over time were released, swirling through the kitchen like clouds and mist.
Ying Kongtu added a handful of garlic cloves and dried chilies. As soon as the aroma emerged, he immediately poured in the emerald-green fiddleheads.
The fiddleheads had only just been picked, carrying the fresh scent of the mountains and wilds. Once they were stir-fried with the rich cured pork, that faint bland bitterness was immediately balanced out, leaving only clean fragrance and fresh savoriness.
More than three hundred years ago, Ying Kongtu had also stir-fried this dish in a similar little courtyard.
Back then, there had also been a firewood stove in the kitchen. Whenever he cooked, smoke would rise and form faint pillars of light in the sunlight or candlelight.
At this moment, the kitchen was still filled with a strong aroma, the meat in the wok was still glossy and crystalline, and the newly grown spring fiddleheads were still tender and green.
Ying Kongtu used a ceramic plate to serve the stir-fried cured pork and fiddleheads, carried it into the small courtyard, and placed it on the wooden table. He picked up a bite with his chopsticks and put it into his mouth, immediately narrowing his eyes.
This dish was even more delicious than he had imagined.
The rich cured pork and tender fiddleheads formed a perfect collision of flavors. The salty, savory meat gave the fiddleheads an oily fragrance, while the crisp, tender fiddleheads gave the cured pork a fresh savoriness.
In times past, Ying Kongtu had eaten this many times.
Each time he ate it, he could still feel the same delicious experience.
Ying Kongtu ate a few bites, took a sip of tea, and looked into the distance with satisfaction.
At this moment, the last glow of sunset had faded completely. The sky was purple-gray, and the distant dark mountains had disappeared into the night, becoming one black silhouette.
Ying Kongtu ate his dinner and enjoyed the evening breeze, clearly sensing that something had changed, yet something else had remained the same.
After awakening once more, this place was still his home.
