Chapter 376 - 311: Mountain-Opening Key
The Great Red Pine Root Festival was a tree with forty to fifty root knots, and it had been growing for a good hundred years. A rectangular piece of bark had been stripped from its trunk, about a meter off the ground.
Because pine trees continuously secrete resin, which then oxidizes in the air, the spot where the bark was stripped had become a pitch-black patch.
But upon closer inspection, one could still faintly see the marks of knives and axes.
This was a Pine Tree Omen, which Northeasterners colloquially call an Elder Omen. It was a mark left on a nearby Pine Tree by a Mountain Man after they had unearthed Ginseng in this location.
It recorded the year and month, how many people had harvested what kind of Ginseng here, as a notice to those who came after.
Zhang Yuanmin returned with two sticks and sidled up to Zhao Jun, asking obsequiously, "Brother, what’s all this carving on here?"
Zhao Jun reached out, first pointing to the lower right corner of the Elder Omen. "This here is the date. It’s probably... 1926."
"Ah!" Zhang Yuanmin exclaimed. "That was 61 years ago."
"Yep, this is an Elder Anzi," Zhao Jun said, surprised. He then pointed to the upper left corner. "There were seven men in the party." At this, he pointed to the center of the Elder Omen and told Zhang Yuanmin, "They pulled out quite a haul. There were even Sixth-grade Leaves."
"Really?" Hearing this, Zhang Yuanmin hurried closer, straining his eyes to get a better look.
Zhao Jun traced the carvings with his finger as he explained, "Not only was there a stalk of Sixth-grade Leaves, but also Fifth-grade leaves."
Zhang Yuanmin cried out in astonishment, "My god! They must have struck it rich!"
According to the old-timers, Mountain Ginseng is a spiritual object, obtainable only by those who are fated and fortunate.
When speaking of Ginseng, it is disrespectful to say you "dig" for it. One must say they "take" or "lift" it. The practice of entering the mountains to harvest Ginseng is known as "releasing the mountain."
The rules of releasing the mountain were far more numerous than those for hunting. When discussing Ginseng, you didn’t count them by the root, but by the stalk.
The term "X-grade leaves" referred to how many leaf-stems the Ginseng had branched into, not the total number of leaflets.
Two leaf-stems meant it was Second-grade leaves, also called Second-class. Three leaf-stems made it Third-grade Leaves, also called a Lantern Platform. Any more than that, and you had Fourth-grade, Fifth-grade, or Sixth-grade Leaves.
The more leaf-stems, the older the Ginseng. But just as water overflows when full and the moon wanes after waxing, a plant with Sixth-grade Leaves might, after a certain number of years, revert to a Second-class.
Judging by the year recorded on the Elder Omen, this was an Elder Anzi.
As the saying goes: "Stick close to an Elder Anzi, and you’ll eat well for life." The top of a Ginseng stem produces a cluster of seeds, which turn red in August and are called a Red Hammer.
When the Ginseng seeds mature, they fall to the ground, or are eaten by birds and later excreted, and can then take root and sprout.
That’s why an Elder Anzi, a place where Ginseng has been found before, will produce more Ginseng every year. In the old days, Mountain Men followed the rules passed down by the Elder Leader Sun Liang; whenever they harvested Ginseng, they would leave an Elder Omen to inform those who came later.
But in later years, people stopped following this rule. Anyone who knew of an Elder Anzi would surely keep it a closely guarded secret.
Zhao Jun took the sticks from Zhang Yuanmin’s hands, then turned back to the Elder Omen. "Brother," he said to Zhang Yuanmin, "get on your knees and kowtow to this Elder Omen a few times. Ask the Elder Leader and the forefathers to bless us with a big find."
"Alright." Zhang Yuanmin cheerfully started to kneel, but he stopped after lowering one knee. He turned his head and asked Zhao Jun, "Brother, you’re telling me to kowtow, but why aren’t you?"
Zhao Jun laughed at his question. "Haven’t you heard the village rumors? I’ve already captured the Mountain God. So I won’t kowtow. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll scare the Mountain God away again." With that, Zhao Jun gestured toward the Elder Omen with his hand. "You do it."
Zhang Yuanmin thought about it and figured it made sense. He quickly dropped to both knees and kowtowed toward the Pine Tree, muttering things about a big find and staying safe.
After kowtowing three times, Zhang Yuanmin stood up and rubbed the dirt and grit from his forehead. Just then, he heard Zhao Jun ask him, "Brother, do you know how to answer the mountain’s call?"
"I do!" Zhang Yuanmin said. "We’ve lived in these mountains since we were kids. How could I not know? I’ve learned just from listening."
"Good!" Zhao Jun instructed him. "Alright, Brother, in a bit, you just stay here and don’t move. You don’t have to do anything else. When I call to the mountain, you answer. Don’t say anything else."
"Right, right, I get it, Brother!"
Zhao Jun gazed down at the shady slope below. It was a hollow, shaped like a dustpan.
The slope was part of the Qingtang Forest, covered with Pine Trees, oaks, and Fraxinus mandschurica. It was early spring, and the new leaves on the branches were still furled. The sparse foliage couldn’t block the sunlight, which sprinkled down onto the hillside.
This was a mixed coniferous and broadleaf forest—the only kind of place where Ginseng would grow.
Zhao Jun squatted down and began digging through the soil with his hands. The ground was covered in a layer of dead twigs and withered grass from the previous fall and winter. Much of it was mixed into the earth, where it would eventually decompose and form nutrients to enrich the soil.
Zhao Jun grabbed a handful of soil from beneath the dead twigs and rotten leaves. It was soft and loose, neither sticky nor dry.
Zhao Jun dropped the soil, dusted off his hands, and gave Zhang Yuanmin a look. After Zhang Yuanmin nodded, Zhao Jun swung the stick in his hand, striking a nearby tree, and bellowed at the top of his lungs, "Mountain God! Elder Leader! Open the door!"
"The door is open!" The reply came from Zhang Yuanmin.
Both their voices were loud, carried away by the wind. Downwind, about a mile away from Zhao Jun’s position, a group of people was digging for wild vegetables in a gully.
The group was a mix of men and women, old and young. There were two men, both around thirty years old, and four women—two old ladies and two young wives.
Hearing the mountain call, the four women had little reaction, but the two men both started, looking around. The sound had already faded, and they couldn’t tell where it had come from. They just exchanged a surprised glance.
The man in the army-green jacket casually pointed a thumb toward the sky and laughed. "Elder Wu, take a look at that. Going ginseng hunting at this time of year... isn’t that just foolish?"
Elder Wu blinked and asked, "Third Brother, you think it could be some ’eye-gouger’?"
"Eye-gouger" was slang for someone formidable.
"Get real," Third Brother scoffed. "There aren’t any Red Hammers at this time of year. How’s he supposed to find any Ginseng?"
People usually hunted for Ginseng in July or August, after the seeds had matured and turned red. That single splash of red in a sea of green made them easy to find.
But right now, the grass hadn’t even fully sprouted. Like many wild vegetables, the young Ginseng shoots were just beginning to poke their heads out of the soil.
That’s right, Ginseng also lies dormant. When winter comes, the old stalk withers and dies. The following spring, a new shoot emerges. A freshly sprouted Ginseng shoot looks just like a wild vegetable or a weed, its head drooping and its leaves all curled together.
To make a comparison, it looked like the clenched hand of a stroke victim, curled inward.
A shoot like that, buried under dead twigs and rotten leaves—where would you even begin to look for it?
The phrase "digging three feet deep" wasn’t exactly applicable in these vast mountains.
Elder Wu thought for a moment and asked, "Couldn’t it be some Elder Leader?"
"An Elder Leader?" Third Brother turned to look at a white-haired old woman who was digging up dandelions. He chuckled, "Why don’t you ask Aunt Xiao? In all the villages around here, how many Elder Leaders are left who can still hunt for Ginseng in early spring?"
"That’s true."
Just as Elder Wu agreed, a voice drifted toward them on the wind, faint and intermittent.
"Mountain... Opening... Key."