Chapter 479: Survival on a Deserted Island (Part 3)
Wolf’s-tooth grass, good for stopping bleeding?!
Li Shu did not care in the least about that. What occupied her thoughts entirely was the simple fact that, while bandaging her wound, a certain someone had held her hand. And from somewhere deep within her memory, a line from the Book of Songs surfaced unbidden:
“In life and death, in separation and union, I have made this vow with you.
To take your hand, and grow old together.”
So when she pursed her lips and said in feigned disgust, “How revolting. It has your saliva on it,” a quiet smile nonetheless bloomed across her face, soft and radiant, impossible to conceal.
After finishing the application of the herb, Zhu Ping’an led Li Shu and the bun-faced maid onward. Beyond the slope lay the forest proper.
From a distance, the woodland appeared dense and shadowed. Because this island had likely gone untouched by human footsteps for countless years, the forest retained a primeval quality—wild, tangled, and without visible paths. Zhu Ping’an paused once more to confirm their direction, then used the wooden staff in his hand to clear the way ahead. He pushed aside tall reeds, snapped low branches, and pried open thorny brambles, trampling down a rough trail so that Li Shu and the maid could follow with greater ease.
Inside, the undergrowth was lush and unrestrained. Vines coiled around tree trunks like silent serpents. Beneath the roots, dry grass and fresh shoots intertwined in chaotic abundance. The rain from the previous night had left the earth damp and soft; mud clung stubbornly to their shoes, making every step a labor.
Before long, Li Shu and the maid found themselves struggling to continue. The wet ground sucked at their feet; each stride required effort far beyond what they were accustomed to.
Li Shu, raised in comfort and refinement, had never endured such hardship. Moreover, she had only recently cut her wrist and fed Zhu Ping’an so much of her blood. Her body was still weak. She had forced herself onward out of sheer will, but after entering the forest and walking a short distance, she truly could not go on.
Zhu Ping’an had been keeping a careful eye on them both. Seeing that they were exhausted beyond endurance, he searched for a suitable spot and found a flat stone. Brushing away bits of grass and debris from its surface, he invited them to sit and rest for a while before continuing.
“I’m so hungry…”
The bun-faced maid clutched her stomach the moment she sat down, her complaint bursting forth pitifully. The several dozen azaleas Zhu Ping’an had gathered earlier had long since been divided and eaten—barely a dozen each, hardly enough to matter. After such exertion, their hunger returned with redoubled force.
In truth, Li Shu and Zhu Ping’an were hungry as well. They simply did not voice it.
“Ah! Mushrooms! Such big mushrooms!”
The maid had barely finished lamenting her hunger when she noticed several large mushrooms growing beside the very stone on which they sat. Excitement flooded her face. Mushrooms were edible, weren’t they? These were enormous—white, umbrella-shaped caps nearly two palm-widths across, perhaps twenty or thirty centimeters in diameter. Brownish bumps dotted the tops, giving them a strangely ornate appearance. They looked almost beautiful.
She sprang up eagerly and crouched to pick them.
“Hua’er, that mushroom is poisonous. It can’t be eaten,” Zhu Ping’an said quickly, stopping her.
He recognized it at once. Its scholarly name was the Green-Spored Parasol, commonly found on islands. It was highly toxic.
This mushroom carried no fewer than four types of potent toxins—affecting the liver, nervous system, gastrointestinal tract, and even causing hemolysis. Consuming it could lead to multiple organ failure. In modern times, even with prompt medical intervention, the mortality rate could be alarmingly high. On this deserted Ming-dynasty island, the consequences would be unthinkable.
“Poisonous?!”
The maid shrieked, startled, and flung away the single mushroom she had already plucked as if it burned her hand.
Zhu Ping’an felt it necessary to educate the two young women. They did not know how long they might remain stranded. If one day they unknowingly gathered poisonous mushrooms and added them to their food, the result would be disastrous.
“There are many varieties of mushrooms in the forest—two or three hundred at least,” he explained patiently. “But only about twenty or so are edible. The rest are poisonous. Generally speaking, brightly colored mushrooms are often toxic. Poisonous mushrooms tend to have vivid colors, raised centers on their caps, and speckled or variegated spots. Their surfaces may have filament-like threads, small patches of residue, or scales.”
“For example, this one.” He picked up the discarded mushroom and pointed out its features. “See the raised center of the cap? And these speckled markings?”
He continued, “Another way to tell is to tear off a piece and see if it releases a sticky liquid. Some poisonous mushrooms exude a viscous fluid with an irritating smell.”
“An even simpler method,” he added after a moment’s thought, “is to check whether small insects have eaten it. Mushrooms with wormholes are usually harmless. Those that remain untouched by insects are often poisonous.”
The two young women still looked somewhat confused. For safety’s sake, Zhu Ping’an reconsidered and said, “Forget it. When I find edible mushrooms, I’ll point them out to you. From now on, you may gather only those I show you. Don’t pick anything else.”
Both Li Shu and the maid nodded vigorously.
After about ten minutes of rest, strength returned to their limbs, and Zhu Ping’an led them onward once more.
As they walked, he encountered two varieties of edible mushrooms. He carefully plucked them and showed them to the girls, repeatedly describing their shapes and colors. He even had them practice picking a few themselves. Only when he was certain they could reliably distinguish these two types did he feel at ease enough to permit them to gather such mushrooms in the future.
Another half hour passed. Gradually, Zhu Ping’an noticed the trees growing thicker and sturdier. Through the dense foliage came the faint murmur of flowing water—soft, persistent, unmistakable. His heart lifted. They walked several dozen meters farther, and suddenly the forest opened into a river valley.
Following the stream, forgetting how far one has come… along both banks for several hundred paces, no mixed trees in between, fragrant grasses fresh and fair, fallen petals in profusion…
At the sight before him, Zhu Ping’an could not help but think of Tao Yuanming’s “The Peach Blossom Spring.” Nothing could describe this valley more aptly.
Lush trees curved naturally along both sides of the valley, forming a verdant barrier. Vines entwined among the branches, bearing blossoms of blue, red, and pink that dotted the green curtain like scattered jewels. In the center lay a crystal-clear stream, shallow and slow-moving, its surface reflecting the sky like polished glass.
Petals from unseen flowers drifted upon the water. Several small fish darted among them, chasing and nudging the floating fragments, adding a lively spirit to the tranquil scene.
It was like a landscape painting unrolling before their eyes—so beautiful it seemed almost unreal, like the legendary Peach Blossom Spring itself.
“There really is a stream! And fish!”
The bun-faced maid’s face shone with disbelief and joy. She still could not fathom how Zhu Ping’an had determined the presence of water from a mere glance atop the slope. Now, witnessing the stream with her own eyes, she regarded him with boundless admiration. Her young master was incredible. There was water. There were fish. Happiness felt suddenly within reach.
“So beautiful… it’s just like the Peach Blossom Spring,” Li Shu murmured softly, standing at the riverbank. She gazed at the petal-strewn water and narrowed her eyes slightly, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
Hearing her words, Zhu Ping’an turned to look at her in surprise. He had not expected that she, too, would think of the Peach Blossom Spring.
What a coincidence.