"I can do 560 a jin," Li Xiang said. "Free shipping via SF Express. They usually go for over six hundred a jin here in the county, and the price is even higher when the Europeans come around to buy."
After all, Black Truffles could sell for over ten thousand yuan per kilogram in Europe. Of course, the Europeans were much pickier, only wanting the ones in perfect condition.
The person on the other end was decisive. They asked for Li Xiang's bank account number and immediately transferred 8,400 yuan!
Li Xiang: "..."
'I've really met a real one. So generous!'
"Send me the address, and I'll ship it out today."
Li Xiang was a man of his word. As soon as he got the address, he told his grandmother what had happened and rode his three-wheeler into town. Along with the fifteen jin of Black Truffles, Li Xiang threw in some small wild mushrooms as a little gift.
The small mushrooms were cheaper and more abundant than other varieties like termite or Caesar's mushrooms, so they were perfect for tossing in as a little extra.
His grandmother was quite happy to hear that foraging for mushrooms could bring in so much money. In fact, other villagers went foraging too, but their senses weren't as sharp as Li Xiang's, so their harvests weren't as bountiful.
One could take an adult sow into the mountains, but a pig's wild instincts would awaken. It would be hard to restrain, and if it ran off, that would be a huge loss.
Piglets, on the other hand, were no good. They hadn't gone into heat, so they weren't sensitive to the scent of the truffles.
Since becoming Extraordinary, Li Xiang's sight, hearing, and sense of smell had all been greatly enhanced. Within ten meters, a quick sniff was all he needed to know if truffles were present.
He had been a little clumsy at first, but with practice, he grew more experienced and could now keenly discern the scent of truffles.
Furthermore, Li Xiang had excellent eyesight and a Night Vision Superpower, allowing him to see clearly into shady spots obscured by plants and trees. As truffles grew, they pushed up the soil above them, creating faint, irregular cracks.
The township didn't have an SF Express office, so Li Xiang had to go to the county seat. He took care of the shipment that day and also brought some supplies home.
After all, it wouldn't be worth making the trip and returning empty-handed.
He bought beef and pork, restocked on spices for braising meat, and then saw a new model of color-coated steel grain silo at the market. It was blue, cylindrical, and very pretty.
The silo's shell was very hard, and it was constructed in layers. Once assembled, it resembled an oversized gasoline drum. The shopkeeper said it was mold-proof, moisture-proof, pest-proof, and rodent-proof, and that it kept grain fresh. It also had a grain spout with a sealed lid at the base.
Li Xiang liked it, so he asked for the price. After some haggling, he bought a three-tiered one for 550 yuan. It was 90 centimeters in diameter and about one and a half meters tall, capable of holding roughly five hundred kilograms of grain.
The late-season rice harvest was approaching, and while his family already had an old-fashioned granary, it wasn't ideal. His father had bought it years ago. It was an assembled unit made of precast concrete slabs that fit together seamlessly. The thing was incredibly durable and still in perfect condition, but it was cumbersome and huge, with a capacity of almost two thousand kilograms of grain.
But now, with his grandmother living alone and farming only a small plot of paddy—yielding three hundred kilograms at most—using such a massive granary was extremely inconvenient.
The precast concrete granary had no spout at the bottom. To get grain out, you had to lift off one of the heavy top slabs. This wasn't a problem when it was full, but when the grain level was low, you had to actually jump inside.
So, this three-tiered, cylindrical steel granary was perfect for their needs. The shop also sold larger four-, five-, and six-tiered models, some with bigger diameters, so he could always buy another one if he needed it.
Once disassembled and stacked, the silo was only a little over fifty centimeters tall. Li Xiang loaded it into the back of his three-wheeler and headed home.
By the time he got home, his grandmother had already cooked the Red-Eyed Profound Rabbit. She had used the better part of it to make three dishes, salting the small remaining portion and storing it in the fridge.
The three dishes were: Spicy Rabbit Head, Hot and Sour Diced Rabbit, and Fresh-Pot Rabbit.
The Fresh-Pot Rabbit, in particular, was a famous local delicacy in Sichuanese cuisine, known for being numbing, spicy, fresh, and fragrant.
The people of Sichuan Province have countless ways to prepare rabbit. Each dish is savory, fragrant, and thrillingly spicy—so good you can't stop eating. It's fair to say it's one of the provinces that has perfected the art of cooking rabbit.
According to statistics, the Sichuanese eat nearly 300 million rabbits every year—an average of nine per second.
In Sichuan Province, they have a darkly humorous saying: "Rabbits are so cute, you just have to eat a few more of them."
It even spawned a new profession: the Rabbit Taster.
A news story once reported on a young man born in the '80s who became a professional Rabbit Taster. He chewed his way through over 2,000 rabbit heads a year for an annual salary of more than 300,000 yuan. Earning that much just for eating your favorite food—it's the definition of a dream job.
Li Xiang, of course, ate with great relish.
His grandmother's teeth weren't what they used to be, so the Spicy Rabbit Head was prepared just for Li Xiang. It was one of his all-time favorite foods.
He didn't bother with chopsticks or spoons, just jumping right in with his hands. He pried open the rabbit's mouth and began to gnaw. The trick was not to throw away the jawbone; you could use it as a tool to scoop out the rest of the meat from the skull.
It was similar to the technique for eating mitten crabs, where you use a smaller leg to push the meat out of a bigger one. The same clever principle, just a different application.
Before going to bed that night, Li Xiang went to check on his old, pregnant tabby cat. Her belly was huge now, and she was lounging lazily in the new cat house he had built for her. When she saw him approach, she opened her eyes and let out a soft meow or two.
"Go on and get some sleep," Li Xiang murmured, stroking the tabby's head. "Don't go chasing any mice tonight, you don't want to overexert yourself." He wasn't sure if she understood him.
The old cat was practically a senior citizen, making this a high-risk pregnancy. Li Xiang recalled that she had been with the family for eight or nine years, and with a typical feline lifespan of twelve to fifteen years, he was genuinely worried she might not pull through.
Li Xiang decided he would get her spayed after this litter was born; it would be for the best. For middle-aged and senior female cats between seven and eleven years old, pregnancy puts an enormous strain on the body and can easily result in miscarriage, stillbirth, or a difficult delivery.
After comforting the old cat, Li Xiang went to the backyard to check on the two big yellow dogs. He wasn't one to play favorites. When he had been building the cat's new house, the two dogs had been beside him, wagging their tails, clearly wanting new digs of their own. So, Li Xiang had used bamboo to build them a spacious doghouse as well.
He had fire-treated the bamboo. This was partly to heat-shape certain pieces, but also to eliminate any insect eggs and moisture within the stalks. The process also created a hard, carbonized surface layer, making the structure insect-proof, rot-resistant, antimicrobial, and durable.
The dogs were meant to guard the house, so they stayed outside at night. The cat's job was to catch mice, so she stayed indoors.
The old cat was in no condition to be chasing mice at the moment, but her mere presence was enough to keep the rodents from daring to cause any trouble.
The next day was bright and sunny. After breakfast, Li Xiang shouldered a bamboo basket and a shovel and followed his grandmother out to inspect their family's rice paddy.
Much of the family's land had been left fallow. Since Li Xiang had been away for several years, he had no idea which plot their rice was on. It wouldn't do to accidentally harvest a neighbor's crop, so his grandmother was taking him to point it out.
After a walk of about twenty minutes, they arrived at a paddy field filled with golden, ripe rice.
"Grandma, is this our rice? It looks fantastic!" The grains were full and heavy, making the stalks bow under their weight. It was definitely time to harvest. If they waited a few more days, the entire crop would collapse.
"From here to that embankment over there," his grandmother said, indicating the boundaries. "The rest isn't ours."
"Grandma, did you also raise fish in the paddy?"
As Li Xiang surveyed their "territory," he was astonished to spot fish swimming in the water. Some were the length of his palm, while others were as long as thirty or forty centimeters. He was delighted by the surprise.