Time passed swiftly. The Qingming Festival was over, and the wild vegetables along the field ridges and on the mountain grew increasingly lush. Tang Xiao’nan had already enjoyed several meals of shepherd’s purse dumplings. As for Indian aster, which would become incredibly popular in later years, very few people ate it at this time.

Indian aster was only tasty when paired with meat and plenty of oil; otherwise, it was astringent, bitter, and quite unpalatable. For now, it was basically used as pig feed. Even shepherd’s purse wasn’t very popular. This wasn’t an era of famine, so every family could just about fill their bellies. They didn’t lack vegetables; what they lacked was oil and meat. Nobody really had any interest in wild greens.

However, this was the season for "tiger roar shoots"—bamboo shoots as thick as a finger and incredibly delicious—which covered the mountainside. One could easily gather a full basket in no time. The town’s procurement station came every year to purchase dried bamboo shoots, making it a good opportunity for the villagers to earn extra money.

Besides, the busy spring planting season was nearly over, so everyone in the village—men, women, old, and young—headed to the mountains to harvest bamboo shoots. From the slender tiger roar shoots to the larger hairy bamboo shoots that weighed ten or even twenty pounds, now was the perfect time for them. After being blanched, the tiger roar shoots were stir-fried with pickled mustard greens, a dish more savory than meat. When dried, they were delicious stewed with pork or duck. Old duck and bamboo shoot soup was an absolute delicacy, and the shoots were far tastier than the duck itself.

Hairy bamboo shoot soup with cured pork was another Vessaria specialty, so savory you’d think your tongue might fall off. The Thorne family had plenty of cured pork, so Phoebe Huxley would stew a large pot every few days. Tang Xiao’nan only drank the broth, refusing to eat the meat or the shoots. Oh, that umami flavor... She wouldn’t trade it for dragon meat.

Any leftover hairy bamboo shoots were used to make dried shoots. After being peeled and sliced, they were boiled with salt and then sun-dried, a process that allowed them to be stored for up to a year. However, preparing dried shoots was a task that relied on one’s conscience. Some people would mix in old shoots that were nearly as tough as bamboo, passing off the inferior product as high-quality. This deceit caused the entire village’s supply of dried shoots to be downgraded, reducing everyone’s income. Yet, they could never catch whichever black-hearted culprit was responsible.

That’s why, for the past two years, the village chief had led the cadres in personally supervising the process. They inspected each household’s product and conducted random checks during procurement. If anyone was caught with substandard shoots, they would have work points deducted and face the scorn of the entire village. With these measures, the quality improved significantly, as no one dared to risk universal condemnation.

Millstone Peak offered several opportunities to earn extra money throughout the year. In the spring, there was tea. Pre-Qingming and pre-rain teas were the most precious, fetching high prices at purchase. Even the tea picked after Qingming could be sold. A diligent worker could earn over a hundred yuan, but the labor was incredibly strenuous—enough to wear you down to the bone in just a few short days.

After tea came the spring bamboo shoots, which could bring in a few dozen yuan. Then in the summer, they would cut Moso bamboo. This was even more physically demanding, but to earn money, many women would follow their husbands up the mountain to haul the bamboo down. Felix Thorne and Phoebe Huxley went every year. The two of them were strong, so they earned more than most.

After that, there weren’t many other opportunities for side income, unless you were like Verna Golding and knew how to dig for medicinal herbs on the mountain. But that was a specialized skill few people possessed. Byron Thorne knew a little, but he mostly gathered herbs for his own use. He made far more money treating the sick—Byron Thorne was quite the shrewd calculator.

Life on Millstone Peak was peaceful during this time. The villagers worked from sunrise to sunset, their days falling into a familiar rhythm. But that tranquility was shattered when Adrian Hawthorne suddenly rode back on a brand-new bicycle. The small mountain village erupted in excitement, and everyone flocked to the Hawthorne family’s home to see what all the commotion was about.

A brand-new Forever-brand bicycle was parked at the Hawthorne’s front door, gleaming under the sun. The villagers’ eyes shone with an excitement greater than that of people in later generations laying eyes on a Mercedes-Benz or a BMW.

"How much did this bike cost? Must be about two hundred yuan, right?" someone asked.

Sherman Golding was in the crowd, practically dying of envy. He was already stressing over how to get his hands on a sewing machine coupon, and seeing Adrian Hawthorne’s new bike filled him with even more regret. ’If I had known that bastard was this capable, I never would have snatched his land. Dammit!’

"Not that much. One hundred and fifty yuan. Bought it at the county department store," Adrian Hawthorne replied.