Not having a granddaughter of his own and unable to get a child to carry on his back, the old monk was now even being bullied by the elderly Lin Zhongsi. Fuming, he dragged Lin Zhongsi aside, and the two began to scuffle. Like a pair of mischievous old children, they bickered and fought all the way down the mountain, while the others laughed and cheered them on. Soon, they reached the foot of the mountain, where the Lin Family Three Garments Workshop came into view.
By now, the Three Garments Workshop had expanded nearly threefold compared to over two years ago. Not only were there more buildings, but also more workers. Li Cuimei and her eldest son discussed plans to demolish the villagers’ old houses the following year and replace them with worker dormitories. The workshop’s kitchen would also be relocated to the dormitory area, freeing up all the buildings within the workshop compound for production.
The garments produced by the Lin Family Three Garments Workshop were not only meticulously crafted but also frequently featured new styles and patterns—designs so innovative that others couldn’t even conceive of them. These styles were both aesthetically pleasing and practical. By the time imitations could hit the market, the Lin workshop would already have released new designs. As a result, many clothing merchants now came to Lin Village to place orders. Even merchants from other provinces, drawn by the reputation of Lin Village’s workshop, traveled to this remote hamlet to inspect the goods.
Unsurprisingly, much of this success could be attributed to the contributions of Lin Fang and Chen Dong, two souls from another world. Li Cuimei didn’t let Chen Dong’s ideas go unrewarded—every time Chen Dong proposed a new style or pattern, Li Cuimei gave her a share of the profits. Thus, despite her young age, Chen Dong had already begun to accumulate a modest income.
As they passed the workshop’s entrance, they happened to meet Dalang and Lin Cui’e, who had just finished their shift. Upon hearing that the group was heading up the mountain to inspect the black fungus, they eagerly joined in.
Li Cuimei had developed chronic health issues after childbirth, and over the past two years, she had become increasingly sensitive to cold. A mere breeze would make her whole body itch unbearably, as if the itch had seeped into her bones, leaving her with no way to scratch it. Despite Tong Shi’s best efforts to treat her, while her condition had improved significantly, the root cause remained unresolved. As the weather turned colder, she rarely visited the workshop anymore and seldom ventured outside, leaving Dalang to take on more responsibilities.
When the group arrived at the fungus cultivation site, they did find the fungus the old monk had mentioned—but it was not newly grown. Lin Fang had deliberately sourced naturally grown fungus from elsewhere and placed it there as starter culture, not as a fresh harvest.
Tong Shi scolded the old monk relentlessly, with Lin Zhongsi chiming in to support his wife. Unwilling to back down, the old monk meticulously inspected the logs embedded with fragments of fungus, insisting that he had indeed seen newly sprouted fungus. Perhaps, he argued, the workers had inadvertently flipped the logs, hiding the fresh growth. Guo Tieniu, Qian’er’s husband, who had come up the mountain upon hearing the news, also joined the search with his men.
“Here, here! I wasn’t lying. This is newly grown black fungus!” the old monk shouted triumphantly.
At his cry, everyone rushed over to look—but all they saw was a layer of moss covering what had once been bare logs. There was no trace of black fungus. Disappointed, the group quickly lost interest. This time, even before his wife could speak, Lin Zhongsi was the first to mock the old monk.
Ignoring the ridicule, the old monk continued examining the moss-covered logs. Eventually, he found something unusual and called Lin Fang over to see.
Lin Fang carefully studied the tiny black dots the old monk pointed out—sparse and pitifully few, barely visible amidst the moss. Even if they scraped off every speck from the entire log, it wouldn’t be enough to fill the old monk’s teeth. Still, Lin Fang was pleased. In her excitement, she promised him a generous reward: “Huh? It really is black fungus! Well done, old monk. You can have your pick from the first harvest.”
The old monk was overjoyed. “Fang’er, do you mean it?”
“Of course I do. When have I ever lied to you?”
*When have you* not *lied to me?* the old monk grumbled inwardly, though he dared not say it aloud. Every time Lin Fang deceived him, it was usually because he had teased her first. Knowing he was in the wrong, he didn’t argue but instead pressed her on the promise: “In that case, when will the first harvest be ready?”
When would it be ready? Lin Fang wasn’t sure. Artificially cultivated black fungus could be harvested in as little as two or three months, but hers was only nominally cultivated—in reality, it grew entirely naturally, making the timeline unpredictable. It could take a year or two. Seeing the old monk’s restless impatience, she casually replied, “It’s cold now, so the fungus grows slower. At the earliest, it won’t be ready until next spring. Be patient, old monk.”
“A—mi—tuo—fo—!”
The drawn-out Buddhist chant was filled with melodramatic lament, resentment, and resignation, drawing amused smiles from the group. Lin Zhongsi burst into loud laughter, and soon the two old men were at it again, playfully sparring in the fungus field. Tong Shi cheered her husband on, her earlier anxiety and gloom completely dispelled. From an angle no one noticed, the two old men exchanged a glance, their eyes twinkling with satisfaction—their antics had achieved the desired effect.
On the way back, Chen Dong arranged with Lin Fang to meet at her house later to discuss something. So when they reached home, Lin Fang didn’t go inside but instead had her father carry her straight to Chen Dong’s quarters. After Qi Shi settled Chen Dong, she also took Chen Shiyuan and followed Tong Shi back to the Lin household. The two girls often whispered secrets to each other, excluding everyone else, and by now, the others were used to it.
Since Chen Dong fell ill, Lin Fang had assigned Qi Shi to take care of her and her younger brother.
To the Chen siblings, Qi Shi was a peculiar presence. She taught them martial arts, and they respected her as their master—yet she was a servant of the Lin family, not a free woman. Meanwhile, Chen Dong’s relationship with Lin Fang, Qi Shi’s direct mistress, was anything but ordinary. In a way, the Chen siblings were also Qi Shi’s half-masters. Lin Fang had once privately told Qi Shi that if she ever found a man she fancied, she need only say the word, and Lin Fang would grant her freedom by returning her contract.
Chen Dong had come to terms with her physical limitations and no longer pushed herself. Following Tong Shi’s advice, she kept two charcoal braziers burning in her room and dressed warmly. Tasks involving cold water were delegated to the maidservant the Lin family had assigned her.
Lin Fang got straight to the point: “So, did seeing my black fungus give you ideas?”
Chen Dong was even more direct: “I want to take over your fungus field.”
*This girl really says whatever’s on her mind, doesn’t she? No tact at all. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me, an amateur, to set this up? At least butter me up a little if you’re gonna ask to take over!* Lin Fang grumbled internally but asked aloud, “Do you even know how?”
“Do I know how?” Chen Dong scoffed. “Let me tell you—back in my world, I worked at a mushroom farm and learned some cultivation techniques. The manager even planned to train me further. If I hadn’t gotten into a fight and been kicked out, I’d have become a technician there. If I’d had the money back then, I would’ve started my own farm instead of turning to thievery.”
Chen Dong getting into fights was nothing new to Lin Fang. What concerned her was: “Are mushrooms and fungus the same? Don’t mess this up and waste all my effort.”
“Pfft. Look who’s talking. You’ve squandered perfectly good conditions. If it were me, I’d have harvested a batch by now. Your fungus is so sparse you’d need a microscope to find it.”
“Don’t exaggerate. So I was a little lazy. If you’re so capable, try growing mushrooms without ready-made mycelium. My fungus is already sprouting, and *now* you want to take over? How shameless.”
Seeing Chen Dong momentarily speechless, Lin Fang felt a rare thrill of victory—she seldom got the upper hand in their verbal sparring. Gloating, she declared, “Well, considering you’re idle, unoccupied, and have a little brother to raise, I’ll *graciously* hand the fungus field over to you. You pick the materials, provide the know-how, and I’ll help you choose workers.”
Chen Dong wasn’t fooled. “Hmph. Spoken like a true landlord. The mountain is yours, the land is yours, the people are yours. The only thing I bring is my skills, and you make it sound like I have so much autonomy.”
Not about to let her hard-won advantage slip, Lin Fang shot back, “Think of it as a technical investment—no capital required. You’ll get a share of the harvest, not just a fixed wage. The better the yield, the more you earn. Come on, get to work.”
Her smugness earned her a walnut hurled at her head. Years of needle-throwing and Five Animals exercises had honed Lin Fang’s reflexes far beyond what they’d been years ago. She caught the walnut effortlessly, then marched to Chen Dong’s desk, pulled out a drawer, retrieved a nutcracker, and cracked it open. She extracted the kernel, waved it teasingly at Chen Dong, and popped it into her mouth.
Chen Dong turned away, ignoring her.
After some more playful bickering, they agreed that Chen Dong would take over the fungus field in the spring. For the rest of winter, she would focus on recuperating.
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