When we reached a flat area where someone had camped, my husband quickly set up the camping gear, lit a fire and created the illusion of a luxurious wilderness camp. In reality, we were only one kilometer from the base of the mountain.
With mushroom-picking season in full swing, the area near the village had long been picked clean. Our group hiked up and down the rugged trails, finding nothing but dog poops and centipedes. After searching under damp bark and rotting wood, I finally spotted a dazzling red fungus—the prize I had been hoping for.
I carefully turned my back to them and picked the fungus, one by one. When I handed them the fungi, they marveled at how beautiful they were. The vibrant red color was striking. My sister-in-law, dressed in a white undershirt after shedding the worn-out scarf provided by the lodging, eagerly showed off the fungus on her livestream. She eagerly showed off the fungus on her livestream. The viewer counted surged.
“My family, look at this beautiful mushroom I found!” she exclaimed. “Do you think it should be fried or stewed?”
Just then, the live broadcast signal faltered, causing my sister-in-law to angrily throw bottles and cans and berate us. “This terrible mountain signal—my viewership was in the thousands and now it’s dropped!”
With the signal unreliable and the day dragging on, my mother-in-law, ignoring my sister-in-law’s tantrums, eagerly dumped the red mushrooms into the pot, cooking them until the hot, bubbling aroma filled the air and chased away the chill of the mountains.
Part 5
Soon, the pot was overflowing with the rich, fresh aroma of the mushrooms, drawing my father-in-law and my husband toward it. My mother-in-law quickly realized that the small amount of mushrooms I had picked wasn’t enough to feed everyone. With a clever glint in her eye, she addressed me while serving the meal.
“Sarah, don’t eat these wild mushrooms with your pregnant belly,” she said, handing me a steamed bun from her bag. “Just have these with some water.”
The mushroom soup was divided into four bowls and my mother-in-law made sure that the bowl with the most mushrooms went to my sister-in-law, who was busy fiddling with her Smartphone. I stood quietly, clutching my dry steamed buns, waiting for them to dig in.