Da Tang Si Zi: My Six Super Rich Little Nuggets!

Chapter 360 The Shadow of the Ginseng Shakes Down the Moon over the Tang Dynasty

The cold raindrops, imbued with a hint of the aura of the deepest hell, pelted down on Sizi's little face, which was turning blue from the cold, carrying the bone-chilling cold of late autumn in Chang'an.

She huddled in the most desolate corner of the Imperial Medicinal Herb Garden like a pitiful, abandoned little animal. Her tattered single garment, as thin as a cicada's wing, offered no protection against the biting, chilling wind. Each breath felt like an ice pick churning in her lungs, causing her face to contort in pain.

The plague had seeped into her bones, rendering medicine ineffective. The old pharmacist in the garden, with his white beard, could only shake his head and sigh as he looked at her, his cloudy old eyes filled with nothing but pity.

Despair, like the most clinging vines in the old forest, tightly constricted her heart, making it hard for her to breathe.

Just as her consciousness was about to completely sink into the boundless abyss of darkness, Xiao Sizi's icy little hands trembled as she touched the hard, coarse cloth bag in her inner pocket, which still smelled of the muddy stench of Taibai Mountain Tatou Beach.

That was her only brother, who had secretly given her his "lifeline" three years ago before he was captured by vicious officials to build the imperial mausoleum.

My brother was panting heavily, his eyes shining brightly, and he said, "Sizi... keep this safe! This is a precious gem that I risked my life to find in that dangerous place called 'Dragon's Breath' at Laoling Tatou Beach! Keep it... keep it to save my life!"

“Brother…” Si Zi used the last bit of strength, like a squirrel gnawing on a nut, to tear open the greasy, twisted cloth bag.

Inside lay a ginseng! Its tendrils and hairs were twisted and coiled like a dragon, resembling a newborn infant. It was plump and lustrous, faintly radiating a warm and precious light—a wild mountain ginseng treasure! A rich and intense ginseng fragrance, as if it had condensed the essence of a thousand years of sun and moon, burst forth instantly, even diluting the dense deathly aura somewhat!

Little Sizi didn't care about anything else. She opened her little mouth like a starving little tiger, stuffed the ginseng treasure into her mouth, and chewed it with all her might. The spicy and bitter taste went straight to the top of her head, and then, an overwhelming and unstoppable torrent of heat, like a volcanic eruption, exploded in her little body with a "boom"!

The bones, muscles, and flesh seemed to be torn apart inch by inch by an invisible, immense force, and then forcibly mixed and reshaped; the soul was more like being forcibly pulled out of the body by a void hand spanning the primordial era, and violently thrown into the raging, chaotic currents of time and space...

I don't know how much time has passed; it might be a snap of the fingers, or it might be millions of years.

Sizi suddenly opened her big, watery eyes, and the blinding white light made her quickly cover her face with her chubby little hands.

Beneath her was a soft brocade quilt so soft she could sink into it, and the air was filled with an unfamiliar scent, a mixture of the aroma of spiritual grains and the fragrance of some strange herbs and trees.

She was no longer the pitiful little medicine boy waiting to die in the Imperial Medicine Garden of Chang'an, but had become the "little ancestor" of the famous Du family, a family of ginseng spirits, at the foot of Changbai Mountain in this world called "modern," a place with sparse spiritual energy but full of mysteries.

As for that little boy who toiled away in the herb garden? He became a forgotten memory.

At that moment, Xiao Sizi swallowed the last few grains of spirit rice in her bowl with a "whoosh," which contained a trace of faint spiritual energy. She pouted and thought to herself: This stuff is not even as good as the fine food fed to the spirit birds in the Imperial Medicine Garden of the Great Tang Dynasty. However, her eyes, like two bright little stars, were "swished" towards the old man with white hair and beard, whose aura was as deep and serene as that of a ten-thousand-year-old ginseng spirit—Old Master Du.

This man was Du Xiaobing's father in his previous life, but in this life he is her blood-related "grandfather" and a renowned legendary leader in the Laolingshan Ginseng Gang. He has guarded this sacred ginseng land for fifty-eight years and is known as "Old Mountain God" Du Laozhao.

Little Sizi puffed out her chest, her clear, crisp voice carrying a touch of the naive stubbornness typical of her age, yet also a hint of the probing of an otherworldly soul: "Grandpa Du the Stove!" she called out in a clear, crisp voice, with the straightforwardness of a Northeastern girl, "If you're going to take me into the mountains tomorrow to 'carry the ginseng stick' (a slang term for digging ginseng), you'll have to do me a favor first!"

"Oh?" Old Master Du put down the shavings (ginseng digging tool) he had been rubbing until it was shiny. His short beard twitched slightly, and his old eyes, which had seen through all the spiritual plants in the world, were full of doting affection for his little granddaughter. "What kind of tricks are you up to this time, my little darling? Hurry up and tell me, Grandpa is listening!"

Du Xiaosi took a deep breath, and the faint yet exceptionally resilient spiritual power of the medicine boy within her body, which had broken through the spatial turbulence along with her, flowed slightly like a mischievous little snake. She opened her small mouth and said clearly and crisply, "Please, Grandpa, grant me a top-quality 'forest seed' (ginseng that grows naturally after being artificially sown)!"

She paused, the fleeting image of the wild ginseng she had swallowed whole, tearing through time and space, flashing before her eyes. A complex, indescribable feeling swept through her heart—in the Imperial Medicinal Garden of the Tang Dynasty, ginseng of that quality, though considered a rare item, wasn't even among the top tier. She then gestured with her little finger, carefully adding, each word like pearls falling onto a jade plate: "Not those droopy, incomplete 'second-rate' ginseng! It has to be top-notch, with complete rootlets, vibrant green ginseng stalks, and bright red ginseng seeds on top! It has to look festive!"

The parents, who were carefully preparing the talismans, cinnabar, and "lucky ropes" (red ropes tied for blessings when digging ginseng) needed for tomorrow's "ginseng spirit ceremony," suddenly looked up at the sound, their eyes wide with surprise—

"What nonsense are you spouting!" Mother's eyebrows shot up, her voice suddenly rising, carrying a low-level spiritual energy fluctuation of exasperation that made the talismans on the table tremble. "Tomorrow we're opening the mountain gates to 'release the ginseng' (gathering ginseng). What we're opening are the precious ginseng seeds from the 'Red Hammer Market' (when the ginseng seeds are ripe), which our family has guarded for fifty-eight years and which have absorbed the essence of the sun and moon! Let alone top-grade spiritual ginseng, even a 'ragtag' ginseng with a single, incomplete root would be worth several hundred low-grade spirit stones in the market down the mountain! Is that something you can play with like a 'knuckle bone'?"

Old Du, however, seemed to have heard something extremely amusing. He stroked his beard and burst into a thunderous laugh that shook the dust off the roof beams: "Hahaha! Good! You have good taste! Just like someone from my Du family!"

He slammed his hand on the sturdy rosewood kang table, exclaiming with boundless pride, "Little Sizi! Grandpa's on! Tomorrow when we enter the old forest, you can pick and choose from the whole mountain of ginseng and ginseng! Dig up whichever one you fancy!"

The father, who had been silent until now, was so anxious that he stamped his feet, his face contorted like a bitter gourd: "Dad! Please don't let the child act recklessly! What if... what if this little devil has good luck and takes a fancy to that 'Ginseng Spirit King' that's suppressing the fortune of our ginseng garden..." He lowered his voice, his tone trembling with tears, "That precious thing, it'll cost at least five thousand high-grade spirit stones! Even if we mortgaged our ginseng garden along with the house and land deeds, I'm afraid we still wouldn't be able to hold onto it!"

Upon hearing "five thousand high-grade spirit stones," Du Xiaosi shrank back in fright, trying to bury her big head in her collar like a startled little quail.

She remembered the "ordinary" ginseng she had swallowed whole in the Tang Dynasty, her little face wrinkled, and she murmured in a childish voice, "...Then...then...I want one that isn't too expensive, just a little bit good..." Her voice grew softer and softer, tinged with guilt.

Old Du glared, his beard and hair bristling, exuding the authority of an old foreman. He made the final decision: "What's all the fuss about! I, Old Du, can give my ginseng to whomever I want! Little Sizi has her own destiny! It's settled then!"

The following morning, a thin mist, like a fairy's veil, enveloped the mysterious Laoling Ginseng Garden.

Dewdrops rolled on the ginseng leaves, refracting the colorful glow of the sunset.

Wearing a brand-new jacket, Du Xiaosi, like a sensitive little deer entering the mountains for the first time, followed behind Du Laozao with uneven steps, looking around curiously.

On the misty forest path, a figure suddenly stood there.

He was a fair-skinned young man who didn't look like someone from the mountains. He wore a clean cloth shirt and had a calm demeanor, which seemed out of place in this rugged and primitive old forest.

Du Laozhao paused, his sharp, hunter-like gaze instantly locking onto the young man. His gaze carried the scrutiny characteristic of a veteran leader of the ginseng gang, along with a subtle, almost imperceptible pressure of spiritual energy. His Northeastern accent betrayed a hint of skepticism.

"Shengzi (Northeastern dialect: a term for a young man)? Look at your delicate skin, fair complexion, and refined appearance, like a shaman's apprentice. Can you handle the spiritual treasures in this land? Don't be a 'white hat' (Northeastern slang: a novice)!"

Upon hearing the voice, the fair-skinned young man slowly turned around.

Despite the old foreman's intimidating presence, he remained unmoved, even displaying a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

His fingertips, hanging at his sides, shimmered with a faint, almost pure light that flowed silently like water for a fleeting moment.

He bowed slightly, his voice calm yet strangely penetrating, responding clearly:

"Don't worry, boss. The work will prove its worth. The spirits of this mountain recognize people."

As soon as the words were spoken, the leaves of the old ginseng plant beside it swayed slightly, stirred by an invisible force...