After the family split up, my stepmother and scumbag father begged me to come home.

"Mom, there's one more thing." Ding Xiaohu lowered his voice, so low it sounded like it was coming from a crack in the ground, "Sit tight and don't let anyone hear you—especially not the neighbors."

After saying that, he slowly took out a string of copper coins from his pocket and stacked them one by one on the table.

Aunt Ding's eyes widened instantly. One hundred coins. She opened her mouth, but couldn't utter a word.

Before Ding Xiaohu could stop, he pulled something out of his pocket and placed it heavily on the table.

Aunt Ding couldn't sit still any longer; her buttocks bounced up as if she'd been pricked by a needle.

"Mother, this is seven taels." Ding Xiaohu's voice wasn't loud, but it was like a pebble thrown into a deep pool. "I dug up some ginseng on the mountain today and sold it to the pharmacy."

"What?!" Aunt Ding's voice suddenly rose, then she abruptly suppressed it, covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide as saucers. "Ginseng? You little rascals—dug up ginseng?"

Tiger nodded, a hint of barely suppressed pride on his face: "The three of us dug them all. Qianqian's is the biggest, and Along's is the smallest."

Aunt Ding stood there, stunned, for a long time.

The seven taels of silver were placed on the table, glowing warmly in the candlelight.

She suddenly reached out and wiped the silver twice on her apron before carefully picking it up and examining it from all angles, as if she couldn't believe it was real.

An ordinary family might not be able to save seven taels in their entire life, and her family didn't have any. But now her son brings home seven taels in a single day.

"Your sister Qianqian..." Her voice trembled slightly, "is a lucky one. Since we separated from the family, she's helped you earn a lot of money. This is seven taels of silver! We must remember her kindness."

Ding Xiaohu nodded seriously and pushed the string of copper coins forward as well: "Mom, keep the money. You guys eat the rabbit, I'm going to Qianqian's house."

He turned and walked towards the door, but turned back at the threshold and grinned, "If I'm too late, they'll all be gone."

Aunt Ding laughed out loud at his joke, but her eyes were red. She waved her hand and said, "Go on, drive carefully."

The door creaked shut and then bounced back. Ding Xiaohu, carrying his cloth bag, happily ran towards the end of the village.

Aunt Ding sat alone at the table, staring blankly at the seven taels of silver and one hundred copper coins for a long time. Dusk was deepening outside the window, and the sound of a spatula clattering came from next door. She suddenly murmured something softly, as if speaking to herself:

"This girl is extraordinary."

Aunt Ding composed herself, walked to the door, and called out into the yard, "Father, come in quickly."

His voice was low, but it carried a hint of urgency.

Uncle Ding was squatting under the eaves weaving bamboo baskets, the bamboo strips turning smoothly in his hands. Hearing this, he looked up and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Stop asking, come in quickly!" Aunt Ding waved to him.

Uncle Ding put down the half-finished basket, dusted off the bamboo shavings from his hands, and stepped into the kitchen. As soon as he entered, he sensed something was wrong—the doors and windows were tightly shut, the oil lamp on the stove was lit with only a tiny flame, and the whole room was filled with a mysterious atmosphere.

"What's going on? You're acting like you're doing something wrong," Uncle Ding muttered.

Aunt Ding didn't reply, but simply held up the silver ingot in front of him.

Uncle Ding's legs went weak on the spot.

He instinctively grabbed the stove, his eyes fixed on the silver ingot, not looking away for a long time. In the mountains, people see copper coins all year round; silver is something they might not even touch once during festivals, let alone such a large ingot.

"Where...where did you come from?" Uncle Ding's voice changed.

"Tiger brought it back," Aunt Ding said in a low voice, enunciating each word clearly, "Those three little guys—dug up ginseng."

Uncle Ding gasped, frozen in place, and after a long while, finally managed to utter, "What? Ginseng?"

He seemed to be processing the news, slowly squatting down, then standing up again, pacing back and forth a couple of times, before suddenly stopping and looking intently at his wife: "Qianqian, this child... is a treasure."

He paused, his voice lowering, tinged with an indescribable sigh: "But the Lin family is so short-sighted, they can't see it."

"Who says otherwise?" Aunt Ding sighed and carefully gathered the silver ingot into her palm.

Uncle Ding glanced at the silver again, then waved his hand, "Alright, keep it safe. In the future... we'll help as much as we can."

After saying that, he turned around, pushed open the door, went back into the courtyard, and picked up the half-finished bamboo basket again. The bamboo strips spun between his fingers, making a soft, rustling sound, as if nothing had happened.

But his hands were trembling slightly.