Chapter Forty-Two: A Gentle Purge

A gentle breeze wafted through, and on the mountain, time seemed to pause.

In the blink of an eye, dusk had arrived.

Chen Yu returned with a bountiful harvest; the bamboo basket on his back was filled to the brim. On top lay several medicinal herbs, beneath them dozens of fresh, tender mushrooms, and bundles of wild vegetables, roots and earth still clinging to them.

Compared to last time, he’d found fewer mushrooms, but they were just as delicious, each promising excellent texture.

Following the mountain path, he hurried back, eager to light the stove and warm his stomach with a bowl of fresh soup.

From afar, the temple loomed into view.

A smile touched Chen Yu’s face as he walked toward the temple, pondering what to eat tonight. Perhaps he’d try some of the wild vegetables for a change?

Hmm?

As he walked, he noticed hoofprints impressed in the mud before the courtyard.

He followed the tracks, which led around to the back of his own yard.

Had a mountain animal wandered down?

Well, both the medicinal field and vegetable garden were fenced, so that should keep mischief at bay… probably.

Hurrying around to the back, he was met by a sight so jarring that even the usually composed Chen Yu stood dumbstruck.

A smoky-brown fawn lay sprawled on the ground, emitting feeble, listless cries—so faint they could only be heard up close.

But what drew the eye even more was the state of the surroundings—

The vegetable garden was unscathed; the spiritual root herbs in the medicinal field untouched; even the fragrant Lanting fruit by the fence stood pristine, quietly rooted in place.

The hoofprints seemed almost purposely to have avoided both, leading instead to the patch of Jade Silkwormweed.

And the Jade Silkwormweed… was a complete mess, ravaged beyond recognition!

What remained, once a large, lush batch, had been devoured to the last stalk—even the shriveled roots had not been spared.

Setting down his basket, Chen Yu stepped forward, but after only a few paces was forced to stop—the air around the fawn reeked with a pungent stench, mingling with the mud.

Pinching his nose, he peered closer and saw the animal’s belly was swollen round as a ball, heaving with shallow breaths.

Was it suffering from a difficult birth?

He glanced at the yellow stains beneath the fawn, and the scattered pellets all around.

The smoky-brown fawn was still twitching, and the gurgling in its stomach was clearly audible.

So the culprit had an upset stomach!

At a loss, Chen Yu could only sigh, black lines forming on his brow. He returned to the temple, set his basket aside, organized the herbs and mushrooms, fetched a bucket of clear water, and wrapped his hand with a frayed gray cloth.

Bracing himself against the pungent odor, he closed his eyes and quickly grasped the fawn by its hind legs and neck, hauling it away from the foul-smelling patch.

Whether it was simply thick-skinned or too exhausted to fight, the young sika deer didn’t struggle, letting him drag it aside and patiently enduring as Chen Yu cleaned its body with the wet cloth.

The process was hardly worth mentioning—cleaning a soaked, grimy deer was not a task for the faint of heart—but the animal seemed to sense he meant no harm, and cooperated quietly.

With a final splash, he poured out the remaining water into the garden, then used a hoe to bury the droppings scattered across the ground.

He cradled the freshly washed sika fawn back to the courtyard, left a handful of fresh grass, closed the gate, and locked it tight.

Expressionless, Chen Yu returned to the now odorless medicinal field to assess the damage.

Yet, perhaps it was his imagination, but a faint hint of that offensive smell still seemed to linger in the air.

Fanning his hands before his nose, he bent to inspect each section.

The field had originally been divided into three: one for the newly christened spiritual root, another for Jade Silkwormweed, and the last for Lanting fruit.

Now, whenever his gaze fell upon the empty upper right corner, a pang shot through his heart.

At least half the Jade Silkwormweed had been harvested before, so the loss wasn’t devastating. The problem was, the neighboring greens had been nibbled as well!

Now, only a solitary sprout clung to life in a corner.

He sighed—he couldn’t very well force that foolish deer to cough it up.

And even if it did, what then? Was he supposed to replant it?

On second thought, he consoled himself—wasn’t this a living, breathing test subject delivered right to his door? Using some transplantable, catalyzed plants had lured in a perfect candidate for experimentation.

Looking at it that way, perhaps he hadn’t lost out after all.

Satisfied with this reasoning, he tidied the medicinal field, but did not replant the Jade Silkwormweed.

Just as he’d planned, he would use this patch for some of the herbs he’d gathered today.

He’d searched the mountain for hardy, effective medicinal plants and brought back those with intact roots.

This time, he would try transplanting them and see how well the spiritual liquid worked, rather than relying solely on spiritual energy.

…

Returning to the courtyard, he found the daring little deer gazing at him with wide, innocent eyes.

It tilted its head, took another mouthful of grass, and chewed.

And another.

Chen Yu was speechless. This deer had nerves of steel—was it not afraid at all?

He’d always heard the phrase "startled like a hare, timid like a deer," but this one seemed to be an exception. No wonder it wandered the mountain alone; perhaps the other sika deer had long since abandoned it.

He recognized it now—this was the same greedy, foolish fawn he’d encountered on the mountain while foraging for mushrooms some time ago.

Just as gluttonous, just as silly.

Taking a few steps forward, Chen Yu suddenly remembered something and hurried to the storeroom.

Bang!

He opened and shut the door in one swift motion, but the acrid stench still rushed out.

Caught off guard by the smell, he nonetheless mused—perhaps he’d discovered the catalyzed Jade Silkwormweed’s true effect.

Whatever else it did, it was certainly effective as a laxative.

With that, he slung the basket over his shoulder and headed once more for the back mountain.

Nearly half an hour passed, dusk settling in, before he returned.

He didn’t look for the deer, but the deer was watching him.

After a long day’s work, Chen Yu returned to the fawn’s side, a bundle of grass in one hand, a wooden basin in the other.

In the basin, a paste of herbs and water gave off a faintly refreshing scent.

He soaked the cloth in the mixture and began rubbing down the deer again.

Truthfully, after the first wash, the stench was mostly gone, but after being assaulted twice, he wouldn’t be at ease until the foolish animal was spotless.

At last, with another bundle of grass consumed, the fawn was much cleaner.

As he swapped in a dry cloth to gently dab away moisture, Chen Yu couldn’t resist rubbing the deer’s forehead.

The fawn shook its head, glanced at the bare ground, then ambled to the gate and called out, bleating incessantly.

Chen Yu paid it no mind and instead went to the woodshed, where he fetched the half-dead rooster.

The rooster’s bath was far more perfunctory—none of the gentle treatment lavished on the deer.

Of course, the cock was lively enough—perhaps because it hadn’t eaten as much as the fawn, so it still had energy to peck at his hands.

In the courtyard, man and rooster circled each other, and for a moment, Chen Yu wondered if he ought to fetch some boiling water and pluck that stubborn bird on the spot.