The winds of the forest whispered, as Bai Yue’s tiny feet padded softly over a carpet of fallen leaves. Shafts of golden sunlight pierced through the canopy, creating a pattern on the forest floor.

The air was green and thick, its scent wad mixture of damp earth and fragrant pine, a perfume that filled the young girl’s lungs with each careful breath.

As the towering trees stretched skyward, their gnarled branches reached out like protective arms covering ae child that wandered beneath them. The moss-covered stones and fallen logs dotted the landscape, nature's own obstacles in this verdant playground. A gentle breeze whispered through the leaves, carrying with it the distant song of a babbling brook and the melodious calls of unseen birds.

The forest pulsed with a quiet energy, alive yet peaceful, bustling yet serene. Bai Yue felt small amidst the trees surrounding her. Here, far from the worries of the world beyond, she could almost forget the burden that weighed heavily on her young shoulders.

Yu scanned the ground, her brown eyes searching the telltale leaves of the ginseng plant. She knew that if she could find a single root, it might ease the financial strain her aunt and uncle were under.

Her small hands, already calloused from work beyond her years, gently parted ferns and pushed aside decaying leaves.

Old man Chen was one of the village herbalist. His wrinkled face made him seem unapproachable, but Bai Yue was desperate.

She didn’t want to leave her aunt and uncle, but she had to contribute, she had to show them that she wanted to stay.

Old man Chen showed her a dried root, then explained its value to her. He then showed her how to harvest the ginseng. “Remember, little one,” She reminisced, his voice creaky as a rusty hinge, “Ginseng is precious. It takes years to grow, so we must respect it.”

Those words echoed in her mind as she continued her search.

The forest floor was green and brown, making it difficult for her young eyes to distinguish one plant from another, but Bai Yue was determined. She had to be.

The image of her aunt’s worried face and her uncle’s tired eyes drove her forward, even as the sun climbed higher in the sky.

A rustling sound caught her attention, and Bai Yue turned around slowly. The deer that stared at Bai Yue was large, its liquid eyes looked at her with curiosity, unlike Bai Yue’s fear, which made her freeze.

She should be, she was five years old.

The girl and deer stood motionless, their hearts beating in the stillness of the forest. Then, with a flick of its white tail, the deer bounded away, disappearing into the undergrowth as silently as it had appeared.

Bai Yue let out a sigh of relief, not realising she’d been holding her breath the entire time. She was left awed, but she was she was too young to understand. All forests had hidden wonders, which was a world apart from her village.

Here, she wasn’t the orphan taken in by kind but struggling relatives. She was simply a part of nature, as much as the deer or the trees themselves.

As the sun passed its zenith, Bai Yue finally spotted what she’d been searching for. In the short distance, nestled below a falling old oak.

A cluster of leaves she recognized from Old Chen’s teachings. Her heart raced as she approached, careful not to disturb the surrounding vegetation.

She run up the plant, feet mushing into the ground. As she approached the plant, she knelt down beside the plant. As she brushed away the soil around its base. The root she uncovered was small, perhaps only a few years old, but it was unmistakably ginseng.

She loosened the soil with the best utmost care she had in her, as a five year old. As she eased the root from the ground without breaking it. As she held it in her hands, a mix of triumph and guilt washed over her. She had found a treasure, yes, but at the cost of a life that had been growing here for years.

“Thank you,” She whispered, talking to the forest. “I promise to use it well.”

She tucked the ginseng safely into the small pouch old man Chen gave her. She realized how long she’d been in the forest for a long while, and needed to return.

As the light above was setting to the west, the golden hue of late afternoon coming into view. She needed to start heading back before her aunt and uncle began to worry.

She turned to leave, a sound caught her ear. It was faint at first, barely distinguishable from the rustle of leaves, but it grew clearer as she listened.

Water.

The babbling brook she had heard earlier was close by. Thirst suddenly made itself known, and Bai Yue decided to seek out the stream before beginning her journey home.

Bai Yue followed the sound and came upon a small clearing where a brook cut through the forest floor. The water sparkled in the sunlight, clear and inviting. She stalked herself down a small descent.

The water oscillated, making a smooth swishing sound. Bai Yue came closer to edge of the water. She knelt down, cupping her hands to drink the cool, refreshing water. As she quenched her thirst, she noticed something unusual upstream.

A partially hidden log that seemed to fallen from a cliff above, had a glint of metal embedded within it. Bai Yue’s curiosity piqued and she made her way along the bank.

She drew closer to the fallen log and a small metal box appeared around the roots. Its surface look dull, despite how close Bai Yue got close to the roots.

She knelt, which felt like the one hundredth time and touched the jade case. A soft cold sensation ran up her arm, unfamiliar to her. This feels so smooth, She thought, I might be able to get something for it.

Bai Yue began pulling the jade box, but it didn’t move. She did so for close to a minute, but the roots wrapped around it didn’t budge. She turned opposite the tree, squatted over and began to pull the box up, but it didn’t move.

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She spent between twenty to thirty minutes, trying different ways to pull the jade box free, but it was of no good.

“This isn’t working,” She huffed, feeling her lungs scream for air. She dropped to the ground, hitting her bum and feeling the pain of it throb.

Bai Yue sat on the forest floor, her chest heaving with exertion. She stared at the stubborn jade box, still firmly wedged between the roots of the fallen log. The sun was sinking lower in the sky, painting the forest in warm hues of orange and gold. She knew she should head home, but something about the mysterious box called to her.

“One more try,” She whispered to herself, her determination renewed.

Bai Yue examined the roots that held it captive. She noticed that some were thinner than others, more pliable. With her small fingers, she began to work at these weaker points, gently prying and tugging.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the roots began to give way. Bai Yue felt a surge of excitement as she made progress, carefully untangling the box from its wooden prison. It was painstaking work, and more than once she nearly gave up, but the thought of what might be inside kept her going.

As the last root fell away, Bai Yue let out a small cry of triumph. She raised her left hand in celebration, then sat down placing the jade box on her lap.

The jade box, now free, sat in her lap. She took a long hard look, realising it had intricate carvings on its surface – swirling patterns that reminded her of clouds and mountains. It was heavier than she expected, and a small, tarnished latch kept it sealed.

Bai Yue fumbled with the latch. It was stiff from years of disuse, but eventually, it gave way with a satisfying click. She held her breath as she lifted the lid, half-expecting it to be empty after all her effort.

It wasn’t empty.

Nestled inside on a bed of what looked like ancient silk, lay a necklace with a jade pendant. Bai Yue gasped, surprised as she stared at the necklace.

As she lifted it from the box,the pendant was a small, flat disc, about the size of a coin. In the center was a single character, etched deeply into the jade: luck.

Bai Yue slipped the necklace over her head. She tucked it carefully under her clothing and the cool sensation she felt made goosebumps rise around her chest.

As she stood up, brushing the dirt from her clothes, Bai Yue felt different. It wasn't anything she could put into words, but there was a warmth in her chest that hadn't been there before. She looked around the forest, and for a moment, it seemed as if the trees were standing a little taller, the birds singing a little sweeter.

She looked down at the Jade box, the urge to take it home was there, but knowing how chatty her aunt was, someone would steal it, like they did the one mirror her sister had left her.

Bai Yue looked at the jade box one last time, her small fingers tracing the intricate patterns on its surface. She couldn't risk taking it home, but the thought of leaving it exposed seemed wrong. An idea formed in her young mind.

“I’ll hide it,” She whispered to herself, “So I can come back for it later.”

She glanced around, searching for the perfect spot. Her eyes landed on a large, gnarled tree not far from the stream. Its massive roots created natural hollows in the earth, perfect for concealment.

She hurried over, the jade box clutched tightly to her chest. She knelt by the tree, setting the box down gently. She began to dig, the soil was soft and damp, making her task easier, but it still took time. Her small fingers scooped away earth, creating a hole just big enough for the box.

As she worked, Bai Yue hummed softly to herself, a lullaby her mother used to sing. The melody drifted through the forest, mingling with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves. It felt right, somehow, as if she were returning something to the earth.

As the hole got deep enough. Bai Yue carefully placed the jade box inside, making sure it was completely covered. She patted the soil down firmly, then scattered leaves and twigs over the spot to disguise her handiwork.

She stood back, surveying her efforts. To her eyes, it looked perfect – indistinguishable from the rest of the forest floor. Bai Yue turned to leave, satisfied with her work but not before placing her hand on the tree's rough bark.

“Thank you,” she murmured,

For keeping my secret.”

The sun was now low on the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink. Bai Yue knew she had stayed out far longer than intended. With one last glance at her hidden treasure, she set off towards home, her feet moving swiftly along the familiar path.

She emerged from the forest’s edge, Bai Yue could see the village coming to life for the evening. Smoke rising from a few chimneys as families prepared their evening meals, and the sound of children playing filled the air.

“Bai Yue!” Her aunt called out, “Where have you been? I was two seconds away from sending your uncle to look for you!”

She froze, looking at her aunt who standing at the village panfeng, awaiting her arrival.

Bai Yue, scared, but knowing full well how her Auntie’s temper flared, she kept walking towards her. Everyone in the vicinity eyes on her.

She didn’t like that, being looked at.

“I’m sorry, Auntie,” Bai Yue said, her head bowed. “I was hoping to find something in the forest to bring back to eat.”

“..and?” Aunt Mei asked,

Bai Yue pulled a two mangoes from her pouch. Her aunt expression softened at the mangoes, but she still shook her head. “You’re too young to be wandering the forest alone for so long. Come inside now, there’s work to be done before supper.”

Aunt Mei led her to the house, boys and girls teasing her as she passed them by. She steeled herself, letting their words wash over her.

This time…their words were kinder, than when she was alone.

Gu’er…also known as Orphan.

She hated to be called that, despite it truths, but she hated that her parents died…who would?

As Bai Yue followed her aunt into the house, the warmth and familiar scents enveloping around her. She could hear her uncle in the back, chopping wood for the fire.

“Wash up quickly,” Her aunt instructed, “Then I need you to help me prepare the vegetables for our meal.”

Bai Yue nodded, moving to the wash basin. As she splashed water on her face and hands, she felt the weight of the necklace against her chest. A small smile played on her lips, her secret giving her a warm, comforting feeling.

After taking a bath, Bai Yue joined her aunt at the table. Her small hands worked deftly, washing and chopping vegetables with a skill beyond her years. As they worked side by side, her aunt spoke of village gossip and plans for the coming week.

“Old Zhao’s daughter is getting married next month,” Her aunt said, her knife rhythmically chopping carrots. “We’ll need to start saving for a gift. And the harvest festival is approaching – we’ll need to decide what to bring for the communal feast.”

Bai Yue nodded at appropriate moments, acknowleding her aunt.

“Are you listening, Yue’er?”

“Yes aunty, The city officials will be visiting next week.”

“Right…apprently, They'll be inspecting our crops and deciding how much we need to send to Shaanxi. We’ll need to make sure everything is in order.”

Bai Yue's ears perked up at this. She knew how important their village was in providing food for the nearby city. Her uncle often spoke about the responsibility they held, and the pressure it sometimes brought.

“Will they stay long?" Bai Yue asked, curious about these visitors from the city.

Her aunt shook her head. “No, child. They’ll come, inspect the fields, meet with the village elders, and be gone before sundown. But it's crucial that we make a good impression. Our livelihoods depend on it.”

As they continued preparing the vegetables, Bai Yue's uncle entered the house, his face creased with worry. He exchanged a meaningful glance with her aunt before speaking.

“The wheat in the north field isn’t doing well,” He said, his voice low. “If it doesn't improve before the officials arrive, we might be in trouble.”

Bai Yue watched as her aunt's face fell. She knew what this meant - if their crop yield was too low, the village might face penalties or reduced payment from the city. It could mean harder times ahead for everyone.

“Perhaps we can ask Old Man Chen if he has any remedies that might help,” Her aunt suggested, but the worry in her voice was clear.

As the adults continued their hushed conversation, Bai Yue felt a strange mix of emotions. She wanted to help, to do something that could make a difference. Her hand unconsciously went to her chest, where the hidden necklace lay against her skin.

The character for "luck" etched into its surface seemed to take on new meaning. Could this necklace somehow help her family, her village? But how could a five-year-old girl with a mysterious pendant make any difference in the face of failing crops and demanding city officials?

As her aunt called her to help set the table for dinner, Bai Yue's young mind raced with possibilities. She didn't understand much about farming or city politics, but she knew one thing - she had to try to help, somehow.