A brand-new mosquito net almost took up half the room. Grace Walker absolutely refused to let Ethan Brooks come outside the net, and every day she would thoroughly inspect it until she was sure there wasn’t a single mosquito before she could relax.

Although Ethan Brooks really wanted to go see that patch of mushrooms covered with deadly Amanita muscaria again, he couldn’t find any opportunity. If he dared to crawl out of the mosquito net, Grace Walker would give him a few hard smacks on the butt.

Autumn wind finally arrived.

The fruit pit that Grace Walker had planted in front of the house had sprouted a tender green shoot. Such a delicate branch could not possibly survive the soon-to-arrive harsh winter, which left Grace Walker, who had hoped to grow a fruit tree for her son, feeling very disappointed.

But there was a bright side: the epidemic was slowly disappearing...

Grace Walker watched the street in front of her with her own eyes. It had been three days since any corpses were carried away from this street, and only then did she feel at ease.

But she immediately locked her son and the little fox inside the house, hurriedly pushed the wheelbarrow, and rushed off to Ma Xing Street.

As a farm woman, Grace Walker knew very well that autumn was the time to store grain, especially in a year of disaster like this. The price of grain would soon rise, and no one understood the importance of food to a family better than a farm woman.

Ethan Brooks, now nine months old, could already stand steadily on the ground. After four months of continuous training, he no longer needed Grace Walker’s support to walk, though he still couldn’t run.

Peeking through the crack in the door and seeing his mother had gone far, he beckoned to the fox. The fox skillfully squeezed out from under the door, climbed up to the door latch, lifted it with its mouth, and then pushed the door open with its paw.

In four months, Ethan Brooks had only grown a little bigger, but the little fox had already become a beautiful half-grown fox. Once its pale yellow baby fur shed and new winter fur grew in, it would become a true silver fox.

Quickly arriving at the mushroom patch, Ethan Brooks was deeply disappointed. Straw mushrooms were everywhere, but the Amanita muscaria had long since withered, black spores scattered all around, and not a single mature mushroom could be seen.

The little fox ate the straw mushrooms with relish, sometimes even biting one off and bringing it to Ethan Brooks. It was puzzled as to why Ethan Brooks wouldn’t eat these delicacies.

The saying that northern mushrooms can withstand the cold wind was completely wrong.

The wind blew from afar, lifting fallen leaves that struck the high wall and then dropped to the ground. Soon, the fallen leaves almost covered Ethan Brooks’s feet.

His heart felt as desolate as the autumn wind—such good mushrooms, so perfect for a child’s self-defense, why couldn’t they last a little longer?

Suddenly, the little fox seemed startled and darted to Ethan Brooks’s side, squatting by his leg and whining toward a spot thick with fallen leaves.

A gray-brown ball of spines rolled out from the leaves. Ethan Brooks glanced at it—it was just a hedgehog. But then his eyes lit up, for among the leaves where the hedgehog had rolled out, a few red mushrooms appeared.

Unable to contain himself, Ethan Brooks kicked the hedgehog away with his tiger-head shoes, took out the toy bamboo tube his mother had made for him, carefully picked the mushrooms, and plugged the tube. Only then did he feel that heaven had not treated him too badly.

The rest of the Amanita muscaria had all turned to spores, but that wasn’t a big problem. Next spring, after the rains, they would surely grow again.

Walking home along the city wall, Ethan Brooks didn’t feel the least bit tired. After entering the house, he had the fox bolt the door again and crawl back in through the bottom.

The house was very dark. For the sake of warmth, his mother had sacrificed the window, only blocking the doorway with some firewood branches. This house, like the royal palace, faced south with its back to the north.

At this moment, a last ray of light shone in from above the door, illuminating Ethan Brooks’s proud and slightly wild little face. The little fox gave a cry and crawled into the basket under the bed, leaving only its head out to watch as Ethan Brooks carefully tore open the mushrooms and roasted them over the brazier.

After a long time, Ethan Brooks finally took off the handkerchief tied to his nose, lay down at the door, and took a few deep breaths of fresh air. Looking at the pile of golden-brown dried mushrooms on the tile above the brazier, he laughed triumphantly.

He wanted to grind these dried mushrooms into powder, but as a young child, Ethan Brooks simply couldn’t do it. He carefully stored the dried mushrooms in the bamboo tube and signaled the fox to go hide them. He was very worried that if his mother accidentally found them, she might use these fragrant dried mushrooms to make soup for him.

The little fox was very good at hiding things; no one knew where it would hide them.

After finishing all this, Ethan Brooks felt extremely tired. He climbed onto the low bed, didn’t even bother to take off his tiger-head shoes, and fell fast asleep.

In his dream, he saw Emily Young, wielding a long spear and covered in wounds like a mad tiger, fiercely battling the fully armored guards. In the end, he was stabbed in the thigh by the guards’ spears and fell to his knees, still babbling about wanting to keep fighting.