The two of them headed out to the fields together, carrying their tools. The fields were already bustling early in the morning—people weeding, watering, picking wild greens…

The Zhou family’s plot wasn’t far from the village. After walking for about half an incense stick’s time, they arrived. Zhou Ning pointed it out to Shen Linchuan, “This one here. Our family only has three acre of land.”

All three acres were planted with wheat, now shooting up to calf height. The field was spotless, not a weed in sight. His father always took an early morning stroll around the plot.

Three acres of dry land, yielding two harvests a year—it certainly wouldn’t feed three people.

“How many acres does Second Uncle have?”

“Four acres. I remember when we divided the land as children. Second Uncle said his family of four needed four acres.”

Shen Linchuan snorted derisively. “Second Uncle certainly doesn’t get shortchanged.”

“Father has a gentle temperament. He felt his skill in slaughtering pigs was valuable enough, so he never complained about such things.”

“That’s why his family keeps taking advantage.”

The three acres of dry land at home weren’t too badly situated. An irrigation ditch ran along the edge, and nearby, someone was watering their fields. The old man scooped water from the ditch and carried it to his plot. Three acres wasn’t much, but hauling bucket after bucket was still exhausting work.

Shen Linchuan glanced at his family’s plot. The soil was already drying out. Spring rains were scarce to begin with, and if it didn’t rain soon, they’d have to water it themselves.

Shen Linchuan walked around the edge of the field. Over there, Zhou Ning had already taken off his shoes, rolled up his pants, and was preparing to jump into the water. Shen Linchuan spotted him and hurried over, grabbing the man who was about to enter the water. “No need to go in. Just scoop some from the riverbank.”

“There are more small river shrimp in the water, fewer on the banks.”

“No problem, I’ll just take my time scooping them up.”

Zhou Ning still tried to jump in. “I used to catch them to feed the chickens when I was little. I know how.”

Shen Linchuan held onto his Fulang tightly, refusing to let go. How reckless this young man was! Though the weather was warm now, the river water was still cold. Jumping in would surely chill his feet.

“Don’t go in.” Shen Linchuan’s expression turned stern. “The water’s cold. If you catch a chill, it won’t be good for pregnancy.”

Zhou Ning immediately pulled his foot back. “Really?”

Shen Linchuan gave a light cough to hide his amusement. Sure enough, when all else failed, mentioning the baby was the surefire way to get this youngster to listen.

“Tsk. What kind of spectacle is this, pulling and tugging in broad daylight?” Zhang Xiaoyi stood by the small creek, basket in hand.

Zhou Ning’s eyes lit up at the sight of Zhang Xiaoyi. Zhang Xiaoyi noticed and thought, Hey, Ning-ger is so happy to see me today! They really are the best of friends!

“Yi-ger, Shen Linchuan said the water’s cold. If I go in and catch a chill, it’ll be bad for conceiving, right?”

Zhang Xiaoyi’s smile vanished. He flattened his lips and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, he’s right.”

Shen Linchuan tugged at Zhou Ning. “See? I told you. Hurry up and put your shoes on.”

Zhou Ning promptly slipped on his shoes, the thought of wading in long forgotten.

Shen Linchuan crouched beside the small stream, peering in. Plenty of little fish and shrimp swam about. He found a spot thick with water plants and slowly lowered his wicker basket. Zhou Ning began scooping alongside him.

After a moment, he swiftly lifted the basket. Shen Linchuan worked with fluid efficiency. The tiny fishes and shrimps inside the basket were jumping wildly. Shen Linchuan beamed with delight, “There’s quite a lot here!”

He quickly poured the small fish and Xiao Yu into a bucket. Unexpectedly, there were quite a few river shrimp here.

The two crouched by the small stream, scooping away enthusiastically. Zhang Xiaoyi, meanwhile, used a small shovel to gather some dandelions to take home. “What’s the point of scooping these things? Feeding chickens?”

“No,” Shen Linchuan said, “I want to sun-dry them into shrimp jerky.”

“But these things have no meat. They’re not worth eating and just a hassle to deal with.”

Zhang Xiaoyi didn’t wander far, gathering some medicinal herbs nearby. Soon he squeezed back beside Zhou Ning to watch him scoop shrimp. Squatting down, he chattered away, “Ning-ger, is your man not studying at the school anymore?”

“Yeah, Shen Linchuan said he’d study at home. Same thing.”

“Tsk. At least he knows his place. Going to school would just be a waste of silver.”

Zhou Ning whispered, “Don’t talk like that. Shen Linchuan might hear.”

“And you’re still defending him?”

Shen Linchuan had heard it loud and clear, but since the other was just a young ger, he didn’t hold it against him. The truth was, every time Zhang Xiaoyi came over and sarcastically called him “your husband,” Shen Linchuan actually found it rather pleasing.

“Who in the whole Yangshu Village doesn’t know he quit school? Your Second Aunt seems rather pleased about it. Now, your Zhou family only has Zhou Youcheng left as a scholar. Tsk.”

Zhou Ning wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly why his Second Aunt was happy. If Shen Linchuan had also gone to school, she feared his father wouldn’t give her any more silver.

Shen Linchuan dumped a basketful of shrimp into the bucket. “What exactly is she pleased about?”

“Obviously, she thinks you’re spending her family’s silver.”

Shen Linchuan chuckled. “She sure remembers to keep track of things.”

After scooping for a while, they’d filled half the bucket—enough to last them a year. Shen Linchuan hoisted the bucket. “That’s enough. We’re done.”

Seeing them head home, Zhang Xiaoyi followed. “Your Second Aunt is the most prestigious woman in our village. Her son’s a candidate for the Xiucai exams, just waiting to pass next year.”

“You seem pretty interested in her family.”

Zhang Xiaoyi shot Shen Linchuan a glare. “Who cares about her family? I hate scholars the most.”

Well, he was a scholar himself. Shen Linchuan mentally filed himself into the category of people Zhang Xiaoyi despised.

Zhou Ning walked between them, unable to stop their bickering. He had no idea what grudge they harbored, but whenever they met, they fought like cockfighting roosters.

Zhang Xiaoyi was still cursing inwardly. He never liked Shen Linchuan, that half-baked scholar. He thought Shen wasn’t good enough for Ning-ger, and being an uneducated scholar made him even more despicable.

He disliked scholars, and he disliked Zhou Youcheng even more. Every time Zhou Youcheng got his days off, he’d pick on him, offering him worthless wildflowers and weeds. If he wanted them, he could pick them himself! Why bother him with his trash? It was infuriating!

He hadn’t told anyone else about this. If word got out, his reputation would be ruined. Consequently, he found Shen Linchuan, that half-baked scholar, increasingly unbearable.

Shen Linchuan and his companion carried half a bucket of shrimp home. They emptied it into a wooden basin, picking out the grass and leaves. Among them was Xiao Yu, about thumb-length, which they set aside to be cooked for lunch.

Dahuang caught the scent and came over. Shen Linchuan scooped up a Xiao Yu and tossed it to him. Dahuang grabbed it and ran off.

“How do you make dried shrimp? Just sun-dry them?” Zhou Ning asked. He had no experience with this process, rarely needing it for cooking. As a child, he’d caught shrimp to feed his family’s chickens.

“You have to boil them first, then air-dry them. Once they’re ready, I’ll make buns with them for you.”

Zhou Ning went into the kitchen to boil water. Shen Linchuan finished sorting the small fishes. Once the water in the pot came to a boil, he poured in the shrimp, adding scallions and ginger to remove any fishy smell. As soon as they changed color, he scooped them out and spread them directly on a bamboo mat to dry. These dried shrimp were surprisingly easy to make.

After finishing this, Shen Linchuan returned indoors to study. He couldn’t afford to lose face. Second Uncle’s family’s son had already gained prestige by passing the Tongsheng exams. If Zhou Youcheng passed the higher-level exams next year, while he failed, who knew what they’d say about Ning-ger?

Knowing Shen Linchuan was studying inside, Zhou Ning didn’t disturb him. Spotting a dozen shrimp still in the basin, he grabbed the scissors and began cleaning them.

Zhou Ning secretly hoped Shen Linchuan would pass the Xiucai exam next year. It wasn’t that he wanted to be the prestigious Xiucai Fulang himself, but he just wanted Shen Linchuan to be a little better than Zhou Youcheng—just a little. Otherwise, his Second Aunt would surely gossip about him.

As cooking time approached, Shen Linchuan set aside his books. Seeing him enter the kitchen, Zhou Ning pushed him back out. “Shen Linchuan, what do you want to eat? I’ll cook.”

“No need. I’ll make a fish dumpling soup. We’ll have that for lunch.”

Zhou Ning frowned. What was that? He didn’t know how to make it. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll cook it.”

“What’s wrong? You always loved my cooking before.”

“Shen Linchuan, don’t come into the kitchen anymore. Just focus on your studies. I’ll handle these chores.”

So that’s why. Shen Linchuan chuckled. “Someone called out your man and you got upset.”

“Will you pass the Xiucai exam next year? I don’t want Zhou Youcheng to be the one who succeeds.” After saying this, Zhou Ning felt a twinge of guilt. “Shen Linchuan, am I being too petty?”

“No, I know. I’ll study hard to become a Xiucai, so your uncle’s family won’t overshadow ours.” Shen Linchuan took the cleaver from Zhou Ning’s hand. “Let me do it. Studying all the time is tiring. This will be a nice break.”

Only then did Zhou Ning step away from the cutting board. “Tell me if you get tired.”

“Alright, I know.”

Shen Linchuan saw that the small fishes was already cleaned out. They were so tiny that cleaning them was surprisingly tedious. He wondered when his Fulang had managed to prepare them.

Shen Linchuan mixed some flour into a slurry, stirring it in the earthenware basin with one hand while holding water in the other. Making these dumplings was a skill in itself—too hard or too soft wouldn’t do. The best result came from evenly mixed dough.

The small fishes was fried in rapeseed oil. These tiny fish weren’t particularly satisfying to eat—too many bones. They’d be delicious if fried until the bones turned crispy and tender, but country folk were poor. They couldn’t even spare enough oil for stir-frying, let alone frying these minuscule fish.

Once the small fishes were nearly done, he crushed them with a spatula. Finally, he poured in boiling water, creating a milky-white broth. While the soup simmered, Shen Linchuan hurried outside. He remembered his father had gathered some wood ear greens near the pig slaughtering spot. He brought them back to add to the dumpling soup.

The wood ear vegetable leaves were fresh, tender, and plump, with a slightly sticky texture. Once picked, they could keep growing, lasting all the way until late summer.

Shen Linchuan gathered a large handful of wood ear mushrooms. It was barely April, so the leaves were still small, but he could always pick more.

The pot already had boiling water inside. Shen Linchuan hurried back home. From a distance, he spotted his father pushing the cart toward the house. “Dad, you’re back! Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Ah, I’m back.”

“Dad, I’m heading back now. The water in the pot is boiling.”

Shen Linchuan hurried back. The wood-fired stove blazed fiercely, and he’d just added more boiling water inside.

Zhou Da was still a short distance from home, leisurely pushing his cart toward his house. Passing by Auntie Wang’s door, she called out, “All the meat’s sold out! You’re back pretty early today.”

“Yeah, sold out.”

Auntie Wang chuckled teasingly, “Hurry home. What tasty dish did your Linchuan whip up today? He’s got my mouth watering.”

Zhou Da laughed twice. “Who knows? That Linchuan’s got better skills than Ning-ger.”

Auntie Wang lived next to the Shi family, who owned more land. Farming allowed them to feed their family well, making them fairly well-off by village standards.

The Shi family’s young daughter-in-law had rolled out noodles today. Her mother-in-law came out to eat, bowl in hand. “What’s the Zhou family cooking up now? That aroma wafted all the way to my house. My noodles don’t even taste good anymore.”

“You’re eating well enough yourself, yet you envy others’ meals,” Auntie Wang chuckled.

“Ever since Ning-ger got married, the food at his place gets more delicious by the day. It makes my stomach growl with hunger.”

“Why don’t you have your daughter-in-law buy some meat to cook for you? Your family’s doing well—what’s a little meat between you?”

“I’ll go take a stroll and see what delicious things they’re eating again.”

Granny Shi approached and whispered to Auntie Wang, “Everyone in the village says that Zhou’s son-in-law is no good. But I see it’s Shen Linchuan who’s cooking for the Zhou family. You won’t find a single man in the whole village who steps into the kitchen. Never mind whether they’re good at farming or not—the way he dotes on his own Fulang is beyond words. I never had that kind of blessing when I was young.”

“That’s exactly right. Everyone lives their own lives behind closed doors. Why gossip about others? I think Ning-ger’s husband isn’t a bad catch at all.”

Auntie Wang glanced at Granny Shi’s bowl as she spoke. “Look at this! Look at this! You’ve got eggs mixed right into your noodles! And you still envy others for eating well?”

Flattered by the compliment, Granny Shi smiled back. Auntie Wang then headed home to cook. She had only one son, a small-time businessman. He’d married a few years ago and now traveled far and wide with his Fulang for work, returning home only a handful of times each year. Still, he regularly sent her money, so she never lacked for food or drink.

Shen Linchuan returned home before Zhou Da. When he got back, the pot was bubbling away. He grabbed some cooked shrimp from outside and tossed them in, then shook in the dumplings. Just a little more boiling and it would be ready.

Knowing both his father and Fulang had hearty appetites, he knew dumpling soup alone wouldn’t satisfy them. He reheated several of yesterday’s leek buns and prepared a dish of spicy tofu skin.

Zhou Ning stirred the soup from the side. “Shen Linchuan, is it ready?”

“Almost. Just toss in the wood ear mushrooms and add a couple drops of sesame oil.”

“Got it.”

Watching the pot of dumpling soup made Zhou Ning feel hungry too. Shen Linchuan was such a good man—and an excellent cook.

A few chive buns, spicy tofu skin, plus a bowl of river fish dumpling soup for each of them. Chili oil and vinegar were on the table—anyone could add to their own bowl.

Shen Linchuan tasted first. The dumpling soup simmered in fish broth was incredibly fresh, dotted with tiny shrimp and bright green wood ear mushrooms. The flavor was superb.

Zhou Da also took a sip from his bowl. “Why does this soup taste so fishy?”

“Shen Linchuan fried the small fishes then scooped them out.”

Shen Linchuan nodded. “Those small fishes have too many bones and aren’t worth eating, so I took them out.”

“It doesn’t taste fishy at all. It’s quite fresh.”

Zhou Da held a steamed bun in one hand, dipping it into the refreshing red-oil tofu skin in the center. He felt more than ever that having another person in the house truly brought life to the place.

For so many years, it had just been him and Ning-ger, the house cold and quiet. Now, it was finally bustling.

Granny Shi approached with her rice bowl, joining the commotion. “What are you all having? Lately, the aroma from your place drifts around the whole neighborhood.”

Though she usually avoided visiting during mealtimes, Granny Shi loved a good gathering. Hearing Shen Linchuan was cooking drew her over to take a peek.

Shen Linchuan pulled out a stool. “Granny Shi, have a seat.”

“No, no need. I just popped by for a quick visit.” She peered in. “Your cooking looks rather splendid today.”

Zhou Da warmly invited her to sit. “Just simple home cooking. This spicy tofu skin is quite refreshing—care for some?”

Granny Shi was holding her bowl of egg-hand-rolled noodles. The bowl of bean curd skin salad in the middle looked especially tempting with its bright red color. It seemed to have fried peanuts, cilantro, and wood ear mushrooms in it.

It made her own bowl of noodles, sparingly seasoned to avoid oiliness, seem especially plain. Zhou Da urged her to sit down. “Well then, I won’t be polite. I’ll try this tofu skin salad.”

In the end, Granny Shi ate some of the tofu skin and drank half a bowl of dumpling soup. She couldn’t stop praising Shen Linchuan’s cooking skills. They say you can’t refuse a free meal, and Granny Shi was always one to gossip about this family and that family. Though she was a bit of a chatterbox, she meant no harm.

“Look at me now,” she chuckled sheepishly. “I said I’d drop by, and here I am eating all this at your place.”

“It’s nothing. We’re neighbors after all,” Shen Linchuan replied.

His father was an open-hearted man, while his Fulang was quiet. Social duties usually fell to Shen Linchuan. After exchanging a few more words of gossip, Granny Shi left with a smile.

Zhou Ning brought over a wooden basin to clear the dishes, while Shen Linchuan helped load the bowls into it. Zhou Ning murmured softly to Shen Linchuan, “Granny Shi’s not so bad, though she does love gossip. When I was little, she even gave me pears from her tree.”

Zhou Ning didn’t elaborate much. Back then, his little father had just passed away, and his father was busy slaughtering pigs for business. At noon, he’d been sent to eat at his second uncle’s house. When he didn’t get enough to eat, he’d sneak out to dig up some grass roots. Old Shi had seen him and given him a pear—a big, sweet pear.

Shen Linchuan’s lips curved upward. His Fulang remembered the kindness of others well.

“Hmm, I know. We don’t associate with bad families. But if they’ve eaten two meals at our table, when outsiders gossip about us, they might even help us back.”

That’s how older women and fulangs are. In the countryside, besides farm work and mending clothes, there’s little entertainment. They gather to gossip. As long as there’s no grudge against your family, they’ll talk about you—good and bad. You say one thing, I say another; you state the obvious, I argue the opposite. Frankly, some just love to pick fights.

With nothing much to do that afternoon, Zhou Da strolled out with his hands behind his back, bidding the two farewell as he headed off to play cards. Shen Linchuan stayed home reading, while Zhou Ning didn’t go out either, instead bringing out that old quilt to beat the cotton.

When Shen Linchuan stepped out for a break, he saw the quilt nearly finished. Finding it interesting, he offered, “Let me try.”

“You should rest. I’ll handle it.”

“I’ve never done this before. Let me try.”

Only then did Zhou Ning hand the cotton-beating bow to Shen Linchuan. Shen Linchuan enthusiastically gave it a try, but either failed to hit the cotton or sent it flying everywhere. Zhou Ning stood nearby, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Shen Linchuan was sweating profusely by then. “You take over. This cotton is surprisingly hard to beat.”

Zhou Ning took it and skillfully fluffed the stiff, hardened cotton into a soft, plump mass. Shen Linchuan praised him incessantly from the side, “Ning-ger, you’re so skilled.”

Though Zhou Ning said nothing, his expression melted like spring water.

So doing little chores could earn praise, too.

Shen Linchuan noticed a thin sheen of sweat on Fulang’s forehead and thoughtfully brought him a bowl of water. “Don’t just stay cooped up at home. Look, even Dad went out to play cards. You should go find someone to hang out with, too.”

“I don’t have any friends.”

No one wants to play with me.

“How could that be? Isn’t Zhang Xiaoyi your friend? You two get along pretty well.”

Zhou Ning tilted his head slightly. “Yi-ger is my friend?”

“Of course. He practically pushes me aside whenever he can.”

Zhou Ning smiled faintly. “Yi-ger doesn’t often invite me to play either. I’m busy slaughtering pigs at home, while he’s busy drying herbs.”

Well, both of them are homebodies.

Shen Linchuan realized his Fulang didn’t seem to have many friends. He’d been here for so long, and the only ones who ever came over to chat were those two boys, Zhang Xiaoyi and Zhou Xiaonan.

Though his family was closely related to the Zhou family, Ning-ger and Zhou Fang were only casually acquainted, hardly ever interacting.

Shen Linchuan found it somewhat amusing. His fulang seemed rather slow to grasp emotional cues sometimes. Zhang Xiaoyi practically wanted to stick to him like glue, yet his fulang still thought he had no friends.

Shen Linchuan smiled. “You could visit Yi-ger’s house more often. We still have a few of those persimmon cakes Auntie Wang gave us. Why not send some over to Yi-ger?”

Zhou Ning nodded. “Alright, I’ll take some over to Yi-ger’s place later.”

Zhou Ning assumed Shen Linchuan just wanted to build rapport with Yi-ger, never realizing Shen Linchuan was actually helping him make friends. Anyway, since Shen Linchuan asked him to deliver them, he did.

Shen Linchuan stayed outside for a while before returning indoors to study. They say the hours between midnight and dawn are prime time for a scholar’s studies. Compared to those predecessors, Shen Linchuan felt he wasn’t particularly diligent.

After finishing the cotton batting, Zhou Ning delivered persimmon cakes to Zhang Xiaoyi. The boy was overjoyed—Ning-ger rarely sought him out. He pulled Zhou Ning into his home, sharing amusing stories until it was time for dinner, before returning.

Shen Linchuan roasted pig heads and offal, earning nearly five hundred wen in two days. This was essentially a no-cost business for him—his father covered all the expenses. Shen Linchuan felt selling this much was quite good.

After observing over the past two days, he noticed many wives and Fulang couldn’t stomach the pig offal, but quite a few people bought the pig head meat.

Shen Linchuan decided to adjust his offerings, adding a pot of braised pork belly stew. He figured heavier fare wasn’t ideal for breakfast, so he’d include tofu skin, tiger-skin eggs, and dried beans. Adding green chilies to the stew would be tasty too, but he didn’t have any on hand. If business picked up, he’d add them come summer.

Uncle Wang next door sold baked flatbreads, perfect for sandwiching the meat and vegetables inside. That would make it a flatbread sandwich with meat and veggies.

Shen Linchuan acted swiftly. He first discussed it with Zhou Ning and Zhou Da, who naturally agreed—especially Zhou Da. He felt Shen Linchuan was different from those stuffy scholars. Even offal, considered lowly, could fetch a good price under Shen’s hands. They’d give it a try; after all, it was their own produce. Even if they lost money, it wouldn’t be much.

Zhou Da prepared the pig, handing the head and offal to Shen Linchuan and his partner to clean. Shen Linchuan also requested ten pounds of pork belly be cut, along with the vegetables—enough to fill a large pot.

Shen Linchuan first boiled the pig’s head, liver, and offal. The fire blazed fiercely in the large earthen stove, and the aroma of meat mingled with spices wafted far and wide.

When Zhou Da slaughtered a pig, its squeals alerted the villagers. Those wanting meat or offal would come over.

Many caught the aroma of stewed meat wafting from the yard before they even approached. Stewed meat was fragrant by nature, but Zhou’s version smelled especially delicious.

“Zhou Da, you’re roasting meat again? It smells amazing.”

Zhou Da chuckled cheerfully. “Linchuan roasted some offal and such. The young couple is heading to town to start a small business.”

Someone teased, “You’re quite the provider. Now you’ve started a business too. Your family’s life is truly enviable.”

Shen Linchuan and Zhou Ning were tying a cotton string around slices of meat in the courtyard. Hearing this, Linchuan replied, “Uncle, you’re joking. My father earns every penny through hard work. If we had real silver, we’d have bought a beast of burden long ago, sparing him the daily toil of pushing that wheelbarrow.”

The man didn’t reply, only chuckling softly twice.

Shen Linchuan smiled too. He’d only spoken the truth. Though country folk were simple, some still harbored ill will. Seeing others prosper could breed envy, so it was better to keep a low profile.

Word spread that the meat simmering in the kitchen was for sale, drawing many to peek inside.

Right now, the pig heads and offal in the pot weren’t fully cooked yet. Shen Linchuan lifted the lid to show them. “It’ll be ready when it’s time to eat. The pig heads need a bit longer to get tender. The offal is cheap—ten wen per pound. Take it home and stir-fry it; it’s delicious.”

Many were salivating at the aroma. The pot’s contents were cheap—pig head meat at twenty wen per catty, the same price as prime cuts—but the scent was irresistible. Hearing it wouldn’t be ready until mealtime, some decided to stay, gathering by the door to watch Zhou Da carve the pig while waiting for the stewed meat to finish.

Auntie Wang arrived and called out, “Ning-ger, save me a bowl of pork head meat—the part from the snout!”

Zhou Ning replied, “Got it.”

Shen Linchuan and his partner were busy in the courtyard. They sliced ten pounds of marbled pork belly into pieces, each pound yielding four slices, to be sold for ten wen each. A wooden basin sat on the large stone by the kitchen door, holding dried tofu, bundles of dried beans, and a dozen eggs.

This was Shen Linchuan’s first time selling braised pork belly. He wasn’t sure how business would go, but he figured it shouldn’t be too bad—after all, the offal sales over the past couple of days had gone reasonably well.

The pork was from his own farm. He had some dried beans at home, so he brought those out too. The dried tofu was specially ordered yesterday from the village tofu shop—two pieces for one wen. Shen Linchuan planned to sell the braised slices for one wen each, effectively doubling his profit.

The two bustled about the courtyard, occasionally glancing at the pot to add more firewood. People waiting outside kept darting in to ask if the meat was done yet—the aroma was simply irresistible, tantalizingly delicious.

By dinnertime, the pot’s contents were ready. Five or six people had already arrived with bowls in hand. Shen Linchuan scooped out the pig’s head with a bamboo strainer. Some were buyers, while others had simply been drawn by the aroma to watch the commotion.

Zhou’s courtyard was bustling with chatter now. Though everyone had handled pig heads and offal before—knowing they could turn foul and pungent—Shen Linchuan’s cooking made them smell utterly delicious.

Shen Linchuan first sliced some pork head meat and offal for people to sample. Whether they bought or not, everyone got a small piece to try. While others were still tasting, Auntie Wang hurried over with a bowl. “Ning-ger, cut me some pork cheek meat.”

“Aye.”

Zhou Ning responded promptly, swiftly slicing a bowlful for Auntie Wang. These rustic earthenware bowls used by farmers could hold a full pound of meat. At twenty copper coins, it was nearly the price of a pound of meat.

The crowd gathered around, tasting and nodding in approval. But the pork cheek wasn’t cheap, and many couldn’t bring themselves to buy it. The offal, however, was quite good. Even a small portion costs only a few copper coins—enough for a stir-fried dish. So, they dug into their pockets, pulled out some coins, and ordered servings of the offal. At least it was some meat.

Granny Shi also ordered a bowl. The offal was seasoned perfectly—she couldn’t tell what was in it, but it smelled divine. “Ning-ger, what did you put in this pork? It smells amazing.”

“Secret.”

Zhou Ning shut her down with just a word. Shen Linchuan wasn’t opposed to sharing his roasted pork recipe later, but right now, his family needed to keep the business running. They were saving up silver to buy their father a donkey.

Many people came over with bowls to buy pork offal. Zhou Xiaonan also held a bowl and joined the line at the back. He waited awkwardly at the very end. His younger brother, drawn by the aroma, was fussing to eat meat. Everyone was rushing to buy, yet he seemed unhurried, lingering behind, looking somewhat embarrassed.

Only after everyone had left did he step forward, stammering, “Ning-ger, I’d like to buy some offal on credit.”

“Sure thing. I’ll cut it for you.”

Zhou Ning deftly sliced the liver, heart, and intestines, shoveling them into Zhou Xiaonan’s bowl.

“I… I’ll pay you back later.” With that, he bowed his head and hurried away.

Shen Linchuan watched Zhou Xiaonan’s retreating figure without comment. Zhou Xiaonan’s family owed over two hundred wen, and he’d eaten quite a bit of meat. Shen Linchuan feared Zhou Xiaonan might forget the kindness shown by his Fulang.

Once Zhou Xiaonan was gone, the remaining offal sold like hotcakes. Offal was cheap and easy to sell, plus it had that savory meatiness. Pork head meat, though, offered little substance and sold for nearly the same price as regular meat.

A single pig head could yield five or six pounds of cooked meat. By tomorrow, in town, it would all be gone—no worries about selling it.

With the yard now empty, the two men got back to work over the stove, preparing the braised pork. Soon, as dusk fell, the oil lamp provided dim light, making it hard to see clearly.

Hu Caiyun caught the aroma wafting from Zhou Da’s kitchen. The two households were close enough—how could she not smell it?

Leaning against her doorframe, Hu Caiyun began grumbling. Zhou Er chimed in, “Go check out Big Brother’s place. What’s he cooking that smells so good?”

Hu Caiyun spat out, “Last time I went, I didn’t get a single piece! I just wanted some meat. Your brother and Ning-ger didn’t say a word, but that little bastard Shen Linchuan blocked me and wouldn’t give me any!”

Zhou Er tsked. “That Shen Linchuan is something else. Not only did he collect all the copper coins owed by several families, but I hear he’s even helping Big Brother with business in town now. Big Brother really is something—just a son-in-law by marriage, yet he lets that outsider walk all over him. I’ll have a word with Big Brother about it soon. We can’t let an outsider lord it over our family.”

Just then, a young Fulang passed by Zhou Er’s door carrying a bowl. Hu Caiyun called out to him, “What did you buy at Zhou Da’s? How come your family can afford meat today?”

The Fulang stopped. “Uncle Zhou cooked a pot of pork offal. I bought some.”

Hu Caiyun curled her lip. “That stuff? You can eat that? It’s not fit for the table. Even beggars wouldn’t touch it.”

The Fulang had only meant to exchange a few polite words, but Hu Caiyun had actually mocked his family as living worse than beggars. He ignored her and walked away in a huff.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he grew. So what if his family was poor and wanted a taste of meat? He’d bought the offal because it smelled delicious, and it only cost five wen.

His family hadn’t had meat in two months. Finally, he found some cheap meat, only to be mocked by Hu Caiyun as a beggar. He felt increasingly wronged.

And who was Hu Caiyun anyway? She was related to the Zhou butcher family, never lacking in fine meat. Plus, she had a son who’d passed the Tongsheng exam—living the high life, no wonder she looked down on poor folks like them.

Zhou Xiaonan carried home a bowl of offal he’d bought on credit. Staring at the tempting dish, he swallowed hard. Ah, he wished he’d been born into Zhou Da’s family instead—with a butcher for a father, they’d have meat at every meal.

Too bad he wasn’t as lucky as Ning-ger. Zhou Da could earn a decent living and even had a scholar son-in-law. But he? He had a drunkard for a father, a mother who couldn’t take the hardship and ran away, and a ten-year-old younger brother to care for.

Zhou Xiaonan’s younger brother, Zhou Gouwa, rushed over when he saw his brother carrying meat back. Eager to see what choice cut he’d brought home, Gouwawa’s face fell instantly upon spotting the bowl of offal. “Why isn’t it meat?”

“It is meat! It is meat! Lots of folks in our village bought some.”

“What meat? It’s clearly unwanted pig offal. Zhou Da really should’ve given you something decent instead of fooling you with this stuff.”

Zhou Xiaonan flushed slightly. “Shut up. You know Zhou Da treats us well. He never even asked us to repay that silver debt.”

Zhou Gouwa rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Didn’t Ning-ger and his husband want it last time? Good thing you were quick to shut the door. Otherwise…”

“Enough. I’m going to cook.”

At this hour, every household was busy cooking before nightfall. Zhou Xiaonan carried the bowl of offal his brother scorned into the shed to start the stove.

Zhou Xiaonan felt a pang of frustration. Their family scraped by on just a few acres of land, and with his father’s drinking habit, it was a miracle he could save enough coins to buy salt.

His younger brother, smelling the aroma of meat wafting from Zhou Da’s house, was throwing a tantrum, demanding meat. Aside from that one time during the New Year when they had meat at home, he hadn’t tasted a single morsel of meat for over three months. Being able to borrow some offal from Zhou Da’s house was already a blessing—what right did he have to be picky?

Zhou Xiaonan scooped some cornmeal to make a few flatbreads. Zhou Gouwa spotted it and whined, “Brother, I don’t want cornmeal anymore. It scratches my throat. Mix in some white flour—we still have some left, right?”

Zhou Xiaonan didn’t want to add white flour. Their supply was already meager. The wheat harvested each year wasn’t enough to last, forcing them to trade for mixed flour. Who wouldn’t crave white steamed buns every day?

Zhou Gouwa stood at the doorway, persistently demanding white flour. Finally, Zhou Xiaonan mixed a handful into the cornmeal. Fortunately, his father had gone out to play cards today. By this hour, he was nowhere to be seen and probably wouldn’t return. That meant one less mouth to feed.

There were also some wild garlic bulbs he’d picked from the back mountain. Zhou Xiaonan washed a handful. Since he couldn’t spare oil for the pot, he first dry-fried the pork offal to render some fat, then tossed it in a bowl of wild garlic to stir-fry together.

Zhou Gouwa was playing with ants in the yard. The aroma drew him in—he tossed his stick aside and dashed over. “Brother, that smells amazing!”

Zhou Xiaonan found the scent irresistible, too. When he’d borrowed meat from Zhou Da’s place, Ning-ger had sliced some for everyone to taste. Everyone had raved about it, but he’d been too shy to try it himself. He’d never known what it tasted like. But stir-fried with garlic chives, it smelled amazing—even better than the meat.

Zhou Xiaonan gave a rare smile. “We can’t afford meat, but if we could try pig offal sometime, that’d be nice.”

Zhou Xiaonan sighed. He still owed Ning-ger’s family about two hundred wen. Both this year’s and last year’s New Year meat had been on credit from Zhou Da, allowing him to make the dumplings for the stew. The offal itself wasn’t expensive, but he was already in debt.

Zhou Gouwa, his mouth watering, couldn’t resist pinching a piece even while it was still in the pot. “Brother, this is really good!”

Zhou Xiaonan hadn’t expected this pork offal to be so delicious either. Ning-ger must have added something special while preparing them, because they didn’t have the usual gamey smell of pig entrails.

Today was a rare treat with meat on the table, and Zhou Xiaonan was genuinely pleased. He cheerfully carried the rice out, calling, “Gouwa, get the chopsticks!”

“Got it!”

When it came to eating, Zhou Gouwa was more eager than anyone. Without Zhou Xiaonan needing to remind him, he’d already scrambled to fetch the bowls and chopsticks.

Zhou Xiaonan’s stir-fried pork offal smelled delicious. Granny Diao, the old woman next door, sniffed the air. “So Nan-ger actually got to eat meat today? Hmph! His family owes money for meat, too, yet Shen Linchuan had to come cause trouble at my place. Ugh!”

Granny Diao didn’t blame herself for owing money, but instead resented Shen Linchuan for coming to her door. She even blamed the two of them for her chickens suddenly stopping laying eggs. Especially Shen Linchuan—he must have coaxed Zhou Ning into coming to demand payment. Otherwise, why hadn’t he been so persistent before?

Old Zhou, hands behind his back, hummed a tune as he strolled leisurely home. Winning a dozen copper coins playing cards today had put him in a fine mood. His nose was sharp—he caught the aroma of stir-fried meat before even reaching his doorstep.

“Whose house is cooking meat? What’s with all this meat on a regular day?”

Old Zhou cursed under his breath. He often used his thick skin to hang around his shady friends’ homes, refusing to leave until he got fed. This annoyed the Fulang and wives of those households, but the more shy ones couldn’t bring themselves to kick him out.

Today, he’d been playing cards with the family. Fulang was a tough one. Old Zhou had hoped to play a few more hands and maybe snag a decent meal, but Fulang not only cursed him out, but his own wife even chased him out with a rolling pin.

Now his stomach growled with hunger. The aroma of stir-fried meat wafting through the air stirred the hunger demon in his belly. “Tsk,” he muttered, “a sip of wine followed by some meat—bliss like an immortal, like an immortal~.”

Old Zhou hummed his little tune all the way home. As soon as he stepped into the courtyard, he saw his two children eating with beaming smiles. The aroma of meat grew even stronger!

“Nan-ger, we’re having meat today!”

Zhou Xiaonan’s smile froze when he saw his father return. His dad was rarely home, and when he was, he just lay in bed. Their farm was the worst-managed in the entire village.

Zhou Gouwa’s mouth was stuffed full. “Dad! Brother bought some pork offal today. I don’t know how he cooked it, but it smells amazing!”

Old Zhou had already sat down at the table. He pinched a piece from the coarse earthenware bowl, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. “Delicious!”

Old Zhou had grabbed a small section of fatty intestine. Dry-fried until crispy on the outside, the melted fat inside burst with savory flavor, making Old Zhou’s stomach growl with hunger. “Nan-ger, hurry up! Go get some liquor for your father!”

Hearing his father demand liquor, Zhou Xiaonan’s expression darkened. Whenever his father drank, trouble followed—sometimes even violence. He dreaded it.

“Father, we’re out of copper coins.”

“You’re such a killjoy,” Old Zhou snapped, having won some coins today. He pulled them out and slammed them on the table. “Just go and get some on credit. Hurry up and get it.”