Chapter Bonanza (10/10)

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It was because of last night that Tang Xianling truly came to terms with his identity as a “ger” for the first time. Before that, he had thought that apart from having an extra “ger’s mole” on his face and a slightly more delicate build, gers were no different from men in most other ways.

…But last night, Tang Xianling felt that there really was a difference.

It’s a bit embarrassing to talk about.

As early as his freshman year of high school, Tang Xianling had a vague sense that his “sexual orientation” was a bit different. In high school, he hung out mostly with the girls in his class. His male classmates teased him, asking who he liked, and egged him on with jokes.

But he was completely baffled. What were they talking about? They were all good friends and classmates—what did “liking someone” even mean?

Male classmate: “Acting. Keep acting.”

Tang Xianling: ???

Logically speaking, since he got along well with the girls in high school, he shouldn’t have suspected that he liked his male classmates. Later, he came to the conclusion that the topics his male classmates talked about during those three years of high school simply didn’t appeal to him.

When they got together, they’d talk about who liked whom, whether a certain girl had a crush on them, or they’d chat about sports and video games—and then there were the dirty jokes.

Tang Xianling had absolutely no interest in any of these topics.

The girls’ conversations revolved around homework, manga, novels, and anime; they listened to music and followed the K-pop and J-pop scenes, discussing male and female singers and celebrities. His attention, however, always gravitated toward male characters—whether from novels or manga.

That’s when he realized he might be attracted to men.

……That said. Even though he hadn’t “put it into practice” before—he’d never been in a relationship—he knew how a man’s body worked. He’d been a guy for over twenty years; there was no way his butt could just start leaking on its own—

!!!

Thinking back to last night’s events, Tang Xianling’s face flushed bright red, and he buried his head in the pillow.

Jiang Yun’s voice came from outside: “Is Wu-ger still asleep? Didn’t he say he was going to stock up on supplies today?”

“Mother, we were both exhausted from the round trip yesterday. Let him sleep a little longer; we’ll still make it in the afternoon,” Huangfu Tieniu replied.

Jiang Yun: “True. I wasn’t trying to rush him; it’s just that he usually gets up early, and I was worried he might not feel well.”

“No—I’ll go check on him.”

Tang Xianling, caught off guard, frantically pulled the blanket over his head. The door creaked open, and Huangfu Tieniu’s footsteps grew closer. Tang Xianling’s heart was racing—even though they’d already done everything together, why was he so nervous?

“Don’t suffocate yourself.” Huangfu Tieniu reached out and pulled back the blanket.

Tang Xianling’s face peeked out from under the covers; he was naturally pale, but now he had a healthy, rosy glow.

Huangfu Tieniu gently stroked his husband’s cheek.

“You—you shouldn’t—stop.” Tang Xianling sensed the intimacy and stammered, “It’s broad daylight! Mother’s still out there.”

Huangfu Tieniu: “I know, I’ll listen to you. Yesterday you said you liked it, so I came a few more times—”

Tang Xianling sat up abruptly and covered Huangfu Tieniu’s mouth with his hand.

What kind of lewd talk is that!

Are you even the innocent young man Huangfu Tieniu anymore?!

Huangfu Tieniu wrapped his arms around Xianling’s waist. With his mouth covered, he looked up with a questioning gaze: Does it hurt?

That’s the most crucial part! They’d been at it for most of the night. His body was still buzzing with excitement, and he felt emotionally drained—the kind of pleasurable exhaustion that leaves you feeling completely drained. Yet after sleeping until now, aside from a slight soreness, he felt no other discomfort.

Tang Xianling shook his head heavily.

“What’s wrong?” Huangfu Tieniu grew anxious at Xianling’s expression, pulling away the hand covering his mouth to ask.

Tang Xianling: “I just feel… I’m really something.”

Huangfu Tieniu: ?

He could tell Xianling wasn’t feeling unwell, so he let out a sigh of relief and said with conviction, “You really are amazing. Last night—”

“Stop it!” Tang Xianling, his face flushed, pinched Huangfu Tieniu’s cheek and huffed, “Don’t mention last night. All right, all right, I’m getting up. I still have to go shopping this afternoon.”

Huangfu Tieniu mumbled a couple of “mms” in agreement.

“You go out. I need to get dressed.”

“Don’t watch!”

Huangfu Tieniu’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he got up and left, thoughtfully closing the door behind him.

Tang Xianling began to get dressed. There were some kiss marks on his body—faint ones. Actually, Tieniu was still quite innocent; he was very obedient in bed. Tang Xianling had been so comfortable that his mind was still hazy, and he didn’t feel the slightest bit shy. He could only instinctively say, “I want more,” and “Let’s kiss again,” and Tieniu would kiss him again.

……Stop thinking about it!

Tang Xianling got dressed in a flash and stepped outside. Huangfu Tieniu had already prepared water for washing his face and had the toothpaste ready. Tang Xianling brushed his teeth, rinsed his mouth, washed his face, and poured out the water.

“Wu-ger, I’ve cooked some porridge—it’s just the right temperature. Have some. Do you want any buns or steamed bread? I’ll go buy some on the street,” Jiang Yun asked.

Tang Xianling called out, “No, just the porridge is fine. I don’t have much of an appetite.”

“Huh?” Jiang Yun came out of the kitchen, her voice filled with concern. “No appetite?”

Tang Xianling hurriedly replied, “I’m fine—I guess I’m just too tired from yesterday.” Fearing his mother would press him further, he quickly changed the subject. “It’s still early. After I finish breakfast, I’ll head to the East Market to buy some charcoal—I’ll stock up on plenty this time.”

The family business operated on a five-day-on, two-day-off schedule; they needed to make money, but they also wanted to enjoy life.

Jiang Yun didn’t meddle in business matters; she left it to her Wu-ger. “You decide.”

Huangfu Tieniu had already eaten breakfast. He boiled another egg, peeled it, and handed it over. Tang Xianling cracked an egg into his mixed-grain and bean porridge, eating as he spoke: “If there are duck eggs on the street, pick some up. I’ll make some salted duck eggs.”

“Don’t buy any,” Jiang Yun said.

Tang Xianling: ? When it came to food, his mother had never told him not to do something before.

“Tieniu gave you that pair of ducks. Things were hectic at home earlier—your father’s funeral and all the work on the courtyard—so they’ve gotten quite skinny.”

That’s why he hadn’t immediately slaughtered the ducks to make roast duck. Tang Xianling thought to himself, speaking of roast duck, it’s been nearly half a month since the courtyard was finished—the ducks should be fat enough by now—

“Last night, I went to check on the duck coop and found a green-shelled duck egg.”

Tang Xianling, whose mind was set on “exterminating the ducks”: ?

Huangfu Tieniu: “There’s a male and a female duck; of course, they’ll lay eggs.” Seeing Xianling looking at him, he smiled and changed his tune: “But it’s hot out—they can’t keep up with laying eggs one after another. If you want to eat them, just go ahead and slaughter them.”

Jiang Yun still felt it was a bit of a waste; it seemed a pity to kill ducks that could lay eggs.

“Never mind, let’s not kill them yet. We’ll raise them,” Tang Xianling said. He crossed “roast duck” off the menu for now.

Jiang Yun was delighted. “I’ll take care of the ducks; it’s not much work.”

“Mom, you take care of it. I’m done eating. Tieniu, hitch up the cart—we’ll be leaving soon.” Tang Xianling took his bowl of porridge to the kitchen to wash it. With just one bowl to clean, he finished in a few quick motions, then went to fetch his money pouch.

Huangfu Tieniu had the cart hitched up. The two of them said goodbye to their mother and headed out.

On the way, Tang Xianling discussed their shopping list from the cart: charcoal, rice, and oil were essentials; they needed to restock flour at home; and most crucially, they needed spices.

“Breakfast will stay the same. First, bake the pot buns: prepare three hundred with dried plum and pork, and one hundred with red bean paste. We’ll see how many egg-stuffed pancakes we need. As for the pork floss bread, we’ll bake those after the pot buns sell out—let’s prepare two hundred for now.”

The dried plum pot buns had been out of stock for far too long; many regular customers were craving them.

The pork floss bread has gained quite a reputation, but the pickled mustard greens and pork pot cakes have actually been out of stock for a long time. To the locals of Fengyuan City, the pork floss bread is seen as a “novelty” or “curiosity”—it’s tasty, but the pickled mustard greens and pork pot cakes better suit the local palate.

“The preserved vegetables made from the snow peas variety delivered by Han Kai is of excellent quality. Counting the time, it’s almost time for the second batch.”

Huangfu Tieniu: “Tomorrow.”

Tieniu is his personal memo! He has such a good memory.

“Once we sell out in the morning, we won’t cook at noon. We’ll take a break and grab a bite to eat. In the afternoon, we’ll make boxed lunches: sweet and sour spare ribs, clear-simmered meatballs, paired with two vegetable dishes.”

Tang Xianling had already figured out the vegetarian dishes, too.

“Scallion-braised tofu and minced pork with eggplant.”

Huangfu Tieniu: “Is the minced pork with eggplant vegetarian?”

“Oh, it’s just a tiny bit of minced pork—hardly counts as meat.” Tang Xianling was still quite generous. “It’s mostly just leftover from mincing the meatballs; I just used the scraps. It saves time.”

Huangfu Tieniu smiled approvingly. “You’re really clever.”

“Of course I am,” Tang Xianling said proudly.

Four dishes with mixed-grain rice; if you don’t want the rice, it’s two wen less. Tang Xianling: “How about twenty-two wen?”

Pork isn’t expensive, especially spare ribs, which are even cheaper because the bones don’t carry much meat. Those large marrow bones and shanks are just thrown in as extras when you buy a lot of meat. Ribs have meat on them, so they’re priced the same as lean meat—four wen per jin.

He’d crafted these dishes with ingenuity to keep costs down.

Huangfu Tieniu had thought it over and agreed it wasn’t expensive—it was just right.

At this price, it might be considered “a bit pricey” on Main Street, but in the West Market, it’s cheap—though the restaurants there specialize in stir-fries. The closed-down boxed-lunch shop previously charged eighteen wen. When he went to buy from them, there weren’t many customers, but there were some, and it could sustain operations for half a year. That means the residents of Baxing District and Dingyi District could afford it; it was just that the food was too terrible.

Let’s test the waters first, then see how it goes.

The two chatted all the way to the East Market, where they began their shopping. They bought charcoal and spices at the East Market, oil paper at the West Market, and went to pick up the tableware he’d ordered. Two earthenware jars had been delivered earlier; Tang Xianling found them useful for storing dried preserved vegetables, so he planned to buy two more to make salted duck eggs or something similar.

After all, there’s plenty of space at home now.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

Meanwhile, Tang Nuan and Zhao Xiangxiang’s carriage finally arrived at the Shijing prefecure.

It wasn’t until the fourth day of their journey that Tang Nuan noticed the bundle where she kept her clothes. Wrapped inside her blouse was a blue cloth bag—clearly not something belonging to her or her daughter—and it felt heavy in her hands.

Zhao Xiangxiang asked her mother, “What is it?”

Tang Nuan put a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. Zhao Xiangxiang didn’t understand, but she obediently nodded and remained silent. Tang Nuan opened the bag and looked inside; it was filled with silver coins.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Before leaving, her mother had given her all sorts of reminders—to be careful on the road, to make sure she had everything, and not to lose or leave anything behind—but she hadn’t taken them seriously. Now, looking at the money pouch in her palm, it was clearly something her mother had slipped in.

How could her mother have this much qian?

She counted it—there were a full twelve taels of silver.

Tang Nuan furrowed her brow. Seeing her daughter was worried, she said, “You eat the soybeans; Mother isn’t hungry.”

“Mother, I don’t want to eat,” Zhao Xiangxiang said.

Tang Nuan tucked the money pouch away. She didn’t know where to put it this time; she felt nowhere was safe. She could only keep it close to her body, but that made her chest look bulging—it was obvious she was hiding money. So she put the pouch back where it was and said, “You were saying just a moment ago that it tasted good.”

“It’s just too delicious. I want to save it for Father, my little brother, Grandma, and Grandpa,” Zhao Xiangxiang said, listing off the family members.

Tang Nuan: “Alright, then save it.”

“I’m going to tell Father that Uncle’s cooking is so fragrant. When my little brother grows up, will he still be able to come with us to visit Grandma?” Zhao Xiangxiang asked.

Tang Nuan: “I suppose so.”

Two days later, they arrived at Shijing Prefecture. Unlike Fengyuan City, the streets of Shijing Prefecture were somewhat chaotic. Stalls lined both sides of the road, with rotten vegetable leaves piled in one corner, giving the place a messy appearance. It was hot, and in some spots, flies buzzed around.

Master Wang, a local, knew the area well and skillfully steered the horse-drawn cart through the crowds to the Zhao family’s shop.

The Zhao family’s shop wasn’t very large. It was nearly noon in the summer, and business was slow. Zhao Jing was alone at the front selling goods. When he saw a cart stop at the door, he took a closer look and recognized Master Wang. He immediately dropped the piece of cloth he was holding and stepped out of the shop.

“Daddy!” Zhao Xiangxiang climbed out of the carriage and stood on the running board, calling out to her father.

Zhao Jing picked up his daughter and stepped down from the carriage. He sniffed and said, “You stink, you stink—you’re not Xiangxiang anymore.”

Zhao Xiangxiang blushed with embarrassment. “Daddy, I don’t stink. I really don’t.”

“You haven’t bathed in days, and it’s so hot—it’s only natural.” Tang Nuan climbed down from the cart and took the bundle.

Zhao Jing set his daughter down, saying, “I was just teasing her.” He paid Master Wang the remaining half of the fare while exchanging a few casual words, then went inside to greet his wife and daughter, saying, “You two should go wash up first.”

Zhao Erlang was just over four years old. Seeing his mother and sister return, he had been about to take a nap from exhaustion, but now he rubbed his eyes and threw himself into his mother’s arms, wanting her to hold him. His mother, standing nearby, said, “Oh my, you little angel. Your mother’s been working hard for days and has just returned. Get down first—you’re a big boy now.”

“No, no,” Zhao Erlang whined, still clinging to his mother.

Zhao Xiangxiang: “Erlang, Erlang, your big sister brought you some treats. Do you want to eat them?”

“What kind of treats? It’s hot out; they’ll go bad.” Zhao Erlang had grown up and wasn’t so easy to fool anymore.

The whole family burst into laughter, saying Erlang had grown clever. Zhao Xiangxiang said, “I’m telling the truth, Grandma and Grandpa. My uncle made some chess-piece beans—they didn’t go bad, and they’re so delicious!”

“Chess-piece beans? A delicacy from Fengyuan City?” Father Zaho asked, then nodded. He’d missed his granddaughter terribly after not seeing her for so long, so he said, “Bring them over. Let Grandpa take a look.”

Tang Nuan said, “She thought they were so good, she didn’t want to eat too many on the way home—she saved them for the family to enjoy together.”

“Mom and Dad, I’m going to wash up first.”

Zhao Xiangxiang brought the chess-piece bean buns over and told her grandparents and younger brother, “These are salty, and these are fragrant. I’m going to wash up now. Mother, I’m going too.”

Zhao Jing brought hot water and mixed it with cold water. Tang Nuan put her bundle in the room first, thinking of the twelve taels of silver. Tang Nuan placed the money pouch in another box before going to wash up.

In the courtyard, two bundles of oil paper were unwrapped, revealing dough balls the size of a little fingernail. One was yellowish, the other greenish; having been stir-fried, the edges of the dough balls were smooth and rounded, resembling beans yet not quite.

Zhao Erlang, impatient and curious, grabbed a few and stuffed them into his mouth.

Mother Zhao couldn’t stop him; she quickly reached out to snatch the food from her grandson’s mouth, saying, “It’s hot out. They’ve been sitting here for days—what if they’ve gone bad? Don’t make yourself sick.”

Zhao Erlang had already chewed them roughly and swallowed them whole. He ate so fast that Grandma couldn’t get them out, and he hadn’t even tasted what they were like. When Grandma asked him if they were good, Zhao Erlang shook his head.

Mother Zhao chuckled. “Why is Xiangxiang making such a big deal out of this? Our Shijing Prefecture may not compare to Fengyuan City, but it’s still a major prefecture. It’s just some food made from flour.”

“It’s still the child’s gesture of filial piety,” said Father Zhao. He picked up a few pieces, sniffed them, and remarked, “They don’t seem spoiled—no sour smell.” Then he popped one into his mouth.

The dumplings hadn’t been fried; they were dry, and some were even hollow inside, giving them a crumbly texture. Others were solid, with a strong, chewy wheat flavor that grew more delicious the more you ate.

“Not bad,” Father Zhao nodded. “They’re tasty.”

Hearing this, Mother Zhao looked at the half-packet of oil paper left over—she hadn’t taken any yet—but a small hand reached in and grabbed a few more to pop into his mouth. As soon as she saw this, she quickly said, “You eat yours. Your grandfather said they’re fine; Grandma won’t take any.” She was afraid her grandson might choke.

This time, Zhao Erlang was able to savor the flavor properly.

He was still young and expected it to be as crispy and sweet as a traditional peach-flavored cookie. At first taste, he didn’t think it was as good as his older sister had described, but once he finished, he wanted more.

It wasn’t just Zhao Erlang who was surprised; even the Zhao elderly were puzzled.

“It’s truly strange. It’s clearly made of flour—at first it doesn’t seem like much, but once you start eating, you just can’t stop,” said Mother Zhao.

Father Zhao added, “It looks like something else has been mixed into the flour. There’s a hint of salt, a hint of egg, and something else I can’t quite put my finger on.”

They ate a few more.

Father Zhao added, “Is the wheat from Fengyuan City particularly good? It tastes incredibly fragrant to me.”

“I don’t think so. If we’re talking about quality wheat, the wheat from Tai’an Prefecture is still the best,” Mother Zhao replied.

But just as Father Zhao had said, these two batches of chess-piece beans really did have a wonderfully fragrant flavor.

By the time Zhao Xiangxiang finished her bath, changed her clothes, and came out, the chess-piece beans were nearly all gone. Zhao Xiangxiang didn’t get upset; on the contrary, she was quite proud and said, “Grandpa, Grandma, and little brother, they’re delicious, aren’t they? My uncle made them—everything he makes tastes great.”

“What did our Xiangxiang eat in Fengyuan City?” Grandma Zhao asked affectionately, running her fingers through her granddaughter’s hair.

Zhao Xiangxiang rattled off a string of stories about what she’d eaten and what her uncle had bought for her. Zhao Erlang listened with a look of envy and insisted he wanted to go next time. When his grandparents refused, he threw a tantrum in his father’s arms. His father gave him a few swats on the bottom, and Zhao Erlang burst into tears. Mother Zhao felt sorry for her grandson and said to her son, “Why did you hit him?”

“He doesn’t understand anything; he’s still so young.”

Father Zhao knew his son valued his pride and didn’t want to go to the Tang family’s house. But since the person had passed away and was an elder, to be honest, if his daughter-in-law took their granddaughter back for the funeral and his son didn’t go, others might criticize the Zhao family for being rude.

But the elderly couple was getting on in years and now depended on their son for support. If they nagged too much or interfered too much, their son wouldn’t listen, so they could only muddle through things this way.

Zhao Jing couldn’t bring himself to lose face, so he vaguely said he understood and would see.

Mother Zhao used this to placate her granddaughter, implying that her father had agreed and that they’d go next time, and so on.

Tang Nuan said nothing, looking somewhat displeased as she returned to her room. Zhao Jing went in later and said stiffly, “This trip to your maternal home—nothing major happened, did it?”

“No, everything’s fine.”

Zhao Jing: “……” 

He, too, was seething with anger and resentment. He walked over and said, “Nuan’er, you can’t blame me for this. What did your father say to me back then? What did he think I was? When I married you, was I after your family’s shop or secret recipes? My family has been in the cloth trade for two generations—”

“I’m not blaming you for that.” Tang Nuan’s eyes reddened. “My father spoke harshly and cut you to the bone, but I never held those words against you. As a husband and wife, I know exactly what kind of person you are. It’s just that now my father is dead, and only my mother and my Wu-ger are left. Don’t take your anger out on them now.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Zhao Jing hurried to explain.

Tang Nuan looked at him, her gaze calm yet understanding.

Zhao Jing paused, then admitted, “I was indeed taking it out on them. Back then, we were traveling through wind and snow to get here. Your father treated me like a thief or a scoundrel, looking down on me at every turn. When he said that Brother Lin’s family had ‘maintained their integrity,’ what did he mean? “We’re all in the business together—how could he speak like that? He praised Lin Hu and his second son-in-law, but looked down on me alone, belittling me with every remark.”

“Right then, I swore at the doorstep that I’d never set foot in the Tang household again.”

“I know all that. You haven’t been there for four years, and I haven’t said a word. What I’m saying now is that Father is gone, and only Mother and Wu-ger are left at home. Don’t take out your old grievances on them,” Tang Nuan said.

Zhao Jing was a man who valued his pride and was stubborn to the core. He knew his wife was right. Seeing that she had grown thinner, her eyes red from recent tears, and her face looking pitifully delicate after washing up, he backed down a bit and said, “…Well, if I’m not too busy by the end of this year, I could make a trip back a little earlier.”

“Can Xiangxiang, Erlang, and I come too?” Tang Nuan asked, feigning ignorance.

Zhao Jing: “I’ll go with you—I’ll protect you all on the way. I wouldn’t feel at ease leaving you alone in this cold weather.”

Only then did Tang Nuan smile.

The couple hadn’t seen each other in nearly a month; a brief separation felt like a new marriage. Since it wasn’t dark yet, they naturally didn’t do anything else, but their every glance was filled with tenderness and affection.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

The Tang family residence in Fengyuan City.

In the afternoon, a note was posted on the door of Tang Wuge’s breakfast shop. Huangfu Tieniu had put it up. A passerby spotted it and approached to ask, “Brother Tieniu, what’s that you’ve posted?”

The passerby couldn’t read, but his eyes lit up with anticipation.

“The shop opens in three days,” Huangfu Tieniu replied.

A smile spread across the man’s face. “Really? That’s wonderful! Does today count as one of those three days?”

“It does.” Seeing the crowd growing around him, Huangfu Tieniu addressed them formally: “Thank you, neighbors and customers. Our shop opens the day after tomorrow.”

The customers: !!!

“Will you have pickled mustard greens in the steamed buns?” 

“You’ve gotta have the pork floss bread, right?” 

“When will you open? Same hours as before?” 

“Brother Tieniu, you’ve gotta tell Boss Tang to stock up—don’t let us run out.”

Huangfu Tieniu: “We’ll sell breakfast in the morning and dinner in the afternoon. The specific menu items will be announced on the day itself.”

The regulars weren’t interested in dinner; they were just craving that breakfast.

“You’ll have egg-stuffed pancakes, right?”

“To be honest, I’ve been craving them for over half a month.”

Huangfu Tieniu answered each question in turn.

Upon hearing this, the customers hurried off to spread the word—but after taking just a few steps, what was there left to tell? If they didn’t get there in time, they’d miss out. They had to rush home now, go to bed early tonight, and not tell a soul.

Wait? That’s not right—it opens the day after tomorrow.

Why is it opening the day after tomorrow?

This evening, diners on Main Street were all talking about how Brother Tang’s breakfast shop was about to open. They also said, “Keep it quiet. Let me tell you, the commotion over Boss Tang suing the West Market is all over the place—the whole city knows about it.”

“I know that. What does that have to do with Boss Tang opening his shop?”

“What do you mean? What does it have to do with it?! You know as well as I do how much of a sensation Wu-ger’s lawsuit has caused—it’s all over the place. Even the opera and storytellers are planning to come support Wu-ger’s breakfast shop—”

“!!!” The old diner was taken aback. “Wu-ger’s business isn’t exactly struggling for customers. There aren’t even enough of us from our two neighborhoods to keep up with demand—how could people from other neighborhoods be coming here?”

“They’re supporting Master Tang’s business; we can’t very well stop them, can we? Main Street isn’t just for our Baxing District and Dingyi District.”

“That’s true, but if there are too many people, we might not be able to get anything when the time comes—”

The group exchanged glances, looking at one another in silence. Finally, one of them tentatively suggested: “Why don’t we keep this under wraps for now? Let’s enjoy it among our own neighborhoods for a few days to satisfy our cravings, and then spread the word about Mr. Tang’s grand opening later.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“It won’t interfere with Mr. Tang’s business.”

“Alright.”

“Makes sense.”

It was a little past noon when Zhou Xiangping and Zhu Si received this “good news.” Not only did Old Man Zhu have poor teeth and love pork floss bread, but most crucially, without Brother Tang’s breakfast shop ordering pork, Zhu Si’s stall had been struggling for the past month—he was left with half a side of pork every day, which was a real headache.

At that time, Jiang Yun had come along with Wu-ger.

Zhou Xiangping greeted Aunt Jiang and chatted with her while asking Mr. Tang what he wanted.

“I don’t see much meat left.” Tang Xianling glanced at the pork stall; there wasn’t enough meat, just scattered pieces. He told Mr. Zhu, “Let’s do it tomorrow. I’ll take thirty jin of pork tenderloin tomorrow, and the same the day after. By the day after that, I’ll need ten jin of pork belly in the morning. Set aside all the ribs for me, plus ten jin of pork shoulder. Those two aren’t urgent—I can even pick them up at noon…”

Zhu Si: !!!

Wait a minute—Mr. Tang was speaking too fast and listing too many items; he needed to grab a piece of paper to jot it all down.