Chapter 64
Under the cutting board was a basket where cleanly picked bones were usually kept. Li Yanmei picked out two: "Young master, are these two enough?"
Fang Zichen stared at the marrow bones on the board, speechless.
What kind of knife skills are these?!
Or did you guys gnaw on these bones beforehand? How are they so clean?
The bones were spotless, not even a fly's leg worth of meat remained.
"...Enough."
Li Yanmei tied them together with two straws and asked, "Young master, are you taking these back to feed your dog?"
"..." Feeling subtly insulted, Fang Zichen pointed at Guaizai: "To feed my son. I want to make some soup for him."
Li Yanmei looked embarrassed, but she had thick skin—her shame lasted half a second before she turned to praise Guaizai. She asked how old he was, then remarked how impressive it was that Fang Zichen had such a big son at such a young age. She called Guaizai adorable and well-behaved. But as she kept praising, she soon strayed from polite conversation.
Just as Fang Zichen was feeling pleased, she dropped this line:
"Just a bit short, though."
Fang Zichen: "..."
If you know how to talk, then talk more.
Guaizai wasn’t happy hearing this. Pouting, he said, "Guaizai not short, Guaizai small kid! Small kid small! When Guaizai grow up, become man, then Guaizai be tall tall!"
He was such a tiny bean that Li Yanmei couldn’t help but laugh. Just as she was about to tease him further, a voice came from the backyard. A little girl ran out holding two steamed buns, standing obediently beside her.
Li Yanmei patted her head and said to Fang Zichen, "My daughter, Jiaojiao. About the same age as your son, just over three."
Fang Zichen was a bit skeptical.
This little girl... well, he didn’t even know how to describe her. Words like "towering" and "built like a bear" seemed cruel to apply to a little girl, but they fit perfectly. If Li Yanmei had said she was nine, he would’ve believed it.
Jiaojiao held a bun in each hand—likely homemade, given their size, each as big as a plate. She took turns biting into them, left then right. In the time it took to exchange a few words, the two massive buns were nearly gone.
She ate a lot, and it showed—just a tad.
Most plump children looked soft, like you could poke a finger into them and leave a dent. But Jiaojiao was different. She was solid, her plumpness substantial. The only words to describe her: "sturdy and mighty."
Fang Zichen was at a loss for words. If forced, he could only mutter, "What the hell is this?"
He hadn’t paid much attention before, but now that someone pointed out Guaizai’s height, he couldn’t unsee it. Every three-year-old around seemed taller than his son.
Jiaojiao ate her buns with relish, even licking her fingers afterward. Li Yanmei watched with visible worry.
In this era, men preferred delicate, petite girls. A girl built like a brick wall was... hard to accept.
Neighbors who saw Jiaojiao would often frown and sigh, saying things like, "How did your daughter end up like this? Must’ve been a mistake at birth. She’ll never marry like this."
What ordinary man would dare take her?
If she was like this at three, wouldn’t she grow into a literal mountain? If they ever argued, one slap from her would send her husband straight to the ancestors in the underworld.
Jiaojiao looked up, her voice gruff: "Mom, I want two more buns."
Li Yanmei: "..."
Fang Zichen: "..."
Fang Zichen was honestly impressed. Those buns were huge—he’d struggle to finish two in one go himself!
He patted Guaizai’s head. Seeing Fang Zichen fall silent after Jiaojiao appeared, Li Yanmei assumed he, like others, looked down on her daughter. But when she glanced at him, there wasn’t a trace of disdain—instead, something like envy and jealousy flickered in his eyes.
Envy? Jealousy?
What's there to envy?
Li Yanmei asked, "Do you need anything else, young master?"
"Give me another catty of ribs." As soon as Fang Zichen spoke, the light dimmed.
"I’ll handle it." A voice ten times deeper than Jiaojiao’s cut in.
"Father!" Jiaojiao cheered.
Li Yanmei sounded half-scolding, half-flirtatious: "You old ghost, what are you doing here?"
"..." Fang Zichen turned and met the man’s gaze.
The man grinned, flashing a row of white teeth, and took the knife from Li Yanmei. Casually, he asked Fang Zichen, "Young master, want me to chop these for you?"
Truly, like father, like daughter.
This man was enormous, his chest broad, his face square, with eyebrows like two fat caterpillars.
Height? Probably 6'6".
People like this were rare in Fu’an Town. Fang Zichen suddenly realized—this must be the tiger-slaying hero.
"You’re the one who killed the tiger?"
"Mn!" The tiger-slayer said, "No need for titles, young master. It’s embarrassing. I’m Lin Xiaoxia."
Fang Zichen paused. "Which 'xiao'?"
Lin Xiaoxia wielded the knife like a god. He chopped a rib, weighed it—exactly half a kilogram—and said, "The 'xiao' in 'small.'"
[[小 (xiǎo): small, young, or humble; 侠 (xiá): chivalrous hero]
Fang Zichen: "..." Your family really knows how to pick names.
One built like a bear named "Jiaojiao" (Delicate), another named "Xiaoxia" (Little Hero).
Respect.
Their identities clicked—they were the couple living next to Shopkeeper Yang.
Remembering his business, Fang Zichen asked, "Is Uncle Li around? I need to discuss something with him."
Li Yanmei said, "Dad went to my second granduncle’s son’s cousin’s daughter’s wedding banquet."
No need for such detail.
Fang Zichen made an acknowledging noise.
Li Yanmei smiled. "You can tell me what you need."
Not wanting to make another trip, Fang Zichen explained. Li Yanmei slapped her chest (which made a concerning thud). "No problem! Pig blood and intestines aren’t hot sellers anyway. If you want them, we’ll save them for you."
"Good." Fang Zichen prepared to leave. Ribs were cheaper than meat—ten coppers per catty. Though the marrow bones were bare, they probably still cost a few coppers. He asked how much he owed, but Li Yanmei waved him off.
Fang Zichen frowned. "That’s not right."
Li Yanmei laughed. "We don’t sell these bones normally. No one buys them—we just toss them."
Living in town, everything cost money.
Even using the outhouse required paying the person who poured out night incense twenty or thirty coppers a month, not to mention firewood.
[倒夜香的 (dào yèxiāng de): lit. Person who pours out night incense; fig. euphemism for someone who collects human waste (night soil) for disposal or fertilizer]
Who’d waste money on these useless bones?
Too tough to chew—even dogs wouldn’t touch them.
Since she insisted, Fang Zichen reached for ten coppers. But then Li Yanmei went off-script again.
"Besides, you’re so handsome. Forget bones—I’d give you meat for free. Come visit sometime. I’ll be here helping Dad sell meat. He likes playing chess at Lao Feng’s place at noon—perfect timing."
The blatant suggestion made Fang Zichen freeze mid-reach.
What kind of grudge is this?! Right in front of your husband, you’re putting me in this awkward position!
His heart pounded in his ears. Stiffly, he turned his head.
Lin Xiaoxia had already wrapped the ribs in oiled paper. He’d somehow produced a whetstone and was now sharpening the knife with ominous swipes.
As he sharpened, he smiled at Fang Zichen. The muscles on his arms strained against his sleeves, threatening to burst through.
The knife had just hacked through bones. Its edge gleamed coldly, already sharp—yet here he was, sharpening it further in front of him.
This wasn’t about the knife.
This was a warning.
Would Fang Zichen back down?
Of course not.
He smirked back, calmly handed over ten coppers, took the bones and ribs, and left.
Li Yanmei even took two steps after him, craning her neck wistfully. "So handsome! So tall, such long legs. Look how fast he walks—like he’s about to fly away."
Her voice carried. Fang Zichen, not yet far, heard every word.
He wasn’t walking fast because of his legs.
He was walking fast because he valued his life.
Li Yanmei sighed, retracting her gaze. "That young master... if I had him at home, I could eat two extra bowls of rice per meal just looking at him."
Lin Xiaoxia side-eyed her. "A man prettier than you, and you’re not ashamed? Two extra bowls? Your waist isn’t thick enough?"
Li Yanmei ignored this. Not wanting to argue in public, she just said, "Husband, if you had even a tenth of his looks, I wouldn’t have demanded such a high bride price back then."
Lin Xiaoxia snorted. "If I had a tenth of his looks, would I have settled for you?"
Li Yanmei couldn’t let it slide. She spat, "As if I’m some bargain! At eighteen, my beauty had suitors lined up from West Street to East Street!"
"Get real." Lin Xiaoxia stopped sharpening, mercilessly exposing her. "I heard from the matchmaker that whenever you were selling meat, no young man dared come near—afraid you’d pounce on them. Your dad’s pork went unsold until the matchmaker begged me to 'save the people' again. Otherwise, why would I have married you? Joke!"
The words weren’t harmful, but the humiliation was real. They started brawling right there.
Nearby vendors barely blinked. Just sighed.
Zhao Ger returned from the vegetable field but didn’t rest. He washed the pot, steamed rice, then took the cornmeal he’d bought and started grinding it in the yard.
Working alone was inconvenient—push the mill a few times, stop to add more meal. After a while, someone called from outside.
"U-Uncle Zhao~"
Zhao Ger recognized Xiaofeng’s voice. Surprised, he went to the gate. Xiaofeng stood there with a bundle of firewood on his back.
"Xiaofeng, what brings you here?" Zhao Ger asked, puzzled. "Is something wrong?"
Xiaofeng stammered, "I-I gathered f-firewood. Brought it f-for you."
It was hot, and their home was remote—no one else around. Zhao Ger pulled him inside, took the firewood, and set it aside. "Why bring me firewood all of a sudden?"
No comments:
Post a Comment