Chapter 2: Is the Whole Family Obsessed with Strength?

Mother sat down right beside the edge of the kang, her massive frame blocking most of the light. She craned her neck and lowered her booming voice as much as she could, softening her tone to ask gently, “Tell me, how do you feel now? Is your chest still tight? Is your head still spinning badly? Do you want to eat something? Should I make you some steamed eggs? Millet porridge? …My son, you scared me half to death…”

Her eyes burned with worry, as if she feared that her youngest son, who was already so frail, might suffer another setback.

“Mother… much better…” Wang Sanniu spoke with difficulty, his voice still thin and weak. “It’s just… I have no strength… and my head feels heavy…”

He looked at the deeply wrinkled, weather-beaten face etched in his memory—the face marked by years of hard labor under wind and sun—filled with pure anxiety and tenderness.

In that moment, the image of his mother from his previous life, who had spent every day working and worrying for him, seemed to overlap with the figure before him.

“That’s good… good… no dizziness is good. Build up your strength slowly…”

Mother’s rough fingers carefully brushed away the fine wisps of hair from his forehead, her movements gentle in a way that belied her bulky frame.

“That old fool of your father is heartless and reckless! We won’t listen to him! From now on, I won’t let him boss you around anymore! You just rest well, alright!”

Just then, a sharp, deliberately high-pitched shout rang out from outside—the unmistakable voice of his sister-in-law, Liu: “Mother! Third brother! Dinner’s ready!”

The piercing call shattered the warm atmosphere inside the room instantly.

“Shout all you want! I’m not dead yet!” Mother shouted back loudly.

She turned to look at her son again and noticed a faint flush on his cheek and steadier breathing—not like the frightening gasping and shallow breaths he’d taken when drenched in pig’s blood the day before.

Only then did she let out a long sigh, the heavy burden of worry she’d carried through the night easing somewhat.

With a swift motion like an eagle snatching a chick, she effortlessly scooped up the light, fragile body lying on the kang.

The world spun wildly!

Wang Sanniu’s startled cry caught in his throat as he found himself enveloped in a warm, broad embrace redolent of sweat and earth.

Mother held him as if he were a bundle of straw, her steps steady and strong, crossing the main room in a few strides and setting him down securely on a wooden bench beneath the heavy table in the courtyard’s center.

Before he could say a word, Wang Wei was stunned by the meal spread out before him. Even though he had merged with Wang Sanniu’s memories and already “knew” about the family’s hearty fare, the scene still struck him profoundly.

Surrounding the table sat the “black bears”—Father Wang, eldest brother Wang Daniu, second brother Wang Erniu, and Mother—each with an enormous bowl before them.

No, these were not mere bowls, but large soup bowls used in later times, each bigger than a grown man’s face, made of coarse, thick gray pottery, heavy and rough.

At this moment, every bowl was heaped with rustic, coarsely cooked mixed grain noodles. The noodles were dull gray, not the pristine white he remembered from his past life—clearly mixed with bean flour or wheat bran.

They were soaked in oily big-bone broth, with a few scattered green wild vegetable leaves on top.

The bowls… were enormous! The portions… generous beyond measure!

While he was still in a daze, a steaming small bowl of the same coarse pottery, but noticeably smaller and somewhat more refined, was placed at the corner of the table in front of him.

Inside was a small dish of tender, smooth, golden steamed egg custard, sprinkled with tiny specks of green scallions, exuding the pure, enticing aroma of fresh egg pudding. Beside it lay half a perfectly cooked ear of corn.

Corn? What era was this? Had corn even existed yet? Before he could ponder further, his sister-in-law’s voice interrupted.

“Here, Mother specially made steamed eggs for you!” Liu’s tone dripped with undisguised sourness, her eyelids barely lifting as if even one more word was too much. She turned and sat back down by her giant bowl.

Grabbing her broad bamboo chopsticks, she noisily slurped up the noodles, the sound loud and unapologetic.

Four-year-old Tiger Girl and younger Dog Kid each had a bowl as well, slightly smaller than the adults’ but still larger than their own heads, filled to the brim with noodles.

They eagerly leaned over their bowls, their small faces nearly buried in the food.

Even Mother lifted her own equally massive soup bowl.

The entire main room was filled only with the sounds of eating—slurping, chewing, swallowing—no other conversation. The atmosphere was heavy, marked only by the primal, pure satisfaction of filling one’s stomach.

Wang Sanniu looked at the delicate steamed egg bowl before him, then at the huge soup bowls filling the table, and a strange feeling of absurdity welled up inside him.

Was this really the normal scene his former self had been so used to?

As he nibbled at the steamed egg, he sifted through memories for useful information: the Wang family farmed twenty acres of prime irrigated land, thirty acres of average fields, and about fifty acres of sloping dry land (note: northern irrigated fields indicate stable water sources and fertile soil).

Just by landholding standards, in these remote parts, they qualified as small landlords. Not to mention raising over ten plump pigs and a flock of fast-running chickens and ducks.

Father Wang, the butcher, was known far and wide for his skill. On market days, he made good income slaughtering, collecting, and selling pigs in town and nearby villages.

Yet, looking at this humble earthen house—with its sturdy giant furniture and large bowls and basins—there was hardly any sign of wealth. The yellowed old New Year prints on the walls, the roof made of dry straw and wooden beams, farming tools piled in the corner… none of it suggested affluence.

Wang Sanniu thought for a moment and realized that just this one dinner could feed an average family of three for a whole week.

Moreover, every member of the Wang family was a veritable “glutton.” Just filling the enormous stomachs of these black bear-like men would consume far more than ordinary folks could imagine.

Recalling his own frail, sickly state in recent years, constantly taking medicinal soups, any savings the family might have had were likely as fleeting as the contents of these giant bowls—filled one moment, empty the next.

Fortunately, since last year, his health had improved slightly, allowing him to stop taking all those medicines and enabling the family to have a modest surplus.

He felt he had only eaten a little, not even a third of the steamed egg, when a series of heavy “thuds” sounded on the table.

Father, mother, eldest brother, second brother, and sister-in-law—all had emptied their enormous bowls, nearly simultaneously.

Wang Daniu was especially exaggerated, lifting his bowl larger than his face, tilting his head back, and gulping down the last of the broth with loud, satisfying gulps.

Tiger Girl devoured her medium-sized bowl at a whirlwind pace, wiping her oily lips with the back of her hand and letting out a small but loud belch of contentment. Dog Kid’s bowl was similarly licked clean.

Sister-in-law had already set down her chopsticks and risen, her movements swift and purposeful with a forceful energy, quickly clearing the empty giant bowls and scattered chopsticks from the table.

The others got up as well, taking advantage of the remaining daylight to start their chores.

Wang Sanniu quietly gazed at the half-finished steamed egg and corn before him. The speed… even their eating showed an overwhelming force and efficiency.

He resumed eating, slightly hastening his pace, when suddenly a loud bang came from behind.

Turning, he saw eldest brother Wang Daniu kicking open the kitchen door and striding out.

What made Wang Sanniu’s eyes nearly pop out was what his brother carried on his shoulder.

It was a pig—a whole pig, skinned and scraped clean, pale white beneath.

Though not as fat as the technologically raised pigs of his former life, the frame alone suggested at least two or three hundred jin (roughly 100–150 kg).

Right then, this gutted, cleaned, and plump pig was casually slung over Wang Daniu’s shoulder with one arm, the head and feet dangling loosely, swaying gently with his steady stride.

Wang Daniu looked relaxed, humming a discordant folk tune as he walked a few steps to a dedicated butchering block in the corner of the courtyard.

Then, shifting slightly, he tossed the nearly two-hundred-jin carcass onto the sturdy wooden block with a “thud” as if discarding a worn-out garment.

The heavy impact made the block vibrate and buzz, and the ground seemed to tremble.

Wang Sanniu gasped sharply, his mind ringing.

A whole pig! Two or three hundred jin!

In his previous life, he had seen some strong construction workers, but none who could effortlessly carry a fat pig of this size on one shoulder, walk with steady steps, and toss it aside casually. Not even heard of such strength!

This was beyond the realm of ordinary strongmen—it was almost… animal-like power!

Just as the thought struck, his peripheral vision caught sight of his little sister, Tiger Girl, playing nearby.

The four-year-old girl squatted beneath an old apricot tree, with a pile of dried apricot pits scattered on the ground.

She reached out her chubby, dark hands, felt around, then firmly grasped a stone.

The stone’s size and shape resembled a common washbasin from later times—gray, rough-edged, and weighing at least twenty or thirty jin (ten to fifteen kilograms)!

Wang Sanniu felt his breath catch for a moment.

Tiger Girl lifted that basin-sized stone with ease to the apricot pits, and with a grunt, released it.

“Clang!” The heavy stone landed precisely on the pile of pits.

Instantly, the sound of cracking shells rang out.

She squatted, pushed the stone aside clumsily, and began picking the broken shells to extract the plump white apricot kernels within.

Was this even reasonable? A girl of barely four, at most the size of a well-developed five or six-year-old, lifting a twenty or thirty jin stone as if it were a rag doll?

A chill ran from his tailbone straight to his crown, every hair on his body standing on end.

Last night’s fright, the family’s appearances, the displays of strength from his sister and eldest brother—all flashed rapidly through his mind.

What kind of world was this? What kind of bloodline ran through the Wang family? Had he somehow slipped into a martial arts novel? Or a world of high cultivation? A secretive clan?

He frantically searched his memories for any trace of “martial artists,” “jianghu,” “immortals,” “battle qi,” even “ghost tamers,” or “pocket monsters”—but found nothing.

The village of Qingshui, even the entire Yongle town, aside from the Wang family’s unusually large appetites and strength, seemed ordinary, just like the average people from his past life.

No rumors of martial sects or strange happenings were known.

At that moment, Father’s next action made Wang Sanniu’s eyelids twitch uncontrollably.

Wang the butcher emerged from the corner storeroom, arms wrapped steadily around a millstone!

Not a small stone hand mill, but the large stone base of a village corn grinding mill!

It was cylindrical, rough and dull stone, likely fifty to sixty centimeters in diameter and twenty to thirty centimeters thick.

Its massive size meant it surely weighed hundreds of jin.

Father carried the huge stone as if it were a bundle of firewood, his steps steady as he walked over to a prepared mill frame in the courtyard.

With a low grunt, “Up!” he carefully placed the heavy millstone onto the mill’s stone axle, fitting it snugly without a hint of wobble.

Wang Sanniu was completely stunned. Observing the three displays of strength in the courtyard—the brother tossing a whole pig, the sister playing with stones like clay, and the father steady as a mountain with the giant millstone—his mind went blank.

This… was definitely abnormal! This “black bear den” was unquestionably unusual! Were they all just crazy strong? Some hidden secret?

“Brother… eat…”

Suddenly, a pair of dark, chubby little hands held out a small handful of white apricot kernels toward Wang Sanniu. It was Tiger Girl, freshly finished cracking the pits.

The little girl lifted her dark face, her big black eyes shining with pure concern and hopeful expectation, without a trace of guile.

Meeting those earnest, innocent eyes, the trepidation stirred by shock and this strange new world strangely eased a bit.

He instinctively reached out his small, pale, fragile hand—the hand of a five-year-old—and gently took the kernels. A few grains were damp with the little girl’s sweaty palm, warm to the touch.

“Tiger Girl also eat…” Wang Sanniu’s voice softened as he split the kernels into two portions, handing some back to his sister. “Brother and Tiger Girl eat together.”

Tiger Girl immediately beamed, showing a few white teeth, grabbing the kernels without hesitation and stuffing them into her mouth, cheeks puffed as she chewed happily.

Watching her innocent eating, and remembering her earlier display of strength, Wang Sanniu’s awkwardness lingered but was mixed with a growing tenderness.

In her memories, the original Wang Sanniu, though frail and sickly, was very kind to his little sister.

Whenever mother secretly gave him rare treats—like maltose candy or a few jujubes—to coax him into taking medicine, he would always hide half to share quietly with his playful little sister.

Tiger Girl remembered that affection clearly. In this family, others might see the weak, sickly third brother as a burden or an oddity.

But in little Tiger Girl’s heart, this brother who secretly shared treats was extremely important, someone she desperately wanted to protect—even though she was only four and didn’t know how.

Wang Sanniu popped a warm apricot kernel into his mouth. The unique bittersweet flavor and subtle oily fragrance of the raw kernel spread across his tongue.

He looked out at the bustling courtyard: Father pushing the heavy millstone with sinewy, powerful arms exerting steady, enduring strength; eldest brother brandishing a sharp knife, the blade gleaming coldly in the sunlight as he worked on the fat pig; second brother chopping firewood beside the wall, the thick logs splitting crisply with each axe swing; mother and Liu bustling between kitchen and yard washing up…

Sunlight poured into the courtyard, mingling with the grinding stone’s rumble, chopping sounds, washing splashes, and the crisp crackle of Tiger Girl crushing apricot pits nearby...

Yet there was a subtle but real warmth, like the bowl of steaming egg custard in front of him, slowly and stubbornly soothing his cold, drifting soul.

Perhaps, this place wasn’t so bad after all.

Especially when he saw that dark little sister, happily chewing apricot kernels and secretly tucking an uncracked one into her small pocket—probably saving it for him to eat later at night.

Wang Wei’s pale lips curled slightly, swallowing the bittersweet kernel.