Chapter 6: Enjoying the Meat

The sun had yet to dip fully behind the western mountains when heavy footsteps and a familiar, weary yet booming voice echoed at the courtyard gate.

"Dad! Second Brother! They're back!"

Huniu and Gouwa, the two youngest, had ears sharp enough to have been listening for them. At the sound, they darted out of the house like small firecrackers, their short legs scurrying rapidly toward the gate. Wang Sanniu followed them out.

At the entrance, Second Brother Wang Erniu looked like a moving mountain, his broad shoulders nearly blocking half the doorway. He grunted as he unloaded the grease-stained old wooden rack from the wheelbarrow. There were no slabs of meat tied to it; it was completely bare, suggesting business had gone well.

Beside him stood their father, Wang Jinbao, still wearing his coarse cloth clothes stained with indelible blood and grease, carrying a heavy little wooden bucket.

"Dad! Second Brother! Is there any meat left? Is there a lot?!" Huniu rushed to the front, tilting her dark, small face up to ask eagerly, her eyes darting toward the bucket. Gouwa scrambled to peek over the rim as well.

Wang Jinbao set the bucket down with a dull thud. The contents shifted, partially covered by a few wilted, dark green leaves.

"It's alright," the butcher said in a muffled voice. "It got quiet later in the afternoon. There's some lean meat left, a set of offal—heart, liver, and lungs—and two marrow bones. That's all." He gestured to the bucket with his foot.

Meat, offal, and bones that didn't sell at the market were the family’s bonus. Without ice, they couldn't keep them for more than two days, even if submerged in well water. It was just enough to add some fat and flavor to the bellies of this household, which could eat enough to bankrupt gods and demons alike. Wang Sanniu glanced at the bucket, thinking it was no wonder everyone in this era grew up to be so sturdy.

The two little ones jumped for joy at the mention of meat, drool almost spilling out. "Meat! We're having meat tonight!" "I want to eat meat!" They were so happy, their minds filled only with the thought of eating, that they didn't care how much money their father and brother had earned. To them, selling less and having more left over was something to celebrate.

Just then, Eldest Brother Wang Daniu and his wife, Liu, returned carrying hoes, bumping into them at the gate. They had taken advantage of the cooler air to work the fields a bit longer, finishing the last of the irrigation. Wang Daniu, covered in mud splatters and smelling of soil and sweat, just grinned at his father and the bucket without saying a word.

Liu’s gaze, however, pierced straight into the bucket. She leaned her hoe against the wall and walked over. "What's in there? Let me see. Oh, lean tenderloin? And a whole set of offal—heart, liver, and lungs—that's nice. Plus two good marrow bones." Her tone carried a sense of frugal satisfaction. She turned to her mother-in-law, Zhao, who had just walked over. "Mother, the goods are here. How shall we fix them?"

Zhao had just finished hanging the last of the washed laundry on the rack. She shook the water droplets from her hands, walked over, and peered into the bucket. "Lean meat can be dry... but the offal is substantial. It's hot, so let's make some leavened flour cakes. We'll mince the meat and offal, stuff them into the cakes, and make meat buns. It's simple and filling. We'll boil a big pot of marrow bone soup to go with it."

"Right!" Liu agreed readily. Though she often complained, she was quick-handed. She picked up the bucket and strode toward the kitchen, with her mother-in-law following to help.

Wang Sanniu heard his eldest brother talking to his father and second brother about the field work. "...Cuihua (Liu's nickname) and I finished weeding the six acres of dry land on the west slope, and we managed to water two acres thoroughly. The corn stalks were looking a bit wilted, but the water should help them recover..."

Butcher Wang grunted and took a puff of his long pipe, showing little reaction, as if this were only expected. Wang Sanniu listened, and the sense of unreality rose in him again. One day? Weeding six acres of dry land and fully irrigating two more?!

For any other strong laborer in the village, that would have been a grueling task for two or three men to complete in three or four days! Especially the water—it had to be carried from a distant ditch, not their own well. The distance wasn't exactly short; a round trip was nearly a kilometer!

His memories were clear: other strong men would carry two large buckets on a shoulder pole, swaying down the road, shoulders aching, forced to take a breather after setting the pole down before daring to pour the water into the fields.

But his eldest brother, Wang Daniu? He never touched a shoulder pole! He hated how the wood dug into his shoulders. He would simply grab the largest wooden buckets, one in each hand! Four buckets, weighing several hundred pounds combined! He would walk as if flying, the water inside barely rippling. When he reached the field, he would pour it out with both hands, finishing the irrigation in a flash without even catching his breath! If his arms were longer, he would have hung even more buckets on them.

And the plowing... other families without an ox to pull the plow would be exhausted to the point of collapse, barely finishing a small patch in a day. The Wang family? Father, eldest brother, and second brother took turns, gripping the handles, backs hunched, feet digging into the mud, charging forward with raw power. The plowshare turned the soil faster than any ox!

That was why, during the busy farming season, the Wang family’s work was always finished first, leaving them free to take on odd jobs in other villages or towns to earn extra money. These weren't men; they were super-beasts in human skin!

Sounds of clattering soon came from the kitchen. Wang Sanniu walked to the doorway but didn't go in. The sunset light filtered through the frame, revealing Liu kneading dough. She dug into a ceramic flour vat nearly as tall as she was, not with a bowl, but with a large earthenware basin. She plunged her hands in and scooped out a massive amount of flour. The sheer volume made Wang Sanniu’s eyelids twitch.

The flour wasn't as white and fine as in his previous life; it was dark, flecked with bran, looking "rough"—likely what would be called whole-wheat flour later on. Liu grabbed a small handful of "leavening starter" (an alkaline compound used in traditional fermentation) from a small cloth bag hanging by the stove, rubbed it into powder between her palms, and scattered it evenly into the flour. Adding water, she kneaded with great force. The massive dough ball, like soft clay in her hands, was tossed and pummeled until it turned smooth and pliable.

On the other side, Zhao had set up the large pot, cleaned the offal, and chopped the meat and bones. The firewood in the stove crackled. Zhao moved with speed. She didn't use many spices—just a few scallion roots pulled from the garden, a handful of dried ginger peel, and a pinch of chopped perilla leaves, finishing with a stingy dash of coarse grey salt. She covered the pot, and it began to simmer with a bubbling sound.

As the pot heated, a strange, rich fragrance and the bustling atmosphere of home cooking began to swirl and rise, spilling out through the cracks in the doors and windows, permeating the small adobe courtyard. First came the thick aroma of stewed meat mixed with the earthy scent of offal, followed by the simple, enticing toasted scent of flour triggered by the furnace fire.

For Huniu and Gouwa, this was a lethal summons. The two of them had become "food-watching stones" at the kitchen door, their little noses twitching, their eyes gleaming with a hungry green light. Huniu was still somewhat restrained, just sniffing hard and swallowing, but Gouwa’s saliva had already formed a glistening trail down his chin, soaking a patch of his shirt. They clung to the doorframe, eyes practically glued to the pot lid. Even though they had meat every half-month, their cravings never waned, as if they hadn't tasted meat in eight lifetimes.

"Dinner's ready!" Liu’s shout sounded like celestial music to Huniu and Gouwa.

The heavy wooden table in the main room was soon covered with large bowls. In the center sat several thick, golden-brown, basin-sized flatbreads. Liu moved nimbly, pressing down with one hand and wielding a knife with the other. *Thump-thump*, and the large bread was divided into chunks.

In front of everyone was a bowl of milky, thick bone soup, the meat on the bones stewed so tender it fell right off. A large bowl of minced meat and offal hash was placed in the center, steaming and fragrant.

Dinner was always more lively than breakfast, especially with meat on the table. The family sat down and, after a brief moment of chaos, fell into a focused, silent rhythm. Everyone grabbed a chunk of thick bread, dug out some of the soft center with chopsticks or their calloused fingers, and scooped a generous portion of the oily, glistening meat and offal mixture from the center bowl.

They closed the bread, pressed it hard—and a "Wang-style" meat bun, thick with filling and dripping with juice, was born. Then came a massive bite! The sturdy bread, the chewiness, the meat’s fragrance, the earthy depth of the offal, and the savory kick of the coarse salt...

All the day’s fatigue seemed to be shattered by this primal, domineering power of meat. Everyone ate with speed and ferocity, the sounds of chewing and slurping hot soup filling the room. Satisfaction seemed to overflow from every pore.

Wang Sanniu received his share. He took the meat bun from his mother, looked at the glistening, stuffed filling, and hesitated before taking a bite. The flavor... how to describe it? It was undeniably fragrant; the primal scent of rendered fat and protein had an irresistible charm. But, upon closer inspection, the lean meat was indeed a bit "dry," far less tender and juicy than the processed, aged meat of his previous life. More importantly, there was a faint, lingering gaminess from the offal that the limited aromatics couldn't fully mask. To his tongue, refined by the sophisticated spices of his past life, the flavor profile was quite intense.

"Sanlang, what's wrong? Is the meat not to your liking? Or is your body feeling unwell again?" Zhao, sitting beside him, hadn't taken her eyes off her precious youngest son. Seeing him take only a small bite and frown slightly, she asked with immediate concern.

Wang Sanniu shook his head quickly. "No, Mother. I'm fine. It's just... the heat, I feel a bit... restless? I don't have much of an appetite. Could you have this for me?" He held out the bun, which had only a small crescent-shaped bite taken out of it. This was something the original host had occasionally done—being frail, his appetite was inconsistent.

Seeing that he didn't look unwell, Zhao breathed a sigh of relief. She took the bun, feeling happy but saying, "You child! This is good stuff... I'll save it for later..."

"Mother, please just eat it. It's hot; it'll spoil if we keep it, and I really can't eat anymore," Wang Sanniu insisted.

Zhao looked at the oily meat inside the bun, swallowed, but didn't eat it herself. Instead, she split it in two and placed the pieces into the bowls of Huniu and Gouwa, who were watching with wide eyes. "Here! Your third uncle/brother can't finish it, so you two little rascals get lucky! Eat slowly! Don't choke!" she scolded with a smile.

"Yay!" The cheers of Huniu and Gouwa nearly blew the roof off. Their little eyes lit up with happiness, and they didn't care that it was hot; they stuffed it into their mouths immediately, cheeks bulging like hamsters. There was no "dislike" here—in their eyes, this was the most delicious thing in the world.

Wang Sanniu silently tore a piece of bread into small bits and dropped them into his bowl of bone soup, soaking them until soft, sipping the rich broth to fill his stomach. It wasn't bad; the essence of the bone soup was all there, and it felt very comfortable in his stomach. He couldn't help but wonder if he could improve the spices used for stewing and turn it into a business to increase the family's income.

The meal ended quickly, leaving the table in disarray. Liu, her belly slightly rounded, began to clean up diligently. The family moved to the courtyard. The sun hadn't fully set, and there was still light. They sat on wooden stumps, the base of the stone mill, or leaned against the wall, enjoying the rare, relaxed moment after a day of labor and the market. This was a "staple" for the Wang family on market days—after eating their fill, they would rest and chat.

Old Father Wang Jinbao leaned against the millstone base, lit his pipe, and puffed out acrid smoke. His expression was obscured by the flickering light of the tobacco. Huniu and Gouwa chased each other around the yard, brimming with excess energy.

Zhao seized a moment, tapped the empty spot next to her husband, and moved over. She lowered her voice—at least, relative to her usual booming volume—and told him everything about how Wang Sanniu had found dandelions among the wild vegetables that afternoon, his desire to dry and sell them, and his suggestion that Second Brother take him to the town pharmacy next market day to inquire about them.

Father puffed on his pipe, exhaled slowly, and remained expressionless. "Wild vegetables dried as medicine? Just a child's fancy. I've never heard a pharmacy say that." His tone was flat, devoid of any ripples; he didn't take it seriously at all. To him, it wasn't about making money; it was just that his youngest son was bored from staying home too long and had cooked up an excuse to go to the bustling town for some excitement.

"If the child wants to go, take him. Let the little one see the world. Better than staying cooped up and letting his bones grow soft." Wang Jinbao exhaled the last of the smoke, tapped his pipe against his shoe, and the embers died out. His tone was light, as casual as agreeing to let Huniu play in the mud. He didn't even glance at Wang Sanniu, clearly not giving the "rotten leaves" or the "get-rich-quick scheme" a second thought.

With the "approval" of his old man, Zhao felt even more at ease. As for whether the old man believed the herbs could be sold? She didn't care! She only knew that her precious son's words this afternoon had warmed her heart for the entire day. Her son was sensible and filial to his mother! This trip to town was definitely happening.