In the days that followed, Fan Changyu threw herself into slaughtering pigs, making marinated dishes, and selling meat.

The marinated offal in her shop was complete in color, aroma, and taste; she had always used it as a complimentary extra for customers, and no other shop on the street could match her business.

Some people who hadn’t managed to buy meat from her shop that day would rather wait until the next to come again. For several days in a row, even after slaughtering two pigs a day, Fan Changyu’s shop still sold out completely.

Such booming business naturally made all the other butchers on the street envious. Butcher Guo, seeing that all the customers had flocked to Fan Changyu’s shop, became unhappy again. Shamelessly, he shouted that giving free extras was adding an unnecessary burden to meat shops and told everyone to stop doing it.

Although others disapproved of Butcher Guo’s behavior, it was also true that Fan Changyu had drawn away most of the customers by giving extras. Even though no one openly agreed, they basically defaulted to Guo’s proposal.

Fan Changyu, with her good temper, agreed that everyone should stop giving extras.

It wasn’t that she was easy to persuade, but because the reputation of Fan’s Marinated Meat had already spread far and wide. She no longer needed to use free extras to attract customers. The offal she washed so painstakingly and marinated so carefully was worth twenty coins per jin now—who would give that away for free!

Better to sell others a favor instead, since they all did business on the same street and would see each other often.

All the butchers on the street eagerly waited for business to return to how it used to be, but unexpectedly, even after no one gave extras anymore, although Fan Changyu’s business wasn’t as blazing hot as before, it was still the best on the street.

In fact, as her marinated meat’s reputation spread, even people from town stopped going to the street that sold cooked food and came directly to Fan Changyu’s shop to buy marinated meat.

There were too many customers buying marinated food. The stock in Fan Changyu’s shop was often in short supply, so she simply set up a big pot at the shop entrance, selling the meat she had marinated the previous night on the cutting board while freshly marinating and boiling new batches in the pot.

This unintentional move made her marinated meat business reach an even higher level.

The aroma was truly irresistible. The marinade bubbled in the pot with a gudu gudu sound, and the cleaned pig’s head meat and offal took on a beautiful sauce-brown color. The spices inside—star anise, bay leaves, dried citrus peel—were all clearly visible.

Everyone passing through the market street was lured forward by the fragrance to ask for the price.

Freshly marinated and freshly sold—seeing that everything in the pot was genuine and substantial, customers didn’t haggle as much as they used to when she sold ready-cooked meat directly.

Once she ran out of her own pig heads, Fan Changyu, unwilling to waste that pot of marinade, often went to the butcher next door to buy a few pig heads, cleaned them, and marinated them on the spot.

At the height of business, her shop could sell seven or eight marinated pig heads a day.

Fresh pig heads sold for twenty coins per jin in the market. Once marinated, counting the head and ears together, it came to about fifty coins per jin. A pig head weighed around six or seven jin, so for each marinated pig head, she could make a net profit of at least one hundred and eighty coins.

Selling seven or eight meant around five hundred coins in profit, and with the fresh pork, she could earn another full string of coins. Her daily income was nearly two strings of coins, steady as could be.

As her money pouch grew heavier day by day, Fan Changyu decided in her newfound wealth to have new clothes made for everyone in the family.

She first went to the pawnshop to redeem the hairpin she had pawned. The shopkeeper, upon seeing her, gave an awkward smile and said, “That hairpin has already been sold…”

Fan Changyu immediately grew anxious. “Didn’t I tell you to keep it for me first?”

The shopkeeper said helplessly, “Well… everyone who pawns something here says that. How could I keep them all? I have to make a living too!”

Fan Changyu pressed her lips together and apologized softly, then asked, “Do you remember who bought that hairpin?”

The shopkeeper thought for a moment and said, “The same day you pawned it, a young lady came and bought it. She was dressed quite finely—looked like someone from the county town.”

Fan Changyu’s heart sank to the bottom.

Qingping County wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small either. To find a complete stranger would be no easy task; redeeming the hairpin was likely hopeless.

The shopkeeper, seeing the look on her face, tried to sell her something else. “Why don’t you take a look at this one? It’s also made of silver, and prettier than yours!”

Fan Changyu said nothing and left the pawnshop. Outside, the wind and snow were heavy. She sat for a while on the steps by the door, unable to suppress the ache in her chest.

Although when she decided to pawn that silver hairpin she had already expected she might never get it back, now that it had truly become reality, she still couldn’t help but feel sorrowful.

The hairpin her parents had bought for her when she came of age—was gone.

Fan Changyu wiped her eyes in embarrassment and walked home dispiritedly.

· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The alley in the west of town was lively that day—not because of any special occasion, but because the Song family was moving away.

This year, only Song Yan had passed the provincial exam in all of Qingping County. The county magistrate had personally invited him to his home for a meal, and all the local gentry and wealthy merchants were eagerly currying favor with him.

The magistrate had allocated a house in the county town to Song Yan, publicly saying it was so he could have better conditions to study and bring glory to Qingping County by passing the metropolitan exam.

The house was apparently ready, and Song Yan and his mother had chosen this day to move in.

Now that someone in the alley had become a juren [provincial graduate], no matter how hostile the Fan and Song families had once been, no one else wanted to fall out with the Songs. Everyone came out to see them off.

When Fan Changyu reached the mouth of the alley, she saw two elegant green-canopied carriages parked by the roadside. Further in, she spotted the Song mother and son standing at their doorway, exchanging farewells with their neighbors.

Song Yan wore a dark indigo robe. Tall and refined, he looked every bit the gentleman. As he bowed to the villagers, his gentle brows and eyes exuded scholarly grace.

Madam Song was also dressed most respectably, her hair slicked with oil and pinned with a gold hair ornament. Listening to the flood of flattering words, she even managed to squeeze out a few tears, putting on a show of reluctance to leave.

Fan Changyu, in a foul mood that day, pretended not to see the mother and son and tried to skirt the crowd toward her home—when a gentle male voice called from behind, “Miss Fan, please wait.”

The onlookers couldn’t help showing strange expressions.

After the annulment between the Fan and Song families, the two households had almost severed ties completely. Fan Changyu had already taken in a husband, and Song Yan seemed on the verge of becoming the county magistrate’s favored son-in-law. What could there possibly still be between them?

Everyone had their own thoughts—some curious, some watching for entertainment, some eager to catch gossip.

At the sound, Fan Changyu turned to see Song Yan walking toward her from the other end of the crowd, holding a brocade box in his hands. He stopped three steps away from her.

He had a refined, scholarly appearance, his every movement marked by decorum. “My mother and I have lived here for many years and have received much care from your honorable father. The kindness he once showed in providing a coffin for my late father is something I have never forgotten. Now that we are moving, this is merely a small token of my gratitude.”

The brocade box was square and finely crafted, not small in size. No one could tell what it held inside.

Fan Changyu nearly laughed from anger. Ever since the Song family had withdrawn from the engagement, they had cut themselves completely clean from the Fans whenever trouble came their way. And now, on the day of moving, to suddenly present this brocade box in front of all the neighbors—wasn’t this just for show?

Her lips curled in mockery. “And what is this?”

Song Yan replied, “A small token from my mother and me.”

Fan Changyu flung her arm, and the brocade box crashed to the ground. Silver ingots rolled out one after another, drawing a collective gasp from the onlookers.

The people in this alley weren’t wealthy—many had probably never seen real silver ingots in their lives. Staring at the gleaming silver scattered across the ground, they were truly wide-eyed.

Madam Song immediately shrieked, “What are you doing?!”

She had spent days cultivating the airs of an official’s wife, basking in flattery and attention, and now—being publicly humiliated by Fan Changyu like this—her expression turned beyond ugly.

Though her clothes were silk and brocade, years of toil had left her body frail and short, her face thin and hollow. Not only did she fail to carry the grandeur of her garments, but her protruding cheekbones only deepened the harshness of her features.

Fan Changyu sneered. “Scholar Song’s gift is far too valuable—I absolutely dare not accept it. When you brought the fortune-telling letter to withdraw the engagement, I didn’t take a single coin from your Song family. On the contrary, it was my father who bought the coffin for your late father, and later, it was also my father who covered Scholar Song’s tuition fees. Yet all the gossiping tongues have twisted things around, saying my father forced Scholar Song into marrying a butcher’s daughter by showing petty favor.”

She gave a cold laugh. “My parents’ bones have barely turned cold; they cannot bear such slander.”

Madam Song immediately snapped back, her voice sharp though her heart quailed, “Those are outsiders’ words—what do they have to do with us, mother and son?”

Fan Changyu lowered her gaze to the silver ingots on the ground and smiled faintly. “I never said you were the one telling them to say it. Why so nervous?”

Madam Song could not endure being provoked like this by Fan Changyu—especially with so many neighbors watching. Her face alternated between green and red as she snapped, “What exactly do you mean by this?”

Fan Changyu replied, “To avoid any more gossip from those black-hearted people, I ask all our neighbors to be witnesses today. These silver ingots from Scholar Song—I absolutely will not accept them. But my parents have passed away, my younger sister is frail, and my husband is still recovering from his injuries. Our household is indeed short of money. So today, let us settle an account, Scholar Song. The coffin my father bought for your family, and the years of tuition he covered for you—surely it wouldn’t be too hard for you to repay every single coin?”

She smiled—her tone dripping with irony. “That way, Scholar Song and Madam Song won’t have to hear any more rumors and think that the Fan family wishes to use kindness to demand repayment. Like last time, when Fan Da brought men from the gambling house to smash my home—our neighborly aunt cried at your door for help, but the Song family’s grand gate would not open.”

Others never mentioned these things, merely helping the Song family keep a shred of dignity. But now that Fan Changyu had torn the cover away in front of everyone, Madam Song’s face was beyond ugly. Seeing the neighbors’ secret looks of contempt, she felt her face burn as though aflame. Fan Changyu’s words had all but directly accused the Song family of ingratitude.

Her Yan-ge’er was meant to be a future zhuangyuan [top scholar]; if he were defamed by this coarse pig-slaughtering woman and his future ruined, it would kill her on the spot!

Madam Song trembled, about to speak, when her son—who had been silent all along—suddenly said to the butcher’s daughter, “If you come seeking me, I will not remain indifferent.”

“Yan-ge’er!” Madam Song’s eyes rolled back, nearly fainting on the spot.

Fan Changyu frowned as well, thinking that Song Yan must have lost his mind to say such a thing before so many people.

Yet before she could respond, a soft, childlike voice drifted from beyond the crowd: “Brother-in-law, there are so many people!”

A man’s cold voice followed, “Don’t wander off.”

Fan Changyu turned her head and saw her younger sister standing on tiptoe at their doorway, craning her neck to look this way. The man, likely afraid she’d get lost while running out to watch the commotion, had followed her out. His beautiful brows were furrowed in mild annoyance, as though the child were troublesome.

He wore the same cinnabar-red robes from their wedding day. His long hair was loosely tied, and the wide sleeves of his robe hung down, concealing most of the single crutch he used. His features were cold and refined, his complexion pale as snow.

Leaning lazily against the doorframe, his posture was unhurried. It was unclear how long he had been standing there—or how much of her conversation with the Song mother and son he had overheard.

When Fan Changyu’s gaze met his, his face showed no emotion. Only the corners of his lips lifted—slightly, ambiguously—forming something that was not quite a smile.