Xie Zheng, face dark, put on his robe and rose. Just as he stepped out with his crutch, he saw Fan Changyu coming down from the loft—one hand holding an oil lamp, the other clutching a gyrfalcon whose feathers were in complete disarray.

Seeing Xie Zheng, she looked a little surprised.

“Did I wake you up?”

The gyrfalcon, having just received a few slaps and now drooping and spiritless, immediately cried out pitifully the moment it saw its master. But this time, it did not dare to shriek hysterically; its calls were as weak as a chick’s. The feathers on its head were standing up, completely losing their previous sleek shine.

Xie Zheng was silent for a moment before speaking.

“This is…”

Fan Changyu shook the gyrfalcon dangling from her hand and broke into a wide grin.

“I’ve seen this falcon appear nearby several times. I happened to buy an old hen today, so I set up a little trap just to try it out—didn’t expect it to actually work!”

Ordinary hawks could only snatch away chicks, but this gyrfalcon was enormous—its wings spread nearly a meter wide, and its strength was astonishing. While struggling on the rooftop, it had even torn open a hole in the tiles. If Fan Changyu hadn’t rushed up upon hearing the noise, it might really have escaped. After receiving a few slaps from her, it finally quieted down.

She said, “Tomorrow morning I’ll bring it to the market and see how many taels of silver I can trade it for.”

The gyrfalcon continued to look at its master with those round, pitiful bean-like eyes.

Xie Zheng could hardly bear to look at the foolish bird. With a cold face, he lied through his teeth:

“No one in the market will buy live hawks or falcons. Their meat, when killed, is tough and sour; ordinary families can’t afford to raise them. Without a proper bird trainer, their wild nature can’t be changed, and they easily injure people.”

“I see.” Fan Changyu’s expression immediately fell in disappointment.

She scratched her head.

“But this falcon’s leg was caught in a trap and hurt, and its wings were injured again hitting the beam when it struggled. If I let it go now, it probably wouldn’t survive this winter.”

The gyrfalcon let out a weak, pitiful cry right on cue.

Xie Zheng said, “…I know a little about bird taming. I could try to train it. A well-trained hawk can be sold for over a hundred taels.”

“Eh?” Fan Changyu was startled, but upon hearing that a tamed falcon could sell for dozens—or even a hundred—taels of silver, she brightened up again. Even the thought of having to repair the roof tomorrow no longer seemed like such a big deal.

“Then we’ll keep it here first!”

She immediately fetched a chicken cage, locked the gyrfalcon inside, and brought out medicine and bandages.

The gyrfalcon huddled in the corner of the cage. When Fan Changyu lifted one of its legs to apply medicine and wrap it with gauze, its tiny round eyes were filled with terror, yet it didn’t dare to move at all.

Xie Zheng watched as the bird’s leg was wrapped into something like a rice dumpling, and his eyelid twitched twice.

After finishing everything, Fan Changyu squatted beside the cage, gazing at the gyrfalcon with an expression that mixed pity and the gleam of seeing a hundred taels of silver.

“Tomorrow when I slaughter the pig, I’ll give you some fresh offal to eat.”

The pork had to be kept for sale—the offal could be used as she pleased.

The pig slaughtered today had already had all its offal made into braised dishes.

Before returning to her room, Fan Changyu thought for a moment. The main hall was too cold. She and her younger sister’s room had a heated brick bed, so there was no need for a charcoal brazier there. But Yan Zheng’s injuries were still serious and his body weak, so she had placed a brazier in his room. It was perfect—she could leave the falcon there too.

That was a hundred taels of silver! She absolutely couldn’t let it freeze to death!

So Fan Changyu turned on her heel, picked up the chicken cage and gyrfalcon, and knocked on Xie Zheng’s door.

Regardless of his expression, she placed the cage in the corner of his room.

“It’s cold at night—don’t let this gyrfalcon freeze. I’ll leave it in your room for now.”

Xie Zheng’s gaze swept over the gyrfalcon, cold and shadowed.

“…All right.”

Once the door closed, the gyrfalcon’s beady eyes met its master’s long, narrow, and brooding phoenix eyes. Dragging its trapped leg and drooping its half-bald wings, it trembled all over.

· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The next morning, sure enough, Fan Changyu slaughtered the pig and brought half a leaf of chopped pig’s lung to feed the gyrfalcon.

The weather outside seemed especially cold that day. Snow had nearly piled up to the doorstep. When the door opened, the cold wind rushed in, making one shiver from head to toe. Through the doorway, a neat row of icicles hung under the eaves.

Fan Changyu’s hands were red from the cold. After placing the large bowl of chopped pig’s lungs inside the cage, she rubbed her palms together before saying to the man sitting at the bedside, “Today’s the Great Cold—really freezing. When you get up later, wear more layers. I made máo xue wang¹Máo xue wang: a spicy Sichuan-style dish with offal and blood curd.; eat some to warm yourself up.”

Xie Zheng nodded in acknowledgment. But truthfully, he didn’t have any thick clothes to wear. Before long, Fan Changyu brought over one of her father’s heavy winter jackets for him.

Once he put it on, his figure looked a bit bulky, but since he was tall and well-built, he still appeared handsome.

And the coat truly kept out the cold—no matter how the wind blew, warmth stayed close to his body.

However, along with the coat came a dark blue hair ribbon. Xie Zheng had seen it before—last time, Fan Changyu had tied it around her own head out of anger.

He frowned slightly.

· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

When Fan Changyu came out of the kitchen carrying a large bowl of soup, she saw that he had already risen and washed.

“You’re up? Perfect timing—sit down, let’s eat.”

The surface of the soup gleamed a fiery red, and the air was filled with a domineering fragrance of numbing spice.

Fan Changyu noticed that he hadn’t used the hair ribbon she gave him, but said nothing.

She knew he liked cleanliness. Though it was hard to bathe in winter, he often wiped himself down with hot water every few days. He also washed his hair ribbons frequently—if they took too long to dry, he would even hold them near the fire pit to bake them dry. That was why she had bought him another one to alternate with.

She wasn’t that petty of a person—how could she really refuse to lend it to him?

The bowl she carried was filled to the brim and still piping hot from the pot. After setting it down on the table, she quickly pinched her scalded fingers and blew on them.

“Huuh—so hot!”

Little Changning leaned forward.

“Ning-niang will blow it for you. If I blow, it won’t hurt anymore.”

Fan Changyu couldn’t help laughing, extending her fingers toward her younger sister. Changning puffed out her cheeks and blew several times before stopping.

When Fan Changyu looked up, she found Xie Zheng staring at her with a strange expression. She wiped her face.

“Do I have something on my face?”

He withdrew his gaze.

“No.”

She eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then passed over the bowls and chopsticks.

“Try this xue wang! It tastes best when eaten right after cooking, but there wasn’t time today.”

The surface of the soup was covered with a layer of sizzling peppercorns and dried chili drenched in hot oil. Beneath were chunks of pig’s blood, and slices of braised intestine, tripe, and lung from the previous night. Unfortunately, they had no bean sprouts at home, so the bottom lacked that layer of plump, crisp white sprouts.

Fan Changyu scooped a piece of pig’s blood into her sister’s bowl.

Little Changning inhaled sharply from the spiciness, yet after finishing one piece, she still stared longingly at the bowl.

“More!”

Fan Changyu fished out two more pieces for her.

It was Xie Zheng’s first time seeing such a dish—half soup, half stew. Judging by the look of it, the broth didn’t seem drinkable, and the Fan family didn’t use communal chopsticks.

For regular stir-fried dishes, it was fine—everyone could pick from their side—but with this big pot, it was almost impossible.

While he hesitated, the two sisters had already finished half their bowls of rice. Seeing that he only ate rice and no dishes, Fan Changyu asked curiously, “You don’t eat spicy food?”

“…Not exactly.”

In the end, he set aside his fastidiousness about dining etiquette, furrowed his brows, and picked up a dark red cube of pig’s blood.

The first taste was numbing and fiery. There was no need to chew; a slight press of the tongue and the blood curd melted between his teeth—surprisingly delicious.

He then tried some of the braised offal. Being first braised, then boiled, the aroma of the marinade blended perfectly with the numbing spice—it made it impossible to stop eating.

By the end of the meal, Xie Zheng had almost forgotten he ever had dining scruples.

Just as Fan Changyu said, the heat soon made him sweat, and he no longer felt the slightest chill from the winter outside.

He asked, “Is this a local specialty dish?”

Fan Changyu said, “More or less. It’s one of the signature dishes at Yixiang Tower in town—the lady shopkeeper there knows so many recipes!”

Xie Zheng, who had briefly entertained the idea of introducing the dish to the army, abandoned it at once. Military meals only needed to fill the stomach; they could never achieve such refinement. Moreover, spices like chili and Sichuan peppercorn were quite expensive luxuries.

After cleaning up the bowls and chopsticks, Fan Changyu carried the gyrfalcon from his room to the fireside. Before leaving, she reminded him, “There’s still half a leaf of pig’s lung left in the kitchen. Later, chop it up and feed it to that falcon.”

Scratching her head, she added a little sheepishly, “If you’ve got some time… maybe try training it?”

The lazy glance Xie Zheng cast over at her was sharp as if flaying flesh.

“…All right.”

Inside the cage, the gyrfalcon shivered, shrinking its neck, looking like an oversized quail.

Feeling reassured, Fan Changyu pushed her handcart out toward her shop. The snow was heavy that day; at this hour, there were hardly any pedestrians on the street.

When she reached the butcher’s row, the place was nearly deserted.

After opening her shop door and sweeping away the snow that had piled under the eaves, she discovered that the outdoor stove she had built out of bricks had been smashed to pieces.

She was so furious that she laughed. Her braised meat shop had only been open a few days—someone was already so jealous they had to smash her things?

After what happened with Fan Da and the gambling den, her reputation in town was well established: fierce and hot-tempered. That sort of notoriety had its uses.

Fan Changyu tossed aside her broom, planted her hands on her hips, and bellowed, “Which turtle-spawned bastard smashed your grandaunt’s stove? Got a problem but don’t dare say it to my face, only know how to sneak around doing this kind of thing? Did your ancestors make a living as turtles or what?!”

She had practiced martial arts since childhood; her breath sank deep to her dantian when she cursed, and her voice could pierce the length of the entire street.

The neighboring butchers all kept quiet. Only Butcher Guo, caught under her glare, immediately shouted, “What are you looking at me for? It wasn’t me who smashed it!”

Fan Changyu truly didn’t suspect him—his face showed nothing but gloating amusement, no trace of guilty conscience.

Just then, one of the butchers’ wives seemed to recall something and said suddenly, “Oh no, Changyu, your shop was closed for a month before this, right? Did you forget to pay the protection fee?”

It was the first time Fan Changyu had heard of such a thing.

“What’s that?”

The butcher’s wife sighed.

“When we run a business, besides paying the government tax every month, we’ve also got to offer a bit of money to the gang leader who controls this street. I bet your shop’s been doing too well lately and word got around. If you ask me, those people will probably come by later.”

Fan Changyu now understood. Smashing her stove last night was their warning; today, they’d surely come to collect the so-called protection fee.

After thanking the butcher’s wife, she laid out the fresh meat and braised meat on the counter, then placed a long staff behind the door—ready to sell and ready to fight, whichever came first.

At the third quarter of the hour of Chen [around 8:30 and 9:00 a.m.], a gang of street thugs came swaggering down toward the meat market, loud and unruly. The people along the street quickly moved aside to make way.

Hearing the commotion from inside her shop, Fan Changyu looked out.

Well, well—old acquaintances!

Footnotes

• 1
  Máo xue wang: a spicy Sichuan-style dish with offal and blood curd.