After rendering the lard, it was finally time for the part Jian Jia had been looking forward to most: the braised pork. Heaven only knew how long she had craved this. Since crossing over, she had not yet been able to devour pork in large bites. The rich, tender, sizzling, and aromatic braised pork offered a satisfaction unlike anything else.
The pot that had been used for rendering lard still retained a bit of oil and was hot. Jian Jia tossed in a small handful of rock sugar to make caramel.
In Great Jing, sugar was more valuable than salt. Due to technological limitations, there was no pure white sugar yet, only reddish sugar bricks and yellowish rock sugar. The sugar Qin Yi had bought was the latter. On close inspection, impurities could be seen within.
The solid rock sugar cracked as it hit the hot oil. The larger pieces shattered into smaller ones, which gradually melted and fused with the oil. The mixture thickened, and once the sugar had fully dissolved, Jian Jia stirred it slowly with a spatula, carefully watching the color of the syrup.
Qin Yi stood once more at the stove, glancing at the syrup and then at Jian Jia. Before he could ask, she spoke first. “I’m making caramel. The sugar is added to hot oil and heated until it turns brown. That’s when we add the meat. The color of the pork will be beautiful.”
While stirring, Jian Jia explained the points to watch for when making caramel. Qin Yi listened attentively, his brow slightly raised. He had underestimated Jian Jia earlier. Though she seemed delicate, she actually knew quite a lot. For instance, he had never heard of these techniques for caramel, much less the precautions involved.
Jian Jia quickly adjusted to having Qin Yi as her “student.” Since he was genuinely interested in learning to cook, she would not hold back. She believed that teaching by doing was more effective than repeating instructions a thousand times, and when conditions allowed, she would give him the chance to practice.
As the temperature rose, the syrup gradually changed from pale yellow to reddish-brown, with fine bubbles forming throughout. At this point, the caramel was ready. If it cooked further, the meat would turn bitter.
“Hand me the cut pork belly,” Jian Jia instructed.
Qin Yi hurried to the side table, lifting the wide chopping board piled with neatly cut pork belly pieces. The young wild boar’s belly was only an inch thick. The skin was thick, but the ratio of lean meat to fat was higher. Dark-red lean layers interspersed with white fat, creating an exceptionally beautiful appearance.
“The meat can go in the pot.” It was a satisfying feeling to have someone lend a hand. Jian Jia tapped the spatula against the pan and nodded. “In.”
Qin Yi pushed the pork from the board into the pan. The sizzle filled the air as bluish smoke rose. The edges of the meat began to change color, the dark-red lean turning pale. The caramel’s effect became clear. After a few stirs, each piece was evenly coated with the glossy, brown sugar glaze.
Jian Jia had initially thought adding caramel would be enough, but she poured in white wine along the pan edges and added two small spoons of soy sauce. Qin Yi looked puzzled. “The caramel…”
Jian Jia explained, “The caramel only improves the color. It does not add flavor. The soy sauce gives the meat saltiness and umami.”
Shaoxing wine and ginger remove the gaminess, star anise and bay leaves enhance the aroma… every ingredient had its purpose. Qin Yi touched his chin and, with a serious expression, memorized every seasoning. Jian Jia twitched her lips. Watching him, it felt less like cooking braised pork and more like conducting a secret experiment in a laboratory.
After thorough stirring, the meat turned a rich reddish-brown, interspersed with slices of ginger, bay leaves, and star anise. Jian Jia uncovered the smallest kettle on the stove, usually used to heat water. With the stove in use for so long, the water had already boiled. She ladled some into the big pot until the meat was just submerged, then covered it to let the flavors meld.
The farmhouse stove was built from earth and stone. The top was covered with a black stone slab. It was the most practical part of the house but also the easiest to get messy. During the oil rendering and frying, oil inevitably splashed onto the edges of the pot.
Jian Jia liked cleaning as she cooked. After taking over the Qin family stove, she immediately replaced the grimy old cloth with two clean white cotton rags. White was the hardest color to keep clean, but it was also the best indicator of cleanliness.
The aroma of meat mixed with oil rose from the pot. Wisps of steam lazily circled above the stove before drifting out the large window. Jian Jia held a cloth, methodically wiping the stone slab until it gleamed like smooth ink jade.
Qin Yi wanted to help but did not know how, so he stepped back, watching her work. Jian Jia wore a deep-blue skirt, simple local fabric, yet it looked especially elegant on her. His gaze shifted from her hands to her arms and then to her hair.
The white gardenia in her hair swayed slightly with her movements. Qin Yi could not help but glance twice.
As Jian Jia cleaned the stove, she asked him, “Could you help slice the pig liver into thin pieces for lunch? Let’s do a quick stir-fry.” Such fine knife skills would be wasted otherwise.
Qin Yi lowered his eyes and said softly, “All right.”
Because he had always been weak, Qin Lang could not eat many things as a child. Eating the wrong food could result in vomiting, diarrhea, or even being bedridden. The crisp cracklings were delicious on their own, requiring no seasoning. This was a flavor he had never experienced. Carefully, he picked three pieces that looked best, placing them in a small bowl, and sat on a little stool.
Holding a golden piece, Qin Lang nibbled carefully with his fine teeth, savoring the aroma. Eating this way, each piece lasted a long time.
Watching him so absorbed, General could not bear it. At first, the dog sat attentively, eyes fixed on its master, hoping for a piece. But as time passed and the little master ignored it, drooling on the floor, General became restless.
“Whimper, whimper,” the dog cried, trying to catch Qin Lang’s attention.
Qin Lang glanced sideways. That single glance was a signal. The dog grinned, panting happily, wagging its large tail rhythmically. Qin Lang noticed a subtle sense of mischief.
Suddenly, General moved.
The large black dog leapt to Qin Lang’s side, and before he could react, snatched the remaining two cracklings with its tongue, devouring them in one bite.
It whined with joy, tail blurring as it wagged.
It was so delicious.
The meat was stolen by skill, and the dog loved it.
Qin Lang stared at the empty bowl in disbelief. “Gone? All gone?”
The dog, still unsatisfied, licked its lips and slyly eyed the piece Qin Lang was still holding. Pretending to be gentle, it licked his fingers. Qin Lang softened, thinking the dog was apologizing. The next second, it snatched the remaining piece, yipping joyfully as it leapt away.
This was General’s second piece, earned by skill.
The cold wind carried dampness, smearing Qin Lang’s face. Watching the dog’s round rear, he bit his lip, trying to control his frustration.
“Waaah!”
Unable to hold back, Qin Lang bawled over the empty bowl. “The dog stole my cracklings, waaah!”
Qin Yi paused, surprised. It had been a long time since he had seen Qin Lang cry like this.
In ordinary families, brothers were usually close in age, but Qin Yi and Qin Lang were an exception. Qin Lang was a late-born child. When Qin Yi was twelve, Qin Lang was just born. At first, Qin Yi did not like having a younger brother.
To him, Qin Lang was spoiled, crying when hungry or tired, and screaming when hurt. By then, Qin Yi could hunt alone, while his little brother was still learning to walk and speak. Being stuck at home to care for Qin Lang had been the greatest torment.
Later, the authorities notified the family to send someone for military service. Though reluctant, Qin Yi went. He left when Qin Lang was under two. He did not remember his parents’ words at that time, only the image of a tear-streaked little brother clinging to his leg, muttering, “Brother, don’t go.”
Four years in the army, risking life and limb, Qin Yi had expected to return with military honors, only to hear of his mother’s death and father’s illness. When he finally returned, the vast house held only Qin Lang.
He remembered seeing his young brother then: pale-faced, head down, too timid even to meet his eyes. The years apart had made them strangers. The once tearful little boy had grown into someone unrecognizable, quiet and obedient.
Qin Yi put down the knife and hurried out of the kitchen, feeling a pang of concern for his red-faced, crying brother. He shot General a reproachful glance and pointed to the corner. General whimpered and tucked itself into a small, cautious curl.
After settling the dog, Qin Yi wiped Qin Lang’s tears with his sleeve. “Don’t cry. I’ve scolded General. There’s plenty of cracklings in the bowl. Here, I’ll give you some.”
Qin Lang’s tears flowed even more with the gentle voice and touch. His little body pressed into his elder brother’s arms, crying freely.
Qin Yi awkwardly held his brother, realizing that this outburst was not just about the stolen cracklings. It seemed to release all the unspoken grievances and bitterness he had endured.
Usually, Qin Lang’s voice was soft. He rarely expressed his needs or grievances. Aside from crying over selling Junjun a few days ago, this was only the second time Qin Yi had heard him cry since returning home.
It was also the first time Qin Yi realized his brother was still a child. Qin Lang had not truly matured but had been pretending to be strong before their stern elder brother after their parents’ deaths.