As night fell, a bonfire was lit in the courtyard.
Wild boar meat, with a perfect balance of lean and fat, was cut into large chunks, skewered on sharpened branches, and roasted over the fire until oil sizzled and dripped down.
Su Qinghe had specially prepared a secret sauce, which she brushed over the skewers.
When cumin and chili powder were sprinkled on top, an intense, mouth-watering aroma instantly filled the entire small courtyard.
“It smells so good!”
Su Qinghe took a bite eagerly. It was so hot that she gasped repeatedly, yet she couldn’t bear to spit it out.
The meat was crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, with juices bursting out with every chew. The unique chewy texture of wild boar, paired with rich spices, made it nothing short of a delicacy on earth.
“Eat slowly.”
Xiao Hanyuan handed her a cup of warm water, looking somewhat amused at her puffed-out cheeks.
He took a skewer for himself and took a bite.
The taste was indeed excellent.
The firelight illuminated their faces, casting a warm and peaceful glow over everything.
Xiao Hanyuan gazed at the woman beside him, while rubbing the ring he had regained after losing it between his fingers. A sense of peace he had never felt before settled in his heart.
Is this what it feels like to have a home?
If he could choose, he would rather live as a simple villager for the rest of his life, as long as she was by his side.
“Husband, this meat is delicious. You should eat more too.” Su Qinghe held up a freshly roasted skewer to his mouth.
Xiao Hanyuan took a bite from her hand, his eyes fixed deeply on her.
“Yes, it’s delicious.”
Su Qinghe grew a little shy under his gaze. She lowered her head and gnawed on the bone in her hand, while her mind raced with plans.
With this wild boar, and now that the ring had been bought back, life ahead should become much easier.
After they had eaten and drunk their fill, Su Qinghe picked up a bamboo basket and went out.
The basket was filled with neatly cut pieces of wild boar meat—lean and fat perfectly combined—glistening temptingly under the moonlight.
She delivered the meat to the village chief’s family, Aunt Hua’s home, and every household that had worked for her in the village; no one was left out.
“Oh, Qinghe, this is far too kind of you!” Aunt Hua beamed so widely that her eyes crinkled into slits as she looked at the piece of pork belly weighing nearly two catties. “You girl, you’re like our village’s little lucky star now! From now on, I’ll stick by you and follow your lead!”
“You flatter me, Auntie. This is just a small token of appreciation.” Su Qinghe replied with a bright smile. She knew well how to navigate human relationships and social norms—things given freely often carried the greatest value. A little meat like this bought her a good reputation throughout the village, and made everyone more willing to follow her with confidence. It was well worth it.
She finished making her rounds and had just reached the big pagoda tree at the village entrance when she ran into two troublemakers.
Su Daqiang and his wife Wang were hiding in the shadows of the tree. They sniffed the rich scent of meat lingering in the air, swallowing their saliva again and again, consumed by greed.
“Qinghe…” Wang, sitting in a wheelchair, forced a smile that looked more sorrowful than a frown. “Auntie saw you giving meat to Aunt Hua. We share the same family name Su, after all. How come you’d rather give it to outsiders than save a bit for your own kin?”
Su Qinghe stopped in her tracks, looking at this ridiculous pair with an amused glint in her eyes.
“Is your memory as short as a goldfish’s—only seven seconds long?” She shook the empty bamboo basket in her hand. “Just yesterday you were swearing to fight me to the death, and today you expect to eat my meat? Is your skin really thicker than a pig’s?”
“You—!” Wang choked with anger. “I am your elder! What’s wrong with asking for a bite of your meat? It means I hold you in high regard!”
“Please, keep that kind of ‘high regard’ for someone else.” Su Qinghe sneered, her voice clear and sharp. “If I feed my meat to a dog, at least I’ll get a bark out of it. But giving it to you two? It’s like throwing meat buns to ungrateful wolves. You’d bite me back and complain the filling wasn’t tasty enough. I’m no saint; I won’t do business that brings me nothing but loss.”
The villagers who hadn’t yet dispersed burst out laughing when they heard this.
“Exactly! Wang, have you no sense of shame left?”
“She only just tried to extort money from you yesterday, and today she comes begging for food—nothing tops that!”
“Qinghe is absolutely right. Giving anything to people like them is a total waste!”
Public opinion was clearly on Su Qinghe’s side. Wang had no words to retort. Her swollen face turned purple, like an overripe eggplant.
Su Daqiang, who had been silent all this time, finally lost his temper.
Seeing everyone else happy and feasting on meat while he could only stand there with nothing, the gap between their situations broke his last bit of self-control.
“All you do is cry! Cry, cry, cry! If it weren’t for those stupid ideas you came up with, would we be in this mess?” Su Daqiang slapped the back of Wang’s head hard.
“You dare hit me?” Wang’s eyes widened in disbelief. Then, like a firecracker just lit, she exploded. “Su Daqiang, you heartless brute! Where were you when they were seizing our chestnuts? Why didn’t you stop them then? Now that we can’t get any meat, you blame everything on me? What kind of man are you anyway?”
“I’ll hit you all you want, you bad luck charm!”
“I’ll fight you to the death!”
The two began wrestling wildly under the pagoda tree—pulling each other’s hair, scratching faces, spitting insults and curses at one another.
“Just like two dogs biting each other, both ending up with a mouthful of fur.” The villagers watched the show with great interest, as if they were waiting to pull out sunflower seeds and snack while watching.
Su Qinghe couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to this farce. She turned around and walked away.
When she got back to the small courtyard, peace and quiet finally returned.
Xiao Hanyuan was crouching by the well, sorting through a pile of pig offal.
His brows were tightly furrowed, his expression more serious than if he had been facing thousands of troops. He held a string of slippery, smelly pig intestines in his hand, and was about to throw them into the slop bucket.
“Don’t throw them away!”
Su Qinghe hurried over and snatched the intestines from his hand. “These are great things! You can’t throw them out!”
Xiao Hanyuan stared at the slimy mass in her hand, his handsome face twitching slightly in disgust. “Great things?”
Su Qinghe curved her lips into a smile. “Of course they are! Just wait and see. Tomorrow I’ll make you braised intestines in brown sauce, dry pot intestines, and stir-fried intestines!”
Every logical part of his mind told him these things were disgusting. But looking at her bright, sparkling eyes, the words of refusal died on his tongue, turning into soft agreement.
“Fine.” He sighed helplessly and took the intestines from her hand. “I’ll wash them.”
“You’re the best, husband!” Su Qinghe beamed, her eyes curving like crescent moons. “Tomorrow, I promise to open up a whole new world for you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you—you’ll fall into the ‘it’s actually delicious’ trap and won’t be able to escape!”
Xiao Hanyuan didn’t quite understand what she meant by “it’s actually delicious”, but as he looked at her bright, lively smile in the lamplight, something soft deep in his heart was gently touched, like a cat’s paw brushing lightly against it.
Oh well.
Just let her be.
As long as it wouldn’t poison anyone to death, it was fine.
Meanwhile, in an unassuming tea house in town.
Chief Constable Zhao sat in a corner, holding a scroll of painting in his hand.
Sitting across from him was an elderly man with a goatee—the old painter he had invited all the way from the county seat.
“Well? Does it look like him?” Chief Constable Zhao asked eagerly.
The old painter narrowed his eyes and studied the portrait on the scroll carefully. Then he nodded. “Based on the facial features you described, I’ve done my best to recreate his appearance. Those eyes, that bearing… he’s definitely not someone who will remain in a humble position forever.”
Unrolled, the painting revealed a portrait of Xiao Hanyuan.
Although it was done only in ink and wash, the cold, stern, and intimidating aura he carried was vividly captured on paper.
Chief Constable Zhao looked at the painting and smiled in satisfaction.
“Good! Very well done!”
He rolled the painting back up, tossed a silver ingot to the painter, and warned:
“Forget everything about this. Not a word of this to anyone, do you understand?”
The old painter took the money and left quickly, nodding obsequiously.