Feng Wanzhen found the girl interesting—sweet-talking, pure-hearted, strong, and efficient at work.
“Don’t forget lunch,” she reminded Aman.
Tu Honglie led Feng Wanzhen away. He heard his wife comment, “That little girl is from out of town, isn’t she?”
From her accent, it was clear Aman wasn’t from Ningzhou. People here spoke with heavy nasal tones and mumbled their words—sometimes Aman couldn’t even understand them.
“If they spoke dialect, I wouldn’t understand a word,” Aman thought.
“Recently, Ningzhou received a batch of exiled criminals. She probably came along with them,” Tu Honglie explained.
“I see she’s not wearing shackles; she must not have committed a serious crime,” Wanzhen observed.
Tu Honglie shook his head. “Not necessarily.”
Maids from rich households who were exiled didn’t wear shackles—they accompanied their masters.
As for which family she belonged to…
Ningzhou frequently received criminals from the capital, a distance of five thousand li. If a family was exterminated, death along the journey was a mercy.
Feng Wanzhen felt a twinge of guilt. “It’s my fault you’ve had to hide in Ningzhou and become a butcher.”
Tu Honglie patted her hand to comfort her. “Don’t think too much. Just live well.”
In chaotic times, peace was all one could ask for. Ordinary people sought stability, whether a lavish feast or simple fare.
Today, Aman’s harvest was plentiful. Previously, pig blood was in demand, but after daily slaughter, fewer people wanted it.
Aman collected a lot of pig blood and cooked it into solid “blood pudding.”
Humans have consumed animal blood since ancient times. The Xiongnu drank horse blood, some even brewed it into wine.
Among common people, blood was typically boiled into blocks—traditional xuewang.
Aman cooked a large pot. The kitchen had all the staples ready; rice mixed with grains was already steaming.
The system announced a new reward unlocked.
Aman quickly checked the interface, only to see mundane items:
“Seasonings?”
“Five jin of rice, five jin of glutinous rice, five jin of flour…”
Aman frowned. The system was stingy.
As soon as the thought crossed her mind, the system chimed:
[Ding——System version too low to provide further assistance. Please continue to be self-sufficient!]
Aman groaned. Worthless!
The system remained silent. Aman sighed—if it had been useful, she wouldn’t have waited twenty years to awaken it.
She had read plenty of transmigration novels; their “golden fingers” were textbook-level. Hers? Sparse, shabby…
Still, this era prized high-quality seasonings. Ordinary people ate plain food, rarely enjoying gourmet dishes. Mountain pepper, for example, was extremely precious.
Perhaps Tu Honglie was in a good mood today—he brought a strip of meat for Aman to cook.
The kitchen had many people; meals were usually simple—sweet potato with coarse rice, a large pot of pickled vegetables with only bits of meat, eaten ravenously.
In this era, simply having enough to eat was a luxury—no one worried about fine dining.
To ensure everyone got meat, slicing wasn’t enough. Aman chopped it all into minced meat, making a large dish of minced meat with Chinese cabbage. Plenty for everyone.
The pig blood had simmered; Aman cut it into strips. With little oil, she relied on spices, filling the kitchen with fragrant aromas that masked the raw smell.
“That little girl really has skill—just the smell of this food makes me salivate,” someone remarked.
The classic way to cook blood pudding was spicy ma-la mao xuewang.
Aman cut the blood into tofu-sized pieces, stir-fried with ginger, garlic, and Sichuan pepper, then simmered in water until the sauce thickened. She garnished it with fresh green scallions. A large basin of spicy blood pudding was ready.
Other dishes were simple—stir-fried potatoes, stir-fried cabbage.
They’d eaten these before, but today the smell was intoxicating.
“Time to eat!”
Everyone had brought their own bowls and chopsticks. Usually, meals were just oil and salt. Today, the spicy blood pudding set their mouths ablaze—but they couldn’t stop eating, hooked on the flavor.
“Miss Aman, how did you cook this blood? We never managed to make it taste this good before!”
“Yes, we’ve tried cooking it ourselves, but it doesn’t compare!”
Of course not—here, only basic ingredients like ginger, garlic, and scallions were available.
Aman also steamed a pot of vegetable-flour cakes. The coarse flour and wild vegetables were refreshing and fragrant.
Blushing slightly, Aman said, “It’s just skill… practice makes perfect.”
Honestly, Aman hadn’t smelled such appetizing aromas in a long time. She sat at one end of the table, eating by herself. She had cut her hair yesterday, pinned it neatly today, looking much more spirited and competent.
“Those innards… no one wants them?”
After the meal, Aman noticed discarded pig innards—liver, heart, lungs.
“These pigs are for the officials—they don’t eat this. We wouldn’t know how to prepare it anyway.”
Soon, they realized Aman had talent.
“Miss Aman, you have ideas?”
Aman nodded. “If prepared carefully, these are all valuable ingredients.”
Previously, they took innards home, but the smell was unbearable. Sometimes officials even returned pigs for having offal odor. Occasionally, someone bought the innards—but the price was low.
“Alright, tomorrow we’ll have you prepare them!”
Aman had earned a good amount today—one hundred wen. She saved some food for Zhao Ye to take back.
Tu Honglie’s stall didn’t sell pork; anyone wanting meat had to go elsewhere.