The rich, bold aroma of rendered pork fat spread like an invisible hand, drifting out of the Wang family courtyard and, carried by the autumn breeze, slipping through the gaps of neighbors’ doors and windows.
First, Aunt Zhao next door, who was mending shoe soles, sniffed the air.
Her nose twitched as the scent reached her.
She couldn’t resist putting down her work and pushing open the gate to peek.
“Huh? Whose house is rendering fat? Smells this good!”
Then, Sun Da-niang from the east end of the village, carrying a basket on her way to the vegetable patch, stopped in her tracks, captivated by the unusual aroma.
“Wow, how much fat did they render? Wang the hunter’s house? Impossible… he’s always so frugal…”
Curiosity rippled through the village.
Soon, seeing the Wang family gate open, people coming and going, and catching faint sounds of conversation and the distinct scent of pork, everyone realized—
Wang Dashan had bagged a big one and was now processing it at home!
The first to lose patience was Old Qian, who lived not far off.
Supporting himself on his cane, he slowly made his way to the Wang courtyard, craned his neck to look inside—and, well, what a sight!
Wooden racks held deep red slabs of wild pig meat, glistening with fat, alternating lean and fatty portions, looking solid and firm.
At the kitchen door, Li Lanxiang carefully ladled golden, still-hot lard into a large clay jar. The oil shone clear, its fragrance overwhelming.
“From the Dashans,” Old Qian cleared his throat and stepped into the courtyard, eyes scanning the meat.
“I hear you bagged a wild pig? This meat… is it for sale?”
Li Lanxiang looked up at the voice, set down the ladle, wiped her hands, and walked over.
She glanced at Wang Dashan splitting wood in the yard, then smiled at Old Qian.
“Qian, you’re the first to ask. We do have meat, just processed. Would you like to buy some?”
“Of course!”
Old Qian smacked his lips.
“Autumn’s chill is coming; you need some fat in your belly. This wild pork looks excellent. How much?”
Li Lanxiang didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she turned to Wang Dashan.
“Dashan, what’s the price for pork in town right now?”
Wang Dashan paused in his chopping, straightened, thought for a moment, then answered gruffly:
“I asked. Belly meat twenty-five wen per jin, lean meat fifteen wen, big bones and offal cheaper, seven or eight wen.”
That was the town price, wholesale to butchers.
Selling in the village would typically fetch slightly less, since it saves travel and potential losses—but not by much.
Li Lanxiang nodded, then returned to Old Qian.
“Qian, you’re the first to ask. We’re neighbors, no need to exaggerate. This wild pig meat is firmer and more flavorful than domestic. Town price is twenty-five wen for belly meat; I’ll give it to you at twenty wen per jin, and lean meat at ten wen. How’s that?”
Twenty wen?
A full five wen cheaper than the town price!
Old Qian’s eyes lit up. Wild pork was rougher, but rich in fat; stewed, it would be even more delicious. The price was more than fair.
“Deal! Give me two jin… no, three jin of belly meat! Make sure it’s the fatty parts!”
He immediately decided.
Li Lanxiang agreed cheerfully and had Wang Dashan cut the meat for him.
Dashan’s knife fell with precision, slicing off over three jin of prime belly meat, wrapped in dried lotus leaves.
Old Qian counted sixty copper coins, beaming as he carried the meat away.
The news spread like wildfire.
Soon, two or three more villagers, drawn by the scent and commotion, arrived.
Hearing that belly meat cost only twenty wen, far cheaper than the town, they were tempted.
This one wanted two jin, that one three, and some sought lean meat for dumplings.
Li Lanxiang welcomed everyone, Wang Dashan cut the meat, and she weighed it, collected payment, and wrapped it neatly in lotus or clean leaves.
Her hands were nimble, accounts clear, her face warm and smiling.
Occasionally she chatted with familiar women: “The fat rendered nicely,” or “Cleaned intestines make great radish stew.”
Wang Dashan quietly cut the meat, occasionally glancing at the busy Li Lanxiang, his expression complex.
He had planned to take the whole pig to town, even if he got a lower price, it would be simpler, and the money came all at once.
He hadn’t expected her to insist on processing it herself—or to sell in the village so efficiently at a better price than he imagined.
Watching her interact with the villagers, so confident and natural, it seemed as if it were meant to be this way.
The wild pork visibly diminished.
By late afternoon, as the sun leaned west and the courtyard grew quiet, less than a hundred jin of meat remained on the racks.
Most were hind legs, front shanks, and some ribs. The best belly and tenderloin sold fastest.
Satisfied, the villagers departed, leaving a lingering aroma of fat and meat, but also a calm after the bustle.
Wang Shizhu helped count the copper coins—nearly seven hundred!
And that didn’t even include the lard they saved, the cleaned offal, and a dried wild pig hide ready for sale.
Li Lanxiang looked at the golden coins, then at the remaining meat on the rack, and for the first time since her rebirth, a true, relaxed, even slightly cunning smile spread across her face.
“This,” she said, pointing to the remaining meat, “we’ll keep for ourselves. Eat it slowly, cure some, and we’ll even have meat smell in the house for the New Year.”
Wang Dashan looked at her smile, dazzling in the sunset glow.
He remembered her saying she “didn’t want to live on a little fat anymore,” remembered her insistence on processing the pig herself, remembered how sharp and decisive she had been selling the meat…
Indeed, she was different now.
But this difference brought real fat and coins into the household, making the coming winter seem less harsh.
He lowered his head, continued tidying the mess on the ground, and muttered a low, “Hmm.”
The “hmm” carried little emotion, but Li Lanxiang felt—more than ever—a sense of grounded satisfaction.