Morning light once again illuminated the small courtyard, and the air still carried faint traces of the meat scent from yesterday’s pig slaughter.
The bloodstains and debris on the ground had been cleaned, leaving only the rows of wild pork hanging under the eaves to air-dry and the eye-catching jar of golden lard in the kitchen.
Li Lanxiang rose early, taking the two pork shank bones with plenty of meat left on them from yesterday, along with a roughly five-jin slab of prime belly meat.
She carefully wrapped them in dried lotus leaves and tied them securely with straw ropes.
She handed the bundle to Wang Shizhu, who was preparing to go chop firewood in the back mountain.
“Shizhu, don’t go chopping wood today. Take this to your sister, Xiaocao,” Li Lanxiang instructed, her voice calm.
“Just tell her our family got a wild pig, and we’re sending her a little something. Let her feel respected at her in-laws’ place too.”
Wang Shizhu froze for a moment as he took the heavy bundle.
In his memories, their mother always thought of her married daughters, but she had never been so generous as to send meat and bones outright—especially to a younger sister who lived far away, across two mountains.
He didn’t ask further, just nodded, solid and simple.
“Alright, I’ll go.”
“Be careful on the way. Go early and come back early,” Li Lanxiang reminded him again.
Once Shizhu left, Li Lanxiang returned indoors and carefully counted the more than seven hundred copper coins earned from selling meat yesterday, adding the small savings the family already had.
Then she took out a sturdy old cloth bag and placed some loose silver coins and several hundred copper coins inside.
She walked over to Wang Dashan, who was sharpening his hunting knife in the yard.
“Dashan, come with me to town today.”
Wang Dashan paused, looked up at her, a questioning glint in his eyes.
After yesterday’s wild pig ordeal, now she wanted to go to town?
Usually, for household shopping, they either sent someone or he went himself on the way; she rarely went in person.
“We need to buy some things,” Li Lanxiang said, shaking the bag of coins slightly.
“We’re low on salt, need to restock rice and flour. And there are some other things to take care of.”
Seeing her resolve, Wang Dashan didn’t argue. He nodded, went inside to change into a tidier set of old clothes, and retrieved the large back basket that could carry quite a lot.
They locked the courtyard door, reminded Shizhu to listen to his sister-in-law and feed the chickens and pigs, then the couple set off along the mountain path toward town.
The mountain path was rugged. Li Lanxiang walked slowly; Wang Dashan did not urge her, silently walking slightly ahead of her side.
At difficult spots, he would stop to wait or reach out to support her.
The town, more lively than the village near the mountains, had streets paved with bluestone, lined with shops of all kinds. Wine banners fluttered, people passed constantly, bargaining and shouting, while the air carried a mixture of scents—freshly baked biscuits, the bitterness of herbal shops, the dye of cloth shops, and the faint stench of livestock markets.
Li Lanxiang went straight to a grain and salt store.
The shop was stacked with goods. Snow-white refined salt was kept in narrow-mouthed porcelain jars, priced at one hundred wen per jin. Beside it, coarse grayish salt was far cheaper, twenty wen per jin.
“Shopkeeper, ten jin of coarse salt,” Li Lanxiang said without hesitation.
Refined salt was better, but now was not the time to fuss—coarse salt would suffice for curing meat and cooking.
The shopkeeper looked a little surprised; the woman looked ordinary but spoke with authority. Ten jin of coarse salt would cost two hundred wen.
Still, he weighed the salt efficiently, wrapping it in thick oiled paper in two packages.
Next was white flour.
Fine, snow-white premium flour, twenty wen per jin.
Li Lanxiang checked the money bag, bit her lip, and said,
“Twenty jin.”
Even Wang Dashan turned his head slightly.
Twenty jin of flour—that was four hundred wen. Combined with the salt, six hundred wen had gone.
Though the family had just received money from the wild pig, spending this much…
He moved his lips but swallowed his words, silently watching as the shop assistant loaded twenty jin of flour into his large back basket, making it much heavier.
Li Lanxiang seemed not to notice his glance and asked the shopkeeper for half a jin of soy sauce, half a jin of vinegar, and a small half-jin bag of white sugar.
Sugar was precious; this small bag cost another few dozen wen.
Leaving the grain and salt shop, Li Lanxiang kept moving, leading Wang Dashan into a quieter side street to a pharmacy under the sign “Renxin Hall.”
The shop smelled strongly of bitter herbs. Behind the counter sat an elderly man wearing glasses.
“Madam, looking for medicine?” the old man asked, raising his eyebrows.
“No, I’m not here for medicine. I want spices,” Li Lanxiang said, moving to the counter and scanning the drawers filled with various herbs.
“Spices?”
The old man looked puzzled. A pharmacy naturally carried herbs usable as spices, but it was rare for a woman to come specifically for that.
“Yes. Star anise, cinnamon, Sichuan pepper, bay leaves, fennel… If you have tsaoko or cardamom, I need some of those too.”
Li Lanxiang listed the ingredients, all necessary for enhancing the flavor and masking gaminess in stews.
Yesterday she had found cinnamon in the mountains, but the others were still needed.
The old man finally understood and looked her over again.
This woman spoke clearly and knew exactly what she wanted—not like an ordinary village housewife.
He got up, opened several drawers, and retrieved dried star anise, Sichuan pepper, and bay leaves. From a smaller drawer, he picked a few tsaoko and cardamom pods.
“These aren’t expensive herbs, but they’re not cheap either. How much do you need?”
Li Lanxiang carefully inspected the quality: two liang of star anise, three liang of Sichuan pepper, one liang of bay leaves, one liang of fennel seeds, a few tsaoko and cardamom pods each.
She had cinnamon already, so didn’t buy more. The total cost was over a hundred wen.
She carefully wrapped each spice in oiled paper and placed them in her small cloth bag. With that done, she finally exhaled.
By the time they left the pharmacy, the sun was high.
Wang Dashan’s back basket, loaded with salt, flour, soy sauce, vinegar, sugar, and spices, was heavy and cumbersome.
Carrying the unusual weight, he looked at Li Lanxiang walking ahead, her steps light, her side profile calm and focused in the sunlight.
He still said nothing, only adjusted the straps on the basket and silently followed.
The return along the mountain path seemed longer.
Yet Li Lanxiang’s heart was filled with a strange satisfaction.
Salt—life’s foundation.Flour—a rare treat to look forward to.Soy sauce, vinegar, sugar—magical touches to enhance every meal.The spices—her secret weapons, preparing to navigate this winter and the months ahead.
The heavy basket on Wang Dashan’s shoulders also felt like a weight on Li Lanxiang’s heart, but it was not a burden—rather, a tangible, graspable glimpse of the future.
She glanced back at her silent husband; sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on him.