After a long silence, Wang Dashan, before going to sleep, quietly pulled the cold-sensitive Li Lanxiang into his arms, holding her a little tighter than usual.
He didn’t ask.
Perhaps, some answers don’t need words.
After a nearly luxurious dinner, the satisfied burps and the soft clatter of tidying up echoed through the main room.
The oil lamp cast the family’s shadows onto the walls, flickering with a warm, cozy glow.
But Li Lanxiang didn’t stop.
She looked at the half-empty bowl of braised pork sauce on the table, then at the remaining wild pork hanging under the eaves—less than a hundred jin—and her mind already had a clear plan.
Fresh meat was delicious, but it wouldn’t last long.
Winter in the mountain village was long and bitterly cold, and storing food was a top priority.
Most households simply salted and air-dried meat to make salted pork. It could be preserved, but the texture was hard and overly salty; eating too much would be unpleasant.
What she wanted wasn’t just ordinary salted meat.
“Dashan, Tiezhu, Shizhu, don’t just sit there. Come help me,” Li Lanxiang said, rolling up her sleeves, her tone crisp and authoritative.
“We’re going to process all this meat tonight.”
Wang Dashan looked at her in mild surprise.
After such a big meal, she wanted to keep working?
But seeing her serious expression, he didn’t ask and silently stood.
Wang Tiezhu and Wang Shizhu responded enthusiastically—they had been completely won over by their mother’s skills and were eager to show their usefulness.
Li Lanxiang directed them to first take down all the pork hanging under the eaves.
She sorted the hind legs, forelimbs, and ribs carefully.
She also took out the pig intestines she had cleaned earlier—essential for making sausages.
The first step was curing the meat.
She brought out a newly prepared ceramic jar filled with bright white salt, then the sugar purchased in the afternoon, and the spices—Sichuan pepper, star anise, and the like—which she carefully ground with a small stone mortar into coarsely textured powder.
“Mother, so much sugar and spices? That’s expensive!” Wang Shizhu said, watching her generously rub sugar and spice onto the meat, feeling a pang of worry.
Salt was one thing, but sugar and spices had cost real money.
“If you want it to taste good, you have to be generous,” Li Lanxiang said, her hands moving without pause, rubbing the mixture of salt, sugar, and spices evenly into every piece of meat, especially the thick portions and the gaps in the ribs.
Wild pork had coarse fibers and needed careful massage to absorb flavor.
“Cure the meat well, hang it to air-dry and smoke slowly. That’s how the flavor penetrates and preservation lasts,” she explained.
Wang Dashan watched her skilled hands and complex spice mix, eyes darkening slightly.
This was not the usual method of village women.
Still, he remained silent, following her instructions, threading the seasoned meat onto straw ropes and hanging them back under the eaves in the ventilated area.
This time, the meat was hung more neatly, with enough space between each piece.
Next came the main task—making sausages.
Li Lanxiang cut part of the meat into strips about the thickness of a finger, adding some small cubes of fat.
She mixed them with salt, sugar, spice powder, and a little soy sauce and rice wine, marinating briefly.
One end of the cleaned intestine was tied with thin string, the other fitted over a cleaned bamboo tube.
Using chopsticks, she carefully stuffed the meat mixture into the casing, smoothing and pressing as she went to avoid air pockets.
Once a segment was full, she tied it off with string, forming plump sausage sections.
She then pricked small holes in the casing to release extra air and moisture.
The process was tedious and required patience.
Li Lanxiang worked meticulously, while Wang Tiezhu and Wang Shizhu watched, helping pass string and needles, their eyes full of fascination.
Wang Dashan hung the finished sausages alongside the cured meat and ribs under the eaves.
Moonlight spilled into the courtyard, illuminating the rows of meat gradually absorbing the marinade, swaying slightly in the night wind.
The air carried a rich mix of spices, faint wine aroma, and meat scent—a prelude to the deep flavors that would develop over time.
Li Lanxiang tied the last segment of sausage and stretched her slightly sore waist with a long exhale.
Looking at the almost fully hung eaves, a surge of accomplishment filled her heart.
This meat was no longer perishable fresh meat; through time and flavor, it would accompany them through the long winter—
The savory, firm cured meat; the rich, flavorful sausages; the ribs whose taste deepened with each chew.
“All done. Everything’s taken care of,” she said, clapping her hands and addressing the three men who were still staring at their “work” in awe.
“The rest… we leave to the wind, the sun, and… the smoke from our stove.”
Wang Shizhu swallowed, already imagining how the sausages would look shiny and fragrant when steamed and sliced.
“Mother, will this really taste better than salted meat?”
“Yes, much better,” Li Lanxiang nodded firmly, then added in a serious tone:
“But we can’t touch it yet. At least a month must pass for the flavor to mature. In the meantime, watch out for flies, cats, and mice.”
“Yes, mother!” Wang Shizhu replied, loud and resolute—at that moment, his mother’s words felt more binding than any royal decree.
Wang Dashan checked the hanging meat one last time, ensuring it was secure, then turned back toward the house.
Passing Li Lanxiang, he paused slightly, letting his gaze linger on her exhausted yet satisfied face, and murmured,
“It’s late. Rest now.”
His voice remained low and calm, betraying little emotion.
But Li Lanxiang felt that it carried something different—less curiosity or distance than before, more depth, more quiet.
“Mm,” she answered, following him indoors.
Lying down, Wang Dashan habitually pulled her into his warmth.
The autumn night was chilly; his chest was broad and warm.
Li Lanxiang didn’t stiffen as she once had, only leaned in naturally, closing her eyes.
Her nose still caught the lingering scent of spices and meat, her ears attuned to the steady heartbeat of the man beside her.
Her body was tired, but her heart felt full and grounded.