Mount Siwang had two or three patches of bamboo groves, but even these were almost depleted by the villagers.
After lunch, the Yan family didn’t go back up the mountain. After a short rest, Yan Zihao set off for town.
The manager of Futian Tavern, upon hearing that they weren’t bringing bamboo shoots anymore, didn’t say much, only telling him that if they found anything good in the future, they should send it over. Yan Zihao readily agreed.
At the South Market, many small vendors came in the early morning and usually left around noon. Now, most of the remaining vendors were locals, including an uncle who sold pork.
“Ah, it’s you again! What do you want this time?” the pork-seller uncle asked, smiling when he saw Yan Zihao.
It wasn’t strange that he remembered him. Pork offal smelled strong and usually few people bought it, yet Yan Zihao had bought a whole batch that very morning. The uncle was impressed.
Yan Zihao asked, “Do you still have pork offal? I want two batches.”
“You want more?” the uncle asked in surprise.
Thinking of running a long-term business at home, Yan Zihao said, “Yes, we want to start a business at home. If possible, save all the pork offal for me in the future.”
“Sure! No one really wants this stuff anyway. If you take it all, I can give it to you cheaper.”
“Thank you,” Yan Zihao said.
Originally, one batch of pork offal cost 35 wen. Since Yan Zihao wanted more, the uncle reduced the price by 5 wen per batch—30 wen each. Paying the money, Yan Zihao carried the pork offal back home. Passing by a pastry shop, he also bought a few green bean cakes for Lu Qingran.
The smell of the raw pork offal was strong. Anyone walking nearby quickly stepped aside to avoid it.
At the town gate, Old Wang, who drove a cattle cart, was returning and called out when he saw Yan Zihao.
“Yan family’s eldest son, hurry up!”
There were five people on the cart, all from Lu’s village. Yan Zihao quickened his pace, stopping about 50 meters away, and said, “Grandpa Wang, no need, I’ll walk back.”
“It’s fine, I won’t take your money. Come on, hop on!” Old Wang said.
Yan Zihao shook his head, stepped a little closer, and held up the offal for him to see.
Immediately, the people on the cart all covered their noses, looking disgusted. Though Old Wang himself didn’t mind, he had to consider his passengers and didn’t push further.
Yan Zihao briskly walked away with the pork offal. The people on the cart whispered among themselves.
“What’s going on? Didn’t they say the Yan family got rich?”
“Yeah, my kids even earned a hundred wen recently by following them to dig bamboo shoots!”
“If they’re making money, why are they eating this stuff?” a woman asked.
The Yan family eating pork offal quickly spread through Lu’s village. Most villagers were puzzled, while the old Yan family, Lu Qingqing, and Yao Shi felt disdain.
The Yan family paid them no mind—they were busy cleaning the pork intestines.
They only had one water bucket, so to save time, Yan Zihao and Yan Ziyi took their own buckets to Lu Zhong’s house.
“Zihao, Ziyi, why are you here? Looking for Uncle Zhong? He’s in the fields,” asked Liu Zhaodi, Zhong’s wife.
“Ah, aunt, I know he’s in the fields. We just want to borrow your water buckets for a bit.”
“Sure! They’re in the kitchen. Take them yourself. By the way, Zihao, why didn’t you go up the mountain?” Liu Zhaodi asked, thinking of her two boys.
“The bamboo shoots in the grove aren’t many. We’ll leave some for everyone. Shuanzi and the other kids are with the villagers—they’ll be fine,” Yan Zihao replied.
Hearing this, Liu Zhaodi couldn’t help but admire the Yan family’s kindness.
After carrying four loads of water, Yan Zihao and Yan Ziyi finally stopped to rest. Villagers resting under the big tree whispered and commented among themselves.
Since they had to wake up early the next day, the Yan family ate dinner early and all went to bed. Lu Qingran pretended to go to the toilet but quietly entered the kitchen, putting the cleaned pork offal into her space’s refrigerator.
The next day, before the chickens crowed, the Yan family was up. Lu Qingran quickly rushed to the kitchen, and under puzzled eyes, discreetly took the pork offal out, putting it back in place. She also retrieved an extra large intestine from her storage.
The Yan family had only one stove, which they would use to cook braised pork offal. The previous night, Yan Mother had steamed two baskets of buns so that once the offal was ready, the family could eat them with the buns for breakfast.
By chen hour, the aroma of braised pork offal wafted ten li away. The Yan family served themselves, grabbing buns, and began breakfast. Villagers passing by on their way to the fields or mountains were all drawn in by the smell.
“Mom, it smells so good! I want meat too,” a child, no more than five or six years old, said to the woman carrying a bamboo basket. The children, like many adults, were pale and thin from lack of food.
“Eat, eat, eat, always thinking about food! Who eats meat so early in the morning? What a waste!” a woman scolded.
Yan Mother was fierce. Hearing this, she fired back immediately: “Which shameless person is yelling at our doorstep this early? What we eat is none of your business! Mind your own business!”
The woman’s face turned black with anger. With her child crying, she and the others muttered all the way away.
After breakfast, the family prepared to set out.
This time, the whole family went together. Yan Fourth Son Yan Ziming and the youngest, Yan Zimeng, were visiting Lu’s village for the first time. Excited from the night before, they couldn’t sleep and chattered nonstop on the way.
There was no cattle cart at the village entrance, so Lu Qingran had Yan Zihao rent the entire cart for 10 wen.
Upon reaching town, the family went straight to the southern market, which was now bustling. After paying a 5-wen stall fee, they uncovered the braised offal. Instantly, the aroma spread everywhere, drawing the attention of nearby vendors and buyers.
Next to their stall, a man selling bamboo baskets and carrying frames became curious.
“Little brother, what food are you selling? Smells amazing!”
Yan Zihao replied, “This is a new dish my wife created. Try some.”
Lu Qingran, having discussed business strategy with Yan Zihao the night before, knew that letting customers taste it directly was far more effective than any explanation. She served a few pieces on oil paper and handed a bamboo skewer to the man.
The man, fond of food, didn’t hesitate. He popped a piece into his mouth, quickly finishing it, his face showing delight.
Everyone nearby had been watching. Seeing the man satisfied, the crowd quickly gathered. Yan Zihao brought another sheet of oil paper, placed over ten pieces, and handed out skewers.
“Try some,” he invited.
The man, now fully aware of the delicious smell, asked Yan Zihao, “Little brother, what is this? It’s so good! Kind of like meat, but not greasy at all!”
Yan Zihao said, “This is pork offal.”
“Pork offal? Impossible! That stuff’s usually so smelly and strong, but yours isn’t at all!” The man was shocked. Onlookers had similar expressions.
Yan Zihao explained, “It’s true it’s pork offal, but my wife removed the odor with a special method and braised it with seasonings. That’s why it tastes like this now.”
Everyone understood immediately. Someone asked, “Little brother, how much are you selling it for?”
“Five wen per big scoop,” Yan Zihao said.
“That’s expensive! Pork offal isn’t worth anything; usually even given away no one wants it. Your price doesn’t make sense,” a man in gray hemp clothing protested.
Lu Qingran replied, “Pork offal is cheap, but I removed the odor and braised it with lots of seasonings. Everyone knows the cost of seasonings! One big scoop is enough for several people. At 18 wen per jin, even stir-fried meat may not feed as many people as this scoop.”
The crowd nodded. The man who first tasted it, savoring the flavor, said, “Little brother, give me a scoop.”
Once someone led the way, the rest quickly followed. Soon, the Yan family’s stall was bustling with business.