Last night, when they mentioned elder brother was returning today, second sister promised to cook something special. Nie Honghua had guessed she’d buy meat.
Mother Nie, however, was horrified by the expense. Seeing her daughter purchase a pound of pork belly, two pounds of ribs, and a heap of dried goods and vegetables, she cried out, “Good heavens! How much did this cost? Did you rob a bank or find a treasure chest?”
The sight of all that meat made her heart ache with the thought of the money spent.
Nie Qinghe quickly comforted her. “Of course your daughter earned the money herself, Mother.”
Nie Honghua flattered her sister, completely ignoring whether elder brother or her cousin might feel slighted by the fact that second sister earned more than they did. She only cared about speaking sweetly to ensure second sister would keep treating them to delicious food.
Mother Nie, still reluctant to use the ribs, suggested saving them for tomorrow, claiming they wouldn’t stew tenderly enough today. She proposed cutting the pork belly into small pieces to stew with vegetables and flour dumplings, which would stretch the meal over three or four days.
Nie Qinghe tried to reason with her. “Mother, we haven’t had a proper meal in so long. If we’re going to eat, let’s eat well. If we only get a tiny taste, it’ll just make us crave it more.”
Mother Nie struggled to process this. She was distressed by her daughter’s sudden extravagance and the abandonment of their frugal ways. If Old Madam Nie found out they were eating meat, wouldn’t she storm in and kill them all?
Mother Nie was also worried about the firewood. “Just cook it through, don’t stew it too long. Mushy meat has no chew. Pork belly is much better stir-fried.”
A bundle of firewood cost nearly twenty coins. In the city, every penny had to be pinched.
“Don’t worry, Mother, I’ll save on the wood,” Nie Qinghe reassured her. “There’s a trick to stewing meat with less fuel.”
Seeing everyone so happy and with her eldest son returning home, Mother Nie didn’t say much more, though the thought of the expensive meat still made her heart ache.
Nie Qinghe asked her cousin and big brother to help prep the vegetables, then took the money to her mother to brighten her mood.
Mother Nie’s eyes welled with tears as she clutched the few pieces of broken silver. She sniffed, “In the end, you’re the one who earns the most for our family.”
“You’re crying over this little bit?” Nie Qinghe said softly. “That’s no fun. If I bring home ten or eight taels later, you’ll be wailing like a baby.”
Mother Nie broke into a smile through her tears. “Yes, if you bring home ten or eight taels, I’ll cry even louder than your grandmother!”
Her daughter’s ability to earn money meant she could afford proper gold jewelry when she got married, preventing her in-laws from looking down on her.
Nie Qinghe set to cook, preparing a rib soup in a clay pot. When the water began to boil, she reached for a spoon to skim off the foam.
“Daughter, what are you doing?” Mother Nie cried out, stopping her. “That’s all part of the meat! Why are you throwing it away?”
“It’s just impurities, Mother. It tastes terrible,” Nie Qinghe explained.
Mother Nie’s face hardened. “How can you say anything from meat tastes terrible? Don’t throw it away. Leave it in the bowl for me to soak my rice in.”
Nie Qinghe gave up on skimming the foam. Instead, she added a splash of wine and a pinch of vinegar to help the ribs cook faster, then lowered the heat to a simmer.
Of course, there were no gas stoves here; “high” or “low” heat simply meant adding or removing a few sticks of wood. After stewing for a while, she tossed in the kelp and left the glowing embers beneath the clay pot. The pot’s heat retention allowed the ribs to slow-braise on the residual heat, ensuring they would be tender.
To save on fuel, Nie Qinghe skipped the usual braised pork belly. But meat was best enjoyed in large, satisfying bites—especially for a family that hadn’t eaten it in half a month. Cutting it into small pieces for a stir-fry would be a cruel tease. Instead, she sliced the pork belly into thick slabs, about the width of the knife’s spine, then rubbed them with salt and set them aside to marinate.
Mother Nie had already started the rice, and it was now done. It was a pot of mixed grains—mostly millet, sorghum, and crushed corn, with only a small amount of broken rice. In modern times, this would have been considered a healthy, whole-grain diet, but eating such coarsely processed grains every day was hardly palatable.
While they waited for the ribs to tenderize, the rest of the family kept busy. Mother Nie led Nie Honghua and their cousin in crocheting fishing nets, while Nie Xiaoli helped wind the thread.
Nie Dali used a small ax to chop the firewood into thinner sticks, ensuring the fire would burn efficiently without wasting precious fuel.
Nie Qinghe glanced at the sky. It was already dark outside, and the ribs were nearly done. She sliced winter melon into the pot, then turned her attention to the pork belly.
Nie Dali headed out to greet Father Nie as he returned.
The delicate aroma of stewed ribs wafted through the air, lingering tantalizingly.
The family inhaled deeply, nearly intoxicated by the scent. But then, a new aroma drifted over—the bold, irresistible smell of frying pork. It was an aggressive fragrance, instantly dominating their senses and sparking vivid images of large, juicy bites of meat.
Next door, the neighbors were also eating. Earlier, the scent of the ribs had been a gentle, background note, the result of a slow-simmered broth. But this new aroma was a forceful assault, demanding their full attention.
Suddenly, the buns in their hands lost their appeal. The coarse-grain rice in their bowls seemed tasteless. All they could think about was meat.
They asked their neighbors if anyone was frying meatball—but who would do that outside of the New Year? The amount of oil required would be astronomical.
One by one, they carried their rice bowls outside, eager to see which household was being so reckless with their food.
They found Father Nie and Nie Dali returning home together.
Old Huang couldn’t contain his curiosity. “Brother Nie, is your family eating meat?”
Madam Huang immediately interjected, “Nonsense. They haven’t eaten meat in ages. I was working nearby today, and Sister-in-Law Nie said she wouldn’t even buy vegetables until dusk, just to get them cheaper.”
Their family eating meat? In their dreams.
Father Nie nodded sheepishly. “Ashamed, truly ashamed. This little wage isn’t enough to buy meat.”
Madam Huang felt an immediate wave of relief. Exactly, she thought. How could the Nies afford meat? They have to send half their earnings back home.
“My sister bought the meat,” Nie Dali said. “One pound of pork belly and two pounds of ribs.”
“What? Three pounds?”
Someone actually swallowed hard at the mention.
Madam Huang refused to believe it. Mother Nie, spending three pounds on meat? She’d rather die!
Just then, Auntie Zhang’s boisterous voice rang out, “Oh, for heaven’s sake! You don’t have much yourselves, why are you giving me any? Fine, keep the meat, just give me a couple of bowls of soup to warm my bones, and that’ll be enough!”
What? Mother Nie was sharing meat with the Zhang family?
Madam Huang’s heart soured instantly, as if she had been soaking in a jar of her own family’s pickled cabbage. What right did she have to give to the Zhangs but not to me? Am I not a hard enough worker? Humph, it’s just that I’m not close enough to them! All those sweet words mean nothing when it comes down to the real rewards.
She urged her husband to ingratiate himself with Father Nie, to go with him and scrounge for a little meat—even just a bowl of soup would suffice.
But her husband lacked the nerve. He quickly pushed her back home for dinner. The moment they arrived, they found their daughter, Huang Ying’er, sobbing.
“How could she?” Huang Ying’er cried angrily. “She already has a child-bride engagement to a Xiucai, yet she still occupies the Liu family’s Third Young Master. How can she be so shameless? Waaaaah…”
She wanted to marry the Third Young Master and live in the Liu family mansion eating meat every day. If Nie Qinghe hadn’t gone to the Liu family, how could she have the money to buy meat? What skills did she have? She was just taking advantage of the Third Young Master’s interest in her, acting as a mere ornament in the Liu family’s shop so they would pay her.
Nie Qinghe was completely unaware that her three-pound purchase of meat had thrown the Huang household into such turmoil. She had placed the pork belly in an iron wok, frying it until the fragrant lard rendered out. The lard would be saved for mixing into rice and vegetables later; the pork would be eaten tonight.
With no five-spice or cumin powder in the house, they simply prepared a side of farmhouse soy paste and fermented bean curd to dip the meat in.
Just as the meal was ready, Father Nie and the eldest brother returned. Nie Qinghe greeted them, telling them to wash up quickly for dinner.
Father Nie had brought back a bunch of scallions as thick as thumbs and a braided string of garlic. The garlic had been a gift from another master craftsman at the workshop, and the scallions were from Chen Zijian’s father.
Nie Qinghe glanced at her father. “Father, don’t stay so late anymore. Just finish work at the usual time.”
Ever since he started as an apprentice at seventeen, Father Nie had never truly rested. Now, not yet forty, his back was already beginning to stoop.
Nie Qinghe didn’t want him to keep working himself to exhaustion. Once the shampoo ointment sales stabilized, their family wouldn’t be short on money.
Nie Honghua, unable to wait a moment longer, practically scrambled to the table and sat down, waiting for Mother Nie to serve the meat.
“One rib each,” Mother Nie announced. “Sip a little of the soup to taste it, but we’ll save the rest for noodles tomorrow morning.”
There were only two pounds of ribs, cut into large chunks. With seven people in the family, one piece each was just about right. Mother Nie tried to give the final piece to Nie Qinghe, but Nie Qinghe refused, insisting her mother give it to Father Nie. After the piece was passed around in a circle, it ended up back with Mother Nie.
Mother Nie glanced at Nie Honghua. “My daughter’s grown up. She didn’t try to grab it.”
In the past, Mother Nie thought, if you’d tried to give her a piece, she would have snatched it right out of your hand and said, “Give it to me!”
Nie Honghua chewed, her mouth glistening with grease. “Mom, hurry up and serve the pork belly! I can’t wait any longer.”
These ribs were incredible. Though they hadn’t stewed for long, the meat was so tender it practically melted away with a lick of the tongue. The combination of lean and fat-marbled meat, bursting with richness on the palate, felt like the ultimate earthly pleasure—something Nie Honghua wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.
If the ribs were this good, imagine the pork belly! she thought. It’ll definitely be more delicious than the ones in my dreams!
Mother Nie let them serve themselves. There wasn’t much anyway—at most two slices each before it would be gone.
The pan-fried pork belly was a sight to behold. Its skin was golden-brown and slightly curled, the fat rendered down until it shimmered with a tempting glaze.
The lean meat, slightly charred and glistening, gave off an irresistible, savory aroma.
One bite, and the skin was soft yet springy, offering a satisfying chew that awakened every taste bud. The fat was rich and flavorful, while the lean meat remained tender rather than dry, with a lingering sweetness that was impossible to describe.
Dipped in farmhouse soy paste and paired with a bite of fresh scallion, it was a perfect harmony of fragrance, freshness, and salt.
The dish was so delicious she could have sworn she was about to swallow her own tongue.
The whole family ate in greasy silence, the only sounds being the rhythmic chewing and satisfied gulps.
“Eat some vegetables first,” Mother Nie urged, “or the meat will cloy your palate.”
Who cares? Nie Honghua thought. Let it cloy!
She alternated between bites of meat and scallions, then between meat and raw garlic cloves.
“Careful, the garlic’s spicy,” Nie Qinghe warned.
“I’m fine,” Nie Honghua replied. “I’m testing which one pairs better with the meat so I know what to eat next time. A meat feast without garlic is only half as fragrant. You should try it too!”
It was only after the meat was gone that they finally broke their silence. Laughter and chatter filled the air as they turned to the remaining vegetables, each mouthful prompting a new round of praise for Nie Qinghe’s cooking.
“Meat’s always delicious, no matter how you make it,” Nie Qinghe said with a smile.
But the truth was, their bodies were starved for grease. After such a long time without meat, a feast like this would have tasted heavenly regardless of the preparation—especially since Nie Qinghe’s skills were truly exceptional.
Nie Honghua muttered under her breath, thinking she could have eaten so much more if they hadn’t given a bowl of rib soup, a piece of rib, and a slice of pork belly to Auntie Zhang.
Fearing the children would drink the rest of the rib soup, Mother Nie quickly covered the clay pot with its lid. She had Nie Dali lift it with a carrying basket and store it in a small earthen cellar dug into the corner of the yard.
Without refrigerators, many families dug such cellars to keep food warm in the winter and cool in the summer; leftovers stored there overnight wouldn’t spoil.
Of course, the Nie family’s tiny courtyard didn’t have a proper cellar—just a half-collapsed, dry well.
After the meat feast, Mother Nie was still full even by the second watch of the night. She decided to hang up her tea-straining basket and light a piece of firewood beneath it, using the glow to crochet hairnets.
She found the work simple, fast, and effortless. If they could sell a lot of them, she’d earn a good profit and could finally stop weaving silk slippers.
Nie Qinghe had tried to persuade her to stop working and just manage the quality control, promising that she would still handle all the money they earned. But Mother Nie refused. How could she pass up such a good opportunity to make money? Absolutely not.
***
That night, Nie Dali went to squeeze into the main room with his parents, while Nie Qinghe and the others slept in the west room.
Thanks to the meat and rich broth, the Nie family slept with extraordinary satisfaction and comfort.
The only downside was that someone wet the bed in the middle of the night.
Early the next morning, the cousin woke up feeling damp beneath her. She reached down, touched the wet spot, and realized Xiaoli had had an accident.
The room was still dark, making it hard to see. She woke Xiaoli up, intending to change his small trousers.
Xiaoli scrambled up, clutching his crotch as he leaped from the kang. He bolted out the door barefoot, shouting, “Ahhh! I have to pee! I don’t want to pee my pants!”
Nie Qinghe woke up as well. Hearing the cousin describe the wet bed, she laughed. “Look at him go. That’s definitely not from him. And look at Honghua, sleeping so soundly—I bet it was her.”
The cousin looked closer. Honghua did not seem to be holding her bladder; in fact, she seemed to have just finished.
She reached out and felt the spot. Sure enough, Honghua’s undergarments and the kang were soaked. The stream must have been so great that it flowed all the way over to Xiaoli.
Worrying that Nie Honghua would be embarrassed, the cousin quickly woke her so she could clean herself up.
Nie Honghua was still smacking her lips in her sleep, relutantly stirring. “Don’t disturb me… I’m eating big pieces of meat…”
“Honghua, you wet the bed,” the cousin said.
A jolt went through Nie Honghua’s mind. She immediately argued, “No way! I never wet the bed! It must be Xiaoli!”
“Stop shouting,” the cousin replied. “Xiaoli’s little trousers are dry. Look at yourself.”
Nie Honghua felt her own clothes, and her face instantly flushed crimson. Fortunately, the room was too dark for anyone else to see. She quickly got up to tidy herself, then found a rag to wipe down the kang matting.
Nie Qinghe laughed. “Don’t bother wiping it. You’ve made such a mess, the kang might be rotting through. When the sun comes up, we’ll have to take the straw matting and the grass bedding outside to dry. The kang needs to dry out too, or it really will collapse.”
At the thought of the kang collapsing, Nie Honghua immediately decided not to sleep on it—she wouldn’t risk falling through.
Nie Xiaoli returned from relieving himself, his eyes still half-closed, and muttered, “So refreshing!”
The cousin and Nie Qinghe, now fully awake, pulled Nie Xiaoli to a dry spot to sleep.
Father Nie had woken up early, hoping to get to the workshop, but Nie Qinghe stopped him, insisting he eat pork rib noodle soup at home.
Father Nie felt a prickle of shame. His daughter earned more than he did, and with his son in school, the family’s meat dishes were provided by her. The shame burned his old face.
Nie Qinghe didn’t offer any forced sentiment or comfort. Men were just like that—sometimes they got stuck in their own heads over the smallest things. He’d get used to it. Once he realized she earned more than him every day, and once they moved into their new house and ate fine rice, noodles, and meat, he’d stop overthinking.
It always started with a little shame, a transition period before one developed thick skin.
Just look at me, she thought. How thick is my skin now? It’s all from training!
Mother Nie had prepared breakfast. She asked everyone to judge her cooking. “With the pork rib soup as a base, isn’t my noodle dish pretty good?”
“Mother, don’t take this the wrong way,” Nie Honghua said, “but you should never cook meat again.” It was a waste of perfectly good ingredients.
Mother Nie shot her a glare. “A grown-up girl who still wets the bed—what do you know?”
Nie Honghua went silent. I know you’re a terrible cook! You can even make a steamed egg custard look like a wasp’s nest!
Nie Qinghe stepped in before the mother and daughter could start a war. “Let’s not fight. I need to crochet more nets today, and I can teach two more women.”
“Then let the Huang family do it,” Mother Nie suggested. “She’s not very careful, but she’s a quick learner when it comes to picking up a trade.”
Nie Honghua rolled her eyes. “Mother, forget her. It’s best if she doesn’t come to our house anymore. She’s like a sour chicken.”
“What’s a sour chicken?” Nie Xiaoli asked.
“If Sister bought three pounds of meat and only let me eat it, not you, would you be sour?” Nie Honghua asked.
“I’d be sour as hell!” Nie Xiaoli exclaimed.
“Exactly,” Nie Honghua said.
Nie Xiaoli immediately turned to Nie Qinghe, his eyes wide and pleading. “Second Sister—”
Nie Qinghe quickly rubbed his head. “Don’t worry. When Second Sister buys meat, I’ll definitely bring some back for everyone to share.”
Nie Xiaoli hugged her, rubbing his bald head against her. “Second Sister, you’re the best!”