Butcher Fulang’s Noodle Shop - Chapter 7
As Song Shi’an went back home that evening, sporadic rain began to fall just before he entered the door. He hastened his pace, pushing the empty cart a bit more.
Qingjiang Town’s weather could be quite fickle as the two rivers converged, especially after the onset of spring. Even if the morning had been unbearably hot and dry, a strong wind could turn it into a chilly late autumn in an instant.
Song Shi’an unloaded everything from the cart and cleaned it. He pushed the cart into the woodshed for storage. Afterward, he brought a basin and sat beneath the eaves, starting to knead noodles.
He replanted the two trees in the yard, removing the decayed roots. He watched the withered branches gradually sprout new growth. According to his neighbor one of the trees was a jujube tree, and the other was a persimmon tree.
Dark clouds hung heavy overhead, and the rain pelted down, causing the young branches to sway constantly. Song Shi’an saw that a branch was about to snap, so he picked up a piece of scrap wood and used it to support the branch in the rain.
He hoped the two previously lifeless trees would be laden with dates and persimmons. Adding a few dates to soup enhanced its freshness and sweetness, while ripe persimmons were particularly sweet when eaten fresh or dried for making persimmon cakes.
During the winter, when he could rest at home, enjoying the view of wind and snow outside the window, brewing a pot of black tea and nibbling on frost-covered persimmons was pure delight.
The rain continued through the night. Song Shi’an decided to take the day off and not set up a stall. The hot-dry noodles he had made today, he could eat them himself. Though it was calorie-rich, it was suitable for his current physique.
During his shower, he meticulously examined his body. Every rib was visible, and his joints on the back and diaphragm were gaunt.
In his previous life, he wasn’t particularly strong, but men generally possessed a natural strength. Yet in this body, he couldn’t even manage heavy objects, and his legs were unsteady.
Once he earned some money, he planned to craft his own dumbbells and resistance bands for strength training, as it was becoming cumbersome to perform tasks in his weakened state.
Suddenly, there was a “thump” sound, and it caught his attention.
Song Shi’an slipped on his shoes and pushed open the window, revealing Yun ge’er from next door standing on a ladder. He held an umbrella in one hand, a basket in the other, and a smile on his face. On the ground lay some pebbles he had thrown to get Song Shi’an’s attention.
“You are home? My mother came back from my grandpa’s house and brought a bunch of mugwort. I can’t finish it all, I’ll share some with you!”
Aunt Huang, Uncle Sun’s wife, came from a nearby village when she married into the Sun family. They had three children, and their eldest son worked for a prosperous cloth shop in town. The second daughter had married into a neighboring town. Her husband’s family was quite well-off.
The Sun family had a comfortable life and Aunt Huang would bring items back to her parents’ home every few months to assist her family.
“Alright, we’ll stir-fry the mugwort with some pig intestines. It’s quite delicious. Do you want to eat it too?”
“Absolutely!” Yun ge’er had gotten to know him well, so he didn’t stand on ceremony.
Song Shi’an nodded and took him to the kitchen. First, he opened the sealed stove and kindled the remaining firewood. He filled a large pot with half full of water, placed wooden slats in a crisscross pattern to isolate the water, and then set up the wooden steamer.
The wooden steamer, the tic-tac-toe wooden water barrier underneath, as well as the chopsticks and baskets on the trolley, were all crafted by Uncle Sun from leftover materials specifically for Song Shi’an.
Uncle Sun had heard about Song Shi’an’s flourishing business and the shortage of bowls and chopsticks. He insisted on making wooden bowls and chopsticks for him, providing both materials and labor for free.
Uncle Sun was a kind and generous man. He presented these items to Song Shi’an with a sympathetic look, and Song Shi’an couldn’t refuse such kindness even if he wanted to.
“You don’t have a man to rely. This is what I should do.” Uncle Sun gradually knew about Song Shi’an’s problem and sympathized with the helpless shuanger. He was getting older and still hadn’t married yet… so pitiful.
Song Shi’an’s mouth twitced and he was hesitated to reply. But only smiled and thanked the man. Everyone here thought the same thing and he couldn’t explain such a modern concept to the ancient man.
He was actually a dignified man who just wanted to live using his own hands and didn’t want to marry a man, wear satin clothes and eat all the time.
.
Yun ge’er, who could smell the mouth-watering aroma coming from the steamer, eagerly expressed his delight. He had brought a big fish head and tail that his parents didn’t like. They found it too troublesome and didn’t enjoy eating the fish head or the tail spines, which they considered not containing enough meat and just discarded it.
He had quickly brought it over to Song Shi’an to avoid it going to waste.
“My parents don’t like the fish head, but they’re willing to give it to you, and they say it’s too rotten… rotten wood…” Yun ge’er thought hard, trying to remember the compliments he had heard from Teacher, “Oh, yes, they say you can turn rotten woods into magical thing.”
Song Shi’an couldn’t help but chuckle. “That’s right, it’s about using something old or seemingly worthless to create something valuable.”
“Is there a difference?”
“No,” Song Shi’an replied.
Yun ge’er was similar to other boys his age. He’d learned only a few words during elementary school, could read numbers and buy things, and could write his own name. However, he had a genuine, straightforward nature that Song Shi’an admired and found endearing.
Uncle Sun and Aunt Huang were helping their child, Yun ge’er, find a teacher from the scholar’s family. Song Shi’an contemplated the possibility of marrying Yun ge’er if they were forced into such a situation.
Yun ge’er’s round face and round eyes matched his aesthetic preferences, but shuanger couldn’t marry each other. No matter how much Uncle Sun sympathized with him, it couldn’t be arranged.
Song Shi’an rubbed his chin, deep in thought.
Finally, he said, “I’ll make fish head rice with the fish heads, and the fish tails will be perfect for me to prepare fresh fish paste soup noodles.”
As the water boiled, he uncovered the pot and counted out twelve servings of rice. When the wheat was cooked, he fetched a small plate and prepared a dipping sauce with vinegar, a touch of soy sauce, a pinch of sugar, and finely chopped ginger for flavor.
Yun ge’er watched in amazement as Song Shi’an crafted the siomai. “What is this?” he asked, curiosity lighting up his face. “a weird siomai?”
Song Shi’an couldn’t help but laugh. Siomai was also a well-known snack in Jiangcheng. It had some similarities with steamed buns and dumplings, but it didn’t have any filling in the middle. The main ingredients were glutinous rice, usually mixed with diced mushrooms and pork.
Back when Song Shi’an was just starting, he had replaced it with diced mushrooms and finely chopped pork, seasoned with fresh soy sauce, sprinkled with ground black pepper, and then steamed. The result was fragrant and delicious.
Yun ge’er couldn’t wait to pick up one of the siomai and take a bite, but the filling was piping hot. He couldn’t bear to spit it out while breathing heavily. Despite the burn, he finished four of them in a row and gave a thumbs up, exclaiming, “It’s delicious!”
He then mentioned, “My parents are encouraging me to learn from you. With your excellent cooking skills, I can make my way into my husband’s family. I’ll need to manage an entire banquet to entertain our relatives by myself, which will earn me respect from my husband and his parents.”
Song Shi’an frowned, feeling uncertain about this aspect of their conversation.
Song Shi’an offered to teach Yun ge’er how to cook. He wouldn’t share his secret recipes, but he was more than willing to teach Yun ge’er knife skills and guide him through mastering several common home-cooked dishes.
Yun ge’er was thrilled and exclaimed, “Wow!” as he finished all the siomai.
Then he remembered an important piece of news, “My parents discussed something about you last night, and they wanted me to remind you.”
Wang Jiaojiao’s altercation at the dock the previous day had stirred quite the commotion, and a boy had been dispatched to Zaozi Lane to gather information, making the neighborhood aware of the situation.
Yun ge’er explained the urgency of the situation, “Your stepmother is determined to find a matchmaker for you. If she decides to report this to the goverment, you may still be forcibly married off. Even if it’s not the elderly man Jiang Yuanwai, you’re turning eighteen this year. If the officials learn of your age, they may assign you to someone else.”
Song Shi’an looked puzzled and inquired, “I don’t understand. What does my status as an ordinary citizen have to do with the government? And what do you mean by ‘assigning someone else’?”
Yun ge’er clarified that after several years of turmoil, a sense of order had been restored, and the court had reduced corvee taxes to allow the people some recovery time. However, due to the significant loss of life during the war, the imperial court had enacted two laws:
First, private families were not allowed to interfere in the remarriage of widows, with violators facing a three-year penalty.
Second, men could marry at 16, and women and shuangers at 14. If a man reached 20 or a woman and shuangers reached 18 and were still unmarried, it would be considered a violation of the law.
The man would face corvee punishment, and the violators would be required to register with the government, which would then allocate their marriages.
Yun ge’er explained that the unmarried men assigned by the government were typically quite poor, unable to afford their own pants and any kind of disabilities.
He worriedly suggested, “If it comes to that, you might as well marry Jiang Yuanwai!”
Song Shi’an, who was usually calm and composed, was now flustered. He never expected the ancient version of urging people to get married to be so much more intense than the modern version.
Panicking, he asked, “What should I do?”
Then his mouth moved to playfully suggested, “How about I marry you?”
Yun ge’er replied with a smile, “I hate it. You’re making jokes even in this situation.”
He quickly turned serious and explained his parents’ suggestion, “What my parents mean is that if your real mother has already passed away, perhaps she arranged a marriage for you before she died. If not, even if you make up a lie, it might work. You can tell the story of a pre-arranged marriage, discuss it privately with the family of someone you like, and have an elder act as a witness. Claim that the marriage was arranged while your mother was alive, and get married as soon as possible. This way, you can silence your stepmother and stop worrying about it.”
Song Shi’an felt like he was struck by a thunderbolt, and he remained dazed long after Yun ge’er had left.
.
It was only at dusk, after the rain had stopped, Song Shi’an recalled that it was an odd day and the butcher was slaughtering pigs to sell meat. He wasn’t sure if there was any meat left.
He decided to purchase some pork and prepare some pancakes, intending to repay his aunt tomorrow. He knew his aunt’s family was also in dire straits, and she had been saving that money in secret.
Deep in thought, he approached the butcher’s door, contemplating the uncertain path ahead.
As Butcher Xu opened the door, the lantern light cast a glow on the wet ground, revealing his cold and handsome face that, unexpectedly, showed a hint of warmth.
And in that moment, Song Shi’an blurted out, “Are you getting married?”