Chapter 3: The Pig-Driving Girl

Early the next morning, Fan Changyu left Changning with Aunt Zhao and went out herself, carrying her three hundred-odd coins and a silver hairpin.

The hairpin had been bought by her parents when she came of age, costing more than two taels of silver.

If she pawned it, she should have enough money to buy a pig.

She entered the pawnshop, but after examining the hairpin for a long time with narrowed eyes, the shopkeeper only held up three fingers. “Three hundred coins.”

Fan Changyu nearly choked in disbelief. She stared wide-eyed. “This hairpin is pure silver, and it’s only worth three hundred coins?”

The shopkeeper said, “It may be silver, but it’s not very heavy, and the style is outdated. I know your family’s in a tough spot—how about this, I’ll give you five hundred coins. That’s the most I can offer.”

“One tael. Not a coin less.”

The shopkeeper set the hairpin back on the counter. “Then you’d better take it back.”

Fan Changyu had counted on pawning the hairpin to buy a pig. She hadn’t expected the shopkeeper to press the price down so shamelessly. Without another word, she picked up the hairpin and turned to leave.

The shopkeeper hadn’t expected her to be so stubborn, refusing to bargain at all. He quickly called out, “Hey—come back, come back! One tael it is! I’ll take it at a loss, just consider it me taking pity on you. First thing in the morning, making a deal with you will at least count as opening business…”

When she stepped out of the pawnshop, Fan Changyu now had one tael of silver on her.

To get a sense of the market price for braised meat, she first went to the street where cooked foods were sold.

It was market day. Though it was still early, the place was already bustling. Many farmers from the countryside had brought mountain goods to sell, exchanging them for money to buy New Year supplies.

After walking around, Fan Changyu noticed that most cooked food stalls mainly sold roasted chicken and goose. As for braised pork, pig head meat and pig ears were the most common, while offal was sold the least.

A plump woman noticed her lingering gaze and called out, “Miss, want to buy some roast chicken?”

Fan Changyu asked, “How much is the pig head meat?”

The woman replied, “Good eye! This pig head meat was braised overnight—rich and fragrant! Five coins per liang. How much would you like?”

That came out to fifty coins per jin, though vendors often quoted high prices to leave room for bargaining.

Fan Changyu tested her by saying, “That’s a bit expensive…”

The woman immediately responded, “It’s the New Year—everything’s gone up! Mine is already the cheapest around. If you really want it, I’ll give you two liang for nine coins.”

So the usual price was likely around forty-five coins per jin.

Using this method, Fan Changyu went to several other stalls and asked about the prices of pig ears and offal. Pig ears were the most expensive at sixty coins per jin, but since a pig only had two ears, it made sense—they were rare.

In comparison, offal was much cheaper, only twenty coins per jin.

Offal wasn’t very popular to begin with. The wealthy didn’t eat it, and the poor didn’t know how to prepare it properly. If handled badly, it carried a strong odor.

Butchers didn’t even sell it—if you wanted it, you could get a whole bucket for less than ten coins.

With a clear understanding in mind, Fan Changyu left the cooked food street and headed to the meat market. Nearby was also a livestock market.

The meat market was even busier. Her family had once owned a pork stall in a prime location here. Now, every other stall was open, their boards and hooks laden with pork, while her family’s shop remained shut tight, its space taken over by other vendors.

Seeing it, Fan Changyu felt a pang in her chest. She stood there for a moment, staring at the closed shop, silently vowing that she would soon reopen it.

Then she turned and headed to the livestock market.

It was far more chaotic. Pigs, sheep, cattle, and horses were all being sold. One careless step could land you in a pile of animal dung, and the smell was far from pleasant.

Most of the sellers were middle-aged men in short coarse jackets, with animals tied beside them. When bargaining, they spoke in trade jargon that outsiders could hardly understand.

A young, pretty woman like her stood out immediately.

Some traders called out, asking what she wanted to buy, but Fan Changyu ignored them all. She had come here with her father before and knew that dealing with traders rarely got you a good price.

On market days, some farmers brought their own pigs to sell, unwilling to accept the low prices offered by traders. These were usually cheaper.

After looking around, however, none of the pigs met her standards. From years of experience, her father had taught her to choose pigs with round hindquarters and short, thick tails—those had thick skin and good fat, producing high-quality meat.

Just as she was about to leave, she spotted an old man in the corner—thin, dark-skinned, and frail.

At his feet stood a plump, well-fed pig, tied by its front legs and neck. It looked ready for sale, but it was dirty, and since it was still early, there were few buyers in the market. Hardly anyone approached.

The old man looked eagerly at passersby but didn’t dare call out, clearly not good with words.

Fan Changyu stepped forward. “Old sir, how much for this pig?”

Finally having someone ask, the old man grew nervous. “My family is waiting to sell this pig for the New Year. The traders offered ten coins per jin when they came to the village, but I dragged this old body all the way here to sell it myself. If you want it, twelve coins per jin will do.”

Fan Changyu hadn’t expected the traders to press the price so low. Earlier, some traders had been asking eighteen or nineteen coins per jin, and even after bargaining hard, it was difficult to get them down to fifteen.

This old man’s price was like a gift from heaven.

Luckily, there weren’t many buyers yet—otherwise the pig would’ve already been sold.

“I’ll take it!” she said immediately.

There was a large scale at the market for weighing livestock. The pig weighed a full ninety jin. Fan Changyu paid one tael and eighty coins, then began driving the pig home toward the western part of town.

The meat market had already opened. If she slaughtered the pig now, she’d only catch the tail end of business, with fewer customers and lower prices.

Better to prepare everything today and slaughter it fresh tomorrow.

As she left the livestock market, driving a pig through the streets made her quite a spectacle. People kept turning to look.

Fortunately, Fan Changyu had thick skin. When acquaintances asked, she openly told them this was the pig she’d be selling at her shop tomorrow and invited them to come support her business.

By chance, she ran into a restaurant cook who used to buy meat from her father. Hearing that her pork shop would reopen the next day and seeing how well-fed the pig was, he immediately reserved twenty jin of meat and gave her a deposit of two hundred coins.

By the time Fan Changyu returned home, her face was glowing with satisfaction. The narrow alley echoed with her calls and the pig’s grunts.

A nearly snow-white hawk suddenly flew up from near her house and soared into the sky. She glanced up, puzzled.

In winter, hawks often came to villages to snatch chickens or rabbits, but no one in town raised such animals. What was it doing near her home?

The alley was crowded with tightly packed two-story houses built by the authorities years ago.

At that moment, in an attic room at the end of the alley, the man sat half-reclined by the window. He wore a worn gray coat, yet still carried an air of refinement. A small, extinguished charcoal stick lay by the brazier at the foot of the bed.

His original undergarment, now torn, lay beside him.

The window was slightly open, letting in cold wind that stirred his clothes and hair.

That face—clear as moonlight on fresh snow—belonged to none other than the man Fan Changyu had rescued.

The noise in the alley caught his attention. Looking out, he saw a beautiful young woman walking through the narrow, thawing lane, her brows smiling, wearing the same apricot-colored jacket he had seen the night before. She seemed like a warm glow appearing suddenly in an otherwise dull painting.

But what she was driving with a bamboo stick was… a pig?

The pig’s grunt confirmed it.

The man’s expression turned slightly strange.

He had seen refined ladies from noble families and valiant daughters of military households, but a woman driving a pig—this was a first in his life.

The woman passed by, disappearing from view, but he heard her younger sister’s delighted voice outside: “Sister, where did you get such a big pig?”

Her voice carried a bright, cheerful tone. “Of course I bought it!”

The alley grew noisy, as Aunt Zhao seemed to have come over to help with the pig.

The man didn’t listen further. Closing his eyes, he rested—he needed to recover as quickly as possible.

—

Unaware of any of this, Fan Changyu drove the pig into the shed behind her house and locked it in. Then she took the bucket of pig offal she had received from the Chen family and went to the well outside the alley to wash it thoroughly again.

Pork was freshest when slaughtered the same day. The pig she bought would be killed tomorrow morning, so there wasn’t time to make braised meat from it today. Instead, she decided to braise the offal tonight and use it as a bonus.

For every jin of fresh pork purchased, she would give one liang of braised offal for free.

From what she had seen at the market, there were many cooked food stalls. That meant demand was high—but also competition.

If she suddenly started selling braised meat, customers might not be willing to spend money trying it, especially at those prices.

But offal was cheap. Using it as a free bonus would attract customers. People might not buy it outright, but they wouldn’t refuse it if it were free.

This way, reopening her shop would both draw customers and promote her braised dishes.

Once people tasted it, they would know whether her braising was good—and if they liked it, they would come back later to buy more.

After washing the offal, Fan Changyu rolled up her sleeves and started a fire. She filled a pot with water, gathered various spices into a cloth bag, and threw it in along with ginger and garlic to prepare the braising liquid.

Her kitchen was well stocked. Her mother had always been particular about food, and when the family was still well-off, such ingredients had been easy to afford.

Fan Changyu had learned many dishes from her mother, though she wasn’t particularly skilled at most of them. Only braising—perhaps because she had loved gnawing on braised pig trotters since childhood—had she mastered well.

As she chopped the offal, her movements were broad and forceful, shaped by years of butchering. The heavy knife struck the chopping board with such force that even a thief would be frightened away.

An hour later, the rich aroma of braised meat drifted from the Fan household kitchen. Neighbors sniffed the air in their homes, wondering whose cooking smelled so delicious.

The scent rose upward, and since the Zhao and Fan houses were adjacent, the man in the attic caught the aroma especially strongly.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, then he closed his eyes heavily.

His body was too weak. Since being injured, he hadn’t eaten a proper meal.