Chapter 1: The Butcher Beauty

Snow drifted down in the twelfth lunar month. In the courtyard, a large pot of water was set to boil; before the flakes could even fall into it, they were melted by the rising steam.

The snow on the ground had been trampled into slush, turning everything muddy. Beside the stove, a door plank had been propped up on stools, and half a pig lay spread across it.

With a swift motion, Fan Changyu raised her cleaver and brought it down, chopping off a hind leg. The chopping board trembled as bone fragments and minced meat flew in all directions.

The bone cleaver in her hand had a broad, heavy spine. Its entire body was pitch black, except for the tip, which gleamed like snow—sharp enough to make one shudder at a glance.

On the board lay a slicing knife and a boning knife as well, both with the same black iron bodies and gleaming white edges, clearly part of the same set as the cleaver she wielded.

Today, the Chen family in town had slaughtered a pig for the New Year, inviting neighbors and clan relatives to a lively feast.

Guests gathered inside around the hearth, warming themselves by the fire. Someone glanced toward Fan Changyu, busy at work in the courtyard, and began to whisper, “The Fan family just finished mourning—why did the Chens invite that girl Changyu to slaughter the pig?”

“The Chens and the Fans are close; they don’t mind such things…” The speaker seemed to recall the Fan family’s misfortune and unconsciously lowered their voice, glancing outside.

Fine snow fell like drifting fluff. In the courtyard, the young woman cutting up the pork wore a simple, slightly worn padded jacket and skirt. She was tall and slender, her black hair tied up, revealing a fair and delicate profile. Though she looked thin, her movements were quick and efficient.

Back when Fan Changyu’s mother had followed her husband to Lin’an Town, she had drawn the attention of many. Some jealous women even whispered that she must have come from a brothel, which spoke to how striking her beauty was. Her two daughters had inherited her looks, both exceptionally pretty.

The younger one was only five and still too young to tell, but the elder daughter—had she not been betrothed since childhood to the Song family’s son—would have had so many suitors that the Fan family’s doorstep might have been worn down long ago.

Someone sighed. “Both of Fan Changyu’s parents were killed by bandits, leaving only the two girls at home. Her eldest uncle is heartless, thinking only of seizing his younger brother’s property. Life for the sisters is hard. We thought that since Song Yan passed the provincial exam, Changyu’s life would improve once she married into his family. Who would’ve thought the engagement would fall through? That girl Changyu is tough—she’s taken up her father’s trade and supports the family by slaughtering pigs, managing to keep the Fan household going. The Chen family inviting her today is also a way to help her business.”

Hearing these details, the crowd couldn’t help but sigh. Yet someone lowered their voice even further and said, “I heard that the Fan family’s eldest daughter brought misfortune and caused her parents’ deaths. Her younger sister has been weak since birth, also because of her. When the Song family had their birth charts compared, they discovered she was born under a ‘lone star of calamity,’ so they rushed to break off the engagement…”

The earlier speaker snorted softly. “Do you even know where the Song family got that fortune told?”

The murmurs grew louder. Anyone with eyes could see what it meant for the Song family to break off the engagement at such a time.

As the old saying went, once a man rises in rank and wealth, he leaves his wife behind. Now that Song Yan had passed the exam and would likely become an official, how could he still marry a butcher’s daughter?

The chopping area in the courtyard was not far from the main room, and Fan Changyu couldn’t help overhearing the gossip about herself. Yet her face showed no emotion.

Her parents had been gone for over a month now. She had already come to terms with it.

Between her and Song Yan, it was nothing more than a story like Qin Xianglian and Chen Shimei.

Back then, the Song family couldn’t even afford a coffin. Song Yan’s mother had taken him to kneel in the street, kowtowing to passersby, begging for help to buy a simple coffin to bury her husband. Even after their foreheads bled, no one offered assistance. It was her parents who couldn’t bear to watch and paid for the burial.

Song Yan’s mother had been so grateful that she proposed an engagement between the two children, promising that when Song Yan succeeded, he would marry Fan Changyu and give her a comfortable life.

Later, the two families became neighbors, and her parents often helped the widowed mother and son. Song Yan’s mother was determined for her son to pursue the imperial examinations, but they couldn’t afford tuition. Before Song Yan was admitted to the county school, much of his tuition had been paid in advance by her father.

Song Yan had indeed worked hard. He had passed the county exam years ago, and this autumn, he succeeded in the provincial exam. Wealthy gentry flocked to curry favor with him, and even the county magistrate looked upon him with approval, reportedly intending to take him as a son-in-law.

At that point, Song Yan’s mother’s attitude began to change subtly. She seemed to think that a butcher’s daughter like Fan Changyu was no longer worthy of her accomplished son.

Sensing this shift, Fan Changyu’s mother feared being seen as seeking repayment for past kindness and proposed canceling the engagement. Yet Song Yan’s mother firmly refused, claiming the Song family would never be so ungrateful.

Then, after Fan Changyu’s parents died unexpectedly, rumors spread from who knew where, claiming that she had a hard fate and had brought about her parents’ deaths.

When Song Yan’s mother came to break off the engagement, she used the same excuse, saying a fortune teller had declared their birth charts incompatible. If they married, not only would she bring harm to Song Yan, but having already lost her parents, she would also bring harm to Song Yan’s mother.

And so, Song Yan smoothly ended the engagement, escaping any accusation of ingratitude, while Fan Changyu alone became a “lone star of calamity” that everyone avoided.

Fan Changyu cut off her thoughts and let out a long breath.

There was no point dwelling on such troubles.

After finishing the butchering, she took her payment and, without even entering the main room, bid farewell to the host. During the New Year, people valued auspiciousness. Although the Chen family didn’t mind inviting her despite her recent mourning, she knew her place.

The host did not insist she stay and, before she left, handed her a bucket of pig offal.

It was customary in the countryside: besides paying wages, one would also give the butcher a portion of pork—though more often than not, this was replaced with offal.

Before heading home, Fan Changyu stopped by the apothecary to pick up two prescriptions.

One was for her younger sister, the other for the man she had rescued.

The day before, she had gone to the countryside to slaughter a pig. On her way back, she found a man lying in the snow, covered in blood—he seemed to have been attacked by bandits.

Since her own parents had also died at the hands of bandits, Fan Changyu felt a pang of sympathy and carried him home on her back.

Unexpectedly, none of the town’s medical halls dared to treat someone so close to death. She couldn’t just leave him in the street, so she decided to take a chance, bringing him back and asking a neighboring uncle—who had once been a veterinarian for over a decade before becoming a carpenter—to try treating him.

As for how well the treatment had gone, she didn’t know. At least, he hadn’t stopped breathing yet.

The prescription had also been written by that neighbor.

With the medicine in hand, Fan Changyu headed home.

The Fan residence was located in a crowded alley on the west side of town. Houses were packed tightly together.

The alley was damp and shadowy, moss growing along the base of the walls. The old houses on either side had peeling plaster and worn wooden doors and windows, exuding a faint scent of decay.

As fate would have it, just as Fan Changyu entered the alley, she ran straight into Song Yan and his mother.

Both wore newly tailored winter clothes made of fine fabric. Song Yan’s mother even wore gold earrings, her previous meekness gone, replaced with a certain air of pride.

Ever since Song Yan passed the provincial exam, wealthy gentry and merchants had been gifting them money and houses. The Song family was now flourishing.

Clothes made the man. Dressed in a dark blue long robe embroidered with bamboo leaves, Song Yan carried an air of scholarly elegance. Gone was his former poverty; now he resembled a refined young gentleman.

Fan Changyu, on the other hand, had just come from butchering. She carried a leather satchel with her knives, wore a patched old jacket splattered with pig’s blood, held a bundle of medicine in one hand and a bucket of offal in the other—she looked rather disheveled.

Song Yan’s mother subtly stepped aside, waving a handkerchief in front of her nose. She even wore a gold ring now.

They were truly wealthy.

The alley was narrow. Neither mother nor son spoke, and Fan Changyu didn’t spare them a glance either. Treating them as if they didn’t exist, she walked straight ahead, calling out, “Watch your step—”

As they passed each other, the bucket of offal brushed against Song Yan’s new clothes, leaving a large smear of blood on the fabric.

Seeing Fan Changyu walk away without a backward glance, Song Yan’s mother’s face turned green with anger. “That blind girl! This is Hangzhou silk!”

Song Yan’s expression revealed nothing. “Mother, let it go.”

His mother looked displeased. “Fine. In a few days, we’ll be moving out of this shabby place anyway!”

—

When Fan Changyu reached her door, a five-year-old “snowball” darted out from the neighboring house. “Sister, you’re back!”

The little girl was adorably plump and fair, like a porcelain doll. She ran toward Fan Changyu with open arms, smiling with a missing tooth.

Fan Changyu caught her by the collar. “Don’t touch me, my clothes are dirty.”

Little Changning obediently stopped, then took the medicine bundle from her sister’s hands.

She had the same almond-shaped eyes as Fan Changyu, though rounder due to her young age. Her cheeks were chubby, making her look like a plump little doll.

The neighbor lady came out upon hearing the commotion and smiled. “Changyu, you’re back.”

The neighbors were an elderly couple. The man, surnamed Zhao, was a carpenter. He spent his days working outside making furniture or selling woven baskets at the market, only returning in the evenings.

The two families were very close. Whenever Fan Changyu went out, she left her younger sister in the care of the neighbor lady.

Fan Changyu responded with a cheerful “Mm,” then picked out a string of pig liver from the bucket and handed it over. “Uncle likes this—please cook it for him as a drinking snack.”

The neighbor lady accepted it with a smile and said, “The young man you brought back last night has woken up.”

Fan Changyu paused. “I’ll go take a look in a bit.”

With her parents gone, only she and her sister remained at home. It wasn’t proper to let a strange man stay in their house, so after bringing him back for treatment, she had borrowed a room from the neighbors to house him temporarily.

Little Changning looked up and said, “That big brother is very pretty!”

“Pretty?” Fan Changyu laughed and ruffled her sister’s hair. “Since when do you use ‘pretty’ to describe a man?”

When she had found him, his face had been covered in dried, blackened blood, barely recognizable. By the time she brought him back, it was already evening, and she had been too busy seeking help to even wipe his face clean.

She really didn’t know what he looked like.

After returning home and changing out of her bloodstained clothes, Fan Changyu went next door.

Winter nights fell early. Before the hour of You had even passed, the sky had already grown dim.

When she entered the room, the interior was dark. She could only make out a raised shape on the bed.

The air was thick with the mixed smells of herbs, blood, and sweat.

It was bitterly cold outside, so Uncle Zhao and his wife had sealed the doors and windows tightly, even lighting a charcoal brazier to keep the room warm. The heat made the odors even stronger.

But Fan Changyu had worked in pigsties before, so the smell didn’t bother her much. She merely frowned slightly and went to light the oil lamp.

A small flame cast a warm orange glow over the cramped space. When she turned back toward the bed and saw the man clearly, she froze for a moment.

Now she understood why Changning had called him pretty.