In August, osmanthus flowers bloomed with their sweet fragrance filling the air. The streets were bustling with vendors selling osmanthus cakes and osmanthus syrup; some even specialized in selling dried osmanthus.
Kang He picked up four pieces of osmanthus cake and brought them back to the shop to share with Fan Jing.
This seasonal treat was available every day, so even Fan Jing had started to tire of it.
He tossed a piece into his mouth, drank some tea, and left the rest untouched.
At noon, there were few customers at the shop, so Kang He prepared the dumpling filling that an old regular had requested, chopping the meat finely before wrapping it.
There was still plenty of pork left on the stall — pig’s trotters, pig heads, and pork offal. These leftover parts could be stewed by He Xiaoqiu at his braised meat stall. The other cuts of meat didn’t taste as good when braised and tended to be a bit tough, so they usually weren’t chosen for stewing.
Looking at the afternoon prospects, Kang He figured not much more would sell. He took a piece of pork, sliced it thin, mixed it with some starch, and coated the meat slices with the starch batter.
He took the pieces over to He Xiaoqiu’s stall, heated the wok with oil, and fried up some crispy pork.
This crispy pork had a coating of fried starch—crunchy and fragrant on the outside, while the pork inside remained tender.
Sprinkled with some salty, numbing spice powder, it was a perfect dish to enjoy with a drink.
He Xiaoqiu ate two pieces and thought it truly fragrant and oily—just right with some refreshing tea.
“I think this can be sold at the shop,” Kang He said. “Cooked pork like this lasts longer than fresh pork.”
He Xiaoqiu replied, “In the summer months, there’s still a way to handle some of the pig’s parts. Pure pork, on the other hand, is harder to keep fresh.”
Kang He agreed. Crispy pork could be eaten as a snack when hot or used in soups and dishes after cooling down.
In summer, pork was always sold quickly while fresh. They had already made a good amount of smoked sausage and cured meat.
Their sweet-flavored sausages sold very well—many city folks liked them.
But sausages like that were mostly eaten during New Year or festivals; on ordinary days, they rarely appeared on the table.
Seeing Fan Jing actually come over to eat the crispy pork, Kang He brought over a plate for him, thinking Fan Jing might be napping inside but was surprised to see him.
Kang He went out on the street looking for someone, hearing voices coming from a small alley at the end of the street. Following the sounds, he arrived at the scene.
A group of men was gathered around, shouting, “Hit it! Hit it!”
“Hey, peck its neck! You fool, you’re gonna get me killed!”
Kang He saw Fan Jing was there too. He hurried over and realized the men were cooling off and holding quail fights.
Two quails were locked in a cage, bravely fighting each other.
Fan Jing had been sitting at the mouth of the alley to cool off, annoyed by the heat inside the room. The owner of the neighboring oil shop was also resting in the breeze. Hearing the noise, the oil shop owner called Fan Jing over to watch.
It was a scorching day, and not many entertainments were available. Watching two rounds of quail fighting was somewhat amusing.
Kang He stayed a moment and soon the quail fight ended.
Inside the cage, the strong, imposing quail had won two rounds against the smaller one.
“Quick, another round.”
“I’ll lose my pants if I keep going.”
The toothless man organizing the event said, “Just for fun. Don’t bet on the small one this time, bet on the big quail—it’s fierce!”
Encouraged by the man, the onlookers began pulling coins from their pockets, tossing them onto the tray.
Seeing the powerful big quail, many bet their coins on it; few dared to back the small one.
Kang He had thought it was just a quail fight for fun, not realizing there was gambling involved.
“Wanna eat perch?”
Fan Jing suddenly asked Kang He.
“Too expensive. Can’t afford it these days,” Kang He replied.
Fan Jing didn’t say more but took five coins from his pocket and tossed them onto the coin tray.
“Hey, brother, you’re betting too? Are you going big or small?”
Fan Jing nodded towards the small quail, prompting some hushed murmurs among the crowd.
“There are always some who don’t believe in quail fighting, betting opposite thinking they’ll get lucky.”
“I lost thirty coins last time doing that.”
The organizer asked Fan Jing, “Brother, are you sure? I see it’s your first time here. I can let you pick again.”
Fan Jing declined to change and stuck with the small quail that had lost twice already. The oil shop owner who came with him also took out some coins. Seeing Fan Jing bet, he couldn’t sit still anymore.
“I’ll bet the same as the neighbor. Just for fun.”
Kang He had seen quail fights before but didn’t know the tricks; he just watched with curiosity.
Soon, the organizer goaded the birds into fighting again.
Sure enough, the big quail was formidable, pecking the small one until it flapped and fled.
Everyone thought the round was nearly over, but the small quail suddenly fought back fiercely, pecking the big quail and pulling out several feathers.
The bettors found it even more exciting.
After a while, the once twice-winning big quail was defeated and huddled in a corner of the cage, unwilling to move.
Kang He laughed. “What’s this?”
Fan Jing shrugged. Most bets had been placed on the big quail; few had backed the small one.
“Let’s go another round!”
The losers didn’t give up, shouting to place bets again.
The oil shop owner had won and was in high spirits. Ignoring others’ warnings, he bet twenty more coins and asked Fan Jing which quail he’d back this time.
Fan Jing shook his head, pocketing his coins. He wasn’t going to gamble anymore.
Despite coaxing, he refused to bet, pulling Kang He to leave the alley.
“Why are you like this? Winning and then quitting. So boring,” someone muttered.
Seeing they couldn’t be held, the group grumbled but soon forgot, placing bets once more.
The toothless organizer gave a long, dark look at the two as they left.
Outside the alley, Kang He asked, “Everyone’s betting on the big quail, why’d you choose the small one?”
Fan Jing said, “Though the big quail looks mighty, it tires quickly. Once it survives the first few attacks, it gives up.
The small quail looks useless but has sharp eyes and is clever. The first two rounds it dodged attacks, building up its anger. It showed its strength in the third round.”
Kang He didn’t know all this but said, “I didn’t know you understood so much.”
Fan Jing replied, “How could I not? I used to hunt in the mountains a lot and got familiar with these creatures, more so than most.”
He handed Kang He forty coins to buy a perch.
Grass carp were cheap; these coins could buy two or more easily. But perch was pricier, and they still had to add about half the price more for one.
Though the family spared no meat, they rarely bought expensive ones. The perch was a delicacy someone gifted during the previous festival, and everyone enjoyed its fresh taste.
But they didn’t put it on the table except during special occasions.
Kang He followed Fan Jing’s instructions and went to the fish market to pick a perch, bringing it home steamed that evening.
A few days later, they brought the wok back to fry crispy pork at the shop. It attracted customers, who bought one or two packs for a casual snack.
A tavern nearby especially loved sending customers over to their braised meat stall to buy drinking snacks, so with the addition of crispy pork, they often called over for some.
Kang He, feeling idle, didn’t send a runner this time, saving a coin.
“What do you want?”
Kang He had just brought a food box to the tavern when a man appeared. Fan Jing greeted him.
The man looked up at Fan Jing, surprised. “Brother, are you really the shop assistant here?”
Fan Jing glanced at him. The man had a mouth full of missing teeth and laugh lines around his eyes, often smiling.
At first glance, he seemed kind, but Fan Jing noticed his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Seeing Fan Jing silent, the man said, “A few days ago, I brought a cage of quails to the alley for everyone to have fun. You even won forty coins, remember?”
Fan Jing recognized him instantly but pretended not to.
“What kind of meat do you want?”
The man said, “Give me five slices of pork belly. I want to make a drinking dish. I bought a pot of fine lamb wine at the Shangfengpi tavern. It costs 120 coins per jar. Good wine goes with good meat.”
Fan Jing responded casually. If Kang He had heard that, he would have said a few words. But with Fan Jing, he got none.
“Will you cut the meat or not?”
The man said, “Brother, please help me slice it thickly. Even if thick slices mean fewer bites, I’m eating these few days with these coins. Once I finish, I’ll come back to buy more.”
Fan Jing swiftly cut the meat as requested, letting the man talk as he wished.
The man wasn’t satisfied that Fan Jing didn’t ask where his money came from. He boldly said, “Yesterday I placed a small bet and won big. In two rounds, I got three strings of coins in my pouch.”
“This place is really fun, easy to make money. But normally, without a guide, it’s hard to find.”
The toothless man grinned. “Brother, if you want to try, I can take you there to have a look. I won’t ask for a share if you win. Just treat me to tea with three to five coins.”
Fan Jing wrapped the fresh pork in lotus leaves and handed it to the man. “Twenty-two coins. Anything else?”
The man was briefly stunned but took out the money to pay Fan Jing. “You really won’t go? If I hadn’t met you buying meat today, I wouldn’t have told anyone about this place.”
Fan Jing said, “I have to watch the shop in the morning and kill pigs in the afternoon. No time.”
He wiped the grease off his knife and sharpened it on the whetstone a few times.
The toothless man’s heart skipped a beat.
He had assumed Kang He was the butcher but didn’t expect that the man overseeing the meat shop was the one who killed pigs.
He had been lurking in the shadows, waiting for Kang He to leave before coming over.
Fan Jing tested the blade’s edge and said calmly, “If you come to buy meat, that’s fine. But if you try to lure people into gambling again…”
Bang! The knife was slammed into the wooden cutting board.
The man shuddered in fear and didn’t dare speak again. He took the meat and slunk away.
Kang He returned with an empty food box to find people frantically closing the shop and saw Fan Jing’s unhappy expression.
“Trouble?” Kang He asked.
Fan Jing nodded.
He told Kang He the whole story about the man.
Kang He frowned, thinking there were indeed all kinds of people in the county.
Fortunately, Fan Jing had self-control; otherwise, one careless moment would have allowed those scheming men to ruin them.
Who would have thought that a casual quail fight gamble for a few coins on the street would attract such trouble?
But the two didn’t take it too much to heart.
The toothless man, scared off by Fan Jing’s warning, no longer showed up at their shop.
One day, they saw the man sneak out of the neighboring oil shop.
Kang He and Fan Jing exchanged glances, unsure if he was there to buy oil or to lure people again.
But he was indeed carrying a jar of oil.
After some thought, Kang He figured the oil shop owner was a decent person. They’d been neighbors for a year and a half with no conflicts; during festivals, the oil shop even gifted them sesame oil.
So Kang He went over to ask.
“That toothless guy looks a lot like the one who ran the quail fights in the alley. Does he have new quails to play with?” Kang He asked.
The oil shop owner’s eyes flicked. “He just came to buy oil. He was trying to get me to give him a discount.”
“You know these people are really cunning,” Kang He said with a smile.
The oil shop owner agreed. Kang He didn’t say more, chatted a bit, then returned to the shop.
He thought the matter was settled, but around early October, something happened.
Kang He and Fan Jing slaughtered a pig and brought the meat back to the shop as evening fell.
Many shops in Douhui Lane had closed, and the streets were mostly empty.
But the oil shop was in an uproar—husband and wife were openly fighting.
They hurried over to separate them.
The oil shop owner had four or five bloody scratches on his face.
His wife’s hair was undone; she looked very disheveled but didn’t care, her eyes red and swollen as she cried and scolded.
“Have you no conscience? I hope a thunderbolt strikes you! You gambled away the house, and now our whole family has to live under the bridge!”
“I was blind to marry you. We had a good life, and now you’ve taken to gambling—our lives are finished!”
She alternated between threatening to jump in the river and waving a kitchen knife at her husband. The sight was heartbreaking.
The oil shop owner’s face was ashen; he just hung his head in despair.
Looking at Kang He, he lamented, “Brother Kang, I was foolish! When you warned me that the toothless man wasn’t a good person, I didn’t believe you. I followed his coaxing and went to that gambling den.”
“Once you enter, you’re like a lamb led to the slaughter. They set the trap and wait for you to fall.”
“They let you win small amounts once or twice to lure you in. After a few rounds, you start losing—not only what you won, but also your savings.”
“Many get more desperate, thinking they can win it back, but they just fall deeper until they lose everything.”
The oil shop owner cried, saying he had felt uneasy and wanted to stop after losing forty or fifty strings of coins, seeing it as a lesson.
But the toothless man came back to soothe him and even ‘generously’ lent him ten strings to chase losses.
With his heart bleeding over the losses, he was manipulated again.
He lost eighty strings more and now regretted it bitterly.
Kang He and Fan Jing were shocked and silently shook their heads.
When they tried to warn the man earlier, he probably suspected they were plotting to steal his luck, so he refused to listen and was deceived instead.
Now, all they could do was offer some advice—to stop gambling and turn over a new leaf. There were still days ahead.
As Kang He and Fan Jing drove home, they still felt cold sweat on their backs.
Had they not kept their own wits, they might have been the ones ruined today.
Many traps were hard to avoid.
That toothless man was clearly connected to the gambling den, specifically hunting for victims.
No one knew how many had already fallen prey to him.
The oil shop owner had lost his house and his family had to move into the shop, five people cramped in one place, complaining all day.
He Xiaoqiu was alarmed when he heard about their misfortune.
October’s weather had cooled considerably, and Da Fu’s energy was much better than in summer.
This little one seemed to have inherited Kang He and Fan Jing’s stature, a small kid who moved quickly.
At home, Fan Jing was twisting hemp thread and making his longbow.
The little one clung to him, refusing to be held by anyone else.
He sat quietly on Fan Jing’s leg, watching him prepare the bowstring, neither noisy nor fussy.
Fan Jing looked down at him. The little boy’s big round eyes looked up at him.
After the autumn harvest and paying the land tax, the household had much more free time.
Kang He wanted to take advantage of the harvest ending to look for suitable farmland, hoping to find good prices and buy some new land.
After a few trips, they hadn’t found suitable fields but brought home some tree seedlings—pepper trees and myrtle trees.
He asked Grandpa Fan to plant them, but Grandpa Fan grumbled, saying it took up land.
They already had a plot for growing arrowroot.
If they planted Kang He’s trees too, they’d need to get yet another piece of land.
Though trees would grow and bear fruit to sell eventually, that would take three or four years.
It was nothing like annual crops, which produced a harvest every year.
Kang He persuaded Grandpa Fan to set aside a piece of land to plant the seedlings and promised to buy three more acres to make up for it.
Grandpa Fan muttered but went out before dark to plant the seedlings.
Chen Sanfang laughed at him, but Grandpa Fan stubbornly said letting the seedlings die would be a waste of money.
Fan Jing couldn’t stay idle either and went hunting in the mountains again.
He rarely used his longbow these days, but when he got the urge, he called over his brothers Huan and Erxi to teach them archery.
Those two brothers rarely spoke, but their focus was sharper than most people’s.
They learned quickly.
After two lessons from Fan Jing, they could shoot steadily at the target.
Kang He watched, shaking his head. Though they learned later than him, they caught on faster.
He realized he truly wasn’t cut out for it.