As April rolled in, the business at the city’s stalls visibly dwindled.
There were no major festivals this month, and people in the villages and countryside were busy with spring plowing, so business was nothing like it was at year’s end.
The novelty of the grand opening had passed, and business gradually settled into routine, becoming more and more ordinary.
Though the city had a large population, there were still only a few households who could afford to eat meat every day. Most were just common folks, scraping together a little spare money each month, living their days carefully.
On days that were neither holidays nor festivals, few people bought meat. With so many butchers and meat stalls in the city, it was even harder for any one shop to get steady business.
But it wasn’t just the Fan Family Pork Shop that was like this—business was slow for everyone on the street compared to the holidays. Business always had its busy and slow seasons.
Kang He and Fan Jing, as usual, came to the city early in the morning to open the shop. In the past, the morning market was always bustling, but these days, even one person could manage all the customers.
A day would go by—on good days, they could sell fifty or sixty jin of pork; on bad days, sometimes not even thirty jin.
Other shops relied on regular customers during the slow season. Kang He and Fan Jing’s shop hadn’t been open long, so they didn’t have as many regulars as the old shops, but Kang He’s eloquence made sure their business didn’t fall too far behind.
Now, when they slaughtered pigs, if they bought a lean pig under one hundred fifty jin, they’d slaughter one every two days. If it was a fat pig over one hundred fifty jin, they’d only slaughter one every three days.
The weather was getting warmer, and meat didn’t keep as well as it did at the beginning of the year. By June and July, butchers would have to look for lean pigs—if the pigs were too fat and the meat didn’t sell, it would end up wasted in their hands.
“Madam, what kind of meat would you like to choose? The pig was just slaughtered yesterday, so today the meat is fresh and plentiful.”
Kang He had just gone inside to boil a pot of tea. When he came out, he saw a woman in yellow at the stall, her hair pinned with a silver comb—a clear sign she wasn’t from a poor household.
But she was indecisive, pacing back and forth, looking over every piece of meat on the stall, unable to make up her mind.
Fan Jing was patient, and though he didn’t chat much, he let people take their time. Even if someone stared at the meat for half an hour, he wouldn’t say a word.
There was an old man before who did just that—he spent the time it took for a stick of incense to burn picking over the meat, only to end up buying the cheapest pig’s heart and lungs.
But after some days, that old man came back to their shop, saying Fan Jing was patient and never rushed people. If it had been any other stall, he’d have been shooed away already.
Kang He found it amusing. He thought, though Fan Jing wasn’t popular with the masses, there were always some “eccentric” folks who liked him.
Even the He Family, for whom they slaughtered pigs before—after Kang He sent Zhu Doctor over that time, He Xiaoqiu would always stop by to visit Fan Jing whenever he came to the city, bringing goose eggs, mulberries, loquats from their home tree…
The two didn’t exchange many words—who could expect Fan Jing to talk a whole basketful with anyone? The only exception was Kang He.
When He Xiaoqiu came, Fan Jing would give him pork. Once, he even gave He Xiaoqiu half a Rabbit left over from the day’s sales.
Kang He joked that he was making friends now.
Back to the present, the woman saw Kang He and said, “We’ve got relatives visiting, and my mother-in-law says we should make dumplings with meat filling, stew pork bone soup, and stir-fry pig liver… How am I supposed to manage so many dishes by myself?”
She could cook well, but she was slow, which made her mother-in-law dissatisfied. Usually, with just the family, they ate simply, and she could manage. But now, with three or four extra guests, and her mother-in-law wanting more dishes, she was frustrated.
She came out to shop already irritated, thinking to make fewer dishes, but as a young daughter-in-law, she didn’t dare go against her mother-in-law. Torn between two impulses, she couldn’t make up her mind, spending even more time shopping—no wonder she was slow.
Kang He, hearing this, his eyes turned, and he said, “With guests, you do need a plentiful spread to show hospitality. My meat here is fresh and good—whatever dish you make, it’ll taste great.”
“I want to make several dishes for the guests, but how can I manage alone? I still have to go to the vegetable market—by the time I get home, it’ll be late, and the guests will be hungry, and the food still won’t be ready.”
Kang He could hear the frustration in her voice. He’d served many tables before and knew how busy it could be if no one helped prepare the ingredients and meat.
But it wasn’t easy to get a big order—he wasn’t about to let it slip away. He said, “That’s easy, Madam. Just choose your meat and tell me which is for stewing or stir-frying. I’ll prepare it for you right here at the stall. When you come back from the market, just pick it up, and when you get home, you’ll only need to rinse it and add seasoning before it’s ready to cook. That’ll save you a lot of trouble.”
The woman tilted her head and asked, “If I’m making pork bone soup, can you chop the bones? And if I want to stir-fry the liver, can you slice it?”
Kang He replied, “Of course. Even for dumpling filling, I can mince the meat for you. My knife skills are up to the task, no problem.”
The woman wondered if it could really be so convenient. She asked, “Do you charge extra for chopping meat and bones?”
Kang He waved his hand. “No charge, as long as you let me know what you need.”
Hearing this, the woman bought a portion of foreleg meat, a piece of pig liver, and two jin of second-cut meat.
She paid Kang He and said, “I’ll be back after I go to the vegetable market.”
Kang He replied quickly, “If you’re tired, come rest at my shop for a bit. If you walk a little slower, it’ll be just right.”
The woman agreed.
Fan Jing helped Kang He move out a new chopping board and handed him the bone cleaver. “Found yourself some work.”
Kang He got to work right away, first chopping the pork ribs into even pieces.
“Business is slow, the two of us guarding the shop—if we’re idle, we might as well help out. If we didn’t help her, how could she buy so much meat?”
“In the off-season, every extra sale counts.”
Fan Jing wasn’t really criticizing him for meddling—he just felt Kang He was working too hard.
“Don’t worry, slicing meat is nothing for me.”
With that, he sliced the pig liver into thin, even pieces.
Fan Jing said no more.
Soon, a passerby saw Kang He cutting meat at the stall and came over.
Kang He greeted him, “What would you like today?”
The man pointed at the chopping board. “Why are you cutting so much meat?”
“A lady just bought this meat and asked me to cut it for her, so I’m preparing it now.”
The man watched Kang He’s quick knife work—the slices were uniform, the knife skills impressive.
“How much do you charge for cutting meat here?”
Kang He replied, “No charge. If you buy meat here and ask, I’ll cut it for you.”
“If I buy half a jin of foreleg meat, will you cut it for me too?”
“Of course. No matter how little, I’ll cut it.”
The man watched as Fan Jing weighed out about half a jin of foreleg meat, paid, and said he was going to Nan Street to buy a bag of salt.
Kang He told him to go ahead—by the time he returned, the meat would be ready. If he was worried, they could weigh it again when he picked it up.
Only then did the man leave with peace of mind.
Fan Jing saw this and thought Kang He really had found another way to attract customers.
He’d thought that not many people would bother to ask for meat to be cut at the stall, but it turned out there were plenty of “lazy folks” in the city. Seeing a shop that would help cut meat, they were all happy to come.
Once they started, four or five more customers came in succession, all asking for their meat to be cut.
Fortunately, Kang He’s knife skills were good and he worked quickly, so even with a line, no one had to wait long.
By the time the customers finished their other shopping and came back for their meat, almost everything was ready.
Fan Jing would hand over the cut meat for inspection, weigh it again to confirm the amount, then wrap it up for them to take home.
That day’s business was visibly better than before—they sold over seventy jin of pork, the best since their opening days, especially for the off-season.
When they closed up, both were in good spirits, though Kang He’s wrist was sore from cutting so much meat for the first time.
When they got home, Fan Jing sneaked some of Fan Father’s medicinal wine and massaged Kang He’s wrist. By the next day, it didn’t hurt anymore.
After that, in a few days, everyone at Dou Huifang knew the Fan Family Pork Shop would cut meat for you. Even when selling chicken, duck, or Rabbit, they’d chop it up for you. Many people who wanted to buy meat but didn’t want the hassle came to their stall.
Even outsiders, after hearing this, stopped going to the meat market and came to the Fan Family’s stall instead.
“My grandson wants shredded stir-fried meat. Cut it into fine shreds for me—I’ll take a stroll down Nan Street and pick it up when I’m back.”
“Cut it? I always wait till I get home to cut the meat myself. Who cuts it at the stall?”
“The Fan Family shop does it. I’m only asking for shreds, not for it to be minced for dumplings. Hao Master, why won’t you do it?”
An old woman bought half a slab of meat at the Hao Butcher’s stall and, after paying, asked him to cut it for her. But Hao Butcher refused.
The old woman was displeased. “I thought I was your regular customer, so I didn’t go to the Fan Family’s stall like the other housewives, but you still won’t cut my meat?”
The pot-bellied Hao Master said, “Only those butchers who rent someone else’s shop do all sorts of tricks to attract customers. I run my own shop—I don’t need to pay rent. Selling meat is selling meat, I’m not like those womenfolk fussing around the stove. I don’t cut meat for people.”
The old woman, offended, spat and told Hao Butcher to return her money. She said she’d never buy from him again.
Hao Butcher, proud as ever, grumbled that the old woman always nitpicked and bought just a couple of liang or half a jin of meat. He was tired of serving her anyway.
The two quarreled at the shop, and the old woman stormed off to the Fan Family’s stall.
Hao Butcher shouted, “Even if I close this shop, I’ll never cut meat for anyone! If you don’t like it, don’t come here again!”
Across the street, the Mi Family Pork Shop heard the commotion and shook their heads. Who does business like that? Clearly jealous of the other shop’s booming business, but ended up driving away their own customers.
That day, Kang He calculated the accounts. In the second month, the shop made eight strings and three hundred and twenty cash.
In the third month, they made fourteen strings. By mid-April, there were already more than ten strings on the books.
Although that was gross income, after deducting shop rent and labor costs, there was still a net of eight to ten strings per month.
Of course, that was the income for the whole shop. If it was just the pork, it would be two or three strings less.
The homemade tofu and dried goods from home also brought in money.
Fan Jing sat on a stool watching Kang He, who was writing and calculating on paper instead of using an abacus—not sure what he was figuring out.
He ate a pear and looked out the window at the stall.
“Qu Old Lady is here.”
With that, Fan Jing got up and went outside.
Kang He was puzzled—which Qu Old Lady? Then he heard outside, “Oh, my, look at how well your pork shop is doing these days!”
Hearing that sharp voice, Kang He immediately remembered it was the old lady, mother of that cripple Cheng Min.
Kang He put down his pen and followed outside.
Fan Jing, as usual, was neither warm nor cold. He asked, “What kind of meat do you want?”
Qu Old Lady looked left and right, finally choosing a thick, fatty piece of foreleg pork. She asked the price.
Kang He answered, “For country folks, eighteen cash per slab.”
Qu Old Lady clicked her tongue. “So expensive.”
Kang He smiled. “Qu Lady, ask around at other shops—you won’t find a better price. Everyone else asks nineteen or twenty cash per slab.”
Qu Old Lady said, “We’re neighbors—you give me fifteen cash, I’ll buy two jin.”
“My son’s stomach hurts—he’s been bedridden for days, but he’s feeling better today and craving some meat.”
Kang He asked what happened to Cheng Min’s stomach.
“It’s that little hussy’s fault—always dragging my boy to do all sorts of things. He was a fine, strong lad, but she’s worn him out.”
Kang He coughed awkwardly. He thought, Cheng Min was over thirty before he finally married, and he was good-looking—of course he’d be eager, who needed to be dragged? Still, no matter how eager, it shouldn’t have left him bedridden.
Kindly, he asked, “Have you seen Zhu Doctor?”
Qu Old Lady scratched her face, feigning embarrassment. “How can I show my face at the doctor’s with this kind of problem? And I don’t have the money. I just won’t let those two sleep together for a while—no need for a doctor, and he’s getting better.”
Kang He tried to persuade her to see a doctor anyway. Stomach aches and fevers were common during the change of seasons—delay could lead to big trouble.
But Qu Old Lady wouldn’t listen, only haggling for a lower price.
Kang He shook his head, refusing to cut even ten copper coins off.
Qu Old Lady snapped, “If we hadn’t sold you our land, would you have had the wide road for donkey carts to pass and this good business today?”
“That’s not fair, Lady. If we hadn’t bought your land, would you have had money at hand?”
Qu Old Lady glared at Kang He and said if he wouldn’t lower the price, she wouldn’t buy. Kang He didn’t try to keep her.
She left in a huff.
Unexpectedly, less than half an hour later, she came back with her basket. Apparently, she’d asked around and found the prices higher elsewhere, so she put on a sour face and told Kang He to wrap up the meat for her.
At least she knew when to bend and when to stand firm, thick-skinned enough to come back and buy.
Kang He and Fan Jing didn’t give it a second thought.
After five or six days, at the end of April, it rained for two days and the weather turned chilly.
That day, Kang He closed shop early. With the rainy weather, there was little business. He picked up a basket of leftover pork intestines, saying he’d go home and cook them.
As the two entered the village, they saw a group of people in straw hats and carrying paper umbrellas, heading toward the north end of the village.
When they got home, they saw Fan Father coming back wearing a bamboo hat.
“Cheng Family’s cripple is dead.”
Fan Father said to the two, frowning and shaking his head.
Kang He and Fan Jing were shocked. “How could he die so suddenly? Just a few days ago, his mother came to the shop to buy pork, saying she’d cook for him.”
Fan Father said, “In the afternoon, his mother rushed to the Xu Family to fetch Zhu Doctor, saying her son was very ill. Zhu Doctor hurried over, but it was already too late. After checking, he said it was intestinal tuberculosis.”
“Cheng Min’s husband said he hadn’t been well for days and should have seen a doctor earlier, but Qu Old Lady wouldn’t allow it. She was very stubborn. Now she won’t admit it and is blaming others for her son’s death.”
Kang He frowned. “A few days ago, she told me her son’s stomach hurt. I told her to see Zhu Doctor, but she insisted it was her husband’s fault. It was their family business, so I didn’t push. Who knew her son would lose his life for nothing.”
“Exactly. I was just over there, said a few words for the young husband, and Qu Old Lady cursed me out for a long time.”
Fan Father looked embarrassed. He was an elder in the village and thought he’d go over to see if he could help, but after being scolded so harshly, he didn’t want to help the Cheng Family anymore and came home.
Kang He thought his father-in-law had finally grown a backbone. When the Sun Family’s son died, he went over and got scolded too, but didn’t react like this.
Kang He and Fan Jing tidied up and went to the Cheng Family to pay respects.
The family was grieving, and Qu Old Lady was blaming everyone—first the unlucky husband, then Zhu Doctor for “killing” her son, never admitting that it was her own fault for refusing to seek medical help and dragging out her son’s illness until he died.
She managed to offend almost everyone who came to offer condolences.
It was only when relatives from the Cheng Family came and persuaded her back into the house, apologizing to everyone, that things calmed down.
The Cheng Family’s misfortune left everyone sighing.
Three days later, after the funeral procession, Kang He and Fan Jing were busy in the city and didn’t have time to attend the funeral feast.
When they got home, Chen Shi had gone to pay respects and came back deeply moved.
That night at dinner, she told Juner and Qiaor, “If you ever feel unwell, say so. Don’t just endure it, or you’ll bring disaster.”
In the past, when the family was poor, she always said, “If I die, so be it.”
But now, after two years of working together and seeing life improve, she never said such things anymore.
All she wanted was for the whole family to be healthy and live long.
Kang He agreed that Chen Sanfang was right and told Fan Jing the same.
Fan Jing was the kind to never mention illness or pain. If you tried to get him to see a doctor, he’d think you were making a fuss over nothing.
He really was tough—otherwise, how could he still be alive and kicking today?